by Ian Patrick
I take this opportunity to have a banana. Potassium is good for the brain and what’s the point in wasting all this fruit that’s sat next to me? I doubt Big H is interested in the purity levels of this produce.
The lead car has been joined by a second backup vehicle. This vehicle is shadowing on lane two and ducks back in to let others pass rather than overtake me. I was right about the first vehicle, he’s running low on fuel or I’m completely delusional and paranoia has taken over. I’ve never been wrong in the past and that’s what’s saved my life.
I know one thing for certain; I cannot let them remain with me for much longer. Time isn’t on my side and I need to make the next meet point alone or everything I’ve been through will amount to nothing. To have DCI Winter covered in glory, cocaine and cash isn’t my idea of an ultimate fantasy. I cannot see her smug face talking to camera about another major bust for her team and all the kudos that goes with such an airing. No. My intention is to be up to my ears in cash and fanny, on a beach, whilst the dust settles.
In my job planning can often go awry no matter how much effort you place on organisation. There are times where opportunity presents itself and you’d be a fool not to take it. Today is thankfully one of those days. The hand carwash scheme. Hamer loves it and it suits him well. They’re everywhere and thankfully the A1 is no stranger to them.
The sign states it’s coming up and I see a disused garage forecourt in the distance. The advantage of sitting high. I look back; they’re still in the same formation. Time for the fun to begin. I depress the accelerator and the distance between me and the vehicle immediately behind me increases. I need to give the appearance of continuing in the same direction with no intention of altering course.
The car wash approaches and I start mentally counting down the distance I have before it would be unsafe to turn at speed. The chain in the back begins to gently sway and clash into the metal uprights as the lorry’s tyres engage with the uneven road surface. My pursuers are moving into the second lane to take the advantage of closing a gap. Not for any other purpose than to get a constant watch and see if any exit is coming up where I could duck out. The last thing they will be thinking is I would need the lorry washing. I wait until the last surveillance car is alongside a nearside vehicle then abruptly turn left into the garage. The other two panic and brake. The lead car carries on and the rear one ducks in and follows behind me. One way in and one way out.
I now know the lead vehicle and also know it will be waiting further up the A1 or at the very least on a bridge where it can return on south. Good luck, my A1 route is over. I can see the driver in the camera and make a point of drawing in my side mirror towards the cab. I don’t want him seeing my face in it. A tanned Eastern European approaches the lorry looking confused. I’m the first in line with another car behind me. The surveillance vehicle has waited for another car to join before getting in the queue. He’s now blocked in as another car joins the rear. A bacon sandwich, if you will, except I’m about to spill out the sides. The carwash attendant is below looking up and I beckon him onto the step that leads into the driver’s cab so I can hear him. He does and comes flush with my open window. I leave the engine running. The growl of the diesel beast drowns our conversation.
“You want wash boss?” He’s Albanian, perfect.
I produce a hundred in twenties and his eyes light up. He leans in closer and casually looks around.
“What I want is the grey Audi estate two cars back held up for as long as possible.”
He doesn’t look towards the car. He nods and smiles and before I hand over the money he confirms he understands the instructions.
“No problem, boss. Have safe trip.”
He takes the money and puts it in the top pocket of his waterproof coat before getting down off the steps. I hear him shout to others in his native tongue. With a deftness of productivity the remaining car windscreens and windows are smeared in soap, making visibility impossible. I move off and in my repositioned door mirror I can see the driver and passenger trying to get out of their car but the amount of carwash staff around prevents this.
Water and soap is raining down upon each vehicle in line. I grab an apple from the crate and bite into it. The force of my laughter spits it all over the inside of the lorry windscreen. I erupt inside, aching pain takes over, my whole body succumbs to the ecstasy of uncontrollable joy. I’m clear. They were the only two at that point. Another wave of joy rides over me like a tsunami as I chuck the core out of the driver’s window. It ricochets off the road as I exit left towards Peterborough in search of an open garage and a road map of the UK.
