The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  Thank God, the train was on time, and he easily mingled with the arriving passengers. He headed for the guy that was holding his sign, whom he'd eyeballed fifteen minutes earlier. The guy was nothing like the all brawn, no brain type he'd expected but was a rather diminutive fellow with sandy hair dressed in an overcoat that was at least two sizes too big for him.

  "Mr Moores?" the guy enquired.

  "Yeah, am Craig Moores, me friends call me Craggs tho." Quilter replied holding out a hand.

  The guy shook it, "Pleased to meet you Craggs, I'm Lilo Swift, Eddie sent me. Did you have a pleasant journey?"

  "Yeah, not bad, Lilo, am ne a fan o' trains tho.'"

  "Me neither, they always give me motion sickness" Lilo said as they exited the train station.

  Outside Quilter began to relax, everything was going to plan, however he was fully aware that he couldn't afford to become complacent. Moores's uncle was an associate of Briggs's and Briggs had agreed to give the lad a job at his hotel, come nightclub, which went by the name of Diamonds and was situated just outside the city centre.

  When they got to the hotel, he found that his luck was in again because Briggs was no-where to be seen. Maybe this was going to be easier than he'd imagined he thought as he was introduced to the hotel manager, a runt of a guy called Rob Dawson. Dawson told him to report for duty at eight pm and that a porter would show him to his room, simple as that.

  At six o'clock a knock came to his door. Quilter got off his bed and went to answer it, it was Rob Dawson.

  "I forgot to tell you, we all eat lunch between twelve and two, and dinner between five and seven. We don't eat breakfast here at Diamonds, in fact most of us are lucky to be in bed by that time. So, if you're fit."

  "Yeah, no problem Mr Dawson, I'll just go and put my shoes on." To his horror Quilter realised he had just spoken in his own accent. Shit, how could he have been so stupid? He caught Dawson up halfway down the softly lit hallway, and fortunately Dawson didn't seem to have given it a second thought. "Am really grateful fo ya findin' us a job Mr Dawson." Quilter ventured praying that the scrawny little scrote didn't notice the change in his voice.

  "It's Rob," Dawson said absently waving his hand, "and it's not me you should be thanking it's Eddie." Dawson stopped at the head of the stairs. "I may as well be frank with you Craig, if it was down to me you wouldn't be here. I've got a budget to manage, and although Eddie tells me to hire every friend of a friend he's ever met, he's the first to complain once the profits take a dip."

  Quilter looked at Dawson resisting the urge to punch him in the face. He'd got the guy's measure though, he'd met a thousand Dawson's in his time, self-important little shits who acted as if they actually owned the place instead of just managing it for the real boss. "Yoov na need to worry on tha score Rob. I've been accused of a lot a thins in me time, but not pullin' me weight isna one of 'em."

  Dawson simply nodded before descending the stairs.

  Just one swift kick in the back, and you'd be toast Quilter thought with a snarl etched on his face.

  In the dining room there were about thirty people milling around, the majority of whom were women. The conversation quieted a little when he and Dawson entered. Quilter didn't feel the slightest bit self-conscious, on the contrary, he could feel the beginnings of an erection. It had been a while since he'd last had sex and sitting down to dine with all these women would be akin to a wolf having dinner with a flock of chickens. He offered up a half smile as Dawson introduced him.

  21

  Jack felt a little apprehensive as he sat in the dentist's waiting room. He'd thumbed through most of the magazines, and one woman had insisted on talking to him even though conversation was the last thing he felt like engaging in. Telling him all about her treatment and how much better her teeth were looking on account of it. She'd even given him a toothy smile to prove the point. She'd been pleasant enough though and he guessed that she was probably just lonely. Well, who else talks to strangers in waiting room? In Jack’s book it was akin to chatting to the guy next to you whilst you were taking a piss. Therefore, he felt mightily relieved when the woman was called into the surgery.

  A child was testing his mother's patience on the other side of the room. "Thomas, I will not tell you again, stop that because if you don't you are going to get a smack."

  Thomas looked up at his mother.

