The Hitnan: A Tale of Blood and Canes

by Wez Wallie

  "Right, stop noncin' about," said Dotty, who had kept her eye on the small boat in the distance. "I'm freezin' me nips off here."

  "Right ye are dere, Ms Walker." He turned to Marion. "We're gonna go, uh, get some blankets from de car - we'll meet ye up on de pier, dere."

  "Okay Peader, we'll get some grub for you on your way back. Take care of mum and don't let her tempt you into any casinos on the way again!"

  "Haha. Ha. Ha. Yes, good one, Miss Walmker - Mawlker, ahem... Mal."

  Marion gave him a wink and walked down the beach with Shonny in hand.

  "What a gay."

  "Stop it now, Ms Walker, we got a job ta do. Now I hired a boat, only a small one mind, so we need ta get ta him fast and figure out a way ta get him back ta shore and then we can decide what ta do."

  "Why would we do that? Open your eyes man, we got nature's landfill out there! Just do him in and throw him overboard. Simples."

  "What if he washes up or people see? I dunno; too risky."

  "Listen - do you see any other dopey prats with binoculars out here? In fact, do you see even one other soul in this forsaken shithole? We're the only mugs out here. Now stop whining and let's go get on the boat."

  The boat in question was essentially a floating piece of wood with low-edged sides and it almost sank in the dock when Peader boarded the vessel.

  "Would it kill ya to eat a salad one of these days, Peter? Them fried dumplings you're always making for tea are playing havoc on the love handles!"

  "Peader ma’am, and I don't tink it's me, I tink it's 'cos it cost £15 and a Mars bar ta hire de ting. Ye get what ye pay fer, like."

  "A what, a Mars bar?"

  "Yeh, I had ta bargain a wee bit, dere."

  "You bargained and this was the best you could do? And you gave away me post-jobbie choccie treat?!"

  "Yeh, sorry Ms Walker, it's all I had in me drawers."

  "What drawer? The cab don't have drawers?"

  "Naw, I meant me drawers here," he clarified, showing her his tight tightey-whiteys.

  "What? Why were you carrying my confectionary in your bloody pants for?!"

  He moved in with a whisper: "Well, I had ta haggle, and it was dat, or dis gun here."

  "Are you mad?! Why you keeping a gun in ya kecks for?! This is Blackpool, not Baltimore."

  "In case of emergencies, Ms Walker."

  "Speak up lad, the wind's covering your voice!"

  "In case of emergencies, Ms Walker!"

  "Listen, if you shoot your cock off what on earth are you going to have to offer my Marion? Second thoughts, you'd be a virgin forever so that may actually be a good fing..."

  "What's dat now, Ms Walker, de wind's picked up ever so rudely."

  "I said if you blow ya cock off you'd be a virgin forever!"

  "Oh. Well, dere's not much dere ta begin wit, Ms Walker. Haha, ha. But luckily, I taped it down so it should be all good dere now."

  She put her hand to her ear: "What you say, boy?"

  "I SAID I TAPED ME WILLY DOWN!"

  They both paused for a moment and turned in unison to face the dock, and the wide-eyed face of the deckhand just raised his hands, stepped back and mouthed "none of my business," before starting the engine and unmooring the boat.

  The pair spent the ride over in awkward silence.

  "I can't believe you've brought an antique Colt out here," she finally said about ten minutes later. "You know my policy: 'If you have to use a gun, you're a lazy amateur bum!'"

  "I know, Ms Walker, I'm sorry. I don't tink it's even loaded!"

  "No, it is. I always keep Mr Snub-Snub stacked. For emergencies, you understand."

  "But Ms Walker, you just said -"

  "Never mind what I just said, make sure it goes back in my hallway jacket pocket and we'll say no more about it!"

  Peader conceded and stopped the engine about a mile out. "Hmm. What's de plan now, Ms Walker?"

  "Okay, what's the deal with this guy again, he's some fisherman freak ain't he?"

  "Yeh, so de client says he's not paid a penny in child support fer twelve years and she's got herself in mountains of debt like, so she wants him bumped off so she can claim his life insurance policy."

  "Bastard. What kind of a man is that? 'You responsible enough to poke a whore, you're responsible enough to pay the broad.' That's my motto."

