by Daniel Birch
He then told her not to look at him funny and called her a cunt.
I wasn’t having that.
The thing is she didn’t even tell me on that period of leave I had at that time. I just heard from a guy who worked with Sarah. Apparently Sarah told this guy and there you have it - small town.
I didn’t ask Emma about it. I just thought ‘what the fuck’ and figured I’d go see Redman as he locked up at 5 p.m..
I followed him to a multi storey car park. I didn’t think he had seen me walking after him. I have to say this sounds dodgy, but I say again, my intention was not to kill him, just to put the windies up him. I didn’t care about the 300 quid, it was the principle, and most of all how he had spoken to Emma.
I wanted to make it clear that if he saw her again, he got the fuck out of Dodge. I didn’t even want him to look at her the wrong way.
I got to the third level and lost sight of him. I had been made. I remember thinking how sloppy I had been. I had never been seen before and after all my job in the army, as a sniper, was based on stealth, so this fucker making me was an insult.
It was just as I was thinking that that I felt it. A huge whack on the back of my head. He had pistol-whipped me, and I was out for the count.
I woke up again when I realised I was in the boot of his car. We were driving somewhere and it was bumpy. My hands weren’t tied or anything, but I had no fucking room to manoeuvre. When the car came to a halt he opened the boot. I tried jumping out at him but he hit me with something and it knocked me out… again.
I don’t know how long later but the next thing I knew I had come back to life near the river Hull. I was laid on the riverbank that is situated in the middle of Bude Forest, near what was to become Kingswood in Hull some years later.
Looking up as I got back my wits, I had to admit I was in a bit of a predicament.
He stood there above me, he was shaking and panicking as he waved and shook that Winchester shotgun, and for those of you who aren’t familiar with the Winchester, it is one hell of a shotgun that packs one hell of a bang. If you aim in the direction of your target and pull the trigger, it is odds-on you will record a kill.
Thinking back, Redman must have feared for his life because those Winchesters don’t come cheap. Even at a street price you would pay around 700 quid for one of them bad boys.
‘Hold on a fucking minute, Redman, calm the fuck down. What are you doing?’ I said as I tried to get his attention.
‘No!’ he screamed at me. ‘You and your chums have been following me all week. I know it, I know it, I know you’re all trying to kill me but, guess what, I’m taking you first, and I’ll shoot any bastard that tries to get near me.’
He was fucking cuckoo. Nothing I said made a difference. I tried telling him I wasn’t with anyone. I told him the truth about how I was only going to put the windies up him for shouting at my Emma.
Nothing registered though. The thing is, I at first thought he wouldn’t have had the bottle, but when he started looking around, then ordered me to strip off and to get closer to the water, I figured we were way past fucking around. He put my clothes in a bin liner and threw them into the brown muddy water of the River Hull. I again tried to talk him out of it. He shouted insults at me and held the shotgun with one hand aimed at my head from about a foot away.
I was going to have to kill him, and quick.
‘For starters, Redman, you aren’t holding it right. If you’re gonna kill me, then you have to hold it with both hands because the Winchester kicks like a mule.’ I wasn’t lying, and while I knew that giving weapons advice to a man pointing a weapon, which in all probability would have blown my head off from the few feet away where he was standing, was stupid, it was my only shot to get his attention.
It did the trick.
As he adjusted with his other arm, I dived at him with a rugby tackle. The weapon fired as I did so, and I felt the burn from the shot on my naked back. So it was damn close but I wasn’t hit.
We wrestled and I managed to overpower him with multiple strikes to the head. I worked my ground and pound and left him there as he bled from numerous points on his face.
I was still naked, stood there on the riverbank, it was night but not completely dark yet. I stood and kept the Winchester on him as I got my breath back.
‘You fucking idiot, Redman, what the fuck? You were like, proper gonna kill me wasn’t you? You fucking arsehole, I can’t believe you.’
Amazingly to me, Redman was still defiant.