  "You have to be a good boy when we are out with people, don't you?"

  Thomas nodded, and said that he would be a good boy.

  The woman looked over at Jack and shook her head.

  Jack smiled back at her. He could hardly blame the little kid for being grouchy, he looked bored senseless.

  "Mr Davies." the receptionist said entering the waiting room

  "Yes." Jack said getting to his feet and replacing a magazine on the table.

  "Hello Jack." the dentist said rinsing his hands as Jack entered the surgery before snatching a paper towel from the dispenser. "Long time, no see, I thought you'd defected to the competition. Just sit in the chair, if you would."

  "Hi Alan, no chance. As far as my teeth are concerned, you're the man."

  The dentist's name was Alan Phillips, and he was an old school friend of Jack’s dad. Well, friend was probably pushing it a little, but they did go to school together. Jack's father said that although Alan had always been a big lad at school, he was as soft as shite, and a right little swot to boot.

  Alan smiled, he'd always liked young Jack, he supposed it was because he reminded him a little bit of himself when he was growing up. "That's nice to hear, how's your dad?"

  "He's still a pain."

  Alan laughed out loud and raised his eyes at his assistant; "Jack Davies, what a thing to say about your old man - Just lay back will you."

  "I'm not lying Alan, besides I'm probably not telling you something that you don't already know, anyway."

  Alan looked at Jack closely before nodding slowly. "I must admit your dad was a bit of a lad at school. A good sportsman mind, and the girls used to love him." If someone had told him back then how they were both going to turn out, he would never have believed them. Old Joe committed the cardinal sin, in his opinion; he failed to make the most of himself. In fact, he'd done quite the opposite, and even though they'd never got on at school, it still made him feel sad to see someone he'd both respected and envied turn into a drunken soak. One who, if the rumours were to be believed, knocked his wife about by way of a pastime. "Just lift your tongue Jack."

  Jack felt that there was something quite un-nerving about the feel of steel clicking against your teeth.

  "This won't hurt Jack."

  That's dentist-speak for it's going to hurt like fuck Jack thought grimacing.

  "Hmm, not too bad considering how long it's been since your last visit."

  Jack's tongue was now doing battle with Alan's dental assistant's sucker rod.

  "You need two fillings and one extraction."

  Jack rinsed his mouth out with pink liquid.

  "I'll do the fillings now and get them out of the way."

  Jack's heart sank, but he supposed he was here after all, so what the hell.

  The drill wasn't half as bad as he remembered it. He wouldn't go as far as to say he enjoyed the experience, but it dispelled most of his preconceived fears. His newly filled teeth still felt strange though, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't resist continuously prodding and poking them with his tongue.

  "Julie said she saw you and Jane Ford together last week, she said that you make a lovely couple."

  Jack smiled up at Alan, a little wary of his teeth.

  "Listen, if you're not doing anything on the twenty-fourth of next month, it's Emily's eighteenth. We're throwing a party for her at the house, from seven, and you and Jane are welcome to come. Sally, Jane's sister is going, but don't feel obliged though." Alan said holding up his hands, "but you're welcome to come if you want to.”

  "Thanks Alan, I'd love to come, I'll just have to che
ck that Jane's free that evening though.”

  "Well, like I said, there's no pressure, but it would be lovely to see you both there. We'll do the extraction next week, just book it in with Jaqueline on your way out.

  "Will do Alan, and I'll remember you to my dad when I next see him."

  "You do that Jack." Alan replied with a wry smile.

  22

  Christine had settled comfortably into her new accommodation at the estate, and Luke was loving it. However, she wasn't too sure whether Molly, Jessop's housekeeper, even with her sister's help, was finding it quite as much fun looking after him. Christine knew that the situation was far from ideal, but Jessop had insisted on providing her with childcare, so that she could focus one hundred percent on the job.

  In fairness, he was right because the estate had become a hive of activity. They were that busy that she'd even had to hire an assistant. Furthermore, it was apparent that Jessop was under tremendous pressure. He'd even confided in her that the new 'company' had to prove a success, otherwise his leadership of the syndicate could come under threat, and that, to Jessop at least, was unthinkable.

