by Ellis Major
“Who are these people?” Charlie wondered. “Where do they come from?”
“A very rough area,” Roddy announced dolefully. “Hampstead I believe, from something they said. They call themselves the Christians.”
“Christians,” Charlie cried in outrage. “What sort of name is that? Bloody funny one for drug dealers.”
“That’s what they seem to think,” Roddy agreed. “They were giving me all this guff about charity and the Lord smiting me with his vengeance through his Earthly instruments.”
“Very amusing, I’m sure,” Charlie sniffed.
“Yes, they thought it hilarious. They fell about laughing whilst they took turns to kick me.”
“You poor old soldier,” Charlie consoled him. “But if they treat you like this, then how do they expect you to be able to sail your boat.”
“Yacht, Charlie.”
“Sorry; you know I’m not exactly a nautical type.”
“They’ve given me a date for my next trip in about a fortnight. They’re busy right now selling off what they’ve just stolen from me.”
“And what are you planning to do with yourself?”
“I suppose I’ll have to drag myself back to my place and hope Cynthia will help me out a bit.”
Roddy and Geoff exchanged another glance and Roddy did his best to look pathetic. One of the reasons they’d decided to call in on Charlie was to elicit exactly the invitation that Mr Tiptree promptly issued. Charlie had a reputation for being a bit of a soft touch, after all.
“Nonsense, you must stay here and we’ll nurse you up,” Charlie declared stoutly.
“Rest and painkillers,” Lance declared, without much enthusiasm. “You’ll be bad for a couple of days as the cuts start to heal, and the ribs will take about a month to get right back to normal.”
“Lance,” Charlie suggested thoughtfully. “Perhaps you and I can go over to Roddy’s place and pick up some stuff for him.”
“Yeah,” said Lance, with a grim expression and a sideways glance at Roddy. “I’d like to bump into a couple of dealers.”
“Yes and I’d better get to work so I can get some sleep,” Geoff announced. “I’ll call in this evening.”
~~~
Later in the day the small company reassembled and, over a drawn-out takeaway, they tossed around a series of ever more outrageous ideas.
It had become obvious to Lance, during the expedition to collect some clothes and other necessities from Roddy’ place, that Charlie had every intention of doing far more than nursing his friend. “We’ve got to think of something,” he told Lance. “I can see you don’t have a lot of time for the drugs business and nor do I. But he’s a friend. I’ve known him for years and years so I have to lend a hand.”
“These are dangerous people,” Lance replied. “It’s hardly your war. The pair of them arrived at your flat why exactly? They knew you’d ask Roddy to stay and then want to help out. They know I’m ex-military so they’re probably hoping for some professional muscle into the bargain.”
“He’s a friend,” Charlie persisted. “Geoff is a friend. Geoff went and picked him up. We can’t let Roddy get screwed by these people. I don’t know if there’s any moral argument you can use here, but Roddy built everything up from scratch. He didn’t muscle in on anyone’s turf or whatever it is you call it. Why should they get away with it?”
Lance half smiled. “Yeah, they’re scum, and I suppose I should expect you to be like this. You take me in, you help Georgina evade justice, why not start a drugs war. Besides,” he paused for a moment. “It could be interesting.”
“Yes,” Charlie agreed with a similar half smile. “There’s always that too.”
“He needs to pack it in, though,” Lance declared. “There has to be a more honest way to earn a living than trafficking in this filth.”
Charlie’s voice took on an unusually decisive tone. “You’re right Lance. I’ll make that clear.”
As he cleared the table Charlie even went so far as to mention the Police.
At this, Roddy laughed for the first time since his misadventure had begun. It was a rather bitter laugh, Charlie thought. “The Christians talked about the Police,” he said. “They regarded them as complete idiots. They reckoned they’d have little interest in a drug-related killing and would waste damn all of their precious time searching for my body. Even if they did search for it, they’d never find it, mainly because it would have ceased to exist. Loads of people go missing every year. I’d end up with my name in a file and that would be that.”
