The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "Oh, hi Jane, what do you want?" He felt tired and wasn't in the mood for company, and if he was being brutally honest particularly not Jane's company.

  Jane had been uncertain about going around to Jack's and from his greeting she was beginning to think it was all a big mistake. “I’ve just brought you a moving in present, that's all" she said holding out a box in front of her. I'm getting cold standing here on the doorstep, she thought shivering a little.

  "What is it a cat?" Jack enquired upon hearing the tiniest of meows coming from the box.

  "A kitten."

  "You look cold, you better come in for a minute."

  "If you don't want it, I know someone who'll take it. I don't want to burden you with a pet that you don't want. I just thought that it might be a bit of company for you, that’s all."

  Jack got a pair of scissors from the cupboard and snipped the string that was holding the box's lid together. The meowing increased and suddenly even before he could open the box a fluffy head emerged from one corner of it. The kitten saw Jack and meowed again. He lifted it out of the box and placed it on the carpet. "Is it a boy or a girl?" jack asked without looking up.

  "It's a girl."

  "Are you hungry Mcilroy?" Jack asked tickling the underside of the kitten's chin.

  Jane put her hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh. "You can't call her Mcilroy, what sort of a name is that for a girl?"

  Jack looked up at Jane but didn't reply, instead he got up and went into the kitchen to get some milk.

  Jane looked around the room and marvelled at how quickly Jack had got things organised. This was a nice place, she'd always liked these houses, she felt genuinely pleased for him.

  "I'd better get going Jack, I'm seeing Rachel later and I don't want to be late." Jane said warming her hands by the fire.

  "Okay." Jack replied placing a saucer of milk in front of the kitten. "Well thanks for the present. It's really weird because I'd been thinking of getting a cat."

  Jane smiled, the feeling of regret about calling round was beginning to dissipate because she could tell that Jack was genuinely pleased about receiving the kitten.

  "Where are you and Rachel going tonight?"

  "To that new club in town, we've been saying ever since I got back that we'd give it a try. Are you going out anywhere?"

  "I'm not sure. I might go down to the pub later; it just depends on how I feel."

  "I'm glad you've settled in. The house is beautiful, by the way."

  "Thanks." Jack said walking Jane to the door

  "I'll see you then, take care."

  "You too. Thanks for calling."

  Back inside Mcilroy was nowhere to be seen. Jack searched everywhere for her until finally he heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen. He stood in the kitchen and looked round. Where the hell is, she, he thought scratching his head. Then he heard another meow, this time much clearer. "There you are." jack said seeing a glint of one of her eyes from down the side of the boiler. Deciding that Mcilroy wasn't trapped or in any kind of danger he went back into the lounge leaving the door to the kitchen ajar. He sat down and snapped open another beer. He pondered Jane's visit has he sipped his beer directly from the can. Who the hell gets someone a kitten for a housewarming present? Although he had to admit, it was exactly what he wanted. She looked great he thought before stopping himself, he didn't want to get into all that again. He sighed got up and turned on the TV. He wondered what that new club was like. You never know, with a bit of luck she may cop off with someone, and that would be the end of that, but was that what he really wanted though? He wasn't sure, but that was nothing new, these days he didn't seem to be sure about anything anymore. He took a slug of his beer. Why did she have to come back after all this time? Afterall, he'd virtually forgotten that she existed. God, he'd loved her once though. He remembered the first time he'd spoken to her properly, she'd been doing crochet, or needlework, or something like that. He'd felt instantly that she was kind and warm-hearted. "Why did you have to go to London?" Maybe it was better that she had though. If she'd stayed here, she'd probably be married with a couple of kids by now, and there's no way it would've been to him. Was that really six years ago? It seemed like just a couple of months since. If only. Life was much simpler back then, when all he'd had to worry about was homework and exams. Tom had taken to the syndicate like a duck to water. He just wished that he felt the same way about it.

