by Vance Huxley
“Yeah, no problem. Bloody hell, Tessa would kill for one of these.” Pete looked hopeful.
“You got any of your own coupons at all?” The youth nodded cautiously. “You can take her one if you pay. She might even let you back in the house after whatever stupidity you’ve been up to.” Harold would have given Tessa a free can, but daren’t because she lived in Hot Rod territory. Caddi, the Hot Rods warlord, would love to find out he had a friend of Soldier Boy’s under his thumb. That’s why they’d only exchanged the occasional careful word at the Mart.
At the checkpoint, the wand bleeped but as soon as the first corned beef can came out the squaddie waved Pete through. Harold’s group had their IDs checked, but they had obvious shopping and were waved through. “Next one. Come on, move it, move it, move it.”
Harold frowned at the squaddie. “What’s the rush?”
The squaddie glanced again at Harold’s ID. “Soldier Boy, Orchard Close? Supply convoy coming through for the Mart. If you’re within three hundred yards when it arrives, we’ll shoot you.”
“Cripes why? We’re unarmed.”
“Some animal got a suicide bomb past an Army checkpoint outside Leeds. Heblew up a supply lorry. The scum were waiting,theyswarmed over the wire and onto the roadto steal the food. Fair warning, keep well away from the central reservation or the convoy guards might open up anyway. How’s the blonde?”
Harold had to think for a second because the bit about being shot had thrown him. “Doll? She’s on her feet again, and thank you.” Harold meant that because not all squaddies would have warned him. Doll, a twenty-two-year old blonde, had been very badly wounded in the fighting when the local gangs combined to stop a horde from storming the local Mart. The TV pictures showing the blood from her lung wound trickling from her mouth had made her a local celebrity. Better yet, the Army squaddies loved the idea of a pretty blonde with guns, which had bought Orchard Close some tolerance. “Come on you four, move it. Trigger-happy convoy coming.” Pete overheard the message and kept up untilHarold explained properly, once they were three hundred yards away. When they heard the lorries coming, the six of them knelt, as far as they could from the other carriageway. They also turned their backs,putting their hands on their heads as the convoy roared past.
*
The trip home to Orchard Close took over an hour of solid marching, but Harold didn’t stop. As he turned down the off-ramphe sighed in relief because home lay three hundred metres away,just outside the exclusion zone. As a squaddie let him through the Army checkpoint, a figure waved from the upstairs window of number one, a guardhouse, giving Harold the all-clear.
The steel plated gates squealed and creaked as they opened, but only because they had been made deliberately noisy and hard to move. Even with the locking bars removed, opening them would alert everyone nearby. Jeremy stood in the doorway of number two with a machete while Matti, his gartered wench, stood at an upstairs window with a crossbow. Fergie, a statuesque twenty-one year old woman, stood at a window in number one where the Army couldn’t see hershotgun.They weren’texpecting trouble; Orchard Close always guarded their gates like this.
“Hi Louie, are you teamed up with Fergie now?”
The young man with half an ear missing knew Harold meant for guard duty, but he laughed. “In my dreams, Harold.”
Billy smirked, patting his pockets. “It’s a pity you didn’t come this time, because we brought corned beef.”
“Hey you two, my favours can’t be bought with corned beef.” Fergie rolled her eyes upwards with a blissful expression. “Now chocolate, for that I might negotiate.” Billy and Henry smirked, but neither spoke up.
Harold looked around, wondering why nobody had come to meet him. “I thought there’d be a few waiting to pounce, justin case we brought coffee or chocolate powder.”
“Not this time Harold, we’ve got visitors. Caddi’s bodyguard, Big Mack,is here with some Hot Rod scroat, looking for you. Most people are keeping clear in case there’s trouble.” Louie pointed up the road, deeper into Orchard Close. “I sent the Hot Rods up to the canteen in case Mack wanted stew.” Everyone laughed because Caddi’s giant bodyguard made a big fuss about how good the Orchard Close stew tasted. Home grown veg and home-reared rabbits were the not-so-secret but rare ingredients.
Harold lowered the rucksack, holding out a hand as Jeremy passed over his stick, the official posh one. He half-turned to watch Pete from the corner of an eye. “Is this anything to do with you?” Pete shook his head but that wasn’t a very confident gesture. “Stay here then.”