Lance leant forward. “I’ve got some ideas.”
Charlie smiled. This was good. As he’d half hoped, it was something else to keep Lance away from his dark moods, even if not quite what he would have wanted. Geoff and Roddy waited politely, in hope rather than outright expectation. Charlie had explained some time back, of course, that Lance was fairly fresh out of the Army. There was no doubt in Geoff’s or Roddy’s minds that he had been, and probably still was, suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Lance had been that much older than all three of them at school and neither Geoff nor Roddy had got to know him in the same, albeit brief way, which Charlie had.
Roddy had told Geoff he thought Charlie was mad to have Lance staying, although this was not a view he’d shared with Charlie. There was an outside chance that Charlie might say this to Lance, and Roddy emphatically did not want Lance as an enemy.
“He’s a crazy,” Roddy had told Geoff privately. “He looks better than he did but he’ll blow up at some point, kill someone or kill himself, or even both. I worry a bit about Charlie but I’m not going to say anything because I don’t want some trained killer sticking a knife through my eye.”
Geoff had protested mildly that Charlie must have some idea what he was doing and Lance had been around a while now without any obvious massacres taking place.
Roddy had remained unconvinced. “You’ll see,” he said. “It’ll happen. It’s a case of when, not if.”
Despite their misgivings, however, both Geoff, and especially Roddy, were sufficiently devoid of ideas to hear what suggestions a trained killer (trained at their expense Geoff had whispered, very quietly, to Roddy) might have. They were keen to wreak some sort of revenge on the Christians and Charlie’s altruism regarding Lance might finally be working to Roddy’s benefit. The proper order of things might well, therefore, be on the point of being restored.
“We’ll need to do recce or two,” Lance explained. “Give me the address of the marina and I’ll take a run out to Essex.”
Charlie nodded. “I can come too if you want. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“Any of you been trained to use a gun?”
None of them had done more than use a shotgun occasionally.
“Ok. I’ll need to make a couple of calls, see who’s around. Now where can we get an enclosed van or a truck? I don’t want to hire one if we can avoid it. And we’ll need some weapons.”
Roddy was the first to speak. “Angie, Lady Boston that is, has a horsebox, and isn’t far away at all from the marina. She’s up for anything a bit out of the ordinary. But a bunch of weapons may prove a bit tricky.”
Lance smiled. “Horsebox close by is great. Weapons aren’t a problem.”
They all stared at him in astonishment.
“What!” Charlie ejaculated. “You’ve got a few lying around have you?”
“Of course not, but what’s my background? The US Army used to call us The Borrowers. I can do a bit of borrowing, or a couple of guys I know can, if they’re around to take my call.”
“Well that should certainly even up the odds a bit,” Geoff remarked.
“Yes, Lance, so what; we turn up and outgun the bad guys?” Charlie was quite delighted by the audacity of the idea, albeit apprehensive.
“You could, but I had another idea in mind.” Lance smiled darkly. “This would combine retribution with recompense and, better still, the lowest risk of detection you can thi
nk of.”
“Hang on.” Charlie cleared his throat. “Roddy, look, I’m not one for speeches, you know that. We’ve been mates a long time and I’ll always help you out, but I want you to promise me that you’ll run this sideline of yours down as fast as you can if we do pitch in here. I know Angie hates drugs and if we can promise her that we’re helping you out as a one-off and then you’re packing it in, she’s likely to be a bit more obliging than if she sees we’re helping you fight a war over your supply line. We’ll all need to put our thinking caps on as well, come up with an alternative source of dosh for you. Right Geoff?”
Geoff nodded. “I’ll ask around.”
Roddy was staring at Charlie in surprise. He was even more surprised when Charlie actually expected a response.
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.
“No,” Charlie told him, firmly. “Promise. I want your word Roddy.”
“Ok, ok, I promise,” Roddy told him. This Lance was not only scary, he was having a strange influence on Charlie. Roddy had never heard him talk like that before. Still, right at this moment Lance might be just what the doctor ordered. He was speaking now and all eyes were on him as he elaborated.