  "Okey, well, I tink we shouldn't overcomplicate dis, Ms Walker. I tink we should just do de old Poison Cane trick and den we can be back on de pier in time fer sum lovely fish 'n chippies before anyone knows he's having a Grade 3 cardiac episode."

  He bust out the cane from his pants and handed it over to Dotty. She looked him up and down.

  "Do I want to ask how you smuggled that onboard?"

  "Relax, Ms Walker, I put a hinge in it so it folds up now, see - like a Magician's Wand!"

  "Bet you know all about taking Magician's Wands in your pants, boy."

  "What's dat now?"

  "Look, I've got a plan. But it involves you fackin' orff. Go back to Mal and the kid, I need the boat to meself for this one."

  "What?! But de shore's miles away, Ms Walker! And I can't swim!"

  "You don't need to swim, ya silly git, look at the tide - it'll take you straight back without you even having to move a limb! Perfect for lazy twats like you."

  He looked out at the choppy waves hesitantly. "Um... if ye say so, Ms Walker..."

  "I do. I really do. Now in you get son, time's getting on."

  Peader dipped a finger into the salty brown liquid.

  "It feels awfully frigid, Ms Walker..."

  "Yeah, you're a match made in heaven, now get in; Marion will have a plate of grub waiting for you over there to warm you up."

  Peader carefully lowered himself into the icy sea and was kept above water by his inflating lifejacket, bobbing back to shore like a luminous orange turd.

  "Just fink of the chips!"

  "Okeey, Ms Walker! Good luck, derrrre!"

  Dotty started the engine and drove up to the lone man on the fishing boat. From afar, he looked like Captain Bird's Eye, but up close he looked like a seafaring Billy Mitchell off EastEnders; a kind of haunted fellow, like a man who had seen the real-life Moby Dick and wore the trauma of such a monstrous apparition upon his shrivelled-up face.

  She smashed up the engine with her cane and got into character as it spluttered into death.

  "Excuse me, sir..."

  She began calling to him rather feebly, but the deaf prat couldn't hear.

  "Excuse me, SIR!"

  He just stood with his back to her with his rod in his hands, staring out at the open water, perhaps waiting for something he once knew to be there...

  "OI - FISH FREAK!"

  He seemed to react to the word 'fish' and turned to see a frail old lady seemingly stuck on a small craft in the open sea.

  "Poseidon’s Trident! What happened to you, doll?! You okay, love?"

  "I think so. Other than my hurty-hip... oh, what must you think of me!"

  He held her hand to steady her as she stepped aboard, and the ship seemed to depress into the sea an inch when she did so. He tried to make a joke about it to make her more comfortable.

  "Oh, my word love, should've gone easy on the Werther's Originals before coming out!"

  She stared daggers; You cheeky shit!

  He brought The Hitnan aboard and warmed her in the tarp which he used to gut his catch in. "Sorry love, you may have smelly shoulders by the time you get back to shore but least you'll be warm, eh."

  The fings you do for ya job, she thought.

  "Ooh, I don't know how to thank you, dear. I was just out enjoying a game of Sudoku on the shore, and the next thing I know, the bleedin' tide sweeps me out to sea and I'm on a boat being rescued by a handsome Captain! The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways!"

  "See, I always knew maths was dangerous. That's why I stayed clear of the stuff and stuck to fish. Well lucky I was out here, eh. Not many others around here
to rescue you, perish the thought!" (He sounded like Billy Mitchell too.) "Hang on a minute though, you don't look very wet to me."

  "You ain't my type, love."

  "Charming! Anyway, have you got anyone I can phone, kids maybe?"

  "Oh no, dear. None of that kind of thing. Do you have any kids, dear?"

  He looked down and then out to sea, pensive.

  "I do. I don't get to see them very often. My fault really, I suppose. I've spent years chasing the sea, only too late do you realise the tides were pushing you back to shore all along, maybe trying to tell me not to miss the important moments in life... Guess I just thought I knew better."

  She almost started feeling sorry for the guy.

  "I try to pay my way though. I send my ex-wife whatever I can when I have it, but these blasted fishing quotas have decimated the industry. Look at this, this is all I'm allowed to catch a day. That will only fetch about hundred quid at market. That barely covers the cost of running the boat, let alone anything else. I'm kippin' on here of a night, you know. Look, right there, where the tarp goes - oh god, I'm literally sleeping with the fishes!"

