What a Country

by Paul Kirby

  The time was getting on a bit as they pulled into the harbour, and sure enough, waiting for them were the coast guard and the police. The trio were well prepared for this, but quite obviously Durley wasn’t. His chin hit the deck as he saw the officers waiting by the berth. If his mood hadn’t been somber enough before, it certainly was now. He began to shake with panic. It was as if he had something to hide, and as he kept making mistakes while he tried to moor the boat, anyone looking on could easily think his actions were a sign of guilt.

  As they all got off the boat, they were asked to “come this way” and led to a building a short distance away used for questioning by the coast guard. First, the boat was to be searched by a forensic team to make sure nothing untoward had taken place on it. Durley panicked when he heard this. This was serious and all fingers seemed to point at him.

  They were all questioned separately, and the Flowery firm’s statements tallied nicely. Durley’s was a different story. His was littered with contradictions and just didn’t seem to add up at all. As his tale was completely different to those of the other three, he very quickly found himself under suspicion. The authorities seemed to think he was covering something up.

  Dell and his mates were released, but Durley was held for further questioning. The boys all waited around to find out where Durley was, only to be told to go home as he was being held for a while longer. This was music to their ears. They quickly left the building and headed for the motor. No one said too much until they were safely on their way out of Poole. Dell, sitting in the back, was the first to break the silence.

  “Ha ha,” he laughed, then sat back in the seat looking upward. “Well, it looks like poor old Bart is well and truly under suspicion.”

  Terry Funnel, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned to face Dell and began to laugh as well. Looking in the rearview mirror, Barry joined in as he drove steadily back to London. Once they’d all stopped laughing, Funnel asked, “When are we going to tell Albert?”

  “Pull into the next service station and I’ll call him from a pay phone. I bet he’s worried to hell about us. Bless him!” replied Dell.

  They pulled into Rownham’s just before 9:00 p.m., and Dell found a payphone. All three of them stood close by as they all wanted to hear Burt’s reaction. Dell dialled Burt’s number and he answered almost too quickly. “Hello!” the gruff voice on the other end said.

  “Alright, Burt? Weighed in, weighed in,” a delighted Dell said, imitating the voice you hear on a racetrack that announces you can go and get your winnings.

  “Really?” inquired Burt.

  “Yeah, went like clockwork,” replied Dell.

  “Yeess! Good boys. I knew you’d pull through,” shouted Burt down the phone as Dell held it out for the other two to hear.

  “I’ll come and see you tomorrow, Burt,” Dell said, not wanting to say too much over the phone.

  “Okay, Joe, thanks for ringing.” Burt didn’t want to say too much either. He was just happy it was all over. There were a couple of “get in there’s” with clenched fists as the boys headed back to the Range Rover.

  “Next stop, London. It’s been a long day and we’ve done a good job,” said a very satisfied Dell.

  “Yet again,” commented Richards. And off they went, the contract completed and the job done. Luck had been on their side. Bart Durley was the fly in the ointment, but he never saw anything, so whatever he had made up was going to carry no credibility whatsoever. It was three against one. It wasn’t long before Inspector Tommy Butler of Scotland Yard got wind of the fishing incident and he wanted to know a bit more.

  Chapter 11

  Aged sixty, Butler was slightly overweight with an extremely thin face, almost weasel-looking, and a bald head with hair left around the sides and back that he kept short. He had “Policeman” written all over him and a nosy manner to match. He was five foot eleven. He had been a policeman all his working life, including at the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) in West London. He knew Joey Dell and his boys very well, and they were well aware of him too. Butler was never a fair cop and had always kept tabs on Dell’s firm. He was now under the command of a much higher authority, and his secret mission was to find a well-respected criminal gang that could be persuaded to become the beacon for a new government approach to terrorist crimes.

  Butler had been unaware Dell was at liberty until he’d heard about the Dorset incident. His mind immediately turned to Dell and his cronies. Now a detective chief inspector (DCI) at Scotland Yard, Butler thought of himself as almost above the law and decided to go and seek out Flowery.

