by Peter Bates
Frank rose to his feet, pulled a folded piece of A4 paper from his trouser pocket and held it out towards Terry. “What do you reckon to this?” he asked, sitting back in his chair with a big smile on his face. “Just a little something I prepared earlier on.”
Terry unfolded the paper, and glanced for several seconds at the typed-up words.
“Perfect, I’d say, mate — perfect.”
“Go on then, tell us what it says,” grinned Roy.
“The note says, ‘The men that trashed the Parrot and Palm Tree are a new gang to this region from the London area. They intend to take over the Blackpool area a.s.a.p. Their pictures are enclosed, so that you can meet up with them wherever and whenever you come across them, and then have a pleasant discussion about their future.’”
Roy and Roy laughed together.
“If that doesn’t wind them up good and proper,” chuckled Roy, “nothing will.”
CHAPTER 25
The Cock and Hen had barely opened its doors when Frank Lloyd walked in and directly headed for the still empty bar. He was unrecognisable as his former self, and now adorned with a coating of light brown make-up over his face, together with a false moustache and an oversized brown golfing cap, its peak pulled down low across his forehead. An old pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and his clothing was aged, very bland, and slightly too large for his current shape. The timing of his entry was exactly right, and only one of the usual bar staff was currently occupied and busy laying out several circular beer mats along the bar’s surface.
Frank was relieved to see that the young man was one of the regular staff and yet clearly did not recognise him as a previous customer. The message had to be quick, and Frank sharply stepped up to the bar, deliberately putting on an accented and gruff voice as he spoke.
“Do you know Mel Harrison or Jed Thomas?” he asked directly.
The barman hesitated before responding, staring suspiciously into Frank’s newly transformed face. Frank was glad to see that there was no sign of recognition in his eyes.
The young man nodded his head silently.
“I’ve got two envelopes here, lad, with their names on each one. Whichever of those two men is the first to come into your pub next, I want you to give him the envelope addressed to him and tell him that you found it in the pub’s post box. I don’t want you to give them both out, only one of them, so I’ll call in again in a week or so and collect the one that’s left over.”
Frank recognised the fear in the young man’s expression and smiled at him genuinely before adding, “That’s all you have to do, mate. Nothing else. Like I said, whichever one it is, just tell him that it was pushed into the pub’s post box by someone overnight. Don’t worry about anything at all. You’ll be fine, and here’s another envelope just for your own pocket with twenty-five quid in it. I’ll be back in a few days or so, and you can give me back the unused envelope, and let me know who you gave it to.”
*
“How did it go, Frank?”
“Very well, I think,” answered Frank. “The lad was a bit nervous. Who wouldn’t be if they knew anything about the reputations of Harrison and Thomas? He looked straight enough though, and I think that he’ll do it without any problem. I gave him a sweetener, and he certainly looked pleased about that.”
“Did you tell him to say the envelope had been posted by hand into the pub letter box?”
Frank sighed. “Do you think I’m a village idiot, Reg? Of course I did. The lad will do it, and I’ll check back with him inside a week and then we’ll find out which one of the two it’s gone to.”
Roy joined in. “Good lad, Frank. You did well, and I thought your disguise was nothing less than excellent. Nobody, not even your own family, would ever have known that it was really you under all that lot. I didn’t even recognise you myself.”
“I agree with Roy,” added Terry. “You did a great job, and now it’ll be very interesting to see what happens next. I’ve a feeling that we won’t need to wait for very long. It’s amazing what you can do when all the correctness shackles are off. I wish we’d had that freedom all those years ago.”
“What do you reckon will go off when one of the two gang leaders get the message, lads?” asked Reg.
“One way or another, the new gang will be sent packing.” commented Frank, “then we’ll be left with what we had before.”
“You never know, though,” added Terry, smiling as he spoke, “maybe if the gang that does clear them out doesn’t do it well enough, they could go down as well. If that happened, it would be a real double bonus. Whether they’ll use force or simply just enough threats to send them all running, we don’t know yet.”
“It would be an even better bonus if all three of the gangs went down,” added Roy. “At least we do know now who the three different players are in the game. The fact that we might have helped things along a little bit will certainly need to be kept very quiet by us. There’ll certainly be no medals for us on this one.”
“You’re dead, right, Roy, but we’ll always know what we’ve done, even if no one else does. To me that will be every bit as good as the old days, probably even more so, because we don’t have all the resources available to the force. We’ve just got our brains and not much else. Remember too, lads, that there’s still a hell of a long way to go with this, and if we got nothing else out of it, I’d like to put away forever the miserable bastards that cruelly killed those little kids.”
“We’ll all definitely go along with that,” agreed Frank.
CHAPTER 26
Jed Thomas parked his car at the very back of the car park, between two large Transit vans, and hidden from view from almost every angle. He wasn’t expecting any problems, but a virtual lifetime of being cautious was a difficult habit to break, and on more than one occasion, it had kept him alive and free of serious injury. After stepping out and click-locking the door, he performed his customary scans of the area, before striding out of the park and into the narrow street that led to the promenade. The day was fine, sunny, warming up nicely, and he was feeling good. He turned right as the street met the broad walkway and immediately noticed the crowds of holidaymakers making their way to and fro along it, some climbing into the endless glow and flow of electric trams that scuttled noisily along the sea front, some simply enjoying the walk and visiting the numerous shops, ice cream parlours, and various entertainment centres on offer. This area brought in every type of visitor, from young families with tiny toddlers to crazy teenagers and people that were almost too old to walk. In his living memory, it had never really been any different.