Harold took his time walking up the road. He used those few minutes to check the rest of Orchard Close, but saw no signsof trouble. Any residents in view were watching him, but none seemed nervous so the Hot Rodsmight have come for a beer and stew and to relax a bit. Mack acted as Caddi’s bodyguardso Harold thought it more likely Caddi had sent a message, a polite message if it came with only two men. Twirling the stick, Harold strolled up the path towards the canteen. “Hello Mack, has Caddi turned you out to graze and get some exercise?”
“Eyup, ‘Arry. No need, ‘e lets me gallop up and down the cleared bit outside the wall now and then. Caddi wants to see you, says you might ‘ave ‘ad your feet in ‘is trough, or some such.” Mack looked towards the gate where Pete waited. “Looks like ‘e might be right.”
“Not really. Pete came back with me because his mates had gone off and left him. He’s headed on home in a minute.” Harold wasn’t too worried about Mack, because Mack would do what he’d been told. He wouldn’t cause trouble just for the hell of it. Harold didn’t recognise the other gangster, strutting about with a sneer on his face, so perhaps Caddi had decided on another little test? Harold didn’t mind too much, the type Caddi sent to challenge Soldier Boy needed a good beating anyway. Heglanced up the path as Patty and Elizabeth came out of the door to meet him.
Patty looked pointedly at his empty hand. “Hello Harold. Where’s your rucksack? Didn’t you get any shopping?”
Before Harold could answer theHot Rod youth with Mackturned to the two women. “About time the fucking women turned up. Which one givesthe free blow jobs, or do I get to choose?” He started to reach out towards Patty but Mack stopped him.
“Leave it.”
Mack spoke just as Harold snapped, “Watch your mouth.” Harold raised his hand slightly to stop Patty, grateful she wasn’t carrying her crossbow or machete,or Mack would have been carting a body back home.
The youth looked at Mack first, before turning to Harold. “Else what?”
Harold firmed up his grip on the walking stick, because any visitor knew better than to act like that. This scroat must be deliberately looking for trouble so Harold didn’t answer directly, speaking to Mack first. “Is he just stupid, or has this dipstick done something to annoy Caddi and he wants the scroat spanked? Either way, he’s just earned a fine at least.”
“Dunno ‘Arry. Caddi just said to bring ‘im. ‘E’s new and just come in a couple of days ago, brought some grub an’ blades an’ a big mouth.” The big man shrugged, a little smile on his face. “Caddi said ter bring ‘im back, but didn’t say ‘e wasn’t ter be ‘urt.” Mack paused, thinking for a moment. “Best if ‘e’s not dead. Caddi might take it wrong and I don’t fancy carryin’ ‘im.”
The Hot Rod scroat didn’t appreciate being ignored. “Oi, I’m here, you two.”
Mack glanced over. “Quiet Lada, the men are talkin’. Get to you in a bit.” The big man deliberately turned away from the Hot Rod,grinningat Harold.
Ah, wonderful, Harold thought, Mack had just wound the little scroat up. Sure enough, the youth reacted. “Lada? I told you all, Firebird, bloody Firebird!”
“Nah, you’ll get a proper name when you earn it. Until then it’s Lada.” Mack darted a glance at Harold, rolling his eyes a little. “Think yerself lucky, yer mate got Yugo.”
“Well I’ll fucking well earn a proper name, Firebird, right now!” The idiot seemed genuinely upset about his
gang name. Behind him Patty had started back towards the canteen, probably for her crossbow, but now she stopped and the smile she produced had a lot of anticipation.
“Ooh, ‘Arry, ‘e’s all annoyed and such. Might even cry.” Mack dropped the humour. “I told yer the rules. Now yer got to pay a fine. If yer stupid enough to keep goin’, Soldier Boy will spank yer and send yer ‘ome without yer supper.” Now Harold knew he’d been set up, but openly, so Caddi didn’t mind his boy getting roughed up a bit.
“I’ll have more than supper. We’re the Hot Rods, and we take what we want. When I’ve finished with them two whores you can have seconds, but first I’m gonna fix this mother fu.... Oof!”
While speaking, the youth stepped forward, lifting his right leg highin an obviously practised move. As he did so the gangster drew a knife from his right boot, bringing the eight inches of bright and sharp up and back as his foot came forward and down. He meant to gut his opponent before the other man could draw a weapon, an old and amateur move these days. Worse still, Harold already had his weapon drawn.
