by Steve Liszka
‘I haven’t,’ Dylan answered super calm. ‘It’s when they don’t give them the money, that’s what I have a problem with.’
He looked around at the others, saw that he was holding court and began his tirade.
‘Okay, so let’s say you’ve got this show packed with Z-listers… I dunno, let’s call it Celebrity Snakes and Ladders or some shit like that. Then, let’s say that girl from that thing gets to the final, and if she answers the question correctly, she wins fifty grand for her chosen charity, which, in this case, is this little locally run thing that looks after kiddies with cancer, let’s call it, Kiddies with Cancer. So, let’s go further and say she gets the answer wrong, and because she doesn’t know how many inches Brad Pitt’s dick is, the charity gets nothing. I mean, think of the morality of that for a minute. Just because she can’t answer some ridiculous question that means nothing to anyone, the makers of this show are prepared to withhold the money that would have benefited dozens of kids, maybe even saved a few of their lives. I mean, they might as well roll little Johnny, the leukaemia-suffering kid, out on stage and tell him they’ve just given him a death sentence in the name of Saturday night entertainment.’
Lenny shook his head. ‘See, the boy’s sick in the head.’
‘It’s not me who’s sick, it’s the world we live in. And I haven’t finished yet, ’cos those knobhead celebs who starred in this piece-of-shit show are all paid a fee for appearing on it. So, the public end up happy, ’cos they got their hour of bubble gum for their eyes, the so-called celebrities are made up, as they’ve just made five grand for an afternoon’s jolly, but poor old Kiddies With Cancer, they get nothing, and little Johnny’s mummy has to plan the boy’s impending funeral, ’cos she can’t afford to pay for the op in America the charity would have funded if some bimbo knew the answer was seven and a half inches. That’s what’s sick, Len.’
Jo gave the boy a look that was a mixture of pity and confusion. ‘Seriously, Dylan, you need to get out more.’
‘Lucky bastard,’ Lenny said. ‘Not only is Brad a good-looking son-of-a-bitch, but he’s packing some heat too.’
Since they’d started work at six o’clock, everyone had acted like it was business as usual. There had been no mention of the money, even though it was the only thing on all of their minds. After the change of shift routines, instead of heading to the canteen as normal for a brew and a catch-up, the Watch members shuffled off to various nooks in the station where they could avoid talking to the others about what had taken place the previous evening. Jo disappeared into the gym for a particularly long session on the running machine, Wesley lost himself in the office as Dylan read his book in the dorm and Lenny sat in the yard chain-smoking.
It was only when Harrison summoned them to the canteen over the loud speaker for their evening meal, did they finally gather together for more than five minutes. Unlike the rest of them, the chef hadn’t changed his routine one bit. They were used to paying him compliments, but on this occasion, they lavished more praise and discussed the meal in far greater detail than normal. It wasn’t even a particular impressive meal by Harrison’s standards; just a cold meat salad due to it being Sunday night and he’d already cooked one meal at home, even if he was the only one who ate it. When Lenny had asked if any of them had seen the repeat of Celebrity Catchphrase that afternoon, the others were, for once, pleased to hear Dylan take up his attack on the subject. There were only so many ways you could praise a cold Scotch Egg.
‘I’m glad you lot enjoyed the food,’ Harrison said when they had all finished their meals, with none of them finding the energy to take their plates into the kitchen and start the washing up, ‘but I think we need to stop avoiding the issue and talk about what happened last night.’
Somehow, the silence in the room intensified. The others looked at Harrison like he’d just done a particularly loud fart.
‘What?’ he said to them. ‘Have you all forgotten that you stole half a million pounds from a casualty’s car last night, because I haven’t. So, unless any of you have anything better to do, which considering the seriousness of the situation I very much doubt, I think it’s time we cut the bullshit and talk about the money.’
