A Real Job

by David Lowe

  ‘Can I help you mate?’ the pet stall owner asked David.

  ‘No it’s alright, I’m just looking,’ David said keeping his gaze focused on O’Byrne while answering Debbie’s call.

  ‘I’ve contacted a couple of my colleagues I know who are on an operation close by in Liverpool,’ Debbie told David, ‘They’re making their way to the market now. Stay where you are. As O’Byrne doesn’t know me, I’ll follow him until they get here and they can keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you out here alone.’

  ‘He’s moving off now,’ Debbie said putting down the top she was holding at the stall. ‘I’ll be alright. I’ll call you if I need you. For once, do as you’re told.’

  ‘But . . .’ David said as Debbie had terminated the call. Frustrated, he knew she was right. Stepping away from the stall, he kept himself out of sight as best he could while watching Debbie follow O’Byrne when the thought came to him that the Irishman might have purposely lured Hurst away from his family to allow O’Byrne’s associates to get to his mother and sister. Forcing his way through the crowds, he quickly made his way back to the cafe. Running through his mind was the thought it could have been the young stallholder working by the cafe that O’Byrne ordered to do the hit on his family. Perhaps that’s why they argued knowing it would attract his attention and he would follow the Irishman leaving his family behind vulnerable to a hit in the cafe. Slowing down, he walked to the entrance of the cafe. Glancing through the window he saw Mary and Siobhan eating their breakfast when his phone rang. ‘Debs.’

  ‘He’s got into a black hackney cab and driven off towards the city centre. Stay where you are and I’ll meet you.’

  ‘I’m by the entrance to the cafe,’ David said taking a step back from the cafe entrance so Mary and Siobhan could not see him.

  ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘I thought it might be a ruse by O’Byrne to get me out of the way, knowing I’d follow him so someone else he’s with could get Mum and Siobhan.’

  ‘OK, I understand. My colleagues are going to chase up the taxi company and see where the driver takes O’Byrne. You go and join Mary and Siobhan and tell them you were mistaken about it being your old school friend and that I’m just getting some make-up. I’m by a cosmetic stall now so I’ll pick up a few bits to convince them.’

  ‘Good idea,’ David said as they terminated the call. On entering the cafe, he glanced over to the young stallholder. Paying David no attention, the officer took in the stallholder’s features. There must have been some reason why he was talking to O’Byrne.

  * * *

  Outside the cafe David put his hand on the bags Mary was carrying and said, ‘Give me your bags Mum and I’ll take them home for you. I’ll get off now and join Dad for a pint.’

  ‘Thanks love,’ Mary said and she looked at Debbie and Siobhan, ‘What time will we be home girls?’

  Siobhan answered first, ‘That depends if Debbie’s got use of David’s credit card. If she has, I reckon we’ll be gone until its maxed out.’

  ‘Very funny,’ David said, ‘Do you need more cash Mum?’

  ‘I’m fine love,’ Mary said, ‘but thanks anyway. Tell your father we’ll be back by two this afternoon. Now give your mother a kiss.’

  David kissed all three of them. As Mary and Siobhan started to walk away, David kept hold of Debbie’s arm and whispered in her ear, ‘Ask them to take you to the Liverpool One shopping mall in the city centre and I’ll go and see if I can get the details of the stall holder from the market security. I’m going to meet Dad, so I’ll you see back at their house later.’

  ‘OK. I got a text message from one of my colleagues that traced the taxi O’Byrne got into. He got out in Aigburth Road. Do you know it?’

  ‘Yes. See if you can get the actual location. Aigburth Road’s a couple of miles long and one end of it isn’t far from Mum and Dad’s. Take care and I’ll see you later.’

  As he gave her a quick kiss, noticing Debbie was not with them, Siobhan stopped and turned round. ‘Hey you two, they’re be plenty of time for that later. Are you coming Debbie?’

  ‘Sure. You couldn’t take me to Liverpool One could you?’

