I didn’t go to school on the Tuesday; Mum allowed me time to recuperate. I laid it on thick for her. I spent most of the day in the shed, reading. Doing nothing.
Late afternoon The Big Man came to see me. He walked straight in. No knock. No hello. No Can I come in, please? No manners. Barging in bold as brass.
He took time out to look around. Normally when I saw him, nervousness kicked in. Not so much this time; he was flying solo, no big thick-necked henchmen to flank him or run his errands. I don’t think the shed could’ve taken three massive bruisers in any case.
He sat down, puffed his cheeks out as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and grinned warmly. His voice was softer. When he spoke, some nice things came out of his mouth. For the first time I felt calm in his company, not like we were mates calm, but I didn’t feel that I was going to be buried six feet under in a shallow grave or have a skanky old rag shoved in my gub and set alight. I felt safe.
‘Happened your eye?’ he said.
‘Fell.’
‘Best be careful.’
‘I will.’
‘Here,’ he said, throwing a small brown bag at me. ‘For your mum.’
‘Thanks.’ I didn’t need to peek inside. I could feel the inhaler.
‘Place looks good, Charlie,’ The Big Man said.
‘Thanks.’
‘I mean, for an old shitty shed, that is.’
‘It’s good to have it comfortable. I spend lots of time here,’ I said.
‘I bet you do, son. I bet you do.’
‘I do.’
‘I don’t blame you with all this shit happening around us.’ He nodded to the outside world. ‘Might join you.’
‘But you’ve got loads of places to go, Big Man,’ I said. ‘The mine, the other block, no?’
‘The net’s closing in, Charlie. Those Old Country bastards know me now; they know my face and they’re doing their damnedest to get me.’
‘Really?’
‘Anything and everything they’re trying.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ I said. I wasn’t sorry at all. A part of me was wishing that the Old Country net would tangle The Big Man up and protect us all.
‘If you want to know the truth, I think there is a rat in the camp,’ he said.
‘A rat?’
‘A rat, a filthy grass.’
WAS I PART OF HIS CAMP?
‘Erm …’ My tongue was stuck.
‘Some motormouth has been blabbing to those bastards. They’ve been to the mine, to the block. They won’t leave me alone. They want my arse on a spit.’
DON’T COME HERE THEN.
Hello, nerves.
Hi, raging heartbeat.
Howdy, sweaty palms.
How are you, shaky legs?
‘I didn’t rat, Big Man, honest I didn’t.’
‘Are you sure?’ The Big Man went back to the voice I knew and loathed.
‘Yes. I wouldn’t do that,’ I said, knowing that if pushed I would do exactly that.
‘You know what’ll happen if I find out it was you, don’t you?’
Good afternoon, full body tremble.
‘I do, but it wasn’t …’
The Big Man paused, screwed his eyes at me. Sort of smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Charlie. I know it wasn’t you, son. I can trust you, can’t I?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re one of us. One of the real Little Towners.’
‘I am.’
I wasn’t really.
‘And you’ve got this.’ The Big Man tapped his temple with his finger. ‘Which is vital; much more important than these.’ He flexed his left bicep and pointed to it with the same finger that had been on his temple.
‘So who do you think has been ratting?’ I asked.
‘Norman,’ he blurted.
‘Norman?’
‘The little prick hasn’t been seen for days; he hasn’t been to see me. I know they’ve got him and they’re squeezing the juice out of him as we speak. It all makes sense.’
‘But he was only here on Saturday.’
‘All it takes is a few days, Charlie. A few hours, in fact, before a tongue starts to wag,’ The Big Man said. ‘It’s more than his tongue that will be wagging if I get my hands on him.’
‘Are you sure it’s Norman?’ I said. I’d known Norman all my life. We’d been in infant school together. I knew without any doubt that he’d be squealing if an Old Country patrol had picked him up. Anyone with any sense in them would, wouldn’t they? I feared for him.
‘He’s thick enough. He’s nowhere to be seen. My warehouse has been raided. Some of the lads have been nabbed off the street. Of course it was Norman. Who else would it have been?’
‘Did he tell you about Max and Bones?’ I said.
‘Who?’
‘Two guys who beat up Pav.’
‘That scrawny Old Country mate of yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who battered him?’
‘Two guys at school. Max and Bones they’re called.’ I could see in The Big Man’s eyes that he knew exactly what I was talking about. ‘Norman told me that they’d been sorted. Why would he have done that if he was a rat?’
‘Because he doesn’t have a brain, that’s why.’
‘Did you sort Max and Bones?’ I asked. The Big Man looked at me. Stared. I wasn’t frightened.