  If it wasn't for Jessop, he'd probably leave this place and make a fresh start somewhere else. In hindsight, he realised he should've been a bit more welcoming to Jane, he hadn't even offered her a drink, or shown her around the house. He looked over at the telephone, he supposed he could always ring her, but then again; if she wanted to regain his friendship, she'd have to make the effort. She did look nice though, and in fairness, she didn't have to come around and bring him a present. In fact, he imagined it had taken a lot of guts especially after the reception he'd given her round at Tom and Helen's.

  Jack looked down to see Mcilroy looking up at him. "Ay-ah buddy." he said picking her up and putting her on his lap. Mcilroy started pawing at a loose thread on Jack's jeans. Her head appeared to be twice the size of her body. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to say thank you properly tapping a fingernail on the wooden part of his armrest. He put Mcilroy on the rug and went to the phone.

  10

  John Jessop called to order the December meeting of The Burnley Boys.

  Tom glanced over at Jack and thought he looked ashen.

  "Good Evening gentlemen. Unfortunately, although we had many important items to discuss, the agenda has been cancelled."

  Murmurs went around the room.

  "As you well know several months ago, we formed an intelligence department, headed up by Dave Quilter. In a nutshell, the department's role is to discover what outsiders are saying about us, and who is saying it. However, what we didn't expect to discover was one of our own members passing information to a rival organisation, and not just any organisation but Seedmore Park from Manchester."

  Pandemonium broke out in the audience because if this was proven correct the consequences would be deadly serious. The Burnley Boys code of secrecy was one of the main reasons the syndicate had flourished for as long as it had, and the more established of its membership knew what the punishment for betrayal of it was. The reason they knew was because they'd all witnessed it first-hand.

  Jessop banged his gavel several times but to no avail.

  Derek Cheesman rose to his feet; "Quiet! Quiet everyone please."

  Slowly the noise began to subside. Jessop waited for absolute silence before he continued.

  The men were extremely agitated. However, one of them had a lot more to fear than the others. Jimmy Tolson who worked as a mechanic at the cotton mill had sat in silence throughout the uproar that had just preceded.

  Jessop had been watching him like a hawk, but Jimmy had barely noticed his thoughts were elsewhere. His palms were clammy, and beads of perspiration had formed on his forehead. His eyes darted around the room. How the hell had they found out he thought in a blind panic. He'd gone to extreme lengths to be discreet. He'd be the first to admit that he tended to embellish a story a little, everyone knew that about him, it was part of his charm, but he had told no-one about this,

  absolutely no-one. Surely Briggs hadn't grassed him up, he had no reason to. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't him but someone else they'd rumbled. He had to stay calm.

  "Will Jimmy Tolson please come forward." Jessop said in a grave tone.

  Tolson's hands began to tremble and his heart pounded as he approached the main table. Tom had brought a chair and placed it opposite Jessop, Jessop motioned for Jimmy to sit on it. "Have you anything to say in your defence?"

  "It wasn't me Mr Jessop. I swear I've done nothing wrong."

  "Do you know or associate with any personnel from any other organisations, gangs, or syndicates?"

  Jimmy was shaking from head to foot by this stage, but knew
he had to ignore the fact and concentrate on every word because his life depended on it. I wonder how much they know, he thought. "I know Eddie Briggs." he blurted out.

  To which the room filled with a cacophony of noise. Briggs was the head of Seedmore Park one of the most feared gangs in Manchester, and definitely no friend of The Boys.

  Again, Jessop waited patiently until there was absolute silence. "You’re telling us that you know Eddie Briggs, head of Manchester's biggest crime syndicate, just like that."

  Tolson nodded.

  "Okay, so let me ask you this Jimmy, didn't it cross your mind, when you were recruited, that this might just have been something you should've told us about, something that was sort of important?"

  The audience offered up nervous laughter, but Jessop ignored it.

  "I thought if you found out about it, you'd kill me."

  Some members could sympathise with Tolson. Would they have let on about something like that, probably not, and although Jimmy was renowned for his tall stories, few people who knew him thought he was capable of betrayal.

  Jessop placed several photographs in front of Tolson, they showed him pictured with several of Briggs's associates.