  He burst into tears and fell to his knees like a broken man.

  She studied the length of her cane, deciding what she will do. On the one hand, he seemed like a decent guy just trying to do the best he can in a harsh world. On the other, this was a job and he just called her fat when they met and so his fate was practically sealed.

  He stared into the sea. "It's a mystery down there. A whole alien world. I've spent my life wondering what lies beneath us. You know I saw something once. Something beyond all imagining. That's how I know there's more beyond just us. I've spent years trying to find it again. Maybe one day I will."

  "Why don't you get started spending eternity searching for it then?"

  "Eh?"

  She stood up and whipped the tarp off her shoulders, but it got caught in her collar, and like fucking Batgirl she leapt over the helm and smacked him in the face with her cane, as he flopped over the side and disappeared into the black abyss of the mysterious world that he was so fascinated by.

  "Happy searching, fackface. Maybe get a real job in the next life, so you can pay for your responsibilities instead of spending all night perving on waves and shagging fishes!"

  She dipped the bottom of the cane in the sea to wash off the fisherman's bloody saliva and tried to fold up the stick. There must be some trick to it as she couldn't collapse it for the life of her. Then she remembered it had been down Peader's pants, so she dipped the whole bloody thing in the sea for full-scale decontamination purposes.

  The body seemed to keep floating to the surface, so she wrapped him in the tarp along with his haul of fishes and watched him disappear again, almost like Jack Dawson at the end of Titanic, though it wasn't nearly as romantic watching Billy Mitchell have to be flushed down to the seabed with a few thuds of a walking stick for a plunger.

  She drove his boat back to shore and joined the fam at the pier, after threatening the deckhand into silence.

  There was a fish supper waiting for her, though Peader had already stuffed most of the chippies, washing it down with his favourite Vimto refreshment. He sat shivering under a cheap Superman towel that Mal had bought him off the promenade, and his hand was shaking so much from the cold he ended up smearing a ketchuppy chip all over his moosh.

  "Let me get that, P," said Marion, holding him still and wiping the sauce off his face.

  "Tttt... t'anks," he said with a frozen blush.

  "Can you believe, mum, some yob pushed Peader into the sea!"

  "Yes Marion. I actually can," Dotty replied, shaking her head.

  "We should find 'em and twat 'em!"

  "Shonny!!" Marion was in shock. Dotty smirked under her napkin between bites of Skate. "Where did you learn language like that?!"

  "Well, we should! Poor Peader could have drowned, mummy!"

  "Ah, dat's fair craic now, Shon-Shon; de water washed me panties down a bit so maybe dey t'ought I was moonin' dem or someting. But anyways, it did me a favour. At least de water washed off all de black crap 'round me eyes, dere."

  Unfortunately, Dotty pointed at a seagull that just stole one of his chips and he put the binoculars back up to his eyes again trying to spot the fecker.

  They all shared a laugh as they walked back to the cab, and Marion gave him some tissue to clean himself up with.

  Along the pier, a shadowy figure in a trench coat and hat watched them whilst nibbling on a battered sausage.

  Back in the car park, they all had had a long day, and were eager to get home and relax. The ladies hopped in the back seat and settled to sleep waiting for Peader, who was outside the motor bending over the wing mirror and frantically wiping his face.

  Peader, however, realised too late that he had smeared the joke-shop binocular ink all over his mug and was eventually arrested for a hate crime, handed a lifetime beach ban and told never to do blackface in Blackpool again.

  Dotty had to bail him out using her Youtube money.

  Chapter 5

  Dotty was up Smiffy's Bingo hall in the town centre, usual for a Wednesday night, though this week was a little different: she was on a job. Technically she was mixing business with pleasure and partook in a few games whilst eyeing the mark. It wasn't all fun and frolics tonight though. She was suffering from a bit of a belly ache. The hall had also opened late and many of the regulars got caught queuing in the rain, and so she was also feeling a bit nauseous from the stench of a room now full of damp old ladies.

  Peader was out in the stormy back alley, listening in via earpiece from the Cab's base of operations.

  "I hope yer not too distracted wit ye Bingo in dere, Ms Walker!"