‘I don’t keep tabs on everyone I sort out, Charlie.’
‘Did you do it because Pav’s my mate?’
‘Anyone who lays a finger on those in my circle has to pay the consequences. Let’s leave it at that, eh?’
The Big Man’s eyes didn’t move from mine.
‘No more questions, Charlie. The more you don’t know the safer you are. You don’t want to end up like Norman now, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Keep that open and that shut then,’ he said, meaning my mind and my mouth in that order. ‘Got it?’
‘Got it.’
‘Good.’ He leaned forward in the chair. His chair. ‘So, where’s the merch?’
‘The what?’
‘The merch. The merchandise. Where is it?’
‘Merchandise?’ I said, clearly NOT keeping the brain open.
The guns, Charlie. The guns. Get with the programme, son.
‘The steel I gave you to keep an eye on for me?’
‘Oh, that.’
‘Yes, that. Tell me you still have it?’
‘I still have it.’
‘Well, where is it?’
‘Underneath your chair.’ I pointed to the ground. ‘Under that floorboard there.’
‘Oh, I like your style, Charlie, son. I like your style.’
The Big Man lifted the board, took one gun and squashed it into the back of his jeans. He left the other one where it was, shoved another package in there and replaced the wood.
‘I’ve left some more ammo down there,’ he said.
‘OK.’ My chest felt tight, like I might need one of Mum’s inhaler puffs.
‘Right, ready?’ he said, making his way to the door.
‘Ready for what?’
‘You and I are going on a mission, my old son.’
‘Now?’
‘No time like the present.’
‘But … erm … mission to where?’
‘Let me ask you something, Charlie.’
‘What?’
‘Do you love Little Town?’
LOVE? NOT REALLY.
‘Yes,’ I said, out of fear more than anything.
‘And are you willing to do things to protect it?’
NO.
‘Erm … depends.’
‘What if it’s a them or us situation?’ He waited for an answer, which I didn’t have. ‘You’d pick us, right?’ he said.
‘Erm … right … I guess.’
‘Well, that’s the shitstorm we now find ourselves in. It’s them or us, Charlie. Us or them. So you’ve got to ask yourself: which side are you on?’ This was a massive question. The Big Man demanded an answer. The correct one.
‘I suppose I’m on the us side,’ I said.
‘Thought so. OK, let’s go.’
He allowed me to exit the shed first.
‘They’ll never get near me on this,’ The Big Man said as he handed me a spare helmet. I didn’t show it but it was exciting. The helmet made me look like a giant Martian. It crushed my cheeks together and puckered up my lips. If only Erin F could have seen this cool rider. Well, cool, but terrified at the same time.
We zoomed through the park. Whizzed past the shops. Zipped over the big hill. It was the first time I’d ever been on a motorbike. The Big Man rode it fast. All throttle and bottle. I enjoyed hiding behind his back and feeling the wind in my face. Mum and Dad would never sanction a motorbike for me. Nothing to do with safety; it would be a case of where would they get the cash from? No chance of a motorbike in this life.
We pulled in behind some concrete rubble near the bottom of the hill, about seventy yards from where Old Country patrol had duffed me up. He switched the engine off.
‘What are we doing here?’ I said. I didn’t like the feel of the place. This was Old Country territory, near their main base. Far too near to where Pav’s sister took her potshots for my liking. The Big Man was packing some nifty metal as well. We’d get more than a few potshots if he got nabbed with that gun tucked down his arse. ‘I don’t think it’s safe here, Big Man.’
‘Don’t worry, Charlie.’
‘But what are we here for?’
‘You’ll see.’
We waited.
The patrol truck’s engine hummed and hawed in the distance.
‘Here it comes now,’ The Big Man said. ‘Hear it?’
‘I hear it,’ I said.
‘Down, keep down.’ We both went on to our hunkers. The patrol stuttered over the top of the hill.
‘See it?’ The Big Man asked.
‘I see it.’ I didn’t tell him that not only did I see it but I’d seen it once before.
‘Right, watch now. Watch what they do.’
The truck stammered down the hill before coming to a stop midway down. Near to where they sprung me.
‘They’ve stopped,’ I said.
‘That’s what they do, like clockwork. They put the brakes on halfway down, hop out for a little gander about, two minutes max, then jump back in and piss off again.’
It was the very same crew who rattled my cage: Pav’s sister and the thick necks.
It happened exactly like The Big Man had described. We watched the truck saunter down the hill, turn the corner at the battered Big Tree pub and disappear.
‘How did you know?’ I said.