‘I don’t give a fuck. You best kill me now, ’cos if I see you again, you and yours are fucking dead.’ Like I say, it was amazing where this guy got his balls because nobody can argue that this bloke had some stones on him. It dawned on me by watching him in his defiance that I couldn’t just let him go with a bitch slap.
Now I don’t know if any of you have ever seen a film called ‘Carlito’s Way’? One of my favourites I have to say. I think the main thing I got from that film was the message the film had within it for all would be gangsters - never leave a loose end, ever. If you have seen the film, you will remember ‘Benny Blanco from the Bronx’ and how a simple misunderstanding earlier on in the film led to Carlito’s undoing.
Well I don’t leave any Benny’s, fuck that.
So I shot him before I changed my mind. The blast took his head clean off, just as I had thought. There wasn’t much mush to clean up as bits of his head had flown into the shit-infested River Hull anyway, but I still had a hole to dig.
I took his body into the woods. I stashed him by some trees because I needed something to dig with. Redman’s car was parked not far away from the riverbank, so I hoped there would be something to dig with in there. I didn’t find a spade, but I did find a plastic ice scraper and a steering lock so I had to make do. To my relief I also found a raincoat and a pair of work boots. I put the boots on along with the raincoat. I guess the only problem was that my arse and my bits were still on show as the coat only went down to my waist. I just thought fuck it and got on with it, hoping nobody would see me.
A few hours later and he was under the ground.
I was covered in mud and blood, I maybe should have grabbed Redman’s jeans off him but there was blood all over them and I didn’t want any of his blood-soaked clothing - I had enough blood on me already. There was no way I was leaving the Winchester, though. I wanted to dispose of it myself so it could never be found. I thought I’d get it melted down at an iron works.
I stashed the car a block from my place, and ran home. I was lucky it was dark now and, apart from running past an old man in my half naked state holding a shotgun, I didn’t see anyone else. I don’t even think he noticed me. He seemed in a world of his own.
When I got home that night, I confess I tried to sneak in, I was living in my flat back then and Emma had just moved in. Emma knew about the things I was doing but I wasn’t going to wake her up and say
‘Honey, got my bones today!’ was I? So I crept into the hallway, I took the boots off along with the raincoat.
I decided to raid the fridge before I got cleaned up and stashed the Winchester. I found some ham and stuffed a few slices into my mouth. I then found a strawberry milkshake so I guzzled it down as I turned around in the dark, but there a was light shining from the fridge, that’s when I saw her, standing there just staring at me in shock.
I must have been quite a sight, totally naked and covered in mix of mud and blood, with a milkshake in one hand and the shotgun in the other.
Chapter Twenty Seven
‘Babe, wait a minute, I can explain.’
Thinking back now, I know that maybe I didn’t use the correct words. Especially whilst I stood there in all my nakedness, covered in blood.
She looked at me with her mouth open. It sounds funny now but she said I tried to cover my cock and balls with the milkshake.
‘Tommy? What the fuck?’ She wasn’t shouting but I think it was fair to she wasn’t pleased.
‘Bab
e, I been in some right mad shit. Look, it aint as bad as it looks, I…’
‘Ain’t as bad as it looks? Tommy you have been gone for 5 hours. I tried calling a few of your numbers but as usual nobody could tell me where you were. Then you come home at this time, looking like you’re auditioning for a part in a zombie movie. Tommy, what the fuck are you doing? First I have to sit here worrying about you in the army, then this shit? I can’t do this no more, I just can’t.’
Hearing those words ‘I can’t do this anymore’ woke me up. It was like a huge slap in my face. I had made her cry, it gutted me. I wanted to jump out of myself and nut my own head. Most of all I was ashamed that I was doing this to her, the girl I love.
I was an arsehole.
After getting cleaned up, I sat down with Emma and we talked. I mean we really talked and I realised I had been so selfish. I think ever since I had known her, she had never tried to tell me what to do. I had always been a free spirit and just kinda did what I did. It doesn’t work that way, though, when another person is involved in your life. I don’t think I realised what I was putting her through.
