by HJ Lawson
Paul’s thin jacket does nothing to protect my T-shirt. I’m dripping wet by the time I get to the garage. Before actually going into the garage, I circle around it, with enough distance between me and it to get away in case the police are here. Then I decrease the distance and go in for a better look. Outside the car mechanic’s shop, there is a car waiting. It belongs to Dean, the other lad doing the job. No doubt his younger brother, Russel, will be here. I’ve done jobs with them before for Glenn.
Paul isn’t here yet. I hope he didn’t get nicked.
I slowly cycle to the front of the car, as I look around me. The place is abandoned. No one is on the sidewalk, and empty cars line the streets, parked up until work tomorrow morning.
I tap gently on the door, just loud enough to be heard. “Who is it?” asks Dean, the older of the two.
“Liam.” I hear the two muttering to each other. Guess Glenn hadn’t told them I was coming. “Let us in. I’m getting soaked out here.”
There is a metal against metal sound, as they unbolt the door. Dean looks past me, then ushers me into the garage and begins pounding me with questions. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m disappointed. I thought you’d given all this up.” Then he smirks. “Nice bike.”
“You and me both,” I reply as I step inside. “Alright, Russel,” I say to the kid in the corner of the garage, by the back door, ready to run. The garage lights catch the red tint in Russel’s hair. Both brothers have it.
“Alright, Liam,” Russel replies. He’s fresh out of school but not new to jobs. He has one passion in life: driving, and driving fast. I swear if he wasn’t from the estate, he would give those Formula One guys a run for their money. I’m glad he’s our driver.
“I needed a payday, and Glenn told me you had one planned.” They know I’m his nephew so they haven’t any more reason to question me.
“Cool. Glad to have you back.” Dean glances back at Russel and adds, “Did he tell you Seamus is on the job as well? He’s kind of been the lead since you left.”
“He’s not coming. You don’t need him.”
Again, Dean and Russel look at one another. They could pass for twins. They are the only two brothers I’ve ever seen always get on.
“How long are you back?” Russel asks.
“Just this job.” He looks disappointed with my response. “Why?”
Russel doesn’t respond, just looks out the window. “Let’s just say things haven’t been the same since you left,” he says. He pats me on my shoulder as he walks past to whisper something in Dean’s ear.
I give them a minute as I look over the weapons. The guns are resting on a work surface, like the mechanic left his tools, but these are our tools. We’ve never needed the guns; they are just for show. But we all know how to use them if needed. Normally Glenn has a guy on the inside, so it’s an in-and-out job. No witness, no problem.
“Which bookie is it?” I ask, picking up one of the guns. Dean hesitates, which means one thing. “Not Hacker,” I reply to my own question.
“Hacker,” Dean confirms, to my disappointment.
“Jesus, Glenn,” I say, leaning against the work stations. Hacker is one crazy f-ed up guy. His last name is Hacker, and I’m not sure of his first, but he doesn’t really need it. They call him Hacker the Butcher, because of the way he likes to injure people and what he does with their bodies after he kills them. “We never do jobs on Hacker’s stuff. Why now?” For a good goddamn reason, I don’t want to end up in pieces.
“Seamus’s idea. Said your uncle was leaving money on the table.”
“Seamus and Glenn are morons, and so are you if you’re going to do it,” I say, heading back to the door. I need money, and this job won’t give me a bag of it — all I will get is a body bag.
As I open the door to leave, Paul appears, with a ghost-white face and grey circles under his eyes. “Paul, you look like death,” I say, pulling him into the garage and swiftly closing the door behind us.
“So would you if —”
I cut him off before he carries on. Dean and Russel don’t need to know what happened today, with Kaylee and Seamus. “Paul, we’re not doing this job,” I tell him.
“What are you taking about?” Paul asks. His jaw carries on moving as if he’s still talking.
“Are you high?” I ask.