26
DCI Winter returns to the control room.
“Ma’am, the surveillance team has reported a loss on the A1 southbound.”
The DC looks down as Winter approaches his desk. Her glasses come off and she throws them across the room.
“Fucking lost him? He’s in a skip lorry on the FUCKING A1! It’s a straight FUCKING road!”
“Yes, ma’am. The control vehicle reports he turned off abruptly into an Albanian car wash. Charlie Six believes Batford paid them to keep them there whilst he made his exit. Charlie Six reported a loss when their vehicle was covered in soap and surrounded by Albanians. Charlie Eight couldn’t continue as they were running on fumes, ma’am.”
“Fucking shambles. I’ve got a target shot and killed in Nottingham with an unidentified body, I’ve got no further intelligence coming in from our friendly and the undercover officer who’s meant to be assisting us has gone dark with the knowledge of his unit. I’ve now lost the shipment that is, to all intents and purposes, with Batford heading for who knows where and I won’t be taking it out or Guardino! Get me something I can work with and get it FUCKING fast! SCO35 will not get the glory for this bust!”
DCI Winter picks up her glasses and leaves the room. As the door shuts the chatter recommences.
27
I’m going against my better judgement and calling in. This is deep now and I need some idea about what my lot know. I load the new SIM into the phone and activate the card. I’m not in the lorry. I have to assume its bugged by Big H’s mob. I would wire it up if I had it loaded up with multiple kilos of cocaine and a MAC-10. I take a sip of my takeaway coffee and dial up. It’s answered on the third ring.
“It’s Sky. I’m checking in.”
“About time. Where in the love of fuck are you? The commander’s going spare over that clothing bill. What the fuck were you thinking of, spending that kind of money?”
“Oh, glad to see you’re so fucking concerned over my welfare! I’ve just had to shake off Winter’s cronies. Why is she looking at me and not Ron or Stone or Guardino?”
“Alright calm down, it’s not as bad as you think. The cab Ron uses she keeps missing and he’s lying low. Guardino is out of the country. You must be the next best option to follow.”
“Not as bad as I think? It’s alright for you sir, sat on your arse in the cosy confines of your home but I’m out here up to my neck in shit.”
“You’re on the home leg, but it’s good you called in now. We don’t know why she’s looking at you. She’s been to see me and was fucked off. I gave her a pill and she went away. We’ve had no communication since. I’m on standby as soon as you know where the gear is I’ll come and lift it. She’ll never know as long as she doesn’t tail you to the drop. We have to assume your lorry is fully loaded. What do you know?”
I remain resolute in telling him fuck all. He’s not instilling me with confidence he has my back and I don’t believe if he did he would be giving it a careful watch.
“Nothing. I picked the lorry up and now I’m here. I was told nothing about what was on it only that I’ve got to get to Hendon to meet Zara.”
He’s silent at the other end for a few seconds, then speaks.
“You know you can’t get nicked. If you do, you say nothing. We’re out on a limb here and it’s looking like it’s falling off and requiring a prosthetic, sorry, bad an
alogy. Phones have gone quiet. Talk of tanning shops and investments. Big H is relaxed though, laughing and chilled. Someone on his payroll has had his fingers in the till but he’s got his employment termination in hand. Nothing else said. We’re monitoring that side of the threat but as he threatens people all the time it’s being regarded as a low threat level.”
That will be me delivering the P45 then. If only he knew – my boss, not Guardino – then the threat level would be through the roof. Problem is, the whole job would be compromised, then how would I get my money? What’s one more low-life’s death in the bigger picture? This is what society is crying out for. This is the Big Society the Tories wished for. Criminal cleansing. People like me will be heroes in years to come, the forefathers leading the way in the clean-up revolution. Prisons will become luxury hotels for the coked-up elite to detox. The future’s bright. The future’s clean. As for me, I’ll be far away from here.