  Dell meanwhile had agreed to a meeting at the Country Life before opening time with Mickey and Big Burt to go over the events in brief so they were up to speed with what had happened the day before. As they were talking in the bar area, unbeknownst to them, Gerry Funnel had found the door unlocked and entered the premises to collect a jacket he’d left there the previous night. On hearing familiar voices talking in hushed tones, he stopped to listen. He kept well out of sight and stayed quiet, but just managed to get the gist of yesterday’s events.

  So now already someone else half knew a story they didn’t need to know. This might prove very valuable for the Funnel twin if he was to get a tug from the Drug Squad. Also, it might add a bit of weight to the bullshit story Bart Durley had invented. Although, of course, Durley’s story was actually nearer to the truth than he realised. Funnel left his jacket and decided to return for it once the pub was officially open. There were drugs in that jacket, and he sure as hell couldn’t afford to lose them. He was unaware it was Bill Winters they had been talking about, but he now knew someone had gone missing and he hadn’t just gotten lost. It wasn’t until his newfound mate Bart Durley finally turned up that Gerry managed to put two and two together. Gerry was going to be a dangerous man now that he was armed with half a story about a missing partner of the pub, presumed lost at sea, but more than likely dead. He backed out of the hallway and shut the door quietly behind him, no one knowing he’d been there.

  Dell and Burt left Mickey by himself and walked together to Burt’s shop. They went into the office, the door firmly shut behind them. “Nice work, Joey, my son. I knew I could rely on you,” Burt said, shaking Dell’s hand and patting him on the back at the same time.

  “Well, did you ever doubt us?” asked Dell.

  “Nah, course not. But naturally I was worried. I didn’t want you boys to get in any trouble now, did I?”

  “Trouble! Bloody hell, Burt!” exclaimed Dell.

  “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “Anyway, the Swedes have placed large amounts on the usual non-runner caper, so I assume your man has already delivered or is very close,” said Albert with a knowing smile.

  “Ah! Fuck me, I’d forgotten about that. Strangely I had something else on my mind,” Dell said with a smile. “Well, that’s good. How much did they put in?”

  “Let me have a look,” said Burt, getting it up on his laptop.

  “Well, it was twenty but now looks like thirty has gone in.”

  “Okay, well, Terry better let them know today’s non-runners or no-hopers. I want that squared up before Lightfoot gets back,” said Dell.

  Mickey had been left alone with his thoughts. He felt a bit guilty about the tale of his old partner, but comforted himself with the thought that it had been quick and Bill hadn’t been hurt before his departure. Anyway, Bill had taken a few liberties, so it was back to business as usual. The boys carried on as normal and had their rendezvous at the pub at the usual time, hoping to see Bart Durley and eagerly waiting to see what he had to say about the situation. But to their surprise, it wasn’t the Durleys who turned up, but their old enemy, Tommy Butler.

  “Fuckin’ hell, what’s that cunt doing here?” exclaimed Dell.

  “I don’t believe it!” was Funnel’s surprised answer as Richards calmly glanc
ed around to see what the fuss was about.

  “Evening all, well, afternoon,” was Butler’s smug greeting as he took a look around the pub, standing there full of piss and importance. “Thought you were still banged up, Joey my old mate,” said Butler. He looked very pleased with himself, having caught all three having a quiet drink together.

  “Hello, Mr. Butler. Haven’t seen you for a while,” said Dell very innocently.

  “Well, you wouldn’t have, would you? You’ve been on holiday, haven’t you? My colleague here only informed me this morning that you were about again. So I thought I’d pop in and see how you were getting on,” said Butler in the way only coppers nosing about can.

  “Can I get you a drink, Mr. Butler?” was the only thing Dell could think of to say at this precise moment.

  “That’s very kind of you, Joe. I’ll have a large G & T if you don’t mind, and my colleague here will have half a bitter.” Dell nodded to Mickey as if to say “get them two dogs a drink.” This was going to be interesting.