  David picked up the bags of shopping and made his way to the market security office. The office was no more than a tiny room, with just enough room to open the door. Seeing a security guard sat at a desk with his nose buried in a book while listening to what David recognised as the overture to Wagner’s Tristan and Isolda, it was not what he expected as he entered the office. Taking the short step from the door to the desk, a strong smell of stewed tea hit his nostrils as he produced his warrant card to the security guard who looked up and put his book on the desk with the spine showing. ‘Alright mate. I’m a detective sergeant from Greater Manchester Police and I’m undercover with some Liverpool colleagues. Do me a favour and tell me who runs the stall that’s directly outside the café?’

  The guard reached behind him and took a well thumbed A4 notebook off a small battered wooden shelf. Leafing through the pages of the book containing the names of the day’s stallholders, he said, ‘that accent of yours isn’t from Manchester, you sound more like you come from Liverpool.’

  ‘You’re right, that’s why I was sent over to assist the Liverpool lads.’

  Looking at the numerous bags David had, the guard said, ‘And you’ve plenty of shopping too.’

  ‘You’ve got to make it look real haven’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so. Here you go. It’s Michael Pickup, he’s a local lad. Seeing how you’ve got your hands full, I’ll write out the details for you. He isn’t doing anything dodgy is he?’

  ‘No, we think he served one of the targets we’re looking at and he could be a witness.’

  ‘We hate having any of the stallholders in trouble with the law. There you go,’ he said passing David a note with Pickup’s details on it.

  Taking the note off the security guard, David stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Thanks mate, it’s much appreciated.’

  As David picked up the bags of shopping, the security guard said, ‘No problem, anytime. It’s a pleasure to help the boys in blue. It’s what I planned to do when I left the army, but the bullet I got in Northern Ireland put paid to that.’

  Not wanting the security officer to end up giving him his life story, David made his way out of the office saying, ‘Thanks mate, I’ve got to go.’

  * * *

  After dropping off the bags at his parents’ house, David walked the short distance to the Wheatsheaf pub. As James had recently been suffering with a heart problem, he had that nagging feeling he would not get many more opportunities to do this, so he wanted to make the most of having a few pints with his father. Struggling to put to the back of his mind the fact it looked like the Provisional’s were going to carry out their threat, as he walked to the pub he kept trying to convince himself it was all a coincidence seeing O’Byrne. Running through the events at the market, O’Byrne behaved as if he didn’t know his old Special Branch adversary was there. That matched the findings from the intelligence analysis he, Steve and Debbie carried out Thursday and Friday morning. They found nothing to say O’Byrne had been in London and met up with McCrossan. He knew if O’Byrne had gone to London, he would have been in SO15’s system.

  Entering the pub David saw his father reading a newspaper in his usual seat in the corner close to the far side of the bar opposite the large projection screen. Walking over to him he forgot how loud the footsteps banging on the old dirt engrained floorboards in this typical old Liverpool pub were. Small, with the bar area giving a U-shape drinking area with bench seats looking as though they were last upholstered fifty years ago along with small, heavy round tables, a number of stools, along with the smell of dried stale beer reinforced he was now truly home. Seeing the horse racing channe
l was on the large screen he knew why his father had a pen in his hand. Just like he did when David first started drinking in the Wheatsheaf, James was not keeping up with current affairs, he was studying the racing pages to select the horses on which to place his bets. Sensing someone approaching him James glanced up from his newspaper and said, ‘Alright son. I’ve already got you one in. How did it go with the women?’

  Seeing a full pint next to his father’ drink, David sat down and said, ‘They did the usual of looking at every bloody stall, but once I got what I needed, I got off and left them to it. I’ll get us another round in before the game starts. Do you want another bitter with an Irish chaser?’

  ‘Thanks son.’

