‘Is it always like this?’ asked Eddie.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, after a job’.
Charlie grinned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Ah, the “come down”. Yeah, mostly. You plan these things for weeks, months. The tension builds and builds, ties your gut into knots’. He turned away, looking towards Marbella at the foot of the hills a few miles below. ‘After that, if you’ve prepared well, the big day comes and you’re like a machine. Like a robot. It goes down. Things go to plan, or they don’t. Next thing you’re back home watchin’ Crossroads on the tele with a bag of swag hidden in your loft, unable to muster the energy to even get up and make a cuppa’. He cleared his throat. ‘Assuming you didn’t get caught. That’s a whole different feeling, trust me’.
‘How many jobs do you reckon you’ve done?’ said Eddie.
Charlie shrugged. ‘Dunno. Depends what you count as a “job”. Banks, Securicor vans, post offices, pubs, newsagents…lorries full of washing machines’. He smirked. ‘All a bit of a blur, to tell the truth, bruv. The first ones you remember. And the big ones, them you don’t forget. But the others? I don’t know. A few hundred? We was all young, dumb and quite often drunk in the beginning. That’s why we got caught. After a stint in the Scrubs, you either stop doing it or you learn from your mistakes and get your act together. That’s what we did. And we got pretty flipping’ good at it’.
‘I noticed,’ said Eddie. ‘It was impressive’.
Charlie shot him a wry smile. ‘You weren’t expecting that, was yer? The lads being so professional? Go on, say it’.
‘I didn’t know what to expect,’ said Eddie.
‘There are only a few crews that can do the jobs we did. Most of them are either banged up now, retired down here in the sun or six-foot under’. Charlie picked up the bottle of gin and the glass and started walking back to the house.
‘What you said. Were you serious?’ said Eddie. ‘That was the last job?’
Charlie nodded and gestured towards the surrounding countryside.
‘Too right. Look at where we are, Ed. And what we’ve got. It was always about getting this. For me, at least’. He waved his hands towards the house, and then towards the coastline in the distance. ‘Why on earth would I want to risk losing this, now I’ve got it, hey?’
‘And the rest of the lads?’ said Eddie.
‘What about them?’
‘From what I saw, they enjoyed being on the job. Like they were all in their element. I noticed it too, the buzz’.
‘And that’s what gets geezers like us locked up. Or dead. You gotta know when to get out. You’ve gotta have an endgame. Other people I know, people what was as good as us, they lost sight of that. They got it into their heads they was all tough guys. Villains. They want to maintain a certain image. Fuck all that. It ain’t about havin’ strangers nod at you as you walk by coz they’re in awe of you, or scared of you. That’s a bunch of bollocks’.
‘So what is it about?’ said Eddie. ‘For you, I mean?’
‘Freedom. That’s all what matters. But I told you before, you gotta be clever. Things ain’t always gone to plan. I didn’t want to do this last job, but I did it. We got there. There’s a shitload of diamonds locked up in my safe. We will fund the property project and make a shed load more cash, and we get to enjoy the rest of our lives. If others want to dick about giving it the big ‘un, that’s up to them. Life’s too short, bruv. You gotta grab it by the bollocks and enjoy it. Now get dressed. I’m taking you and the rest of the lads out for a slap-up meal’.
Eddie watched as Charlie shuffled back into the villa through the French windows. The sun was beating down on his exposed neck. He stared back behind him, at the sparkling blue water in the pool, at the distant sprawl of Marbella and up at the towering mass of La Concha above them. The despair that had hit him when the mercenary gig was called off now seemed like a hazy memory. How had he built it up to be the only option open to him? Had he been blinkered all along, just like Charlie had kept telling him? Even the risky trip back to England just a few days earlier felt like ancient history now. The south of Spain was undeniably stunning.
Maybe, he thought. ‘Just maybe this is where it all gets better. And I can put that sodding war and all the other fuckups behind me and get myself sorted out’. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face. He held out his arms and whirled around, a broad grin on his face.
‘Oi! What are you doing, you pillock?’ Charlie shouted from an open window above. ‘Hurry and get ready’.
The brothers arrived an hour later at Da Vinci’s, a restaurant on the western outskirts of Marbella, having collected Kenny from his apartment on the journey there.
