From Innocence to Arrogance

by Ezekiel King

  I had just woke up in my new flat in town. Emma had spent the night with me. I had picked Emma up late on the night before, after getting back from a meeting with a major cocaine-selling firm from London. Bob had forced me to get a driving licence. I had spent five days in a city called Blackpool doing an intensive course. I slipped the manager a £1,000 tip on the first day, which more or less guaranteed a pass. I got out of bed and put my dressing gown and slippers on and walked into the kitchen to get a drink. It was a Friday afternoon,; my plans for the day consisted of going for breakfast with Emma, then dropping her home, then collecting money from Chris and the people we trusted enough to give work to them on our ‘pay later’ policy. Finally, I would have to go put the money away in a safe place. Chris and I would sit down in the evening to do a stock take of how much cocaine is left; then maybe chill out back at the flat if we didn’t have any ‘skirt’ that tickled our fancy for the night.

  I had just sat down in my favourite café with Emma. Having literally just sliced my toasted muffin and was in the process of dipping a small piece into the yoke of my perfectly poached egg when Chris called.

  “Cyrus, that fucking prick, Morris, has robbed £40,000 from us,” Chris rambled angrily down the phone. I could hear his blood was racing.

  “Who has done what?” I said calmly, not wanting to alert other diners as I got up slowly and started off out of the café door.

  “One second, gorgeous,” I said to Emma as I signalled the call was important and not to be had in a public domain.

  “Cyrus, that cunt, Morris, has gave me a bag with £40,000 in fake notes,” Chris explained angrily. I didn’t doubt what Chris was saying; he was fuming.

  “Are you sure the money has come from Morris?” I asked, needing to be sure, as I know Chris received a lot of bags full of money from a lot of different people.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Cyrus. I just picked it up from him in the supermarket car park. I gave him two kg, and that bastard gave me this bag of fake notes,” Chris explained as the devastation started to sink in.

  “Well, call Morris back and tell him to bring my stuff back, or he is fucked,” I said as I looked at my glistening wristwatch. The tiny letters that read ‘AP’ were barely visible due to the amount of diamonds in the face of the watch that I had bought from Bob.

  “Chris, it’s 1:00 now. If that cocaine isn’t back by 2:00, he’s a fucking dead man,” I said before hanging up. I wasn’t angry; all anger does is cloud judgement. If he doesn’t bring that cocaine or my money back today, he is getting shot, I told myself as I walked back into the café to finish my eggs benedict with no bacon or sausage.

  “Is everything okay, Cyrus?” Emma asked as I sat back down.

  “Yes, of course, my mate has just spilt some milk,” I replied, which let Emma know no further questions on the matter were warranted.

  Twenty-five minutes had passed by the time I dropped Emma home. When Emma had gone into her house, I got out of my white German jeep and called Yax. “Yes, my brother,” I said as he answered.

  “Yes, Cyrus, how are you doing, mate?” Yax asked.

  “Not good! Someone has just had my worker’s pants down for £40,000. How long will it take you to drop two handguns over to Coventry?” I asked.

  “I can get them to you within the hour, mate. I’ve got a Glock and a Desert Eagle. My mate would probably want £3,000 each,” Yax explained.

  “Okay, send them both over to me, I have the money here.” Next, I rang Chris. “Have you got our money or stuff back yet?” I asked sounding pissed off at Chris for his stupidity.

  “No… Have I fuck, Morris has switched his phone off,” Chris said sounding as though his world was slowly ending.

  “Okay, we are going to ‘blast’ this fool today. My mate is bringing two handguns over, so get a location on this clown,” I said before putting the phone down once more. I stood outside of Emma’s house feeling violated. It wasn’t the money, it was the principle that made my blood boil.

  I looked at my phone as it rang. “Yes, Bob,” I said as he answered.

  “Cyrus, Yax has just told me what’s happened,” Bob said in a concerned tone.

  “Yes. I’m not having that, I’m going to show this clown today,” I said angrily.

  “I agree, but don’t do anything today, and do not do anything yourself,” Bob advised.

  “No, he has ripped me off, so I want to do him myself,” I replied stubbornly.