  The Wheatsheaf was the first pub David drank in and the familiar faces from his childhood still frequented it. Being with his own kind, he felt safe. It was one of the few places he could relax. Stood at the bar waiting to be served, the regulars greeted David. Standing next to him was Peter’s boyhood friend, Mick Callaghan. Slapping David on the back, he said, ‘Alright Davey. It’s been a long time. How’s things?’

  ‘Alright Mick, when did you get out?’

  ‘Two months ago. Because of my good behaviour, I only did two of the five years I got.’

  ‘You make me laugh. You’re better behaved in nick than out of it.’

  ‘It’s hard to make a legit living around here. Are you on your own?’

  ‘No, I’m with me Dad. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘No it’s alright, I’m in a round and it’s my shout. So how’s life in the plod, still catching those big time criminals in Manchester?’

  ‘Well you know what it’s like, it keeps me busy.’

  Mick laughed, ‘That’s why we don’t mind you being a bizzie in Manchester, because you’ll leave us lot alone.’

  ‘I take it you’re not going to start earning an honest living then?’

  ‘Now I didn’t say that, I might open a business or two if I get the right backers. You know, get a club or a couple of tanning salons, that sort of thing.’

  David started laughing and said, ‘To launder your ill gotten gains?’ The barman asked David what he wanted to drink. Giving his order he added, ‘. . . and a double Irish for this reprobate here, I’ve not had the chance to celebrate his homecoming!’

  ‘Cheers Davey. I’ll send some drinks over to you and your old man later.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’m just pleased to see you out again. Our Peter will be here later, so perhaps we can catch up then?’

  Mick smiled at the thought of meeting his childhood friend and said, ‘That’ll be great. Mary was saying he’s a QC now. Fucking hell, you three have done well. You never need to worry, when you and Peter aren’t here, we all look out for your old man and Mary.’

  ‘Thanks Mick.’ David paid for the drinks and passed Mick his. Raising his glass, he said, ‘Cheers Mickey, long life and Everton for the League next season.’

  Mick raised his glass and said, ‘Is right. I’ll see you later.’

  David walked back over to James. Placing the drinks on the table he watched his father still pouring over the runners and riders and said, ‘Have you picked the winners?’

  ‘You know me, I always pick the three legged donkeys,’ James said finishing his first pint. ‘I see you were catching up with young Mickey Callaghan at the bar. Mickey’s not a bad lad. He just got mixed up with the wrong type that’s all. It was a good night in here when he got out of Walton Prison. When you think that he and Peter were inseparable as kids and then you look at how they both turned out.’

  ‘Didn’t he get sent down for GBH?’David asked.

  ‘He battered a couple of lads from Birmingham trying to muscle in on the Liverpool drug scene. Like most round here, Mickey hates drugs especially the dealers. He and his security firm was the reception committee and sorted them out. Peter’ll be able to tell you more about it when he gets here. How did Debbie get on with Siobhan?’

  ‘They got on great. So now you’ve met, what do you think of her?’

  ‘She’s a lovely girl. You’re both well matched. She’s got you well sussed lad.’

  ‘Thanks Dad, I’m glad you approve.’

  ‘Is it serious then?’

  ‘It could be.’

  James lent forward in his seat towards David and said, ‘That tells me it is.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ As David settled back in his seat, two men entered the pub he knew would spoil the time he planned to spend with his father. Watching O’Byrne and McElvaney walk up to the bar his first thought was this was no coincidence. After what happened in London with McCrossan, then seeing O’Byrne in the market that morning he was convinced he was being followed. Thinking this was where they were going to kill him, he drank his pint in one go and started to stand up out of the seat.

  ‘You’ve gone a bit pale lad. Are you alright?’ James asked.

  ‘I’m fine Dad,’ David said. Not taking his eyes off the two Irishmen, ‘I’ve just got a bit of business to sort out.’ Walking over to O’Byrne and McElvaney he thought how they had balls coming into this pub knowing he would be surrounded by his friends. Regardless of the risk to himself, he was going to front them. He was thinking how he could not carry on looking over his shoulder fearing these men. Working out how he could handle this, he remembered that in the past PIRA never had any compunction in killing innocent people in order to achieve their target. Collateral damage was all part of the terrorists’ war. Unaware he was there, David stood behind McElvaney and O’Byrne. ‘What the fuck are you two bastards doing here?’