  "Like I said Mr Jessop, I've known Eddie since we were kids, but I haven't done anything to harm the syndicate, I swear on Beth and the kids’ lives."

  "So, what's in the package then Jimmy?" Jessop said pointing at one of the photographs.

  "It's money, protection money, my uncle owns a restaurant in Manchester, and sometimes I deliver the payments for him. There, I've told you, are you satisfied now, or do you want to humiliate me some more?"

  Jessop sat back, and began to clap, slowly at first before speeding up. The membership looked on in dismay.

  "Bravo! Mr Tolson, bravo! It's quite obvious to me that a man of your talents is wasted working for us. In fact, after that performance, I think you wouldn't be out of place in the fuckin' West End."

  "It's all true Mr Jessop, I swear it is."

  Jessop nodded to Dave Quilter who produced a case from beneath the table. He opened it to reveal a tape recorder. He pressed the play button and watched the machine in silence as the lead spool took up the slack of its partner.

  "Hi Jimmy, what have you got for us this week on that set of hill-billy sheep-shaggers?"

  Mild laughter emanated from the audience despite the severity of the situation. "Manc fucker!" someone shouted out.

  "Tell Eddie, Jessop's coming out."

  "What do you mean Blondie, he's coming out? I can't just tell Eddie that, he'll think I’m just as messed up as you are, you crazy fuck."

  "Apparently, The Burnley Boys--"

  "Bummer Boys, you mean."

  More jeers; "Go finger your sister, you Manc ass-hole." Someone else called out.

  "The Boys are going more public. They're changing, bringing in new blood. He's going to turn that precious estate of his into some kind of control centre."

  "No way, Jessop's a secretive fucker. If I tell Eddie this and your pulling my prick Blondie, I'll personally tear you a second ass-hole. Do you understand?"

  Quilter flipped the tape off, "So, what have you got to say to that Mr Tolson?"

  "How the fuck did you get that tape?" Tolson said almost to himself. Tolson made a move to get up, but Jessop motioned to two members in the front row who immediately came and restrained him.

  Jessop nodded to Neville Hunter who got up and went and unlocked a storage cupboard. He removed a black garment and a metal box from it and brought them back around to the main table. He gave the box to Jessop who laid it on the table in front of him. Hunter held the black garment, which was in fact a robe, out for Jessop who put it on. He pulled the robe's hood over his head and made the sign of the cross. The members who had witnessed this ritual previously mimicked Jessop's holy gesture.

  As he stood there, hands clasped together, eyes piercing out from within the darkness of the robe's hood, he resembled some kind of evil monk.

  The tension in the room was building rapidly. Jimmy Tolson sat in petrified silence. Hunter who was now stood to the side of Jessop unclipped the box's catches and opened its lid. He took out a black pistol. He removed the clip from the heel of the gun to check it was loaded. Seeing that it was, he rammed the clip home. He then removed a silencer from the box and fitted it onto the end of the gun, swivelling it until it felt tight. It made the smooth cold sound of steel rolling against steel. Hunter handed the loaded gun to Jessop.

  "Please John, I'll do anything, anything," Tolson said, "I'll get you information, all the information you want. Not just on Seedmore Park but on other's as well. I can get it, you do know that, don't you?"

  Jessop flicked off the safety.

  "please John, I'm begging you." a stain appeared at Tolson's crotch as his bladder let go. The stain began to spread. He put his hands together and began to pray; "Holy Mary full of grace, our Lord is with thee--"

  Jessop pulled the trigger.

  Tolson slumped and fell sideways off his chair. Blood glugged from a neat round hole in the centre of his forehead. Jessop fired two more bullets into his head to make sure the job was done. He replaced the safety and handed the gun back to Hunter. He pulled back his hood. Someone in the audience was being sick, but Jessop hardly registered it. "Let that be a lesson to us all." he said, "Nobody, and I do mean nobody betrays us and lives to tell the tale."