“No. Well, a little, but it will wear off before we get there. I needed something to take the edge off the day,” Paul replies, as he tries and fails to control his rolling eyes.
“Paul, since when did you get high before a job?”
“Since you left, isn’t that right, boys?” I can hear the bitterness in his voice. None of them wanted me to leave our little gang. And not only did I leave them, I left them with Seamus.
“Well, we’re both leaving now,” I tell Paul.
“No, Liam. I’m not going anywhere. I need the job, and so do you.”
“Paul, this job will get us killed.”
His jaw stops moving. He’s no longer biting the inside of his mouth. “But I’m dead if I don’t do this job. We all are. Your uncle Glenn isn’t going to let us live if we walk away from this.”
“Screw him. I’m not scared of him.” I used to be, but that changed.
“You might not be, but we are. We’re not family,” Dean says. “We were told by Glenn that we had to do the job. We weren’t asked.”
“Jesus, lads, you can’t let fear control you.” They don’t reply, embarrassed that my uncle has his claws in them. “I get it. I get what he’s like. But he will control you forever if you let him.”
“Liam, there’s nothing else we can do. You know there isn’t any money here for us,” Dean says, looking towards Russel, a kid who has the longest criminal record out of all of us. There is no way he’s going to get a job even at McDonald’s. “I don’t only have Seamus to worry about. He’ll just be in the front of the line.”
“Damn.” I slam the gun back down on the work station, cleaning the prints off it with my sleeve. “I can’t watch you guys die,” I say as I wheel the bike towards the garage door.
“We all will if you don’t come. We need you on the job as well. We’re two men down without Seamus and Tyson.”
I made them two men down, I think, and look over to Russel, who stares at me blankly. “One last job,” he says to me. If I leave, I may as well shoot him now, I may as well shoot them all. Boys that I would consider my brothers.
So I say, “We never did have that one last job, did we…”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you sure Rob’s in on this? He’s Hacker’s right-hand guy,” I say as they run quickly through the plan with me. I keep having to tell them to slow down. I know why they are going fast — they’re scared I will back out. Which I wish I could, but there’s no way I can without having more blood on my hands.
“He was, until Rob caught Hacker cheating with his wife, Shirley” Paul explains. I’d be furious if I caught Kaylee cheating. I understand why Paul trusts Rob.
“Oh,” we all say in unison. Rob was always the muscle behind Hacker’s business.
“Without his right-hand man, Hacker’s powerless.”
“Bet he was pissed. I would be.”
“You could say that. I think tonight is just part of Rob’s plan. You know he loved that crazy woman.”
“What happened after he found them?” I ask.
“She’s not been seen since.”
“Damn.”
“Wait. What do you mean, you think tonight is just part of the plan?” I ask Paul.
“Would you be able to look at Hacker each day after that? I know Rob’s the muscle, but he’s got to have some brains up there as well.”
“True.” I don’t like not knowing Rob’s full plan; without it, I can’t predict the next move, or the one after that, like chess. Kaylee taught me how to play chess when my television was broken. It’s really all about thinking as if you were the other player and predicting what they will do next — that’s
more important than your moves. You see, you make your moves because of them, and they lead you to the path to take over their king. In our case, that’s Hacker.
“It’s time,” Dean says, “Hacker is out of town as well,” Dean adds. I’ll be gone before he gets back.
“Let’s do this, lads. Follow my lead,” I say, taking charge without being asked. The adrenaline runs through my veins as I pick up a gun destined only for tonight’s job. A new one for each job. No links, no connections.
The boys follow my lead, taking their guns without the normal mutters of excitement.
This isn’t one of our normal jobs, like stealing from stores or vans left open for our taking. This one is different; the bookies will still be open, and customers and staff could be there. Which I really don’t like the idea of. Scaring someone because they are coming to collect their winnings — what a way to spoil their day, but what choice do we have?
“Paul, you lock and stand by the door. No one in or out,” I order him.
Dean and Paul exchange looks. “That’s my job,” Dean says.