Today, at just twelve o’clock midday, the Cock and Hen was already busy, and unable to select his usual table, he chose one close to the bar and large enough to seat himself and the other four members of his group. Within several minutes of taking his seat, Ted, Tony, Paul, Graham and Patrick all happily breezed in together through the entrance door, and joined him at the table.
“Get ’em in,” ordered Thomas, pointing a finger at Patrick, “and today we’ll pay for them, Patrick. We’ve had a good run lately so it’s the landlord’s lucky day.”
“OK, boss. I’m on my way. Are you on the Guinness?”
“What do you think, you pillock? Do I ever have anything different?”
Patrick quickly checked his response, and silently turned once again to the bar. He knew that Jed Thomas occasionally had other drinks than Guinness, but it was never a wise thing to question the man when he had that particular expression on his face.
Despite the pub being busy, the serving area was virtually empty of customers when Patrick reached it, and within moments he was being served by the landlord himself.
“Two Guinness, and four pints of bitter, please, mate.”
The landlord nodded his head, quickly set up six, pint glasses on the bar, and began to pull on the pump handles. Six more free drinks, he grumbled inwardly to himself, as the liquid started to pour steadily into each glass. When all six
were full, he simply pushed the glasses across and to the edge of the bar, immediately in front of his customer, not even bothering to tell him the price of the drinks.
“How much are they?” asked Patrick, placing the glasses on an imitation silver tray.
The landlord hesitated, confused by the question. Had he heard the man correctly, or was this some sort of sarcastic joke? He inwardly sighed and resignedly murmured, “Twenty-three pounds and eighty-two pence.”
From a jacket pocket, his tall young customer pulled out a thick wad of notes, removed one twenty, and one five-pound note from the pile, and then handed them to the landlord.
“Keep the change,” he said.
Stunned by the payment, the landlord muttered a choked and relieved “Thank you very much,” and as his customer began to turn away, suddenly remembered the two envelopes behind the till and out of sight under the bar top. He knew that the top one had Jed Thomas’ name on it, and he quickly pulled it out whilst flicking the other one further under the back and well out of sight.
“Excuse me, sir. We received an envelope in our post box yesterday, but it wasn’t addressed to us, it had Mr Thomas’ name on it, so obviously we haven’t opened it, but have kept it safe for when you next came in. Would you please give it to Mr Thomas?”
Patrick looked puzzled, but reached out a hand and put the envelope on the tray, alongside the beer glasses.
“Thanks,” he muttered, before walking slowly with the tray gripped firmly in his hands back to the group’s table, where he set it down on the centre.
The landlord exhaled a deep sigh of relief. It was another potential problem out of the way, and now he could get back to feeling normal. God knows what was in the envelope, but whatever it was, it was no longer his problem, and he wouldn’t even be looking when Thomas opened it. He reached under the bar again, picked up the remaining envelope, and immediately took it into his private office at the end of the bar. It would be locked away into his safe until the old codger who gave it to him returned and collected it.
*
Reg had decided that it was about time he did the cooking. He rarely entertained, as Frank did regularly, and he didn’t have the peaceful garden setting that Frank had either. Nevertheless, he thought that it really was about time that he pulled his weight, and had invited the others to dine in his modestly sized apartment, overlooking the sand and sea. At least the apartment had a small balcony with a terrific view, and he still had a few folding canvas chairs in his good-sized bedroom cupboard. What could he cook for them? He wasn’t sure. He was used to ordering takeaways from several of the local shops and ready-made meals from the supermarket down the road. He could do soup and toast, but doubted whether that would go down too well with the others. The food would have to be a little grander than that, even though he wouldn’t get carried away with the choice. Simple and tasty it would have to be, and he finally settled on cheese pasta, filled also with small pieces of roast chicken. Pasta was really simple, and he had plenty of that in the cupboard. Grated cheese could easily be mixed in, and he still had the basic skill to roast several chunks of chicken breast from the fridge which he would then slice into little pieces. He’d also filled a section of the fridge with a number of averagely priced bottles of white wine, together with a decent selection of canned beers and lagers. Damn it, that would have to do. Being former coppers, they’d all eaten whatever and whenever they could whilst they were out on the job, and quality had never been on the agenda.
Frank was the first to arrive.
“Good smell,” he announced, sniffing as he walked into the flat.
“Yeah,” nodded Reg, inwardly feeling very pleased. “It’s taken me hours to make. There are beers, lagers and wine in the fridge, Frank. Cool glasses are in there too. Just help yourself to whatever you want whilst the master chef is busy in the kitchen.”
Terry and Roy both arrived together, barely seconds after Frank had done.
“Wow,” yelled Terry as he stepped through the door. “What a great smell, Reg. Looks like we’re in for a real treat.”