The swelling on his face had diminished somewhat, but the effects of Mike’s punch and the subsequent surgery were still plain to see. It appeared as if someone has sprayed him with purple and yellow paint while he wore a badly fitting balaclava. He was wearing a white Trilby, no doubt in an attempt to hide under it. Eddie thought it made him appear even more conspicuous.
Charlie tossed his car keys at a parking valet. ‘Do not put it under a tree. I don’t want to come out and find it covered in parakeet shit,’ he warned the young Spaniard before making his way up into the restaurant.
The building was dimly lit and surrounded by a dozen short, plump palm trees. Eddie peered up at the red, gold and white signage above the door which displayed a single Michelin star. The dark wooden entrance porch was draped in a thick covering of artificial vines from which hung a multitude of small, multicoloured Christmas tree lights. At least half of the bulbs were inactive, Eddie noted.
Kenny stopped at his side and poked a finger at the sign. ‘Shit, ain’t it? The bloke what owns it bribed the inspectors fifty grand for that star,’ he said. ‘Food’s good though so who gives a monkey’s?’ He walked up the wooden steps towards the open entrance. Eddie followed, ducking to avoid a trailing plastic creeper.
They were greeted by a waiter who directed them towards a large rectangular table at the rear of the restaurant. Mike and Veronica were already waiting; he was drinking from a pint glass, she was staring into space with a smouldering cigarette between two fingers. Charlie plonked himself down at the head of the table. Eddie waited for Kenny to get himself comfortable before he sat down opposite Veronica. She seemed oblivious to his presence.
‘What’s with the hat?’ said Mike to Kenny.
‘It’s a trilby,’ replied Kenny, making only the slightest of eye contact.
‘You look like a cock,’ said Mike. He nodded towards Eddie. ‘And how are you, son? Good?’
‘I’m good,’ said Eddie.
The waiter walked to the table and started passing out menus.
‘Vodka tonic,’ said Veronica, pushing an empty glass towards the man.
‘Whoa, slow down, love,’ said Mike, touching her on the arm. ‘We’ve only been here ten minutes’.
She pushed his hand away. ‘If I want another drink, I’ll bloody well have one,’ she said. Mike sat back, folded his arms and stared out of the window to his right. Veronica shot Eddie a furtive glance while fidgeting with her silver necklace.
‘What are you having, bruv?’ said Charlie. Eddie broke his gaze away from Veronica and cleared his throat. Charlie stared at him, waiting for an answer. ‘Something celebratory, maybe?’
‘A beer’s fine,’ Eddie said to the waiter.
‘I’ll have a Martini,’ said Kenny.
Charlie stared at his table companions and shook his head. ‘Well I am having something decent. A whisky. Single malt, something expensive. And make it a large one, ’n all’.
The uneasy atmosphere was interrupted when Roger and Judy arrived. She was wearing a skimpy, low-cut black and silver-striped dress. He was sporting a white polo shirt tucked into a tight pair of shiny grey trousers.
‘Evening, all,’ said Roger in an upbeat tone and took a chair. ‘Sorry, we’re late’.
Judy put he
r arms around Charlie and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hey Charlie, how are you?’ she said.
‘I’m alright, girl. All the better for seeing you, but put them boobs away. You’re gonna get me all worked up’. He chuckled.
Roger sat down next to Eddie. ‘You good, Ed? Get a good night’s sleep?’
Eddie could see a white powder substance on Roger’s moustache. ‘Yeah, not bad,’ he replied. He leaned forward and, in a lowered voice, said, ‘You’ve got a bit of something on your tache, Rog’.
Roger shuffled towards Eddie and rubbed at his facial hair. ‘Did I get it all?’ he whispered. Eddie nodded. ‘Thanks, mate. I’m not usually into that stuff, but we thought we’d just have a bit. You know, to celebrate gettin’ the job done. That and it gets Jude in the mood if you know what I mean?’
Eddie eyed Judy, who was sitting on the other side of her husband. She glanced back at him, her cheeks a little reddened.
The waiter returned with the group’s drinks order. After he left, Charlie tapped a spoon against his glass. He gave the table nearby a furtive glance and, satisfied that they were not being spied upon, leaned forward and addressed his crew and their partners.
