Scallywag TYPESET

by Brogan, Stuart

  He tried to catch his breath. Why the hell would organised crime grab him and in broad daylight? He started to shake involuntarily. He was out of his depth and he knew it. The voice was sudden, its tone polished and articulate.

  “Good evening, Callum. I trust you are enjoying your stay and the accommodation is to your liking?”

  Callum sat bolt upright, his limbs straining against his bindings. He didn’t recognise the voice.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asked meekly, straining in the gloom to find the voice’s source.

  There was a subdued laugh. Callum reasoned it emanated from in front of him, most likely from behind the light source.

  “Fuck you!” rasped Callum. The room was once again lit up with a brilliant flash of light. Callum screamed, his eyes starting to suffer under the torture, his retinas pulsing and aching from the relentless barrage.

  “Now now, Callum, let’s not be disrespectful…” there was a slight pause. The room once again plunged into darkness.

  “We went to a lot of trouble getting you here and all you can do is hurl abuse and insults at us. Believe me when I say, young man, that we are very serious about what we do, and as such you should show us a certain amount of respect. We could keep this up indefinitely, should the mood take us. You wouldn’t want to upset us, would you?” the voice fell silent for a few seconds, then continued in a more subdued, less abrasive tone.

  “I think it might unnerve you more than just a little, considering everything we know about you, Callum, Full name Callum Benson, date of birth 28 of July, 1998. Your father, who was a raging alcoholic, hater, and habitual serial beater of women, married your mother after a whirlwind romance, but as soon as you were born decided to abandon the happy family and shack up with some young bit of totty somewhere up north. And, consequently. you’ve never set eyes upon him since that day…” Callum was aware of movement. His body tensed expecting an attack. The voice continued.

  “…and your psychological assessments state you harbour great disdain and resentment towards him, no doubt an underlying reason for your pathetic criminal activities and dubious lifestyle choices.” He paused once again, perhaps to allow his hostage time to assimilate the information, then carried on, his tone heavy with mock sympathy.

  “And now, Mr Benson, we get to the part of the story that is so dramatically and heartbreakingly tragic it practically borders on Shakespearian in nature. Mother, Janet Benson, died two years ago from an overdose believed to be a mixture of heroin and ketamine, and was subsequently found face down in a puddle of her own vomit and urine. Leaving poor old Callum to fend for, not only yourself but your twelve-year-old sister, Rebecca. Although, a couple of stints in a young offenders institution, one of reasonable length I might add, nearly culminated in poor little Rebecca finishing up in the maniacal clutches of Social Services. And we all know what happens once you fall foul of that particular Government department…”

  There was a soft chuckle.

  “In fact, we hear that little Rebecca lovingly refers to you as Scallywag. One presumes your mother used to address you as such, due to your escapades and for being a little toe-rag. Although I’m sure there is some sort of back-handed compliment in there somewhere, a term of endearment between loved ones only a mother and son would understand. I must say it gave all of us here a warm fuzzy feeling and helped take the chill off of our frozen hearts.”

  The voice gave out a subdued chortle then paused once again, no doubt for dramatic effect. If it was the voice’s intent to rile Callum, then it was working. Callum had felt his temper start to simmer at the mention of his torrid past, especially at the mention of his baby sister. As far as Callum was concerned, his sister was off limits. His mind was racing, craving for answers, just who the hell were these people and how did they know so much about him? It was common knowledge on the street that organised crime had employed the services of private investigators. They even had bent coppers on the payroll, but much of this information was supposed to be sealed and inaccessible to the majority, let alone the general public. Callum clenched his teeth in an attempt to keep his temper in check, knowing full well any explosion in emotion could very well lead to a bullet ending the escalating exchange. He calmed himself and took a deep breath, desperately trying not to show he was rattled.