Harold also stepped forward,slashingsideways with his walking stick tosmackLada’s knee andknock the leg wide. As the youth threw out his knife arm to keep his balanceHarold extended his own arm,front leg bent, and lunged in a passable imitation of a fencer. The tip of his stick buried itself in Lada’s gut. The stance braced Harold so that Lada’s gut stayed where it was as his leg, head and arms continued forward.
The gangster’s upper body bent over with an oof of expelled air, so Harold took a second to get it dead right before cracking him on the wrist bone. Lada yelped as his knife tumbled onto the path, then lifted his head with a snarl, his other hand going up towards his neck.Harold pulled his stick back after the strike, but now took hold of it by the other end. As Lada’s hand went behind his head the big brass boss on Harold’s sticksmacked the youth at the side of his head. Lada collapsed in a heap. “I wouldn’t have done that if he’d quit after losing his knife.” Harold prodded the recumbent figure with his stick but it didn’t stir. “With luck he’s not too badly concussed. If he is you’ll have to leave him overnight.” Patty looked hopeful, that would give her a chance for some payback.
“‘E should be pleased you knocked him out, or ‘e’d be caned good and proper for talking to Patty like that, and the language.” Mack’s smile widened to a grin as he saw the way Patty eyed the youth. “Never seen your version.”
Harold picked up the knife. “Tell Caddi thanks, I haven’t got one like this. I’d take the sheath as well but he’s had his feet in it.” Harold glanced down at the spreading stain on the path. “And I think he’s just pissed in it.”
Mack laughed, head back in real humour. “Ooh, ‘e’s gonna ‘ave an ‘ell of an ‘eadache when ‘e wakes up. Mind, after that smack I reckon we’ll ‘ave to wait a bit until ‘e can walk.” He glanced at the knife. “Fair do’s ‘Arry, yer took it fair and square. Lada”—he chuckled—”brought it with ‘im, so it’s yours. ‘E ‘ad an alli bat with ‘im, an’ gave it up at the gate with mine.”
“We’ll take the bat as a fine of course. Caddi’s got plenty more.” Harold knew any aluminium baseball bat belonged to Caddi, because no Hot Rod owned one personally.Even if Caddihad set this up, he’d still punish Lada for losing the weapon.
“Nice trick that. I’ve seen it before of course, but real smooth ‘Arry. Mind, if yer tried it on me yer’d bust the stick.” Big Mack slapped his muscled abdomen. “Bit more weight ‘ere.”
“Ah, but you wouldn’t do something like that, not unless Caddi gave you the wordor I went for Caddi.” Harold knew that Mack’s confidence in his strength and size precluded any dominance games. Though if he clashed with Harold, Mack didn’t know the stick wassteel tube, etched and painted to resemble wood soit might not go down quite as expected. “Nobody warned Lada, so I suppose I’ve just helped Caddi out by slapping down some lippy scroat.I should charge him. I’ll get someone to stand watch, otherwise this idiot might say something fatal when he wakes up.” Harold nodded towards the canteen door.”Fancy a brew and a bite to eat?”
“Wot you got? Got any beef-burgers?” Big Mack returned the smiles, he knew all about the jokes over his name.
“Yeah right, me and Ronald got this arrangement, see.” They both laughed and both Patty and Elizabeth joined in. Ronald McDonald might still be serving up burgers in the fabled compounds full of rich bastards, but if someone offered a burger now it wouldn’t contain beef. In most places it might contain rat or cat. Up to now Orchard Close stuck to rabbit, which is why they always had customers for their burgers and stew. “Hey, Patty, any stew on the go?”
She’d come back towards Harold, stepping on Lada’s hand in passing and grinding her heel into it. Patty smiled, looking down at her foot. “That’s because I won’t get a chance to cane him.” She deliberately spat on the comatose gangster, then kicked him in the nuts. “That’s your Patty freebie, a scroat special.” She turned to Harold and Mack, satisfied for now. “There’s always something in the pot, though at this time of yearit will be mystery stew. That’s any veg we can scrounge up mixed with spices and chew sticks, with a bit of bunny thrown in. There’s still bread but that’s stale now, or a potato cake. Did you get any flour?”
“Yup, lots, and the spices this time. We also broughtcorned beef, lots of corned beef.” A couple of the blokes coming up from the gate with Pete cheered. Five big men with big packs could carry over five hundred pounds, so there’d be enough for everyone.