‘Gents. Ladies. I just wanna say a few words,’ he began. He checked the neighbouring table once more before he continued. ‘I know things ain’t been perfect between us all over the last few months. He was looking at Mike. ‘But we’ve gone through much worse in the past. Some of us have done time. Some of us have lost a lot. Money, houses. Friends. Family. But that’s all in the past now’.
He was looking at Eddie now.
‘You all know that I weren’t in favour of doing that job last week,’ Charlie continued, ‘And to tell the truth, in the same situation, I’d still argue against it. It didn’t all go to plan, what with Bill gettin’ pinched and all, but we did what we always do. We adapted. We rolled with the punches, we worked together as a unit and we got the job done’. Charlie pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘It was an honour working with you fellas again. We’re all fatter and greyer these days, and we’ve all got a lot more lines on our foreheads, but we’re still the best fuckin’ crew in England. I’m proud of what we’ve done’.
He raised his glass and waited while the rest of the crew got to their feet and did likewise. ‘To the Five Bullet Crew,’ he said and took a swig from his glass.
‘To the crew,’ said Mike before downing his drink.
‘To us,’ said Roger.
‘And Eddie,’ said Kenny. ‘Our newest recruit’.
‘But now,’ said Charlie, as he sat back down. ‘I’m disbanding it’. He shuffled in his chair.
‘You what?’ asked Mike, who froze midway through sitting back down. Everyone was now looking at Charlie.
‘We’re done. That was the last job. We agreed,’ said Charlie. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his personalised bullet casing. Roger glanced at Kenny, then at Mike. Judy’s stare dropped to her glass. Veronica smirked at Eddie.
‘Well, we said we’d stop, Charlie. Yeah. But who knows what the future will hold?’ said Roger.
‘There ain’t gonna be no more jobs,’ said Charlie. He placed the brass cartridge case down onto the table. ‘So, there’s no need for a crew’.
After a lengthy silence, Mike spoke up. ‘So, what now?’ he asked.
‘We put our money to good use. We use our smarts, not our fists, and we make our money work for us. It’s nineteen eighty fuckin’ five. It ain’t the seventies no more. We’re all getting’ too old for this, and the world is catching up. Bank jobs and all that is for mugs nowadays. Let someone else do that from now on. Idiots like Bobby Pickering’.
‘It was Pickering what helped us pinch them diamonds,’ said Mike.
Charlie leaned low towards his friend. ‘It was him what almost fucking dropped us in it. Or have you forgotten what happened already, Mike?’
‘Are you ready to order?’ asked the waiter.
Charlie sat back. ‘Give us a few more minutes, mate’. The waiter nodded, and Charlie watched as he walked away. ‘From now on we meet at the bar. No need for secrecy coz we’ve got nuffin’ to hide. From now on, we’re businessmen. We’re gonna get the apartments built, make a ton of dosh and see where that takes us. No more of the old work. We’re going straight’. He paused to study at each of the crew members, one by one. ‘Are we in agreement?’
Roger and Kenny both nodded.
Mike simply shrugged. ‘You’re the boss,’ he said before lighting up a cigarette.
The meal came and went. Kenny, who had ordered a lasagne, had struggled to eat and left half of his food untouched. Mike, who had polished off his rump steak as if he had not eaten for a week, had jabbed his fork into Kenny’s meal and finished that off too. Charlie, Roger and Jude had worked their way through two bottles of wine and several other drinks and had spent the evening reminiscing over memories of earlier times in West London. Veronica had sat silent, picking at her spaghetti carbonara and watching the other Brits with what, Eddie determined, to be an air of disinterest.
Or was it disgust?
A Spanish waitress, no older than twenty and very pretty, arrived at the table to collect the empty glasses.
‘You like more drinks?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Nah, I think we’re done, luv,’ said Charlie. ‘Just la cuenta, por favor’. She nodded, smiled and walked away to get the bill. Charlie watched her for several seconds, transfixed. ‘I wouldn’t mind gettin’ on that,’ he muttered.
‘Charlie Lawson. She’s half your age!’ said Judy.
‘And?’ said Charlie. Roger laughed, wine spilling from his glass. Judy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Charlie scrunched up a napkin and tossed it at Eddie. ‘C’mon. Support me here, bruv. Am I wrong?’ he said, but Eddie did not get the chance to respond.