  “Cyrus, are you a businessman or a cowboy? These things happen, so does this mean we are going to throw away all of our hard work? The boys said they will shoot or stab him and just keep the two kg. You don’t have to give them anything,” Bob said as he pleaded with me to see sense. He had a point though, the only thing stopping me from accepting the deal was my pride.

  “Okay, tell them to come over now, and tell Yax I still want both of them handguns. I want to ‘park them up’ (meaning put them away),” I reluctantly agreed to let the lads deal with Morris.

  Morris was about 33 and a big lump of an Irish-looking guy. He was English not Irish though, he had a big square head and dusty-looking brown hair, and his skin was bad due to his cocaine-abuse almost daily. A few of Morris’ mates were pretty big cocaine-dealers; and quite often, he would get their money and buy cocaine from Chris. Morris would consequently make £1,000 or £2,000 commission. Morris was known for fighting and being a hard guy; his big hands were like sledgehammers when clenched into fists. I definitely wouldn’t like to fight Morris, but I would happily meet him anywhere with a 9mm Glock fully loaded; and after seeing him, he would be in urgent need of medical attention if he was lucky enough not to need processing in the local morgue.

  A Glock is a handgun that a lot of police officers use in America. They are light and accurate and very reliable. I had always wanted a Glock ever since I knew what a gun was. Still standing outside of Emma’s house like I had lost my car keys, I got back into my jeep to call Chris. “Come to the McBride’s house, I will be there in 10 minutes,” I said before hanging up. Chris had pissed me off with his stupidity massively. I could have made Chris pay for the loss, and rightfully so, that would have been the smart thing to do, but I felt as Chris worked for me. Morris had directly insulted me and everything I stood for. If I didn’t deal with this matter now, what would stop the next guy who wants a few kilos of free cocaine from robbing Chris? I parked my jeep outside of the McBride’s house. I didn’t feel like going in, as I knew John and Tom’s gentle nature would only cause me to calm down, and I was not prepared to calm down until I had my cocaine back, or Morris’ head on a stick. I heard the roar of the car Chris had leased from mine and Bob’s business as he pulled into the McBride’s street.

  I had my windows down and had been looking in my mirrors at the road behind me. Chris pulled in behind my jeep as I got out of it and jumped down onto the pavement. “How the fuck did you let this happen, son?” I said to him as I looked at him in annoyance.

  “Cyrus, I’m sorry. If we can’t get the cocaine back, I will have to pay for it,” Chris said as he walked towards me, holding his head in his hands.

  “Chris, find out where this piece of shit lives in the next half an hour. I’m going to send my mates through his front door,” I said as I pointed at him in anger.

  “Cyrus, I know where his mate lives that he usually buys stuff for, but he probably won’t say where Morris lives. I know he definitely knows though,” Chris explained. I leaned against the side of my white jeep while I assessed the situation. Chris just stood looking at me gormlessly while I devised a plan to clean up the mess he’d made.

  I took my phone out and called Yax. “Yes, my brother, I have spoken to Bob,” I said when Yax answered the phone. I wanted him to know I was aware he had spoken to Bob after I had spoken to him.

  “That’s good, Cyrus, I had to call Bob because you sounded hot-headed, and we all don’t want you to do something stupid, that’s why I had to call Bob,” Yax explained, letting me know his inten
tions were clean.

  “Yes, Bob said that you and Luke want deal with it?” I asked

  “Yes, that’s our job, Cyrus. We are just getting ready to come over there now,” Yax explained while laughing at the fact he would finally get to prove his expertise.

  “Okay then, I need to get this prick’s address, so what I want you to do is send them two handguns over now; then you and Luke come over as soon as I get the address. Then I want you to do this guy!” I explained.

  “Cyrus, I will send the handguns over now, but you have got to promise me that you will not do anything silly. Bob will never forgive me if I give you a gun, and you go and shoot someone and get locked up,” Yax explained compassionately.

  “No, I am not going to do anything stupid. I just need to have them close by, and I need them quickly, mate. I’m not going to throw all my hard work away for some dickhead; you and Luke can fuck him up later,” I said calmly and using the exact terminology Bob had used to put Yax at ease.