I’ve noted the panic in the superintendent’s voice. He knows if I get nicked the hierarchy is coming too. I’ve no intention of being alone in prison if it comes to that. Far better to have someone you know on the inside with you, especially a man of rank and fallibility who can petition the screws for fairer treatment. I want to know my food hasn’t been pissed in, or worse. As for the commander, she’ll have to take her chances.Holloway prison no longer exists.
“Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of getting nicked. I’ll call once I’m away and meet at the agreed location. You better have a good size suitcase.” I hang up and get back in the lorry.
The rest of the journey was smooth. The minor detour worked well and yet it feels good to be back in the familiar surroundings of London. I can see the service yard of the industrial unit where the drop will take place. It’s deserted save for a camera on the spiked metal gatepost that now moves in my direction. The gate judders as it slowly moves on its runners. I wait until it’s completely across then drive in. Stoner is at the large open warehouse doors. The area appears empty. I’m glad, last thing I need is another reception committee. The engine noise increases as I drive into the lock up then subsides to an acoustic lull as I kill the engine.
Stoner appears by my door. I’m high enough to see down her low-cut blouse but human enough to notice the bruise around her right eye. Her top lip looks swollen but we’re not talking Harley Street fillers. Her plump lip was hand delivered. The fruit crate is still on the passenger seat. I don’t get out immediately, just fuss in the cab. I need to be as sure as I can that she’s alone. She needs to be or my plan will fail. I have no intention of failing, none at all. A bang on the door and her puzzled look tells me my stalling time’s up.
“What happened to you? Been chasing parked cars?”
“Ha fuckin’ ha! I’m here ain’t I, isn’t that what matters? Come alone you said. You don’t know how fuckin’ hard that is when Big H has other plans or in this case has the raving hump ’cos his other plans ain’t worked out the way they should.”
“What do you mean they haven’t worked out? What plans?”
“How the fuck should I KNOW! I just deliver messages and this eye and face is his way of delivering messages when he’s fucked off.”
I’ve overstepped the mark. For once she shows a degree of emotion. The tears in her eyes tell a thousand stories of abuse. I know all about beatings from those who are supposed to show you love. Aside from that I know she’s lying as her lover is out of the country – or maybe he isn’t and my lot are taking the piss with me. I’m inclined to believe her right now. Problem is you become hardened and then your own emotions get screwed up, as she’s about to find out.
I’m out of the lorry. I look around and there’s nothing but a cavernous space. The unit is built to house vehicles as there are parking bay lines on the floor. No other cars around and the place feels abandoned.
“Why here? What’s so special about this place?”
“He used to own it. Sold it on to a wannabe car dealer but he decided there was more money in Charlie than cars. He’s doing a stretch now. Didn’t have the business savvy with motors let alone drugs. I thought it was the safest place. H said he’d look after it whilst your man was away. It was no trouble getting the key.”
This just gets better and better. I take a deep breath and stretch. On the back of the lorry is a toolbox. I already know what’s in it and now is as good a time as any to utilise its contents. Stoner is standing, arms folded across her body in a hug. Why she never dresses appropriately for the outside is beyond me. I open up the box and take out a chain and padlock. I have no idea why it’s on the lorry, as I don’t deliver skips, but for my purposes it works well.
“Oi, I’ve not gone to all this trouble so you can walk over your truck. What is it you need to tell me? I’ve not got all day.”
I’m facing her now. She looks so pitiful. She’s back to the woman she was in Bali, one of life’s tarts who get taken on by what appears to be a well-meaning owner but gives a slap every now and then to show who’s boss.
“Over here.”
She unfolds her arms and walks towards me. Her body moves so well, a practiced routine when she approaches any man. She smiles at me and I smile back. Resistance is futile now, we’re alone and I need her trust. I lean back against the truck door as she gets closer. She blows a stray strand of blonde hair from her forehead and pushes it back into place with her shades. She’s against me now, her taut muscled thighs rest against my legs. She hasn’t noticed I have only one, or she’s being polite. Her lips are wet and red and I feel her breath against my face as she leans in towards my ear.