Reg could barely contain himself, his face beaming as he shook hands firmly with his two close friends.
“Come in, lads. Make yourselves at home. All the drinks are in the fridge and ready to pour. The balcony is free to you lads, the air is warm, and the chairs are set up outside. See Blackpool and the sea in all its glory, and then feast on Master Chef Reg’s grub.”
Reg detoured from the lounge and back into the kitchen, turning down the cooker dial until it was barely ticking over, but warm enough to keep the pasta hot. He poured himself a well-deserved dry white wine from the fridge and stepped out on the balcony to join his three friends.
“What a view.” exclaimed Roy, pointing one of his hands out towards the rolling sea.
“It’s not bad,” agreed Reg.
“Not bad.” yelled Frank. “It’s bloody marvellous, mate. It beats my back garden any day.”
Frank’s mobile phone began to ping as he finished the comment. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled it out, and lifted it close to his ear. Only giving his name to the caller, Frank remained silent for several seconds before he finally spoke. “Thanks a million, mate. Greatly appreciated.”
“Quick call” smiled Roy.
“Yes, it was,” agreed Frank, turning to face Reg, Roy and Terry directly. “That was the barman from the Cock and Hen. He gave the envelope containing the message to Jed Thomas today in the pub. We can pick up the other one anytime it suits us. At the moment it’s in the landlord’s safe and locked up well out of sight and access to anyone but him.”
“Brilliant,” said Roy. “It was something we couldn’t have done years ago, lads, but now we can. The next few days might just turn out to be very interesting. A crime is very likely to be committed, and we should know in advance both the perpetrators’ and the victims’ names.”
“We shouldn’t really be able to lose with this one, whatever the result,” agreed Terry. “Let’s just hope that Jed Thomas’ mob first find and then do a good job on the London gang, and then with a bit of luck they’ll leave enough evidence around to put themselves away too.”
CHAPTER 27
Jed Thomas re-read the note for at least the fourth time, and then stared intently at the photographs laid out in front of him.
“I don’t know who the hell took all these pictures and sent us the note, but whoever it was, they have done us a very big favour. I wish I knew who they were, they deserve a very big thank you. If this set of morons from the big smoke think that they can just walk onto our patch and then take over the place, they’ve got another think coming.”
“What shall we do, boss?” asked Ted.
“Simple. First, we find ’em. Then we deal with them.”
“How are we going to find them?” asked Tony.
“We’ll find ’em, mate. That’s for sure. I’ve already whizzed out a few copies of the pictures to some of my old pals, and told them that there’s fifty quid for the first one to spot them. I really don’t think it’ll take so long. A group of lads like these appear to be will stand out like sore thumbs, and there are only so many pubs that they’re likely to go into.”
Thomas glanced at his watch. “It’s four o’clock now. I’d be very surprised if I didn’t get a call before seven, tonight. You’d be surprised how observant people get when there’s a pile of readies to be picked up.”
“When we find ’em Jed, what sort of treatment will we be handing out?” asked Paul.
Jed Thomas laughed loudly. “Well, Paul, we won’t be offering the bastards a five-course dinner.”
Paul joined in with Thomas’ laughter, then added, “I appreciate that, Jed, but if we smash them up in a pub or anywhere that we could be seen or recorded, we could all be in trouble, and I know that you said earlier that whatever we did, we wouldn’t do time for messing up Harrison and his crew. We wouldn’t even get near to Harrison if we got nicked for wasting these new lads, and then w
ere sent down for a long spell.”
Thomas paused for a moment. “You’re dead right, Paul. Harrison is definitely priority. It just means that we’ll need to plan this very carefully. We won’t be wiping these boys out for good anyway; we’ll just be putting all of them on the disabled register. What do you think, Kenny? You’ve not said a word yet.”
Kenny didn’t often comment. When he had done in the past, it very often ended up with a sharp slap from Thomas. He was very well aware that he was a foot soldier, and would never be a general. Any comments that he did make at any time would simply be in support of anything that Thomas had already said.
“You’re right, Jed. Harrison is definitely priority, but removing these London scumbags from the scene should be a damn sight easier, and then we can get on with the real job.”
Thomas nodded and grinned at Kenny. “You’re brighter than I thought, Kenny. That was exactly my thinking.”
Kenny allowed himself to smile back into Thomas’ face. Praise from Jed Thomas was praise indeed, but as long as he had the choice, he’d hold back any further comments whilst he was ahead in the game.
“OK,” said Thomas, scanning the five faces around the table, rubbing his hands together. “Very soon, I should receive at least one call from one of my old pals, as long as these lads that we’re after are still out and about in town. Any plan that we have will depend on exactly where they are at the time. We’ll have to think on our feet, and do it quickly. If it all gets too tricky for any reason, we might even call it off for now, and leave it for another time. I’m really thinking at the moment that we definitely won’t do ’em over inside a pub, but try and track them to somewhere that is reasonably out of the general view of any cameras and Joe Public. At this moment in time, I’m not sure exactly how we’re going to do that, but also right now, that’s my best plan. Ideally, anything that we do would be better done in the dark if possible. Are you all tooled up and ready to go?”