  Jack Davies, a director of the syndicate, and officially Jessop's Estate Manager, had been a great help, and without him she didn't think her, and her assistant Sally Ford would’ve been able to cope. She knew that Jessop appreciated the level of input involved in providing adequate cover for the syndicate's activities, but even so, to say it was a challenge was an understatement.

  Not that she had an in-depth knowledge of what the syndicate's activities were because as a woman, she wasn't allowed to attend meetings, or join the contribution scheme. Although the word contribution was slightly mis-leading bearing in mind that even the lowest ranked Burnley Boys were drawing in excess of one hundred pounds a week. That was the lowest rank, not including herself of course! She sighed. Ah well, she supposed that even Viola Klein had to start somewhere.

  "Christine, who have we got on the visitors roster for today?" Jack asked removing his glasses and polishing them with his handkerchief.

  He looked quite cute without the bins Christine mused whilst chewing the end of her biro. "The list's here Jack." she replied handing him a clipboard.

  "Have security got a copy of this?"

  "Yes, I rang it down first thing." she said answering the phone, "Jessop International, how may I help you?"

  "Morning Sal?" Jack said as Sally entered the office whilst adjusting her ponytail.

  "Morning Jack."

  God, she'd really grown up lately, Jack thought. It seemed like only yesterday, she'd been that mischievous little child with no front teeth.

  "Is everything okay?" Sally asked looking at Jack quizzically.

  "Yeah, everything's fine, I was just thinking back to when we were kids that's all."

  "What when you all used to pick on me, you mean."

  "I never picked on you, I used to look out for you."

  "You used to tolerate me Jack."

  "No way, remember that time when you and your friend had been smoking cigarettes, or trying to, it was me that covered for you."

  "Jack, you're making me sound like a real scally."

  "That's nothing, the worst one was when I caught you spying on Tom and his girlfriend."

  "You're a liar Jack Davies." Sally said throwing a ruler at him.

  Jessop walked into the office just as the ruler struck the wall above Jack's head. "Good morning team." he said looking round and smiling at everyone.

  "Good morning John." Jack said, "Here's today's list of visitors." Jack removed the carbonised paper and handed Jessop his copy. Jessop perused it, before folding it and putting it into his inside jacket pocket. "Have you got this week’s contribution figures yet?" he asked Jack

  "Yes."

  "The P&L for the estate?"

  "Yes."

  "The book balance we talked about?"

  "Yeah, it's sorted."

  "What about the project on investment?"

  "No, not yet, I didn't think you wanted it until next week."

  "Yeah, my fault. I forgot to tell you, I'm seeing the bank tomorrow, I was going to run it by them then."

  I'll have it for you by first thing tomorrow then, but I'll present it to them, I am the treasurer, after all."

  Jessop looked at Jack, Christine and Sally went about their work. "Okay." Jessop said finally, "We'll go through it tomorrow morning, the meetings not until eleven, that's if you don't mind me tagging along. I mean, I wouldn't want to cramp your style or anything." Jessop winked at Sally.

  Jack just smiled.

  "Right, I'm off then. We need to talk later Jack, it's important. Give Tom a call and get him to come over here for two o'clock.

  "Okay boss."

  "Okay, bye everyone."

  "Bye Mr Jessop." the girls chorused.

  THE BURNLEY BOYS TANGLE WITH SEEDMORE PARK.

  1

  T om Ford had been promoted in the summer to company sales manager of Jessop's Cotton Mill. A position that enabled him to move freely around the country without arousing the suspicion of the workforce. He did not kid himself that he'd been given the promotion for any other reason, although he had surprised not only himself, but Jessop as well, at how well he'd taken to the role. He had a good nose for a deal. He accepted the fact that he was no Einstein, but what he lacked in the academic department, he more than made up for with his natural charisma. He had done so well, in fact, that Jessop had been able to lay off the ‘deputy’ sales manager he’d appointed to assist him. Not that he thought for one moment that Jessop had not had absolute faith in his ability to do the job. Like fuck he did, but he'd proved him wrong on that score. Tom tapped his teeth with his pencil. In the few months that he'd been doing the job he had brought in so many orders that Jessop had given him his own secretary, a status symbol that put him on a par with Chris Benson the factory manager, who was also a Burnley Boy.