Wesley was the first to reply to the request. ‘Harrison, I know you’re far from happy about what happened last night, but maybe it’s best that we wait a few days for the dust to settle before we drag it all out in the open. How about the first day of next tour? I’m sure things will make far more sense then.’
Even though the others said nothing, their approval of Wesley’s suggestion was clear; they had as little desire to discuss the situation as he did. Unfortunately for them, Harrison was not in agreement.
‘I’m sorry, Wes, but I don’t see what difference four days is going to make. We’ll be in exactly the same situation then as we are now, which just in case you’re not clear is this: you clowns were stupid enough to steal an awful lot of money last night and drag me into something that I wanted no part of. And now, just because you haven’t been caught, yet, you think you’ve got away with it. Maybe you bunch of arseholes need to consider perhaps there could be some comeback from what happened, and if there is, we need to get our stories straight so we don’t all end up in prison. So, if you don’t mind, and with all due respect, fuck waiting until next week. I want to talk about the money right now.’
‘Good idea,’ a voice from the doorway behind them said. ‘Let’s talk about the money.’
The man who had just entered the room was in his mid-to-late fifties and had white hair kept short with shaving clippers. None of the people sitting around the table had ever set eyes on him before. With his black trousers, shiny shoes and light blue shirt with no tie, he looked like a used car salesman who had just finished a day of hard selling. A senior salesman that is, for the man looked like he would hold a position of authority, regardless of his profession. On his forehead, he wore a long plaster that ran parallel to, and was almost as long as, his left eyebrow, and when he walked towards the table, he dragged his right leg behind him.
‘Can we help you?’ Wesley asked, startled by the man’s presence.
The man ignored him and continued his slow path to the dining table. The discomfort on his face suggested that the injury he had sustained to his leg was a new one.
‘Who the fuck are you, and how did you get in here?’ Lenny said, less politely.
‘Easy, big fella,’ the man said when he finally reached his destination. ‘Let’s keep things friendly, shall we?’ He nodded at the empty chair that was situated between Wesley and Jo. ‘Mind if I take a seat? My leg’s throbbing.’
Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the chair out, and with slow and deliberate concentration, lowered himself into it. The look of relief on his face was instant.
‘Don’t make me ask again,’ Lenny said when no answer was forthcoming. The man however, seemed content to study the faces of the people around the table.
‘You can call me Mac,’ he finally said, ‘but that’s the least of your problems. All you people need to know is I am the man you foolishly tried to steal from last night. That fact alone is all you need to concern your good selves about.’
‘Shit,’ Dylan said, unintentionally verbalising his thoughts.
‘Holy fucking shit would be more appropriate, son,’ Mac said, ‘because you silly sausages fucked up in the worst of ways when you decided to take what belongs to me.’
Summoning all the strength he had, Wesley stood up on his jelly legs, feeling like he was going to be sick and doing his best to stop his knees from knocking together. ‘Listen, sir, let me please take this opportunity to apologise for what happened. This is my Watch, and I should take responsibility for what we did.’
Mac smiled. ‘That’s very honourable of you, but sit the fuck down and shut up. I haven’t finished yet.’
Wesley returned to his seat so quickly, it wasn’t clear if he had sat down or his legs had given way.
‘See the
thing is, gentlemen, and lady, of course,’ he said, turning to Jo, ‘even though you took what was mine, I can’t really find it in this big old heart of mine to blame you. You must have thought, at the time, that the money belonged to Tony, my unfortunate and now deceased driver. So, taken from that point of view, it’s hard to be angry with you for coming to the conclusion that as its owner was no longer with us, the money in turn became yours. Perhaps if you’d known I was hiding in the bushes nursing my injuries,’ he pulled a sad face and pointed at the plaster on his head, ‘your decision would have been very different.’
He looked around the table at his audience, as if gauging their reactions.