  11

  Jack stood at his back window staring blankly out of it. What the fuck had he got himself involved in, he thought as he gnawed at his fingernails. What the hell was he going to do, he never wanted any of this. The syndicate felt omnipresent, he even felt guilty having bad thoughts about it, about him. They'll be able to sense it, he felt sure of it. He'd got to get away from here, as far away as possible, abroad maybe. On what though, all his money was tied up in this place. He didn't care, he'd go to London, he'd starve on the streets if need be, anything would be better than this. Mcilroy jumped up on to the windowsill and began to meow at him, Jack stroked her absently.

  Right, let's do it he thought suddenly. He mounted the stairs two at a time and took down an old battered suitcase from on top of his wardrobe. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. He got a pad and paper and made a list of essentials desperately trying not to forget anything important. Shit! He'd overlooked Mcilroy, what was he going to do about her? He couldn't have her running loose in the car. There was an old bird cage in the shed, he supposed he could use that. No, when he thought about it, it just wasn’t practical or fair on the animal to take her with him, he'd have to ring Jane and get her to re-home her, she said when she first brought her round that she knew someone who would take her. He'd have to ring her when he'd put enough distance between him and the fuckin' syndicate though. What else? Money, he had about eighty quid in cash, and perhaps double that in the bank, it would have to be enough. He'd load the boot with stuff he could sell.

  Jack packed his case quickly but methodically, ticking off each item as he went, then he checked every room to see if there was anything he'd forgotten. After a full circuit of the house he decided he was ready to go. He arrived at the front door with his suitcase and stopped. Your crazy, he thought, what about Tom what about his family, what about poor Mcilroy? He couldn't just walk out on them all. He sat on his stairs and cried.

  Jack felt foolish, a bit like a little kid who on deciding to leave home is persuaded by his mother to have his tea first to set him up for the journey; both of them knowing full well, that he was going no-where.

  A knock came to his front door jolting him out of his reverie. He took his suitcase back upstairs and slid it under his bed. He started out of his bedroom before remembering his check list. He went back and retrieved it, tore it in half and then into quarters. He went to put it in the wastepaper basket but before he did he ripped it into eighths for good measure.

  Jack ran downstairs and answered the door, it was Tom.

  "Ay-ah buddy," Tom said, "you alright? You l
ook a bit peaky, mind you I don't blame you after last night's performance."

  "Come in mate." Jack said letting Tom past him before glancing out of the doorway in both directions.

  Inside Tom flopped on the sofa. "It's not a bad little pad this, ideal for pulling the birds." Tom said giving the sofa's springs a workout.

  "Yeah, it sure is." Jack replied noncommittally. He started pacing the floor. "What the fuck have we got ourselves into here Tom?"

  "Aw come on Jack, even you've got to admit that Tolson had that coming to him. Selling information to the enemy, for god's sake."

  "There not my enemy, and there not yours either, they're just a bunch of yobs from Manchester."

  Tom put a hand to his head and smoothed his brow. "Listen Jack, if you feel that strongly about it, why don't you tell Jessop that you want out. There's no way he'd let any harm come to you."

  "Are you kidding Tom, with what I know? Admittedly, I doubt that he'd derive any pleasure out of it but disposing of me would just be like having a bad day at the office to someone like him." Jack paused but Tom didn't offer a response. "Come on Tom, you can't call what we witnessed last night the actions of a sane man. He's fuckin' nuts." Jack paused again, and this time Tom did answer.

  "It wasn't Jessop that killed Tolson Jack, okay granted, he pulled the trigger, but it was the will of the syndicate, the rules state--"

  "Fuck the rules Tom, fuck the syndicate. A man was murdered in cold blood last night. Do you hear me? Murdered, and we are partly responsible for it. That man has a wife and family, have you thought about that?"

  "Well I'm sorry Jack, but obviously he didn't. A traitor is a traitor in my book, and he got exactly what he deserved."

  Jack sat back in his chair and looked at Tom. "You're just as bad as they are."

  "No Jack, I'm now a member of The Burnley Boys, and so are you. The syndicate comes first, and if it perishes, we all perish with it, it's that simple."