Chapter 2 – Essex by Night (Year 1 – July)
Angelina, Lady Boston, was not amused. “Charlie, it does get cold at night once one ventures beyond the confines of Mayfair. Surely, you must have known that. Fields do not have under floor heating, unlike the filthy sewers you people live above.”
“Angie, I knew it could get cold.” Charlie protested. “But I was not expecting this much cold. It’s supposed to be the summer. I should have thought about it more carefully - we were travelling north after all. Will we see the aurora borealis?”
“North, Charlie! Essex is hardly the Arctic Circle!” Lady Boston’s tone indicated that her native county had been slighted in some way.
“You should have paid attention to Lance,” Geoff told him unsympathetically. “I distinctly heard him recommending that survival suit of yours.”
“But that does rather lack style,” Charlie muttered weakly. “And it’s a bit on the bright side for night time manoeuvres.”
“If you were worried about looking stylish where’s your penguin suit and top hat?” Lady Boston retorted.
“I knew it,” Lance muttered, materialising behind Charlie. “Put this on you silly sod and listen to your uncle Lance next time.” He thrust a fleece into Charlie’s hand.
“Lance, you’re a gent,” Charlie exclaimed. “I shall most certainly hang on your every word in future.”
“Learn from your mistakes, Charlie, that’s all I ask.”
“Charlie, that’s sound advice. Turn over a new leaf and do as Lance says,” Lady Boston snorted. “You’ll be a brain surgeon inside six months.”
“Angie, always lovely to see you too.” Charlie told her.
Lady Boston stiffened. “Don’t answer back, Charlie, and pipe down now. I spy a boat across the water there.”
She’d been scanning the estuary with a pair of the night vision binoculars which Lance had borrowed – if you’re going to borrow, borrow in style.
The interval since Roddy’s painful experience had been productively occupied in the execution of Lance’s plan. Roddy had been nursed, with care if very little sympathy (especially from Lance), until he was well enough to return to his own place. But for Lance, Roddy might have taken advantage of Charlie’s hospitality for rather longer, but that strange gaze was a strong incentive to get well soon.
Tonight was the night of Roddy’s return from Holland, complete with another batch of Snuff - and the moment of truth was at hand.
At one in the morning the Marina was quite peaceful. A quiet place at the best of times, the clubhouse was long closed, and those few sailing types who were sleeping on their boats had long since retired. None of these nautical specimens were in the outer Marina, with its long, deserted jetty. Handily, the jetty was screened from general view by a combination of fencing and a large hedge. The Bentley and the horsebox were parked separately nearby in carefully selected locations, the result of thorough reconnaissance by Charlie and Lance – mostly Lance to be fair, although Charlie was good company on the drive.
“Yes, it’s them. Roderick has his silly hat on as we agreed,” Lady Boston hissed. “We won’t muddle him up with the other one so long as he’s wearing that. We need to get into position. Smethers is there already. Back to the Bentley Charlie!”
“I’m on my way. I shall come a running when Lance gives me a blip on the walkie-talkie.”
Lance nudged him. “Remember, Charlie, no music and don’t drink everything in the fridge.”
“You’ve all got it in for me tonight. I’m not a complete idiot Lance, even if I forget my woolly undies. I have no intention of touching the booze although I might prise open the peanuts.”
Lance tapped him lightly on the arm. “We take the piss in the military, Charlie, don’t get offended. It helps relieve the tension.”
“I shall work on ways to take the piss back. Break a leg guys, or should I say shoot yourselves in the foot!”
He loped off into the darkness, seeming to have got the hang of taking the piss quite rapidly.
“Thank God for that,” muttered Lady Boston. “Charming fellow, I’m sure, but after what happened to Lord Dimsdunton’s head beater a while back, I shudder to think of him with any sort of firearm in his hand, or near them at all for that matter.”
“Accident was it?” asked Lance in some surprise. “So that’s why you wanted him out of the way.”