‘Also, I have to take into account that you are firefighters, a profession I have always had the utmost respect for. I’m guessing none of you have ever seen such an amount of money before, and so naturally, you were tempted. So, like I say, I understand your predicament, and if I were in your situation, I may have felt the urge to do the same thing…’
When he spoke again, his voice lowered in tone. ‘But here’s the rub. As I’m sure you are aware from the copious amounts of money you found, I happen to be a drug dealer, and drug dealers are not known for their humanitarian services. My business is all about keeping face. Without that, you have nothing. So, if I were to simply let you off the hook, it would make me look weak to others in my trade, my competitors, if you will. That weakness would mean my rivals would try and take from me what is mine, which, if you haven’t guessed, is what happened last night, and why poor Tony is with us no more. The message I would be better off sending to those people, especially in the light of what happened to Tony, is to be fucking ruthless and kill the lot of you. Your big friend over there understands, I’m sure. He looks like a man of the world.’
Despite the threat on his life, Lenny nodded.
‘But, then again,’ Mac said, his voice now upbeat, ‘like I’ve already said, I like you guys. So, there’s my dilemma…What to do?’
‘Look, mister,’ Dylan said, trying his best not to show the fear that leaked out of him, ‘there’s no need to do anything silly. No one knows we took your money. What if we just go and get it for you right now? None of us will ever mention it to anyone, I swear.’
‘Tell you what, son, why don’t you do that, and I’ll sit here, have a chat with the big boys and see if we can’t thrash something out.’
Dylan looked to Wesley who dug his hand into his pocket and produced a key that he pushed across the table. Dylan picked it up and almost ran to the locker room to retrieve the stolen loot.
The man pointed at Dylan’s back as he left the room. ‘Is he really a fireman? Doesn’t strike me as the type.’
Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention to Jo. ‘And what about you, honey? What brings a good-looking girl like you into a messy job like this?’
‘It’s got to be all the interesting members of the public we meet,’ she answered without missing a beat.
The man acknowledged the quality of her answer with a quick smile, then switched things to Lenny. ‘You’re quiet, big man.’
Lenny shrugged. ‘Not a lot to say really, is there?’
Mac studied him before speaking again. ‘You’d just love to get hold of me, wouldn’t you?’
Lenny’s face gave away nothing.
‘But the fact you haven’t tells me you’re not as stupid as you look. You’re the one I’m going to have to keep my eye on, I reckon.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And you,’ he said, addressing Wesley, ‘you say you’re the head honcho around here?’
Wesley nodded.
‘That’s not the vibe you give off to me. You sure you’ve got your dogs on a tight enough leash?’
Before Wesley could answer, the sound of Dylan’s heavy feet echoed around the room. The boy charged in moments later, almost falling over as he changed direction and headed for the table. When he reached the man, he placed the bag on the table, then sat back down again, taking gasping breaths. He had run all the way to the locker room and back.
Mac unzipped the bag and smiled when he observed its contents. Then, careful to put as little weight on his bad leg as possible, he got to his feet, dug his hand into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash which he threw on the table in front of Dylan. He then repeated the procedure with each of the other crew members like he was dealing out cards.
‘So, the conclusion I’ve come to,’ he said, ‘is rather than make the tedious decision of the best place to dump your corpses, I’m going to make a deal with you. Those little stacks are worth five grand each, and before you get all uppity with me, I’d just like to state I’m not blackmailing you, that would be insulting to such honourable professionals as yourselves. No, the money is a simple token of gratitude for your retrieval and safe care of my goods, and I would deeply appreciate it if you were all to accept my humble gift… It would mean, though, should you decide to accept my offering, that you would stay quiet about what happened last night and tell neither your loved ones, nor any of our other uniformed friends.’
He let them absorb his words before he spoke again. ‘So, are we in agreement?’
The reply was one of the presents he had just given out landing in front of him on the table.
‘Keep it,’ Harrison said, the first thing he had uttered since the man had entered the room. ‘I’m not interested in your money.’
‘Ah,’ the man sighed. ‘Now, I don’t believe I saw you there last night, did I?’