  Callum exhaled gently then broke the silence. “Ok, you seemed to have done your homework, Mr Big Shot, but if you and your goons are so all knowing, what possible use am I to you? And how did you know I would be in that alley today? I’m a nobody, I’m so far down the bloody food chain I don’t even register as plankton.” He waited for the voice to reply. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Come, come, Mr Scallywag, don’t be so down on yourself. Knowing one’s weaknesses is admirable, but you also have to recognise one’s strengths and use them to your advantage in this dog-eat-dog world of ours. If you must know, my associates and I have had you under close surveillance for the past two months. While you were busy planning your little mugging, amongst other criminal activities I might add, we have been stoically watching in the background, steadily gathering intelligence on you, waiting for the most opportune moment to reel you in. It would seem your assumption of being mere plankton is somewhat inaccurate, and that you are actually more like a tasty sardine, so to speak.” The voice paused, maybe anticipating a retort, but Callum remained silent.

  “In conclusion, Mr Scallywag, and judging by your modus operandi, we came to the decision that today would most likely be the day you implemented the plan.” Again the voice paused. Callum remained defiant, not wanting to give away any more information.

  “Of course we had contingency plans should you throw us a sneaky curve-ball, but, like the predictable fellow you are, you didn’t disappoint us. And, to be honest, your timing is somewhat impeccable” Another muted chuckle.

  Callum straightened up and stared directly ahead of him in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his captors, his growing defiance increasingly evident. Chances were that, if they were some kind of top firm gangsters, then in all probability he was going to end up with a bullet in the back of his head any second now. After which his body would be dumped in a polluted river or fed to a sounder of ravenous pigs. The only logical explanation was that they believed he was guilty of some sort of perceived transgression against them, or someone they deemed to be under their protection. With the amount of information they had on him, he seriously doubted it was a case of mistaken identity. Regardless of the reason, he was determined he wasn’t going to punch out like some snivelling bitch, despite being at the bottom of the food chain.

  “Fine,” he said with a hint of mockery. “Just what the hell do you want from me?” Callum held his breath, silently waiting to hear the sound of a gun being cocked.

  There was a slight chuckle from the darkness. “Relax, Scallywag. If we wanted you dead we would have done it already.” Another pause. “Or would we?”

  Cullum tried to swallow but his mouth was dry, causing a slight gagging in his throat. If their intention was to psychologically wear him down, then it was working. Despite his normal outwardly cocky demeanour, inside he was terrified. The only thing he had left was the mask that he showed the world around him, and he was determined he wasn’t going to let it slip now, at a time when he needed it the most.

  The voice broke the uneasy silence

  “Only joking. We want you to work for us, Callum, you could say we want you to be our star pupil. You are young, fit, and eager to make something of yourself, I presume you do wish to strive for something better than your current lot, or are we mistaken? Have you truly got what it takes to reach the top? Could you stand the pressure of sitting at the master’s table? You see, Mr Benson, we have a job offer for you, my rambunctious little friend. A job that needs your immediate attention. In fact, you might say it’s time sensitive”

  Callum remained silent, his head pounding from the abduction and lightshow. “A job?” His fear was starting to give way to
disbelief. “You kidnap me, knock me out, and bundle me in a van, then try to scare the shit out of me with your crazy lightshow, and all in the name of a job interview?” Callum’s retort was met with silence. “Hello?” Callum asked quietly. The room was suddenly illuminated by a cascade of overhead florescent lighting. Callum recoiled, fearing another assault. It took him a couple of seconds to register what had happened. He sighed nervously, relived he was still breathing. Cautiously he opened his eyes and looked around the room.

  He was in a basement approximately thirty feet square. To the far left of him he could make out a wooden staircase ascending upwards, presumably to an unseen doorway. To his right, lining the wall was a small workbench with drawers beneath, but a quick glance revealed it was devoid of anything useful. He turned his attention on the five black-clad figures directly in front of him. Before them, a four-bulb neon work lamp had been placed on a tripod. The figures were silent, all concealed behind balaclavas with only their eyes visible.

  Callum scrutinised his abductors in an attempt to reveal any clues as to their identity. There were none. The tallest of the five raised his hand and slowly waved at Callum

  “Hi there,” he whispered, cheerfully.