“Bit murky, but Charlie was involved. Better safe than sorry, Lance! Didn’t like to offend Charlie, but can’t take the risk. Dimsdunton’s poor fellow spent months in hospital, I gather.” Lady Boston’s voice was grim. “Now, into the hedge! Jones, are you there?”
“Yes M’lady,” came a soft voice from close by.
As well as the Horsebox, Lady Boston had brought along a couple of family retainers, both large, hard men who were utterly loyal and very close-mouthed. Lady Boston was only too happy to thwart evil peddlers of narcotics but had been heavily disapproving of Roddy’s participation in the odious business. As Charlie had guessed, she made it extremely clear that she expected Roddy to cease and desist in pretty short order.
Lance had also managed to muster a military colleague, who answered only to the name of Jonny. Jonny was carrying a rather compact and nasty looking machine gun, complete with silencer. Of the other weapons Lance had managed to borrow, Lady Boston had taken as her choice one of the assault rifles, whilst the rest decided they’d be more comfortable with handguns. Geoff, unlike Charlie, was allowed to watch, but was also unarmed.
The welcoming party all slid into the darkness and waited for the few minutes it took Roddy to edge his yacht through the narrow creek and up against the jetty. The Christian, who’d accompanied him on his trip to Dutch shores to keep an eye on things, hopped nimbly off the yacht to tie up the bow. Roddy, still not fully recovered from his beating, stepped more cautiously off his pride and joy to secure the stern.
In the dark, Roddy had slightly overshot his target, a few heaped boxes and a loosely dumped tarpaulin strewn near the outer end of the jetty. He’d ended up closer to the shore than planned. It had been intended that when Roddy gave his cough as a signal, Smethers would rise from beneath the tarpaulin to attack from the front whilst Roddy could approach from the rear, having seized a pre-positioned baseball bat from the jetty. In a pincer movement they’d catch the Christian between them out at the end of the jetty without an escape route – unless he relished a swim and a long, very muddy trek to dry land. Since he was from Hampstead, and very expensively dressed, it was considered unlikely he’d go for that option. Smethers, having the element of surprise, was going to perform any necessary violence. As it was, however, when Smethers surfaced with his gun at the ready, the Christian, being closer to land than Smethers on account of Roddy having overshot, immediately made a run for it towa
rds the shore.
He chose an unfortunate moment to throw a glance behind him. For it was in that precise instant when Lady Boston loomed out of the darkness and caught him with her rifle butt just below the ribs. He went down with a great gasp and, for a few moments whilst Jones quickly secured his hands behind his back and searched him for weapons, gave a very good impression of a man dying for lack of oxygen.
Roddy and Smethers padded up the jetty, Smethers with gun at the ready whilst Roddy carried a couple of lifejackets.
“Is the muck in there?” Lady Boston demanded balefully.
“Yes Angie,” Roddy muttered, not without a degree of hangdog guilt.
“Evil stuff. Bloody good job you’re giving it up. We’re going to a lot of trouble on your behalf. I hope you’ve learned your lesson, my lad.”
Roddy thought it best to maintain a diplomatic silence.
“Lady Boston, we’re all agreed on that,” Lance whispered. “And we’re trying to think of something he can do to pay off his overdraft, but let’s worry about that later. We need to have our chat with scumbag here - assuming he survives.”
“Quite, yes. Good idea, Lance. Can he walk or did I kill him?”
It turned out that he could walk, with some assistance from Smethers and Jones. The party made its way, as rapidly as caution allowed, to the more concealed spot where the Horsebox was parked.
The moment he’d recovered his breath their captive started to tell them how much “shit” they were in. He was, therefore, immediately gagged until the party reached the vehicle. Once there he was unceremoniously hoisted inside by Smethers and Jones. They started to remove his gag whilst Lady Boston followed up the steps behind him. The moment the gag was removed the air turned blue.
“Turn him around please,” Lady Boston ordered, drawing herself up to her full height.