  “So, what have you boys been up to lately? Anything interesting?” Butler asked.

  “No, not really, Mr. Butler,” replied Dell, again innocently.

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” said Butler sarcastically, not wanting to let on he knew already about the fishing trip.

  “So, what brings you here then? Have they brought back hanging or something?” asked Dell, equally sarcastic.

  “No, no, not that I’m aware of, but it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if they had. No, I was just in the area and thought I’d pop in for a quick one to see who was still about,” replied Butler. He wasn’t bothered about the fishing incident, but he would use that to his advantage if he had to. He had bigger plans for Dell and his boys and was actually pleased to see them all still together. He sincerely hoped he could persuade them to feature in his and the government’s plans. But first he had to do more homework on the boys as he didn’t actually know himself what the top secret plans were to be. He was just doing as told, looking around for a suitable firm to carry out a task in the near future, and his first thought had been this mob.

  Butler swiftly drank his G & T, said his goodbyes, and left, leaving no clues as to what he was doing there in the first place. As he left the premises, Dell turned to the others and said, “What was all that about?”

  “Dunno, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon,” said Richards frowning.

  “I don’t like it. He’s up to something,” said Funnel, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

  “Nah, neither do I. What you reckon, Baz?” asked Dell.

  “Dunno, mate, but we ain’t got fuck all to worry about, we’re all staunch, ain’t we?” came Richards’ reply.

  “True, very true. But I still don’t like it,” said Dell, drinking up and going to the bar to get them another and to pay for Butler’s drinks.

  “What you reckon, Mickey?”

  “I don’t know either, but it’s funny, don’t you think? He hasn’t been round here for years and then suddenly turns up out of the blue.”

  “Hmm, I think we’re all getting paranoid. Let’s all stop worrying. Like Baz said, we ain’t got anything to worry about, and we ain’t done nothing to worry about, have we?” said Dell, rejoining the other two.

  Burt arrived for a couple and the boys told him what had happened. Burt didn’t like the sound of it either, but he was of the same opinion as Richards. “What can he prove, anyway?” asked Burt.

  “Fuck all,” was Richards’ reply to that one. They all agreed, relaxed, and carried on enjoying a drink together.

  “Has anyone seen them Durleys yet?” was Burt’s next question.

  “No!” was the answer from the trio in unison.

  “Well, you probably won’t see him for a while. I bet he’s proper shitting himself,” Burt said.

  “Yeah, probably, but you don’t know what old bollocks he’s come out with, do ya?” said Dell.

  “True, but the old Bill will see straight through him. So, I wouldn’t concern ya’selves with him too much,” assured Burt.

  “No, we won’t,” replied Dell, his mind drifting off for a minute.

  When Gerry finally returned for his jacket, he was a bit cagey, but he kept himself to himself and didn’t think anything about Bill’s absence from the pub. That would change once Durley reappeared. They all knew they couldn’t keep that one quiet for long and that tongues were bound to wag.

  It was only natural that everybody involved in the Bill Winters affair was feeling a little nervous. They had been feeling pretty good about it before Butler showed his ugly head. None of them wanted to let on that Butler’s appearance had given them cause for concern. They kept reassuring each other they would all be okay.

  David Lightfoot had reported back to Terry Funnel that he’d made the delivery and would be back in a few days as he was going to stop off, have a short break, and take his time coming home. As he was empty, he felt a lot safer and the pressure was off. That was good news and one less thing to worry about. Maybe things would be alright after all.

  Butler reported to his superiors that the gang he had in mind was still together and under the current circumstances he was confident that whatever they had in mind for them, he could get them to take part.

  “Good work,” he was told. “Keep an eye on them, but don’t overdo it.” Butler was very happy with himself. He was certain he’d gotten the right boys. He knew they were pros and very reliable too. He was looking forward to this and thought that just maybe it could get him even further up the career ladder. Butler didn’t show his face in the Country Life for a while, which came as a great relief to all involved there, and very soon his appearance had been discounted as a mere coincidence, although it had certainly ruffled one or two feathers for a moment.