“You could have booked a hotel you tight bastard,” she whispers.
“It would be too quiet for what I’ve got planned for you.”
I grab the back of her hair and spin her round so she’s facing the cab. The chain wraps around her neck easily and secures to the arm of the skip loader like a coiled snake around a tree branch. She starts kicking out but feels the chain tighten and stops. She can’t sit down, she can only lean. If she sits she dies from strangulation. Sadly, she can still speak. For now, anyway. I stuff a rag in her mouth and tape it with duct tape from the same toolbox. I have no time to hear ranting until I’ve made my speech. Her eyes are wild and forehead lines begin to show – remarkably, I think, knowing that she has work done in that area. It shows me her level of hostility. A reasonable response, in the circumstances.
Once she’s stopped writhing I begin.
“Some things are never clear. Instructions that on first glance look simple cannot cover the missing piece. Unless you packed it yourself you’d never know the piece was missing until you started putting it together then realise this isn’t going as planned. You see, Zara, your lover has had enough. He’s told you enough and now you’ve become what’s called a liability. This job’s nearly over so it’s time to mop up those on the periphery who know too much. You’re one of those.”
She’s concentrating. A good sign.
“It wasn’t a chance meeting between the two of us. It was his idea all along, your lover man, Mr Big. He knows me, you see, and he knows that I’ll do a good job when a job needs that final polish. It’s a shame you have to go. I’ve enjoyed our little chats and games but you ain’t the bank love, he is. The banker’s called his debt in and your life is the final payment. He told me to send his love and he says you can give me a message to send him if you like.”
I open the driver’s door and step up. She’s looking to her left but finding the chain too constricting to move her head fully. She tries grabbing at it but realises its futility. I bring out the MAC-10. I have her full attention now.
“I’m going to undo the tape and take out the rag. If you scream I will kill you. If you remain reasonable I will listen. Do you understand?”
She nods. I step forward and put my false leg nearer to her. If she kicks out at that it won’t go dead on me. I count to three in my head and rip the tape. She flinches but doesn’t shout. She spits on my shoe instead.
I wipe it off on the bottom of her jeans.
“You fucking arsehole. I knew…I knew you weren’t right…you and him were made for each other. He’s having you over, don’t you see it? You’re his fucking patsy, his go to for the dirty work, you’re a fucking mug. Go ahead kill me why don’t ya. I’ll be waiting for you by the pearly gates and the first thing I’ll say is I told you so. I’ve seen many come and go like you. One minute you’re here the next you’ve vanished. You think he’s got you on a good number don’t ya? You think he’s got you driving the star prize, fully loaded, you stupid, stupid cunt. I’ll tell you what’s on that lorry, ten kilos of white, that’s it. Ten fucking kilos. Why? Because you’re his fall guy, he’s got the old bill onto you and whilst you’re being nicked the rest is coming through on another motor. Now who’s the mug? You’re getting nothing for all you’ve done for him. You’ll be banged up and the filth will laud up they’ve taken out ten kilos and a shooter. He’ll be the one laughing when he’s rolling in money from selling the other hundred and ninety. So get on with it. I’m done.”
I flick off the safety and hold it to her head. She looks me in the eye. She’s prepared to die. Not like the kid on the estate I blew away. He had a look of fear. He couldn’t even hold the gun straight due to the weight. It’s a cruel world we operate in, but you can’t live in fear all your life. I flick the safety back on. Now she’s confused.
“How did you get here?”
“I drove…it’s round the back…black Audi TT…keys are in my bag over there.”
“I’ve got one other job then I’m back for you. I don’t believe a word so you’d better come up with a plan or you’re next. Remember this, I know where you live so no noise. I’m not cruel so I’m going to loosen the chains and tie you flat on the back of the lorry. Don’t struggle or resist. Do you understand?”
“Yes…yeah…I get it.”
“You take this time to think. You need to convince me your life is worth more than mine.”