  “Okay, a woman will be in your street in a black hatchback in exactly half an hour, give her £6,000 and take the laptop bag out of her boot,” Yax explained.

  “Okay, thanks, Yax. I’m here waiting now,” I said before cutting the phone off.

  “Are they going to sort it?” Chris asked, full of self-pity.

  “No, you idiot! I’m going to sort it!” I snapped back at Chris as I turned around to climb back into my jeep.

  “Get in,” I said as I started the jeep. Chris pressed the fob to lock the car behind me as he climbed into my passenger seat.

  “Have you got £6,000 at your house?” I asked Chris as I slowly drove out of the McBride’s street.

  “Yes, and I got £80,000 at my grandad’s in the safe, and I’ve got £8,000 at my mum’s around the corner,” Chris replied.

  “Is the £6,000 at your house out of the business, or is it your own money?” I asked as I drove slowly towards Chris’ parents’ house.

  “No, the £6,000 at my mum’s is mine; the business money is in the safe at my grandad’s,” Chris explained.

  “Okay, I am going to use the £6,000 at your mum’s to buy something,” I told Chris. I was annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t told Morris to give him the money first, then checked the money, then finally and only then gave Morris the cocaine. That was standard operating procedure; Chris had probably pulled up high from smoking too much weed, thinking he was the dog’s bullocks in my brand-new white saloon and got his fat arse robbed, the Wally. “Chris, if I didn’t love you so much, you know I would bust your fucking skull for this; don’t you, you fucking retard?” I said emotionlessly. I meant it. If he was anybody else, he would have been in as much trouble as Morris was sure to be in very soon.

  “I know that, Cyrus, and I’m sorry, mate,” Chris replied as he walked up his mum and dad’s driveway to get the money I’d sent him to retrieve. Chris was obviously upset, and he deserved to be upset. He had completely ruined what would normally be a good Friday afternoon. I sat with my car windows up and air-conditioning on until the air was cold and crisp. You have to get Morris today, Cyrus. If tomorrow comes, and he has not bled, you hang your criminal boots up and get a job at the local supermarket, I told myself as I turned the air-con off again. Chris appeared from his parent’s front door holding a designer clothes bag. He looked demoralised and deflated due to the day’s events as he walked to my car. Until Morris was bleeding, Chris would receive no pity from me. Chris got back into the passenger seat of my jeep and threw the bag with the money onto the passenger side foot well. I didn’t say anything to Chris as I started the two-minute drive from Chris’ parent’s house to my parent’s house. I parked outside the garage at the back of my house and got out of my jeep to sit on the wall and wait. Chris also got out of my jeep and sat on the wall beside me.

  I could tell Chris didn’t know whether to talk to me or not. “What is the plan, Cyrus?” Chris eventually said.

  “We are waiting for two handguns, Chris,” I replied calmly, like I had said we were ‘waiting for a pizza’. Chris’ eyes opened wide with shock—he knew I was serious. What Morris had done was inexcusable, and Chris knew I would not let it go until I had my reprisal. Fifteen minutes later, I had wound myself up more, I had also given Chris a stern telling off while smoking two cigarettes.

  I decided to call Yax back to see how long this girl was going to be. “Any progress, Yax?” I asked as Yax answered.

  “Yes, Cyrus. That woman’s going to be with you in the next ten minutes. Don’t tell her what’s in the bag though; just take it out of the boot and open it when she has gone,” Yax explained.

  “Okay, nice one, Yax, have they both got bullets with them?” I asked, as a gun with no bullets is as useful as a house brick.

  “Yes, of course they have; there’s 30 bullets for the Glock, and 20 bullets for the Desert Eagle,” Yax replied.

  “Okay, thank you,” I said before putting the phone down.

  I sat watching the corner of the road, hoping this girl, whoever she was, would hurry up. I hated waiting, patience had never been my virtue. Chris just sat, patiently awaiting my next move. He occasionally would look at me, but wouldn’t say anything out of fear. He was waiting for me to have another go at him. After all, it was his fault that this whole situation had arose. Ten minutes later, a shiny, new, black hatchback turned the corner slowly. Clearly, the driver was unaware with their surroundings. I waved as I stood up to signal the driver that I was the person they had come to meet.