Patty and Elizabeth both stared. “Really?” Mack stared as well.
Harold pulled a can out of his pocket, throwing it to Patty. “No spam, because the shelves were full of this. The scroats were busy fighting over games so we loaded up, as much as we could stagger home with. For now I’ll settle for stew. It’ll soften the bread. Come on Mack, stew and a beer.” Harold stepped over Lada,heading for the door, followed by a smiling Mack. Elizabeth waited, adding her saliva and a kick to the nuts to Lada’s still form beforeescorting Harold’s pack inside.
Mack glanced at the women. “Sorry about the language, Patty. I told ‘im to watch ‘is mouth round you, but we don’t ‘ave any rules like that back in the Mansion. Yer know Caddi. The blokes can treat the women ‘ow they like.”
Patty wasn’t even slightly mollified. “You manage to remember, Mack, and so do most of the other Hot Rods. Anyway, Lada was meant to start something with Harold, wasn’t he?” She collected cans from Harold as he emptied his pockets, stacking them on a table where two of the kitchen helpers quickly scooped them up.
Mack sighed, looking longingly at the stew in the two bowls being filled from the steaming pot. “Caddi said if Lada started ter act up, I should wind ‘im up and let ‘im try. But only with ‘Arry, ‘e weren’t ter start with anyone else.” The big man hesitated. “Do I still get me stew?”
Patty didn’t answer, looking to Harold for a decision. “Yeah, and the beer.It’s home brew, not that canned stuff from the Mart. That’s bloody expensive and it tastes awful.” Harold started to smile, anticipating the reaction.
“Ooh, good. Your ‘ome brew is all right. Not as strong as some, but real smooth. You should open a pub.” They both laughed at the perennial joke. Some rumour or other always claimed that a pub still existed somewhere.If you knew the right people and the right passwords you could get superbbeer, a packet of crisps and a game of darts.
*
While theyate their soup and drank their beer, Harold took the chanceto catch up on the local gossip, and the current state of the gangs beyond Caddi. He might get betterinformation from Mack because, being Caddi’s bodyguard, he heard a lot of news that the ordinary gangsters and civvies didn’t.
At first the gossip wasn’t much. A few boundaries had shifted a little bit, but nothing to interest Harold until Mack chuckled. “There’ll be work for you, ‘Arry, gun work. Caddi just took two streets off the Murphies an’ the guns we captured are a real mess. The Murphies ain’t asked for a meeti
n’, so I reckon there’ll be more.”
“A real war, Mack? Is Caddi feeling that confident?”
“‘E took a good look at the gangs at the big fight, over at the Mart?” Mack paused and Harold nodded because he’d taken the same opportunity to assess the neighbours. “Caddi reckons the Ferdinands would be easier, but they ain’t got much border with us.We could be caught in a pincer by the Murphies and Baggies.” Harold nodded again because that made sense. “If the ‘Ot Rods take over ‘alf the Murphies patch, Caddi reckons ‘e’ll make peace if they want. Then ‘e can start on the Ferdinands. If ‘e does a deal with the Trainspotters to let ‘em snip off a bit of both gangs, and the Baggies get a bit of Ferdinand territory, ‘e reckons they’ll stand for it.”
“Ambitious all the same.” Worrying as well, because that would nearly double the size of Caddi’s gang. “What about the Barbie Girls? I heard rumours about them catching someone shoplifting, but the occasional visitors are being bashful and teasing.” Harold grimaced, he needed to know what had happened but didn’t expect to like it. “Not like them to keep quiet, but I’m pleased if they’ve done something gruesome.”
“If, ‘Arry? Of course they ‘ave. The Barbies ‘ave taken pictures of what’s carved into the prisoners,an’passed’emto other gangswivBluetooth. Not Caddi, they don’t talk to us so I’ve only seen wot they sent to the GOFS.” Mack shook his head, glancing to make sure the women weren’t too close. “Some prat tried to raid fer women, an’ the Barbies caught three alive. They chained ‘em ter lamp posts in daylight an’ on the roof with a big light on ‘em at night.Every Barbie took turns to carve something on ‘em or kick ‘em a bit.” Despite the violence he must have seen as Caddi’s bodyguard, Mack looked uneasy, so the pictures must have been gross. “Then they rented ‘em out to the Pinkies, the queers. The Barbies put ‘em in one of them big windows, an’ invited witnesses from other gangs.”