by Alfie Robins
Then he must have felt the Sig under Warren’s jacket. He’d never seen such a big bloke react so fast in all his life. He reached around the back of his trouser waistband and produced his own Sig, then stuck the barrel in Warren’s chest. He put his hands up. Keep cool, smile at the bad guy.
‘It’s ok, Carl, he’s with us,’ Jimbo told him.
The hillbilly was laughing his head off at Warren’s predicament.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Jimbo asked as he walked over.
‘Just came over to make sure things were going ok.’
Before Jimbo had a chance to have a go at him, Top Dog, the first guy to get out of the Mercedes walked around towards Warren.
‘And you are?’
‘Cole, Ray Cole you might have seen me on the television?’ Warren did a big cheesy grin. ‘And you are?’
‘I’m the fucker you don’t want to mess with. Do I know you?’
Billybob was excited as a young kid. ‘This is the bloke who just escaped from Belmarsh, he’s a mate of Mick’s.’
‘Thought you looked familiar – Jack Spriggs,’ he said holding out his hand, ‘good to meet you, Cole.’
‘Likewise.’
Spriggs took a hold of Warren’s hand and shook, giving him the evil eye while he did.
Jimbo gave Billybob one of those I wish you’d keep your gob shut type of looks, and shook his head in dismay. Before they had a chance to get further acquainted, a sixteen wheel articulated lorry drove around the circular gravel road towards the little group.
‘This is us,’ Jimbo said as the lorry came to a stop 10 metres or so away, facing the park entrance. The driver and his mate stayed in the vehicle.
Nice, thought Warren, ready to take off if things went pear shaped.
The bloke who climbed down from the passenger side of the lorry actually looked normal, no bulging muscles, clean shaven and tat free. The driver remained in the cab.
‘Any problems? Asked Jimbo as he walked over.
‘Na, all went well. Done in ten minutes, changed the licence plates and away.’
‘And the driver?’
‘Probably tucked up in a hospital bed by now chatting up the nurses.’ Obviously this brought a few laughs, still Warren reckoned the injured driver was well paid for the inconvenience.
‘Let’s go and have a look at what we’ve got.’ Spriggs led the way to the rear of the vehicle. The security seal on the rear doors was snapped and the doors opened. ‘Eureka,’ Spriggs said as he saw boxes of Black Label Whisky piled high. ‘Looks like we’ve got a deal Jimbo, man.’
He nodded to one of his tame henchmen who headed back to the Mercedes and opened the boot, returning with a leather briefcase. The case was placed on the bonnet of the Audi. Spriggs released the latches and there it was, two big fat packages of “H”.
‘Don’t mind if I test the product do you?’ Jimbo didn’t wait for an answer, he took a pen knife from his pocket and made a tiny slit, dipped his finger into the powder and then rubbed the substance on his gums. ‘Sweet,’ was all he said and closed the case.
Jimbo gave the lorry’s driver a nod. He climbed down from the cab, walked over to where Spriggs was standing and passed over the keys, then he and his mate walked away into the sunset. Job done.
‘Nice doing business with you Jimbo,’ Spriggs said as he passed on the lorry keys to one of his men. ‘Might see you again in the future Cole – stay out of trouble.’ With that Spriggs and his colleague were back in the Mercedes and crunching gravel on the way back to Geordie land. The lorry load of booze following.
‘What the fuck was all that about? You were supposed to be the Watcher – you know, keep out of the way and watch?’
‘Come on Jimbo, I didn’t like the look of Spriggs blokes, thought there might be a bit of aggro,’ Warren said attempting to smooth the way.
‘We’ve done business with Spriggs plenty of times in the past and there’s never been any bother.’ Hillbilly was loving it, seeing Warren get a bollocking. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Next time just do as you’re supposed to. Ok?’
‘Whatever you say Jimbo – whatever you say.’ Warren said through gritted teeth to emphasis he was no push over. ‘And you, just keep out of my bleedin’ face,’ he told Billybob.