  The others gave a brief snigger. Tall man turned and, grabbing a wooden chair, began to drag it behind him as he made his way slowly towards the terrified captive. Callum cringed as the sound of the wood scraping the concrete floor echoed around his makeshift prison.

  With his body shaking Callum urgently glanced down at his tightly-bound hands and ankles. All four appendages were expertly lashed with zip-ties and industrial tape. Tall man slammed the chair down in front of him. He then turned and casually made his way over to the work bench.

  Callum remained silent, following his captor with his eyes, desperately not wanting to look away for fear of missing something crucial. He suddenly panicked and glanced to the other four figures that were standing motionless. Relieved, he turned his attention back to the leader.

  He watched as Tall man paused, then diligently opened a heavy metal draw. Callum crooked his neck to try to get a better look, but from his position he couldn’t see what Tall man was retrieving. His gut screamed that it wasn’t going to be conducive to his long-term future.

  With a sudden crash, Tall man slammed the drawer shut, causing Callum to involuntarily flinch. As the leader turned, Scallywag caught sight of his right hand and immediately recognised the shape and metallic shine of a .38 revolver

  Three

  Friday 19:30hrs

  Tall man sat himself on the chair and remained motionless, his eyes boring unflinchingly into his victim’s. Callum saw the menace emanating from him, could physically feel it. It was somewhat tangible, permeating the very atmosphere around him.

  He squirmed slightly, his gaze flitting from Tall man’s masked face to the threatening revolver resting comfortably on his lap. Tall man’s index finger gently tapped the outside of the trigger guard.

  Callum exhaled heavily and, with rehearsed bravado, glared at his would-be executioner. “Well? If you’re going to do it then just get on with it and stop wasting both our time,” he snarled. Tall man slowly turned to his four companions, none of whom had uttered a single word, nor even moved. Tall man shrugged his shoulders at them. They responded by slowly nodding in unison. Tall man returned his attention to Callum and slightly cocked his featureless head.

  “As you wish, Mr Scallywag.” And, with one fluid movement, Tall man stood up with such force that it sent the wooden chair tumbling to the floor. Tall man raised his right arm and presses the barrel of the revolver to Callum’s forehead. Callum stiffened up and closed his eyes as his nerve endings felt the cold steel pressed into skin and skull. At least it would be quick and he wouldn’t feel anything, a small but somewhat welcome solace before his death, he mused.

  Tall man gently squeezed the trigger. Callum held his breath as the hammer slammed down onto an empty chamber. The echo of the metallic click was deafening in the confines of the basement. Callum’s body shuddered as the room was filled with raucous laughter. He opened his eyes to see Tall man once again sat in the chair, leaning towards him. “Fuck you,” he seethed through clenched teeth. Tall man leant back in the chair and started to clap slowly.

  “You’ve got some set of balls on you, Scallywag, I’ll give you that. When faced with certain death you met it head on and didn’t cry like some sort of pussy. I’m impressed.” He once again turned to his companions. “Didn’t I say he was the right person for this job?”

  All four responded by nodding in unison. Callum stared at Tall man. “Just what the hell do you want with me? No more games.”

  Tall man relaxed his posture and rested his arms on his lap, the revolver ever present.

  “Ok then, tough guy, have it your way. Let’s get down to business. No more bullshit. That was just a little demonstration to prove that we are in complete and total control, and that we, my friend, own you. Do you understand, Scallywag?”

  Callum could only nod gently.

  “That chamber could have easily been loaded. To be brutally honest, more than one of my associates doubted you, thought you weren’t the man we hoped you were, and strongly advocated the course of action in which we just kill you and have done with it. But I was confident that you had certain attributes and skills that would serve us well during the next twenty-four hours.” He paused. “I bet that comes as a relief, doesn’t it?”

  Callum once again remained silent. Tall man stood up and started to pace slowly back and forth. Callum eyed him nervously as Tall man retrieved six bullets from his pocket, then released the lever on the revolver, letting the cylinder swing free. He watched on as Tall man loaded the chamber one round at a time before finally snapped it shut.