‘I waz tald youz was all…ere’.
It took Eddie a moment to recognise that it was Bill’s wife, Carol. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mascara smeared across her cheeks. She was wearing jeans, dirty trainers and a faded Queen tee-shirt. ‘Bill’s locked up in a friggin’ prishun shell, and yous lot are owt havin’ a…a fuckin’ parrrty’.
She put her hand out to steady herself on a wooden column, but missed and toppled forward. Her flailing arms sent Judy’s dinner plate to the floor, where it smashed into several pieces. Her face planted straight into Charlie’s lap.
‘For Christ’s sake, Carol. What are you playing at, girl?’ he said, while trying to manoeuvre himself away from the mass of crimped blonde hair on his groin. Eddie stood up and gently lifted the dishevelled woman. She threw her arms over his shoulder and buried her face in his chest.
‘Here, sit her down,’ said Roger, who was also now at her side. He pushed his chair forward so that Eddie could lower Carol down, and bent down next to hold her hands. The commotion had attracted the attention of nearby diners, and Eddie could see seven olive brown faces at the table next to them staring at the scene next to them. Mike snarled at them.
‘Mind your own fuckin’ business’. The people appeared to be of a Middle Eastern origin and may not have spoken any English, but they recognised the threat and quickly turned away.
‘Bill’s locked up. Yuuuv…got to ‘elp him, Charlie,’ Carol pleaded. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
‘We will, Carol. We will. But you can’t be out talking’ about it like this. Not in this state, neither,’ said Charlie in a lowered tone.
‘Wot about hiz share, Charlie?’ she asked.
Mike grunted. ‘Oh, here we go,’ he said. ‘Worried you ain’t gonna get your hands on the dough are you, Carol?’
‘It ain’t like that,’ shouted Carol.
‘Course it ain’t,’ said Judy. ‘Leave her alone’. She put her arms around her sobbing friend and peered up at Charlie, who was attempting to wipe a splash of gravy from his trousers. ‘You just want Bill back. That’s all. And Charlie and the boys are gonna help, ain’t you Charlie’.
‘Cours
e we will, girl. I’ve already got an English solicitor on it, ain’t I?’ said Charlie. He lowered himself down so that his face was close to Carol’s and gently lifted her chin. ‘Look at me, Carol’. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the tears streaming down her face. ‘I’m gonna sort it’.
‘Really?’ asked Carol.
‘Absolutely,’ said Charlie. ‘He knows what to do. And don’t you worry none, neither. Bill’s got nabbed by the filth before. Plenty of times. He won’t be fretting none. Before you know it, he’ll be outta that cell and on his way back here’.
‘D’yer promise, Charlie?’
‘I promise. And don’t you worry about Bill's cut, neither’. He signalled to Eddie to help him lift Carol up. ‘Listen, Jude. Maybe you two should take her back to your place, yeah? I’ll call her tomorrow, when she’s sobered up’.
‘Yeah. You come back with me and Rog, alright?’ said Judy. She glared at her husband. ‘Go get the car’.
Roger glanced at Eddie and tutted. ‘So much for gettin’ my end away tonight,’ he whispered.
‘I heard that,’ said Judy. ‘Get the flippin’ car, or you won’t be gettin’ none ever again. Roger gave a sheepish wave towards Mike and Kenny, before wandering away to fetch his car from the valet. Charlie and Eddie stepped forward, each taking one of Carol’s arms and lifting her to her feet. Her eyes were closed now, and she was mumbling something incomprehensible. Saliva hung from her lower lip.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Charlie. ‘C’mon, Ed. Help me get her out of here’.
They walked Carol out of the restaurant, Charlie grimacing at anyone that looked their way. The parking valet pulled up in Roger’s silver Mercedes.
‘Is the lady okay?’ the concerned man asked, as Eddie laid her down on the back seat.
‘She’s just had a long day that’s all,’ Charlie replied, and placed some money in the man’s hand.
They watched as Roger’s Mercedes pulled away. ‘Suppose I’d better give that solicitor a call,’ said Charlie.
‘You what?’ said Eddie. He swung around to confront his brother. ‘You just told her you’d already got someone on it’.
Den of Snakes Page 22