“Today it’s not. I need someone that’s not high by me. No offense, Paul.”
Paul shrugs. “Whatever.”
“Right, lads. Remember, these guns are only for show. We all know how to use them, but we don’t have to,” It’s my normal pep talk, and despite how long it’s been, the words roll off my tongue. “Right?”
“Right, Liam,” the boys mutter.
Their adrenaline levels are way too low to be on a job, I think. That makes me nervous. “Jesus, lads, you talked me onto this. We can leave now if you want.”
The boys jump in quickly., “No, we’re ready. Let’s do this,” they mutter before I can change my mind.
“Last job, boys,” I remind them, pulling my black balaclava over my head, with only my eyes showing. I cover them with a plain white mask — no markings — that I’ll only use one time. Don’t need to link this job to any of our others. I never understood why bad guys in movies wear just a balaclava and don’t disguise their eyes. People know eyes more than they do your other features.
The other lads follow my lead, except Russel, the driver. If he waited in the car with one of those masks on, it would straightaway lead to questions from passers-by. I don’t think there will be many of those at this time of night. I look up and down the street and only see empty cars and streetlights. It’s still raining and doesn’t look like it’s going to stop.
Hacker’s name is written in red letters above his business’s windows, which are covered with dirty cream curtains. I remember the last time I came here.
“This one, Dad. Paul said Liverpool are going to win 2 goals to 1 goal today,” I tell Dad. Paul had been going on all yesterday at school about how Liverpool were finally going to be the champions of the Premier League.
“Not now, Liam.” Dad knocks the betting slip, which I’d carefully written out as he’d shown me, onto the tilted floor. I scramble to pick it up from among the other used slips — all balled up after people’s losses — that lie on the floor like leaves in a forest.
The tiny bell above the front door tings, summoning the bookies. You can still hear it, even over the sound of the races and games on TV.
It’s Hacker, the owner of the bookie business, and he looks like a frigging giant as he strides towards me. I leap to my feet and stand by Dad.
“Ian, have you settled your debt?” Hacker asks my dad, who seems tiny compared to Hacker.
I could tell by the way my dad had acted since he woke up this morning — snapping at the little things while Mum went uptown early to keep out of his way — that he had a debt at Hacker’s. He’d been that way for the past few weeks.
“After today’s win, Hacker, I promise,” Dad mutters.
Hacker steps closer to my dad and puffs smoke into his face. “Promises don’t pay the bills.” Hacker turns to the girls behind the counter and says, “Cut him off or I will.”
“But —” Dad starts, then stops.
“Dad, my bet?” I say, pulling on his sleeves.
Dad smacks me around the ear. “Go home to your mum,” he tells me.
“Dad,” I beg.
He shoves me forward, towards the bookie’s door. “Get out of here, kid,” Dad says.
That night, Mum’s screams of “Ian, get off me” wake me from my dreams. Jason, my older brother, stands in my bedroom with his ear to the door. “What are you doing in my room? What’s going on?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Dad’s home, he’s drunk. They’ve been at each other,” Jason says. I instantly pull my legs to my chest.
Mum lets out a painful scream. I leap from my bed, as Jason runs downstairs. Hardly anything makes you ready to take a beating, except if it’s to protect Mum.
“Stay here, Keith,” I tell my younger brother, as he rocks back and forth.
“Is Mum okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Me and Jason will look after her. Stay here, alright?” Keith stands frozen on the step, following my orders as he’s always done. Even at five, he knows he will get hurt if he goes downstairs.
I bounce down the stairs two at a time, ready to take the blows alongside my big brother
Then the living room door opens, taking me by surprise; Dad glances up at me, then leaves. I stare out of the window as Dad walks away from the house.
I hesitate for a moment. The house is too silent — deadly silent. The quiet is broken when Jason yells, “Run to the phone box, and call an ambulance! Mum won’t wake up.” Jason’s on the front room floor and Mum lays lifeless in Jason’s arms.
