Heavy Duty Attitude (24 page)

But all the same, we had spoken. I’d met his wife and kid. Or kids now, I corrected myself.

I felt I knew him, had known him about as well as anyone ever had, he had opened up to me, even if for his own reasons and hardly the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And he’d got under my skin.

So no, it wasn’t about just another story for the rag. It was for me. It was something that I wanted to know.

If I thought about it, I didn’t really know why, or even what I would do with the knowledge as and when I ever found it. But it wasn’t for the rag. It was personal. It was between us. Me and Damage’s leering ghost that I couldn’t seem to shake off and who’s baleful influence seemed to have taken over my whole damn life and brought me to the straits I was in now.

‘No, not for the paper. It’s just for me. It’s just I want to know.’ ‘Like I said, why? What’s it to you?’

‘Christ I don’t know. Frankly I don’t fucking know how and why I got myself mixed up in all this shit in the first place.’

He seemed to find that funny.
‘So you want to find out who killed Damage?’
‘Yeah. Much good it’ll do me now. Why, are you going to tell me?’ He seemed to find that even funnier.

‘Shit. I don’t know what crap they taught you at journalism school but seems to me you’re asking all the wrong questions.’

‘Oh?’
‘Well, you want to find out who killed Damage right?’
‘Yeah.’

‘So you keep asking who killed Damage. Well you’re never going to find out asking that way; no one’s going to tell you that are they?’

‘Not so far,’ I admitted.
‘No, you need to ask why he was killed. Then you’ll know who killed him.’ ‘Cui bono?’
‘You what?’
‘Cui bono, who benefited?’
‘Maybe. Or who thought they would win out of it.’

Like I said before, it was something that I’d wondered from time to time. More than that, it was something I kept coming back to.

Whenever people looked to see who had done something, they always looked to see who had done well out of it. But that wasn’t really the point as far as I could see. Life wasn’t always that neat. No one was ever really in charge of all the variables, or really knew what everyone else was up to or how they would react to events, so no one could ever really guarantee that they would end up coming out on top from whatever it was they had started.

No, to see who was behind something you didn’t need to look for who had actually benefited, as they may just have been the luckiest or best at reacting. Instead, you had to look at who thought they would be in the best position to benefit before the deed was done.
But since that meant understanding people’s mindsets, how they read the political landscape, their relative powers, prospects, alliances, opportunities, trusts, supporters, enemies and threats, from the outside and a year on, I still didn’t see how that would help me.

Unless. It was worth a try.
‘So then Bung, you tell me then, why was he killed?’
‘Well now…’
‘I thought Wibble told you to tell me everything?’

‘Yeah, well he did. But there’s everything and everything, and anyway, I guess things may have changed a bit now, don’t you?’ he said nodding at the grille of the cell door.

‘Maybe,’ I conceded.
He grunted a snort at that one.
‘God loves a tryer,’ he said, ‘anyway, I didn’t come to talk about Damage.’ ‘No?’
‘No, I came to ask you an important question.’
‘Oh really? What’s that then?’ I said.
‘I’m going to ring for an order. D’you fancy a pizza?’

Well at least whatever they were or weren’t planning to do with me, letting me starve to death wasn’t one of them I thought, as I asked for extra cheese.
Sunday 23 August 2009

It was after another takeaway when I heard a mobile phone ring again in the other room. It was a call on mine again, I was sure of it. He was getting good use out of it. I was just wondering who it was who would be calling on my phone that Wibble would want to speak to? And if it was for Wibble, why didn’t they call Wibble direct on his?

‘Hi. See the show?
‘Well I told you it would be worth watching.
‘Yes. Are they meeting?
‘No? What d’you mean no?’

Wibble sounded genuinely disturbed, perhaps for the first time since I’d met him. Whatever was happening wasn’t going to plan.

 

‘Is that reliable? Why the fuck not?

 

‘You sure? Your bloke has enough access doesn’t he? We’re paying enough for it remember?

‘Christ almighty, why not?
‘Laying fucking low! Fuck. Wankers.
‘No, no I don’t know. Hang on a minute, I need to think.’

From where I was sat, I could hear Wibble as he paced furiously across the room and back muttering ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ to himself.