  Prior to Jessop establishing his Corporate HQ, Tom hadn’t previously noticed Chris's resentment towards him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was always being summoned to see Jessop at 'Corporate HQ' that rankled him. He remembered the last time he'd felt such strong resentment from someone, and that had resulted in him spending the best part of a year in traction! Not that anything was ever proved mind, but he'd bet his bottom dollar that Quilter had had something to do with it. Maybe, even Benson had been in on it? It was plausible because in Tom’s eyes those two were cut from the same cloth (tap, tap, tap,).

  Tom's phone rang; "Yes Sue."

  "Jack Davies on line one for you Tom."

  "Thanks Sue, put him through."

  "Ay-ah Jack, what can I do for you?"

  "It's Jessop he wants a meeting with both of us at HQ this afternoon at two."

  "Fuckin' hell, what's up now?"

  "I'm not sure, what's wrong you sound a bit edgy?"

  "Oh, it's nothing, I'm just in a philosophical mood that’s all."

  "Steady on mate, you don't want to go and burst something."

  "Ha, ha, you're so funny. You should be on the stage mate."

  "What like showbiz?" they both said in unison.

  "Listen," Tom said, "you want to come and work here for a few weeks, to see what a real workplace is like. It's a bit tougher than frolicking around in the sun with young women, I can tell you."

  "My heart bleeds for you Tom, just get your ass over here for two o'clock sharp, okay."

  Tom went to reply, but jack had already hung up. "Bastard." he said thinking that it was funny how just talking to that four-eyed git for a couple of minutes seemed to lift his spirits. Ah well, there was no time like the present he thought lifting his telephone receiver. "Sue, get me Chris Benson please."

  2

  Jack and Tom approached Jessop's office door. The office was located in the same room as his old study, thus still allowing him the view of his favourite garden.

  Jack knocked on the door.

  "Come in." Jessop called from inside. "Ay-ah la
ds, come in, take a seat."

  Both of them sat opposite Jessop's desk.

  "Right, I’ll get straight to it. I want you both to listen to me very carefully, and I don't want any interruptions until I've finished."

  Jack cleared his throat and re-adjusted his position in his chair.

  "I'm drafting Jack into the operations division."

  Tom opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

  "We need to strengthen this side of the business, and we need to do it fast. I'm meeting Eddie Briggs next week, and if things turn out like I expect, we're going to have to be ready to defend our turf if necessary. Obviously, I'll know a lot more after the meet, but being the pessimist that I am, I believe we've got a couple of months tops.

  Jack and Tom looked at one another.

  "Hunter's gone."

  "Gone where?" Jack asked

  Jessop raised a hand, "He was doing a Tolson, I've already lined up his replacement, Harry Robertson the leisure centre manager. He's been working for us indirectly since you two were kids. Well now I've persuaded him to take the plunge, and his wife Cath will be coming here to assist Molly and Jean. Plus, I'm employing both of Jean's daughters, it's about time we got this place looking like the corporate HQ it's supposed to be. Gerald's coming back to run the estate's finances, as assistant to you Jack, of course."

  Jack smiled; he liked Gerald, and he knew he could piss the job.

  "I'm also bringing Matt indoors to assist Christine. He'll be the same rank as Sal."

  The main function of the syndicate's operation division was orchestrating its protection and security business. Tom had twenty men, all highly paid, who were split into four teams known as tags. If one member of an individual tag failed in any way, the whole tag got penalised or punished. For security reasons the tags were run independently from one another and were headed up by a negotiator known as the face. The face and his deputy were the only two members of the tag who were allowed to negotiate directly with the client. The most prolific 'face' in the syndicate’s history was Dave Quilter, who had seldom operated with on-site back up, which was in direct contravention to the syndicate's rules, but then again Quilter had never been much of a rules kind of person.