I never see my dad again.
“Remember, we have fifteen minutes. Grab what you can and get out on my word,” I tell them. “Russel, keep the engine running.”
“Got it,” Russel says. He repeats my message to his brother, Dean, “in and out.”
Luckily Paul’s eyes have stopped rolling, and he seems like he’s here with us. Still, I’m glad I’ve put him by the door. That’s the easiest job there is.
Time to psych myself up: No more waiting in the car. Just get out and do the job, then you can get your family out of here. We all nod at one another in our masks and exit the car.
The little bell rings above the bookie’s door as we enter. “Everyone’s hands up,” I yell out, pointing my gun. Goddamn, there are people here — an old man, a young woman with a kid in a stroller. His chubby face is frozen as he stares at me with confusion. My mask isn’t scary, but it doesn’t have to be. There are also three girls behind the counter and the manager, Hacker’s nephew Jonesy. Dean is at my side, while Paul stands behind us and in front of the door, stopping anyone from leaving.
“Do you know who you’re robbing?” says Jonesy, as he steps closer to the counter, but still behind the girls.
“Hands up,” I yell back. The young kid in the stroller starts to cry; his round face quickly turns wet and red. Why does a kid have to be here? Why’s he not in bed?
“I’d turn ’round now if I was you, kid,” Jonesy says. Who’s he calling kid? I’m only five years younger than him.
“Up!”
Jonesy’s hands don’t go up. He drops sideways to the ground. The girls look at me with fear, but it’s not fear of me. Then, in sync as if they’ve practiced this, they too drop down behind the counter.
“He’s got a gun!” I yell and order the customers to get down as Dean and I run towards Jonesy.
Jonesy pops back up with a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. Before I can reach him, it goes off. Gasps and cries come from the small bookies. The young kid screams out like a siren, alerting anyone who didn’t hear the gunshots.
I fire at Jonesy’s shoulder. As his gun drops to the ground, there’s a thud, quickly followed by another: Dean. Dean’s hands clutch at his chest, riddled with bullet wounds.
“See to him,” I yell to Paul, as I jump over the counter to grab the shotgun. Jonesy is crumpled in the corner. He’s injured but not dead.
&nbs
p; “What the hell is going on?” Rob says as he walks through the back door.
I hope he’s really on our side, or we’re screwed. “Hands up,” I yell, pointing the gun at him.
Rob slowly lifts his hands as Paul stutters, “He’s dead, he’s dead.”
Damn, no, he can’t be dead! My eyes quickly move between Dean and Rob. Blood drips from Dean’s mouth, undisturbed by any attempt to catch his breath. His unblinking stare locks on me.
“What’s going on?” Rob yells again, clearly trying to break my trance.
“The bags, give them the bags,” I say to Paul. Paul doesn’t move. “Now!” I yell. I’ve lost Dean; I’m not going to lose Paul as well. Sweat glues the balaclava to my face, making it hot and uncomfortable. I look at my watch. We’ve only got five minutes to get what we can.
Paul scrambles for the bags, throwing them over the counter towards me. “Fill them,” I tell the girls. They look at Rob, and he nods. The girls fill the bags with the money from today’s bets.
A noise comes from the corner. Jonesy. “Will you shut your kid up? I’m dying over here,” he splutters.
“Jo —” I stop before I finish his name. “Don’t. Leave the kid alone. Here,” I say, throwing a lollipop to the woman, for her child. She doesn’t even go to catch it, just lets it fall on the ground with a look of disgust on her face. I know her. She was at my school — and if I know her, she knows me.
There is a creak, followed by the ting of a bell, as the bookie’s door opens. Paul never locked it. This job has gone from bad to horrific.
Paul and I point our guns at the door, waiting for the uninvited guest.
First I see the brown hair with a red tint to it. It’s Russel. “Get back in the car,” I yell to him, not wanting him to see Dean’s body.