  Bart Durley turned up a few days later, and naturally the boys were extremely curious to hear what he had to say about Poole. For once, all three gathered around him wanting to know where he’d been and exactly what happened. Bart looked even more scared now than when he first walked in. The blood was draining from his face again, which gave him the ghostly appearance he had worn when he saw the police at the mooring. All Bart would say on the subject was, “They held me overnight and questioned me again the next day. I’ve been released on bail and have to go back to Poole nick in a month’s time,” he said, shaking like a leaf. He and his dad now realised that there was going to be no gain associating with this lot, just a lot of pain.

  “So, what did you tell ‘em then?” asked Dell.

  “Well, I just told them what happened. I told them the truth,” he replied.

  “Which was what? ‘Cause the truth is a bit difficult to get from you, ain’t it, mate?” said Dell, with menace in his voice.

  “Ah, just leave me alone, please. I’ve had enough of all this,” said Bart politely.

  “Just as long as you ain’t made any bullshit stories up, mate,” said Dell, turning away and returning to his seat with the others.

  “He’s shitting himself,” said Richards in his usual eloquent manner.

  “Yeah, I know, and he’s not telling us the truth, is he? The truth from him is nothing like it. Noncey little prick!” said an irate Dell.

  Gerry Funnel turned up and stood with the Durley’s, all of them feeling a little bit more comfortable now they had someone else to talk to. But the atmosphere in the pub at that particular moment felt strained. Bart was very uncomfortable indeed and didn’t want to stay any longer. He had a quiet word with Gerry on the side and asked him if he was holding any gear (cocaine). Gerry said he was and Bart suggested going back to his place as his missus had gone to stay with her mother in light of the recent events. Gerry said that was fine by him.

  “What you doing, Dad? I’m going home with Gerry. Are you staying here or what?”

  “Err, yeah, I’m not going home yet. I migh
t give ya mum a call and see if she fancies coming down,” squeaked Dick.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Dick phoned Rita. She said she’d get a cab down to the pub and would be there in about half an hour.

  It was no secret anymore that Bill Winters had lost his life as a result of the fishing trip accident earlier that week. You can’t keep something like that quiet for long, and of course the rumours quickly started. Although no one mentioned it to the Flowery firm, people knew better than that. Some knew Bill had won a big bet at Big Burt’s and hadn’t been paid. And to them it all looked a little fishy.

  Rita turned up as promised, having gotten her cab from Ifty’s cabs and she asked for Ifty by name to be her driver. She was taking a bit of a shine to Ifty and he to her, and when he dropped her at the pub, she gave him a nice little kiss as she got out. Ifty smiled. He knew the score. “I’m in here,” he thought to himself, and given Rita’s history with taxi drivers, he probably was.

  Bart and Gerry went back to Bart’s place and straightaway they got on the gear. Bart poured the beers and off they went. As the booze and drugs flowed, so did Bart’s bullshit, but he still hadn’t mentioned Bill Winters, although Gerry thought he clearly had something on his mind. He was acting very strangely, and after a few lines of coke, he became extremely paranoid, looking out from behind the curtains and checking the back door.

  Gerry had heard about the trip. Everyone had by now, and he could fully understand why Durley was acting like he was, and he also knew sniffing cocaine was only going to make him worse. But, as Bart had already paid him and was willing to share it with him, Gerry didn’t care. Gerry certainly wasn’t going to mention what had happened. He would wait until Bart brought it up, and he knew that Bart would at some point.

  Gerry knew what he’d heard when he first went to pick his jacket up, but he wasn’t going to say anything about Dell telling Bart and Mickey it was a “nice, clean job.” Gerry also knew about the bet Bill had placed as he had kept telling everyone about it when he’d had a few too many drinks. Gerry was going to keep that up his sleeve for now as well as it might come in handy at a later date. But he was dying to hear Bart’s version of events. It wouldn’t be long before Bart spilled the beans. He trusted Gerry and needed to talk to someone about it.