‘I’ll give Mick a call, he’ll be wanting to know what’s what.’
Jimbo walked away, stood by the Audi and took his mobile out. Warren could see the conversation was animated by the way he kept glancing in his direction every couple of seconds. He hoped he hadn’t blown it.
Once they were back in the Audi, things returned to normal. The trip back to Hull was all talk of how well the deal had gone and how pleased Conway was going to be. Warren supposed he would be, he’d made a shed load of money for staying at home.
Chapter 13
‘Gemmell Strategies.’
It was Bob, Warren was getting good at the voice recognition.
‘It’s me.’
‘Of course it is, how did it go?’
‘As planned, the goods were delivered and the exchange went well without any hitches.’
‘And the faces?’
‘There was a new one on Conway’s team – young bloke, shaved head, skinny but tough looking and he has a curved scar on the left side of his face running from eyebrow to mouth. Goes by the name of Billybob.’
‘Did I hear correctly?’
‘Yes you did, Billybob, haven’t a clue what his real name is. The exchange was with three of a Newcastle team, again they were not in the portfolio. Does the name Jack Spriggs mean anything?’
‘Not immediately, leave it with me and I’ll get back to you. In future see if you can get a photograph of any of his colleagues you cannot identify. Goodnight, Raymond.’
As if the thought hadn’t occurred to Warren, it was easier said than done, it’s not as if you can say hold it there, smile while I take your pic! That was the phone call out of the way, now he had to wait and see if he was to get a bollocking from Conway.
It never came. Warren was seriously beginning to wonder if he’d put the operation in jeopardy.
In the front room of Conway’s home down the Boulevard, he sat in an expensive easy chair nursing a lead crystal glass of single malt, listening to the evening’s events.
Jimbo was letting it be known he wasn’t happy with the new member of the team. ‘I’m telling you Mick, he’s a fucking liability. He came waltzing in on the action as if it was his operation.’ He took out his tobacco tin, removed a paper from the packet and stuck it to his bottom lip. ‘The bloke’s a fucking nut job, that’s what he is,’ the paper quivered as he spoke.
‘Come on Jimbo, he’s a top man, he knows the game. He wouldn’t have shown himself if he didn’t think it was necessary.’
Jimbo continued rolling his smoke, flipped his lighter and lit up.
‘You never saw him Mick…’ Billybob tried to add his tuppence worth but was cut off before he could finish.
‘And what’s it got to do with you, fuckwit? Fuck all that’s what! You’re just the hired help so keep your fucking neb out and your gob shut.’ Conway didn’t mince his words.
‘Just sayin’ that’s all.’
‘Well fucking don’t, ok?’
‘You’ve got to have a word with him Mick,’ Jimbo sucked on the soggy roll-up.
‘I will Jimbo, I will. What you’ve got to remember, Cole is a very handy bloke, know what I mean? You said yourself he has a serious shooter, and I know for a fact he isn’t afraid to use it.
‘Yeah but Mick…’
‘Stop Jimbo, no buts – we need him, and yes I will have a word. Now pour me another Scotch and let’s celebrate a successful job.’ Billybob kept his mouth shut, it was obvious Conway wasn’t going to listen to anything he had to say. All he knew was that he didn’t like Ray Cole, not one little bit. And Conway didn’t like Billybob. ‘And you can fuck off as quick as you like.’
Chapter 14
Warren was starting to get seriously w
orried, there’d been no contact from Conway, or even Jimbo. He paced the carpet almost wearing a path through the already thin pile. Living room to the kitchen, then to the window, television on and television off. He was definitely showing signs of going ‘stir crazy’ forever sneaking a look through the net curtain.
In the weeks since he was first approached he’d let his hair grow, ok, not a quick job but it was considerably longer, combined with the fact he hadn’t shaved for a few days and the stubble had thickened, he no longer quite resembled the face seen by millions on the television. Warren decided it was time for him to venture out into the big bad world. To prevent him from cracking up – a visit to the pub was in order.