Then the door into the hallway banged open as he strode through and stopped outside my cell, staring in at me. Like I was going to give him some inspiration for whatever the hell his little problem was. He stood, his glare fixed on me for a moment as if I was something he could attack just to vent his frustration. Then, as suddenly as he had come, he swung on his heel and marched off back into the main room.

‘You still there?’ I heard him say.

 

‘OK then, we can still work this out. It’s not the end of the world. In fact it might make it easier.

‘If they aren’t going to do it themselves, then we need to do it for them. ‘We need to organise a joint meeting, the top guys, both packs. ‘Yes you. You’ve done it before haven’t you?’
Whoever it was on the other end didn’t seem keen on this.

‘We’ll work something out. Perhaps you can tell them you know something about the bomb. We’ve got a while to think up a story.

‘The usual.’
There was some urgent negotiation.

‘OK twice the usual. Half up front, half afterwards. Yeah I can make a call and get it transferred.

‘Will they trust you?
‘No of course I fucking don’t. I trust you to like the dosh that’s all. ‘OK then. You come to us and we’ll get it planned.
‘Yeah that’s the place. Same as before.
‘Right, see you in what, an hour?
‘No, make it an hour.
‘Yes, see you then.’
Wibble hung up with no goodbyes.

*
There was another call. Again it was on my phone. Wibble picked it up.

I had taken some comfort from the fact that Wibble had been using my phone and using it here. As I understood it, the cops could trace quite accurately where a phone had been used by triangulating the strength of the signals recorded at the three closest receiving stations. So if I did disappear, the cops would use this to trace back where calls had been made on my phone which would lead them straight here. And I had two assumptions about that. Firstly, I guessed Wibble and The Brethren, or at least the Freemen, wouldn’t want this place investigated too much. Christ alone knew what had gone on up here over the years. And secondly I guessed that Wibble and The Brethren were savvy enough about mobiles and what they could do to know that.

So, on that slender chain of reasoning, I was starting to feel slightly safer as I listened to the one sided call taking place in the next room.

‘OK.
‘OK.
‘Yeah, right.
‘See you then.’
Wibble wasn’t much of a conversationalist when he didn’t want to be. ‘Is it him?’ I heard Bung ask.
‘Yeah. He’s coming round, wants to collect. Should be an hour or so.’ ‘OK,’ Bung said, ‘I’ll be ready, I’ve got the stuff.’
‘D’you want to get him back in here?’
‘Yeah, might as well. He’ll want to see this.’
‘You sure about that?’
Wibble laughed. ‘No, not really.’

‘OK,’ shrugged Bung, sounding unconvinced as I suddenly realised they were talking about me.
‘Right,’ Wibble said, appearing back at the grille to my cell bearing the roll of silver gaffa tape, ‘now we’ve got a visitor coming so we need to get ready.’

*

 

I was taped tightly to the chair again which they had pulled into the centre of the room and plonked down.

 

‘Not long to go now. Just the final act to play out,’ said Wibble conversationally.

 

‘See you at Philippi,’ I muttered as I heard the rip of Bung unwinding another gaffa gag.

‘What?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I got out, before the tape went on.

And then it all went black as he slipped the balaclava over my head backwards again.

 

*

 

An age passed in the clinging claustrophobic blackness before there was a bang on the outer door when someone knocked.

‘Is it him?’
‘Should be, go see,’ said Wibble.
I heard Bung’s footsteps as he walked over to the door to check.

‘Yeah it’s him,’ he said, as I heard the clang of the bolts being slammed back, before the buzz of the electronic door release and the click of the outer door lock opening.

The outer door clanged shut and then there was the clank of the inner dealer cage door opening as the visitor stepped through that as well.

 

They had let whoever it was inside.

 

‘Hi there Wibble, Bung,’ he said.

*
Jesus Christ! I started in shock, I recognised that voice.

‘Hi there Iain, how are you doing mate?’ it asked in a friendly fashion as I heard him walk towards where I sat.
And then I heard Bob say to Wibble, ‘It’s OK, I tried to recruit him once, to tout on your lot, but he turned me down. Journalistic ethics or something he said. Got very hoity toity about it, the little wanker.’

Then with a jerk Bob tugged the balaclava off my head and bent down to the level I was secured at to look me in the eyes. He was smiling broadly. ‘And you did your bit too sunny Jim, didn’t you? Printed what you were told to print like a good boy didn’t you?’