  “Right, Scallywag, here’s the money shot, the big reveal. It’s quite simple really. We want you to go to a certain address and kill the man living there.” His tone was serious and unwavering.

  For a number of seconds Callum was unable to speak, stunned by the request. He started to nervously laugh out loud. “Are you having a laugh or what? I’m a petty thief and part-time blagger, not some Hollywood hitman. I’ve hardly been in any fights, let alone killed anyone. You’ve got the gun, why don’t you or one of your men do it? Thanks for the job offer, but I think I will give it a miss.” Even Callum himself was surprised by his sudden gutsy outburst.

  Tall man stopped his pacing, rested his hands on the back of his chair, and glared at Callum. “Im sorry, Callum, I thought I had made our position crystal clear when I explained how this was going to work.” He leaned forward aggressively, as if to add gravitas to his words. “It isn’t a request, it’s a fucking order,” he growled.

  Callum felt his muscles tense under Tall man’s piercing gaze, all the while keeping a close watch on the now loaded gun.

  “Who is he?” he finally asked, sheepishly, not wanting to antagonise Tall man any further. Callum had decided in that split second that his only chance of survival was to agree to their demands, do anything they wanted. And then, once he was out, he would grab Rebecca and make a run for it. Start afresh in another part of the country, somewhere he hoped Tall man and his henchmen wouldn’t find him. It wasn’t much of a plan but he was fast running out of options.

  Tall man nodded slowly, satisfied Callum was starting to see the futility of his position. “Glad to see you’ve seen sense, Scallywag.” Once again, his demeanour changed; his body relaxed, his posture became less threatening. “Like I said, we want you to kill this man and, once it has been done, our deal is complete and we shall let you disappear back to whatever life you see fit.”

  Callum nodded solemnly. “Who is he and why do you want him dead?” His confidence was growing with every passing second. All he could think about was agreeing with them then making a run for it.

  Tall man shrugged. “Just some bent as fuck copper that deserves everything that’s coming to him, that’s all. No big deal for a man of your reso
lve.”

  Callum felt as if his blood had suddenly frozen. His face drained of colour, his stomach lurched violently. “A copper?” he gasped, unable to conceal his disbelief.

  Tall man nodded gently and shrugged. “What’s the problem? It’s only a copper. It’s not like it’s a real person. Trust me when I say he deserves everything he gets. He stole something priceless from us and we want to make him pay.”

  It wasn’t every day you were forced into killing a policeman. Tall man got up and manoeuvred himself around the bound torso of Callum, tucked the revolver in his waistband, and rested his hands on Callum’s shoulders. He leaned forward and whispered in Callum’s ear.

  “I know, I know, it’s all a bit scary the first time you have to kill someone, and I’m sure you have lots of questions regarding the whys and hows, but for now all you need to know is that we are in charge and poor, little old you has no choice in the matter. However, because I am a reasonable chap, and for, reasons of full disclosure, plus the fact it’s for the sake of all of us getting along, there are a few things that we need to inform you about regarding your little excursion.” He gently tapped Callum on the shoulders and returned to his seat.

  “This copper is no ordinary policeman. He is dirty, extremely paranoid, and has a track record of dealing with some very nefarious and violent people, not to mention the lucrative side-line of conveniently losing evidence for those who can afford his services. Make no mistake, there are a lot of people out there baying for this guy’s blood. He has taken liberties and bribes and is pretty much despised by just about every living creature from both sides of the law. With a stroke of luck, it just so happens that he is currently serving a suspension and is being investigated by internal investigations. The likelihood is that he’s looking at some lengthy jailtime in some shitty prison surrounded by nonces. We both know what happens to ex-coppers inside, don’t we, Callum? It stands to reason that his only way to save his sad excuse of a life is to testify, then cop a plea. And if he does that when Monday comes he will disappear, either into witness protection, where it would take us longer to find him, or he will do a runner with a lot of money that doesn’t belong to him. Hence why this job has to be completed in the next twenty-four hours. This means you have until seven pm tomorrow night to gain entry to his house and kill him, then make good your escape. Understand so far?”