  "Listen," said The Hitnan, pressing her wired-up hearing aid deeper into her ear-canal and talking into her wrist, "I just bailed you out of jail for being a racialist using me internet moneys, so now I'm trying to win some of it back. Unless you're gonna cough up and pay ya debts?"

  "Um... see de ting is, Ms Walker, I was actually saving up me money ta purchase some flowers fer a girl I really like, y'know. Maybe even ta take her away on a nice weekend away ta Cornwall, or Camber Sands if de wedder's nice. She's got a kiddie too, so I'm eyein' Centre Parks if I allow meself ta dream big, y'know."

  "Fink Shonny would prefer Butlins to be honest..."

  "What's dat now, Ms Walker?" said Peader, trying to hear through the interference.

  "Nuffink, the reception's not too good. Must be the rain. Look, get out me ear for a minute, will ya, I'm trying to hear the numbers 'ere."

  The Caller this week looked very tired around the eyes, like he had been up crying and drinking all night and wanking himself into an early grave in front of the ol' Tug TV. Seeming to model himself between the image of Pee Wee Herman and a Jimmy Carr ventriloquist doll, he was usually very peppy, but this week he just seemed a little down.

  He was picking up the white balls and taking a pause, spending a moment to just stare at them whilst swallowing down the beginnings of a mid-life crisis brewing in his chest, and letting out the whimpers of a mini breakdown between announcing every number:

  "...Now I'm in Heaven - Number ELEVEN!"

  "I'm Doing Totally Fiiiine, Number NINE!"

  "She Put Me Back On The Shelf - Number TWELVE!"

  "The Age Of My Daughter Who Doesn't Seem To Want To Know Me, Number THIRTEEN!

  "Oh My, Scabby-Eye Meat-Pie - It's Number FIVE!"

  "Yes I Have To Cook For Myself Now - Number FOURTEEN!"

  "It's FIFTEEN - FIFTEEN - The Number Of The Tadpoles She Took In The Divorce!"

  "Who Takes A Man's Tadpoles Number TWENTY-THREE... YEAH TWENTY-THREE - The Amount Of Pounds She Left In My Bank Account Before Running Off With Spanish Marco To The Costa Del Sol Whilst I'm Here In Peckham Trying To Piece My Life Together - Ha-ha, a-ha-ha - TWENTY THREE!"

  Some bloke shouted "EUREKA!", but that's just because he had mild Alzheimer’s, and thought he was still work
ing on the Enigma Code during WW2 and was subsequently disqualified after plopping his pants in excitement. (Dotty's own arse clenched tighter as her belly felt like it was going the same way.)

  However, a woman soon yelled "BINGO!" after double checking her card and bolted upright, frantically waving her ticket in the air. The Caller couldn't see her too well through his streaming tears and thought it was his ex-wife returning from Spain to reunite with him.

  "I'm here, baby!" he screamed in desperate hallucinagenics, and had to be forcibly removed from the building when he leapt atop poor Martha and began sucking her face off like a randy hoover. Even Dotty was getting a little light-headed in all the drama.

  "Okay folks," said the owner, who had jumped on stage to save the night from this mental shit-show. "We're going to take a break there for a few minutes whilst we check Martha's card and also try to get her breathing again. A thousand apologies for all that bother, as some of you may know, Colin over there has been through a bit of a tough time lately and we wish him all the best as he continues his therapy."

  The owner jumped off-stage and dragged some of the waiting staff into the backroom to give them a bollocking.

  "Ooh, there's a break," said Dotty into her earpiece. "So what's this target done to the client then?"

  "I don't tink we need ta keep going inta de reasons we're hired, Ms Walker. It is supposed ta be confidential, after all, like."

  "Yes well, I'm good at me job but I'm also a nosey bitch, so read me the files so I can have a good laugh before I whack this flid."

  She kept an eye on the back of the target's head who was positioned on the table in front of her.

  "Okey, so this, quote unquote, ‘little old lady’, is not even a pensioner! She's actually fifty-six and scamming the local businesses by dressin' up in a silver wig and cardie pretending ta be an old farty. The local authority want her outta de picture, if you get me drift."

  "Eh? Pretending to be an ol' coot to get a free bus pass? Outrageous. One should always be what one is: nothing more, nothing less. Just as our Lord Father made us. That's what I always say. I mean, feigning frailty just to make people pity you and make 'em do what you want them to do for you? Despicable!"