 

He gave me a friendly cuff, patting me on the cheek a couple of times as I glared at him from above my silver gaffa tape gag.

‘Don’t look so surprised, mate,’ he said as he set the briefcase he was carrying down on the floor in front of me, ‘it’s just business. We share an interest here, Wibble and me. Just keeping the Queen’s peace here mate. And other things.’

*

 

He wasn’t joking, they obviously did I realised as, standing up, he turned to Wibble and without any preamble went straight to it.

 

‘So then, where do you want’em to go? Is it still the same plan?’ ‘Yeah,’ said Wibble, ‘we want to use the place you met them before. You brought the keys?’

‘To the safe house? Yes, sure.’
‘Good, hand’em over then.’
‘I’ll need to get them back…’

‘Oh it’s OK, you’ll get them back alright. We need access so we just want to borrow them, we don’t want to keep them.’

‘Well I guess there wouldn’t be much point afterwards would there?’ ‘No, not really.’
I heard a jingle as Bob pulled out a bunch of keys.
‘No I don’t need them, give ’em to Bung here,’ Wibble said. ‘Alarm code?’ Bung asked.
‘Four… Five… Seven…One…’ he said slowly.
‘OK Bung?’ asked Wibble.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘Four…Five…Seven… One… right?’
Bob nodded.

‘No problems. I’ll go get the guys and we’ll head on over,’ Bung said as he picked up his lid from one of the chairs and left the flat.

 

*

 

And then there were three of us. Two standing, and one sitting and shitting himself.

 

Christ if Bob was tied up in all of this, what the hell chance did I have of getting out of it?

But they were ignoring me for the moment.
‘D’you want me to make the call now?’ asked Bob.
‘Might as well.’
‘Right then, will do.’

*

It had been Bob all along I realised as they talked. He was the missing piece of the jigsaw. He had been the one that had set me up. It was obvious that he’d had my mobile tapped and texts intercepted.

How else could The Brethren have known that Danny had been in touch?

The answer was they couldn’t, not unless either the whole thing was a trap from the get go, which from Danny’s demeanour at our meeting I didn’t believe for a moment; or they had caught and tortured it out of Danny, but then there was no way he would have been driving that van and obeying orders the way he had been. No, the only answer was they had been monitoring my phone, it wouldn’t be easy but I wouldn’t put it past them to have ways and means of doing it; or, last but most likely in my book, someone had listened in for them.

Someone like a copper doing undercover surveillance work on the club and it’s known associates and tagalongs for example?

 

Christ, I’d even joked about it.

 

And of other clubs of course, I realised, following the logic as Bob made his call.

 

And if Bob was having all the clubs’ phones tapped then how much information could he have on each of them to sell to the others?

*
Bob was calling the Mohawks I realised. It had to be.
‘Hi.
‘Yes, it’s me.

‘Yes we need to talk. What are you arseholes doing? This has got to stop. Yes I passed on your message. Yes, is the offer still open?

 

‘What d’you mean it wasn’t you? Who the fuck else was it going to be? Look, I need to see the both of you and I need to see you tonight. ‘No!

‘I need to see you. We need to meet. We need to get a grip on this before it gets completely out of control and nobody, not me, not you, not them want that. It’s just bad business.

‘Yeah I know you didn’t want that, but that was then, this is now.’ There was some kind of angry protestation on the other end of the line that Bob just overrode.

 

‘Yeah? And who was it who blew up the Toy Run with all those civilians around?

‘Well whatever, whether you want to shut it down or take it all the way you need me right? I can either be your channel to talk or your feed of information you ain’t going to get anywhere else, so whichever way you want to play it you still need to do a deal with me don’t you?

‘Meet me where we did before, you remember? But it needs to be both of you, understand? I’m not doing this with just one of you.

‘No,’ he growled angrily at an objection.
‘It’s my fucking rules or it’s nothing. You want to meet me or not? ‘Yes?
‘Well then we meet where I want to meet.
‘Don’t give me that crap, we’ve all got too much riding on this. ‘I don’t care. Just do it. You’re both going to be there? Right.

‘Hey, no way! You wanted me to help didn’t you? I passed your message on before, I can do it again, who else have you got that can do that for you? You need me.
‘Oh and don’t forget! It’s one of the Firm’s safe houses so it’s bugged. So keep it quiet when you’re inside and we’ll talk out back when I get there.