I started to open up to her more and more. Now I don’t know if I believe in that whole soul mates shit, but I tell you what, I reckon if that term is right then we are as close as anyone would get to it because that woman, my girl, she fucking knew me inside and out and the fucking insane thing about it all is that she loved me, even after knowing all my darkest secrets. Now that’s my idea of true love, when all the layers are stripped and you get seen for what you are, and they still don’t leave.
We talked for weeks and weeks, and I knew that my life was changing. I was a different man, a better man, and the crazy thing is my friend Joey had tried to tell me all this years ago, about how all the vile deals and deeds were fucking me up, but it’s what I knew, all I knew. It took the love of a good woman, and the realisation of the possibility of losing her, that made me step out of myself and realise what was important.
I had to get out, out of the army, out of the game. The entire gangster shit I’d been doing, the army shit, I saw through it all for what it was, and what it is - shit.
When I talked to Emma about the shit I’d been through in Iraq, she just listened. With the shit I spilt to her, I could have written a book, but she never criticised me, she never judged me. She listened and I realised the importance again of sharing shit, sharing them dark dark secrets, getting it out there in the open.
I tell you, I had had offers of shrinks and God knows what, but none of them had shit on Emma. She was like fucking Yoda, I swear. I’d tell her shit like ‘Yeah but babe I’m feeling so fucking full of rage, I want to kill the bastard’ when talking about Trigg and what he had done, and she would reply with her Yoda terms like ‘Rage spreads in the empty soul’. Ok, Yoda might have said ‘empty soul you will have if rage spreads’ but you know what I mean. She would come out with these little pieces of knowledge that a street guy like me didn’t possess. She made sense in my senseless mind, she calmed me and helped me dissolve all the rage, fear and doubt by just talking to me.
When I killed Haircut and the others, I swore revenge. My soul was full of a burning itch to come home and kill Trigg and Samson, to inflict a pain so horrible that their ancestors would feel it. I wanted to get home and start some shit. I even had a ‘You’re dead’ message on my mobile’s answer phone. I couldn’t hear it properly because it was crackly, bad signal, but probably from Trigg, pathetic bastard.
I guess the truth is after coming home and being with her, the only thoughts I had were of hope - hope of a new life, of a new beginning. I was done with all the rage, done with revenge. Emma said revenge was like a wheel: if something turned it would turn, and turn and turn.
She was right. I didn’t need it. I had everything a man could want. I didn’t give a fuck about that nonsense. I made a conscious decision to leave the shit from over there over there. It wasn’t going to spoil what I had here, no fucking way. For the first time in weeks I wasn’t angry.
I was going to be a father - me, a father!
If all went well at the dinner I was planning, I was going to be a husband too. I kept my fingers crossed.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Returning to work after a crazy few weeks, I really had my head on.
It was amazing to me just how Tommy not being here affected my overall happiness. I had my friend back. He was doing great and had told me he was proposing to Emma. Happy times.
My whole chi had been affected for the better since he had come back. I was really getting my teeth into my work and that Valukana character I had played golf with and helped out had recently thrown quite a lot of work my company’s way.
My firm was handling all of his business deals from what I heard, and he named-dropped so the bosses were pleased with me that I brought him to us. I didn’t handle any of Valukana’s stuff. It was all commercial property deals and buying people out and so on. Word around my work was that this Valukana was rich and had connections.
Whatever Valukana’s intentions, he was certainly making a mark on the Hull property market.
My home life was thriving too, honest. I had talked things over with my wife and we had consulted our own lawyers and amicably come to an agreement over the money side of things concerning our divorce.
