Chapter 22

The Black Cock Inn. Walsall Wood.

Chas Bailey sat warm and content in the bar of the old ‘Black Cock Inn’ finishing off his second pint of Bank’s Mild, when the pub door suddenly opened, letting in a cold damp wind coming off the canal that ran alongside the old pub.

As he looked up at the small man that entered, he shivered. Seeing Ray Mazzon always had this effect on him, although it must be said he was not alone in this. The bar room was almost empty as a cold frosty March night had put off most of the pub’s regulars. Mazza walked to the bar where he ordered a small shandy. He had never been a drinker. As a child seeing his old man drunk most nights, before he felt the buckle end of his belt had been the main reason for this.

“A pint of mild for my friend, Chas,” Mazza asked the bar maid, and then looking at her two size 38b main assets he added, “And have one for yourself, darling, you must be a brave girl to come out on a night like this in that low-cut top that you are wearing. Which I must say looks great, but it would I think look even better on my bedroom floor.”

At this the bar maid blushed before answering, “You never know your luck Ray, do you?”

After placing the pint glass in front of Chas, Mazza leaned close to him. “I have been waiting for some news from you my old son, you are not going to let me down I hope.”

Chas having taken the top off the pint, now answered in his broad Black Country accent.

“I ay bin very well Maz, so I” ----

Before he could continue Mazza grabbed his arm in a vice like grip. “I don’t give a fuck about your health, but I can tell you for sure that if you let me down with my request, it will rapidly get a lot worse.”

Chas now felt he knew what it was like, when a rabbit found itself trapped in a car’s headlights.

Mazza sat back in his seat before looking around the room to satisfy himself that no one could overhear them. “I want the exact timetable for the money pick up and you, my old son, had better be the one driving the van, I do not care if you are fucking dying, you understand.

I am after all giving you £1000.00 in cash, this will be in your grubby hands just three months after the job is done. One top of which I do not need to remind you, I am sure, but it was I back along, who took care of those two heavies that were on your back. Okay?”

Chas knew when he was beaten as he answered one last time. “I will have all the information, the times and the van number, with you ten days before the date, does that satisfy you?’

Mazza now smiled, and as he rose to leave, he leaned once more across the table before gently slapping Chas’s face. “Now you go right home after that pint, no trying to get that young barmaid’s panties off. Her old man might be tougher than the ones I had to warn off last time.”

And with that he went across to have a few more words with the barmaid, before blowing her a kiss goodbye, after which, singing a Roy Orbison song softly to himself, he left the room.

Chas sat there looking into the remains of his beer, as the barmaid looked across at him and asked, “Will Ray be coming back later? He’s a right one your friend, is he not?”

Chas looked at her and in his strong black country accent answered, “I don’t expect him back tonight, and you are quite right in saying that he is a right un, but wrong in thinking he is my friend, as I can assure you, that he is not and never has been a friend of mine, I can tell you that.”