‘That’s right, because if you had seen me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘I see. So, you’re the guy who really runs the show. That makes sense.’
‘I don’t run anything, I just wouldn’t have let what happened happen, that’s all.’
‘That’s a shame,’ the man said, ‘because that makes me feel uncomfortable. And unfortunately for the others, this is only going to work if you’re all in on it. But if you’re not happy, I guess I’ll have to draw up some other plans.’
‘I didn’t say I’m refusing the deal. I won’t talk to anyone about what happened. It’s the money I’m refusing.’
‘Sadly, it doesn’t work like that. This thing is all about acceptance. For you to accept my deal, you have to accept my money. Call it symbolic or a token gesture, I don’t give a fuck either way. But you will take the money or else you and your colleagues’ lives are about to get a whole lot more exciting. Understand?’ The playfulness in the man’s voice had evaporated.
‘Leave it on the table,’ Harrison said. ‘This lot can share it between them.’
Mac smiled. ‘See, that makes me feel far more comfortable with this situation already… Now, there is one other thing I should mention. Apart from silence, this money also means should I ever have need of them in the future, I can call on your services.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Harrison asked.
‘You’re firefighters. If anyone can understand the concept of a retainer, then I’m sure it’s you.’
‘And like you said, we’re firefighters, not the law. There’s nothing we could do to help you.’
‘See, that’s why I like you guys; you’re humble. You underestimate your talents. Now, don’t sweat about this, fellas, it’s very unlikely, but a day may come in the distant future where I may need the talents of my local fire service.’
‘Then call 999,’ Harrison said, ‘like everyone else.’
The man smiled at him again. ‘I’d love to get it into this deeper, I really would, but I’ve got business to attend to, what with some upstarts murdering my driver and all. You guys take care now, and remember: loose lips sink ships.’
Mac picked up the bag and limped towards the exit leaving the room in silence. As he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at his still captivated audience. ‘Keep safe,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous out there.’
When the man’s footsteps could be heard no longer, the silence in the room didn’t seem to want
to leave. It was Harrison who eventually kicked it out.
‘Is now a good time to say I told you so I shall I wait ‘til later?’
Persons Reported
Where the fuck am I?
This was the first thought that went through Jo’s mind when she sat up in her bed. The lights were on in the room, but she could not recognise any of its features. It definitely wasn’t her own bed, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t ended up in some guy’s flat. She felt awful, but knew she hadn’t been drinking.
Where the fuck am I?
It was only when she became aware of the ringing noise in her ears that was steadily getting louder, she finally realised she was at the station and they had a call. She jumped out of bed and quickly put on her trousers and T-shirt. She wasn’t worried about her roommate perving at her almost-naked form; Dylan was even worse at waking up, and she almost had to step out of the way as he caught his foot in his trouser leg and stumbled towards her.
When her shoes were on, Jo blinked her eyes to try and clear the fog, then jogged towards the appliance bays. Being a small station and based on only one floor, there was no pole for them to slide down, a fact that bothered Dylan greatly. Sliding down the pole was one of the reasons he joined the fire brigade, and the others teased him that was the real reason for his transfer request.
As they got on the lorry, Wesley greeted them with a look of concern on his face. ‘Fire. Persons Reported. Whitehawk.’
That was all he said, but it was enough to fully wake up Jo with a dose of adrenaline that charged through her body.
If he had told her they were going to a fire alarm at one of their regular haunts, she would have strapped herself into her BA set and most likely fallen asleep on the way. But the words “Persons Reported” were enough to prepare her for action. The term referred to a member or members of the public who were believed to be trapped inside a building that was on fire. It didn’t always prove to be a correct call, in fact, more often than not, a Persons Reported would turn out to be nothing. Quite rightly, mobilising would always err on the side of caution, so if someone called 999, and there was even the slightest doubt in their mind that someone might be inside, it was always sent out as a Persons Reported.