  The Asian girl who was alone looked at me suspiciously before stopping and picking up her phone. As I got closer to her, I could see her speaking on her phone. I stopped short of her car while she finished her call to allow her to feel at ease. When I could see she was no longer on the phone, I approached the driver-side window. “I’m Yax’s friend,” I said as she wound down her window electrically.

  “Oh, okay,” she replied. She was Asian, and she looked like she was in her late 30s. She had a baby-booster seat strapped into the back seat.

  “One second, I’ve got to give you something,” I said as I turned around to go to my jeep to get the money from the passenger side foot well.

  I gave the Asian lady the bag of money through the driver-side window, at the same time as asking her, “Is the boot open?”

  “Yes, it is now,” she replied as she pressed a button to unlock the boot. I walked to the back of the small black hatchback and lifted the badge to open the boot. There was a laptop bag sitting in the middle of the boot. Leaning in, I unzipped the bag and peered inside. Two handguns, surrounded by bullets that were loose in the bottom of the bag. My heart started to race with excitement as I zipped the bag shut.

  “Tell Yax I said thanks,” I said to the Asian lady as I walked back towards Chris and my big white jeep.

  “Get in the car,” I said to Chris after placing the black laptop case on the passenger-side foot well where the money had been two minutes before. I didn’t want to drive my jeep with two firearms inside of it, but I didn’t want Morris to steal £40,000 from me even more.

  “Cyrus, are there two guns in that bag?” Chris asked as he pointed to the bag at his feet.

  “Yes, I’ve just brought a Glock 18 and a Desert Eagle, both with bullets, and the Glock is full auto,” I said as I drove back in the direction of the McBride’s house.

  I parked the white German jeep in front of the German saloon Chris had left when he’d got in my car. “Go into the McBride’s and get me some gloves,” I said to Chris as I turned the car engine off.

  I knew what I was about to do was a madness. It’s common sense, but I had to put all rationality to the side. Fuck the police, fuck the law; and most of all, fuck this big lump of shit Morris, because he is a dead man. I didn’t want to be driving around with firearms, but I had to. So, my mentality was to treat the situation like doing anything else in the world; for instance, going for a game of pool. By this, I mean, I’d have to drive to the place, parked the car, get out of the
car and go and play pool; no stress and no hesitation, simply just do it. That was exactly how I intended to play this out, calmly and calculated, but I was just going to do it. The more I thought about it, the more I would not want to do it; so as I said, ‘rationality had to sit this one out’.

  Chris came back to the jeep and gave me a pair of black woolly gloves. They looked small but stretched to fit any sized hands. Magic gloves. I put them on and gave them a quick inspection to make sure they had no holes in them. It would defeat the object of wearing gloves in an attempt to leave no fingerprints on a firearm if my gloves had holes in them. “Pass me that bag, Chris,” I said as I pointed to the passenger-side foot well. I put the heavy laptop bag on my lap and unzipped the zipper. The two firearms were loose in the bag with two clips that were also loose, having been ejected from the handles of the firearms; they were not loaded. There was also dozens of bullets loose at the bottom of the bag. I picked out eight of the smaller bullets, as there were two sizes of bullet, one fitting each gun. The Glock used 9mm rounds, and the Desert Eagle used .45 calibre rounds, which were slightly bigger in width. The Glock was lighter and easier to conceal, so I chose this as my weapon of choice, plus I knew it was more than capable of killing with one-shot. I picked up the black handgun and rested it on my lap. Then I picked up the clip and held it in my left hand, pushing down on each bullet I pressed and slotted 15 bullets into the magazine carefully. I then inserted the clip and pulled the slide back to put a bullet in the chamber. Finally, I ejected the clip once more to put the final bullet into the magazine, this firearm was now loaded to max capacity. I had loaded my dad’s handgun before, so I knew exactly what I was doing. I then placed the loaded gun on the floor between my legs and then zipped the laptop bag closed.

  “Take this into John and Tom’s house and tell them I will get it moved within the hour,” I said to Chris as I handed him the bag containing my Desert Eagle .45. Look what this dickhead has got me doing on a Friday fucking afternoon. I should have shot Chris and Morris, I thought as I sat waiting for Chris to come back to the car.