  Turning round, both men looked in surprise to see David Hurst standing behind them. ‘I’m going to have a drink with my friend here,’ McElvaney said turning away from David, ‘so fuck off and return under the stone you fucking crawled from.’

  Pushing McElvaney away from the bar, David leaned into his face and shouted, ‘If you’re going to fucking do it, do it here. Kill me now. You said I was a fucking dead man, so let’s see if you can carry out your threat or are you full of shit? If anyone’s going to fuck off from this pub, it’s you two fucking murderers.’

  The pub went silent as they watched Hurst challenge the two men, except for one voice that asked, ‘Are they Kopites?’

  Getting up from his seat, Mick Callaghan walked over to David. Standing beside him he said, ‘Need a hand Davey?’

  His gaze permanently fixed on O’Byrne and McElvaney, David said, ‘No, these two are just leaving

  McElvaney smirked and said, ‘Are you going to give me a good kicking like you did last time? You can only do that when you’ve got your mates around you. You’re not so fucking hard.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone else to deal with you two fucking bastards.’ David said, then slowly emphasising each word, he added, ‘Now fuck off.’

  Gerry, the licensee shouted over, ‘David, I want no trouble, take your business outside.’

  Still glaring at O’Byrne and McElvaney, he said, ‘They’ll be no trouble Gerry. These two are leaving right now.’

  Trying to provoke David, O’Byrne laughed and said, ‘How are you going to make that fucking happen?’

  David head-butted McElvaney before they could get the first punch in. Reeling back in pain he instinctively put his hands to his face covering his now bleeding nose. As O’Byrne came towards David with his fist raised, he moved to one side and punched him hard in the stomach causing O’Byrne to double up. As his head went down, David grabbed the back of his hair and slammed his face into the bar counter. With blood streaming from a cut over his left eye, O’Byrne slid down onto the floor. McElvaney picked up a glass. Smashing the end of it, he lunged at David with the lethal jagged edges pointing towards him. Mick Callaghan grabbed O’Byrne’s arm. Kneeing him hard in the testicles, he shouted, ‘No you fucking don’t.’

 
Fists clenched David stood astride O’Byrne while Mick Callaghan adopted a similar position over McElvaney. Mick looked over at his friends, ‘Get them out of here.’ Six men sitting with Mick Callaghan came over and picked them up from the floor. Carrying the stunned Irishmen, they threw them out of the door to the pub and stood there to make sure they didn’t get up and enter it again.

  ‘Thanks Mick,’ David said walking back to his father.

  ‘What the fuck was that about son?’ James said pushing David’s glass of whiskey across the table to him, ‘you had me worried there.’ David told his father they were two Irish drug dealers he arrested that got sent to prison a few years ago who made threats to him when they got sentenced. ‘Well we won’t mention this to your mother, she’ll only get worried. I’ll tell the boys in here not to mention it when they see her.’

  ‘That makes sense. Excuse me for a minute Dad, I need to make a phone call,’ David said as he began to walk out of the pub.

  Stood on the pavement by the entrance to the pub, David put a cigarette to his lips as he rang Debbie. Two of Mick Callaghan’s men were also outside the pub making sure the Irishmen did not return walked over to David. ‘That was some handy work by you in there,’ one of them said holding out his lighter to David, ‘I see you can still look after yourself.’

  ‘Cheers Frank,’ David said after lighting his cigarette, ‘You know what they say about being raised in the Dingle, to get out of trouble you’re either quick on your feet, quick with your mouth or quick with your fists. Unfortunately for me it’s always been the fists.’ Hearing Debbie answer his call, he said, ‘Excuse me lads, I’ve just got to make this call.’ Walking a few steps away from them, he told her what happened in the pub.