The Sig? He could hardly take it with him and there was also the possibility that Conway might pay a visit while he was out. Warren went hunting through the kitchen drawers and found a screwdriver and a hammer, he thought about removing the panel below the bath, then thought again.
Too obvious.
Warren stood a while looking around the kitchen for a not-so-obvious place to conceal the Sig. Then he had it, and set about removing the plinth below the sink unit. Using the improvised tool kit, the plinth was removed without too much effort. Warren wrapped the Sig and holster in a kitchen towel and tucked it into the space. The plinth was wedged back into position – no screws. He had the notion that quick and easy access may be needed at some point. Standing in the centre of the kitchen he surveyed his handiwork, there was no obvious sign that anything had been tampered with. Pleased with the work, he returned the tools back to where he’d found them.
If he should visit one of the local pubs he was bound to draw attention to himself, something he was trying to avoid. On the other hand, the town centre would be busier, but this too he considered risky. Even though his appearance had changed over the past weeks, it was too soon to be walking the streets, there was still the chance an ex-colleague or copper on the beat would recognise him.
Decision made, it was to be one of the local pubs. Ok, he thought I might rouse a bit of interest but it will last only for a couple of minutes until the next bloke walks through the door.
The evening was drawing in, cooler now that the sun had disappeared. Warren breathed deeply as he left the stale smell of the tower block’s lobby; the tang of the salty air blowing off the river was welcome. He stood a while taking it all in, the parking area was as normal. The only other people about were the same group of hoodies that had been there when he arrived and the Fiesta was still where it should be.
He pulled his own hoody over his head and walked out of the parking area without a second glance, not drawing any attention from the gang in the car park. This he thought was probably to Mick Conway’s influence. Left along Great Thornton Street, onto Ice House Road, then onto Anlaby Road, he was heading for The Eagle on the corner of Coltman Street. It was easy to walk around the area without looking conspicuous or suspicious, the Hull Royal Infirmary was along the route, a route walked by many strangers to the area on their trek to visit friends and relatives. All the same he kept his head low, avoiding eye contact.
He took a deep breath as he opened the pub door and walked in, he was right, every head in the place tuned as he entered. Without making eye contact with the regulars he headed straight to the bar and gave the young girl behind the counter his best smile. He was surprised, it was his first time in the pub, it looked homely, like the old North London boozers.
‘Pint of Foster’s please love, and a whisky chaser,’ he said, casually resting on the bar with his elbows.
She smiled and pulled his pint and then turned around to the optics for the whisky.
‘Which whisky do you want?’ She called over her shoulder.
‘Bells will do nicely.’
Warren, watching her back, smiled at the way her short top rode up her body, exposing the flesh in the small of her back as she reached up to the optic.
‘That will be five pounds twenty pence,’ she said as she put the dram next to the pint.
Warren gave her a ten pound note.
‘Get one for yourself,’ he said.
‘Thanks very much, I’ll just have a half,’ she cashed the ten pound note. ‘You just visiting someone in the Infirmary?’ she asked as she pushed his change across the bar.
‘Bit nosey aren’t you?’ he said smiling.
Warren picked up his pint and sipped.
‘I’m offended,’ she said feigning hurt, ‘not nosey – just interested,’ she slid his change across the bar top.
‘I’ve got some business in the city, staying up the road with a mate for a while.’
‘Oh, do I know him?’ she asked inquisitively.
‘I wouldn’t think so, not a bad pint this,’ Warren replied changing the subject.
It didn’t take long for the regulars to lose interest in him, the darts match taking place along with the football soon took care of the inquisitive.
Warren stood at the bar watching the football and making small talk with the barmaid. An hour and two pints later Warren decided to call it a night, a short but welcome respite from the flat.
‘Well that’s me, should be making a move.’
‘Sure you don’t want another?’
‘Nah, better not, unless you’re buying?
‘You’re joking, on what they pay me in here,’ they both laughed.
‘Right I’m off, been nice talking to you,’ Warren said as he zipped up his jacket.
‘You never said what they call you?’