It was a huge relief I tell you that. I now have two mottos were it comes to marriage: the first was always ‘never a marry a woman who can beat you in an arm wrestle’ which was silly, I know, but now my new one was definitely ‘never marry a woman who you can’t talk to’ because she was like the opposite of everything I was. I was in lust, not love, and, like the wally I was where it comes to love, she mentioned marriage and I said ‘Wow! She must really love me’. I didn’t stop to think about the fact we hardly talked - it was just sex, sex, and more sex. When the sex had died down we kind of looked at each other and said ‘Hey, wait a minute, who the hell are you?’ I had been so silly.
Oh well, you can’t let a costly mistake like marriage get you down.
So I was glowing, my work was great and my life was great. I was single again, and please believe me I was as horny as a three-balled tomcat.
That night I decided I’d hit the town. I had asked Tommy but he was doing his version of pretty woman tonight so I got dressed up and hit the town by myself. I was aware a few friends of mine were out, so I said I would meet up with them.
Arriving at a black tie party at the Royal Hotel, I met a few friends and we had a right good old jolly time. I wasn’t sure what the occasion was. I had just gone because Malcolm had invited me.
Malcolm was a guy I had gone to university with, and Peter was a friend from another law firm in Hull. They were both good company and we talked about football, women and work. It was refreshing to feel free and also not have that ache that I had had when Tommy was away.
We decided to call it a night at around 1 a.m.. It was fair to say we were drunk, but it was happy drunk and I swayed as I tried flagging down a few taxis as they drove by on the road.
We headed towards Beverley Road and decided to walk and stick our arms out until a car stopped.
After walking for around 15 minutes I needed a tinkle, so I went behind a bin in the street because I was really bursting, I know I could have been fined if I had been caught but tonight I wasn’t bothered. I would usually wait like any other decent human to drain my main vein, but nature had called and I was too drunk to hang around.
Trying to stop mid–piss is a hard thing to do. I defy any man to try. It is bloody painful, but I tried. As I looked around, something wasn’t right.
Ever had that feeling that you’re being followed? I also noticed my phone had been ringing as it was vibrating in my pocket. I had a look and I had a missed call from Valukana. What the hell did he want? I wasn’t ringing back, not at this time of night.
The feeling had been with me for a few minutes but, as I had started pissing, I noticed two men who had been hanging around out
side the club earlier. I didn’t see their faces clearly but it was them. I could tell because one of them had a distinctive white shirt with a weird tribal pattern on it, the other had a look of a bouncer with his black three-quarter-length coat and shirt and tie.
Were they following us? If so why?
I stayed frosty as I zipped up my pecker and approached the lads who were telling the never-ending ‘your mamma’ jokes.
‘Well you’re mamma’s so fat her belt size is the equator,’ laughed Pete as Malcolm responded with…
‘Well your mamma’s so fat, to fuck her I had to roll her in flour and find the wet spot.’
Keeping my eye on the men glaring at me across the road, I whispered to the lads that something was wrong.
Chapter Twenty Nine
No matter how you do a proposal, it is always going to be nerve-racking. When I thought about it logically, it would make sense that she would say yes, but you never know, do you? You know what women are like.
I had spoken to Joey earlier on that day. I wanted some good ideas. We had come up with quite a few, but most of the ideas we conjured up between us were ideas that we as men would find hilarious, which was no good really because it had to be special for her.
Now Joey’s best idea I thought was using a donut. He said I could stash the ring in a donut, wait until she knew it was in there, and pop the question. I thought it was funny but the thought of Emma choking to death scared me, so the donut option was out. Joey also thought that a re-enactment of the end scene of pretty woman would be good but I didn’t want Emma thinking I saw her as a prostitute. Besides, if anyone was saving anyone, she was saving me.
We came up with some right crackers, but I had a plan I thought she would like, and I was going to go with it.
I had the ring, I had the setting, and I made some calls.
Impressing a woman is easy, if you put the time in. For my proposal with Emma, I was going all the way, I wanted her to laugh like crazy, but also I wanted her to know in her heart I wanted to be with her as long as I was breathing.