Definitely nosey, thought Warren.
‘No I never did I. Be seeing you,’ he said and stepped out onto Anlaby Road.
Standing outside the pub he looked around, he couldn’t see anyone but he had that feeling, a feeling of eyes watching him. He shrugged it off getting paranoid he thought and started along Anlaby Road. The hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle, he was sure someone was following. He risked a look around as he crossed over the pedestrian crossing at Rawlings Way, he still couldn’t see who was shadowing him, maybe Jimbo was under instructions to look out for him. Opposite the Hull Royal Infirmary, ‘The Pharmacy’ was shut down boarded up with steel shutters, it had definitely seen better days, looking tired and sorry for itself. By the side of the run-down building was a delivery alleyway leading around the back. Warren did a quick sidestep down the alley and waited. He could hear the quickening of footsteps, he was right, someone was following and whoever they were was starting to panic when they lost sight of him.
A figure appeared at the opening to the alleyway, Warren grabbed out with his right hand and pulled the figure into the gloom.
‘I might have known it would be you,’ he said as he pushed the skinny, denim clad body further down the passage. ‘Conway sent you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I fucking hate that,’ said Warren.
‘What?’
‘There you go again, answering a question with a question.’
‘No, Conway didn’t send me. I can think for myself.’
‘That right, so what are you expecting to get out of following me?’
Billybob was nervous, hopping from one foot to the other and back again, his hands in his jeans pockets. Warren was watching closely. Then Billybob took a step back produced a silver trimming knife from his pocket and extended the blade.
‘What do you say to this then, now who’s going to be laughing out of the other side of their face?’
Billybob laughed nervously as he passed the knife from one hand to the other with well-practised ease. Warren had no doubt in his mind the skinny youth had used it on more than one occasion.
‘Been fitting some carpets?’ said Warren as he suddenly reached out and grabbed Billybob’s wrist. The knife fell to the floor as he bent the joint of the wrist and hand double and then there was a crack of bones as the wrist broke.
‘Shit, fuck, fuck, you’ve bleedin’ broke it.’ Billybob screamed out like a girl.
‘Got to be quicker
than that Billybob.’
His would-be attacker fell to his knees, clutching his wrist with his good hand. Warren kicked out with his foot and the skinny bloke lost his balance and rolled over onto his back. Warren picked up the knife and put it in his own pocket.
‘See Billybob, you just aren’t good enough.’
He grabbed Billybob’s right leg and dragged him around.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Billybob said between gritted teeth, the movement jarring his shattered wrist.
‘Don’t worry hillbilly, nearly done.’
Warren placed the foot on the concrete step that led into the rear of the shop creating a gap between the leg and the floor – then stamped as hard as he could on Billybob’s knee.
Billybob almost howled with the pain as bone and tendons snapped. Immediately his jeans changed colour, darkening as blood flowed from the wound. Warren grimaced.
Billybob didn’t notice – he was too busy crying.
Warren leaned over and clamped a hand over Billybob’s mouth. The hillbilly tossed his head from side to side as he tried to yell his lungs out.
‘Ssssh.’ He smiled as Billybob writhed in agony on the floor. ‘Someone might hear you. And that hillbilly is how a professional does it, no pissing about, in fast before the other bloke knows what’s happening,’ he said to the prostrate figure laying in the gloom of the alley. He took out his mobile and snapped a picture. ‘At least the Infirmary is just across the road – if you can crawl that far.’
‘Bastard… fucking… bastard,’ Billybob sobbed out, in between breaths just before he passed out.
‘I know. See you around hillbilly.’
Warren walked away. He thought his days of extreme violence were a thing of the past. Funny how easy it comes back to you, he thought. He took out his mobile and pressed speed dial one.
‘Gemmell Strategies.’ It was Bob.
‘You’re working late,’ said Warren.
‘Always available to take your calls Greg, no matter the time.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you’d send an ambulance to…’ Bob cut him short.
‘Problem, you’re not injured are you?’ Bob asked, concerned.