‘I’ve been watching these bastards just as much as they’ve been watching me. I know their every move.’
He might have seen you getting roughed up, Charlie. Ssshhh.
‘Why them?’
‘This mob are responsible for the rack and ruin of the shops, my shops. I mean, look at them. Nothing left. Place is a mess. And these aren’t your everyday ground troops. One of them has a rank. A top rank. You know what that means?’
‘Not really.’
‘Well, you should. It means, don’t mess with us.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘See, these bastards terrorise and hound everyone that comes into their path, Charlie.’
AND YOU DON’T?
Terrorise and hound, was it? Probably wasn’t the time to teach The Big Man about the wonderful world of irony, or throw the words pot and kettle at him.
‘It’s not on, Charlie, not on my patch, know what I mean? They are interfering with my business. They keep pulling my associates and stopping us trading. They’re out to get me and I’m not going to let them win. The future of Little Town is in our hands, Charlie, understand?’
‘I think so.’
‘They’re the ones who nabbed Norman.’ The Big Man’s smirk suggested he didn’t believe what he was saying. As if it was for my benefit.
‘You think so?’
‘Dead serious I think so. I’d say they chucked him in the back of that truck, kicked the stuffing out of him, drove him to their headquarters and made his little rat tongue flap.’
‘Wow!’ I said. It was all I could think of adding.
‘Which buggered up our plan.’
WHAT PLAN?
‘Erm … plan?’
‘Norman had been lined up to do a job on them.’
‘A job?’
‘Before he turned rat, that is.’
‘What kind of job?’
‘Left me up shit creek, Charlie. Norman would have been perfect as well.’
‘I bet he –’
‘But you know who would be better though?’ The Big Man winked.
‘Who?’
YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO. STUPID.
The Big Man pointed his leather-gloved finger my way.
‘You’ve got brains in there, Charlie. A bit of savvy. You’re clever. I’ve no doubt that you could do what Norman couldn’t. Even better, in fact.’
I was genuinely afraid. I kept my eyes on the hill.
‘I should’ve asked you to do it right from the start,’ The Big Man said.
‘What sort of job?’
‘We have to get this town back on its feet, Charlie. Do you not agree?’
‘I do.’
‘And people like that are stopping us doing it.’
‘The patrol?’ I said.
‘They’re hindering us.’
‘Those three?’
‘It starts with those three. Hit them hard and fast. And if we get some top rank that’ll send a firm warning.’
‘But it’s only three people, Big Man. We’re fighting a losing battle.’
‘But we have to fight regardless, right?’
‘Suppose.’
‘And it starts with them.’ He nodded to the hill. ‘Well, not all three, just the ringleader, the rank; take down the rank and the rest will buckle like a donkey with a broken knee. It’ll get them off the streets for a while at least.’
‘Who’s the ringleader?’ I said, still pretending that these people were all new to me.
‘The doll.’
‘What doll?’
‘The bird, the chick, the girl. She’s the ranking officer, the one who makes the decisions. The two monkeys with her wouldn’t have a clue without her. She’s the one. This is Little Town fighting back, Charlie. Standing up to these Old Country invaders.’
‘And what can I do about it?’ I asked.
‘You’re clean. They have nothing on you, nothing to suspect you of; you’d be perfect.’
‘For what?’
‘To take her down.’
‘Eh?’
‘Take her out,’ The Big Man said.
‘Take her out?’
‘You mean … ?’
‘You’ve got the merch. You’ve got ammo. You know how to use it now. In this position here you’ve got a clean shot. It’s a simple aim-pull-fire-dead gig. Then you bolt to where I’ll be and that’s it. Job done. A quick in and out number.’
Everything in my mind slowed down to a WHA WHA WHA pace. The Big Man’s voice sounded muffled, like his voice had been distorted. I couldn’t hear it clearly. My eyes watered. My stomach churned. One minute it’s the start of the summer and I’m flapping thoughts and dreams about being a lawyer or a doctor or a teacher, dating Erin F, and the next I’m faced with lugging the title of murderer around with me. My shoulders couldn’t take it. How does one minute change so dramatically like that? Pav’s sister skelped me good and hard; she battered my pride. I was raging with her; I wanted revenge. Revenge. Not death.
‘Charlie?’
‘I don’t really want to do it, Big Man,’ I heard myself saying.
‘Oh, I don’t think you have a choice.’
‘Why can’t you do it?’ I said.
‘Two reasons. One, they know me – I’m hot. Two, you have to earn your stripes.’
‘But I don’t want any stripes.’
‘You’re now part of the crew, part of the fellowship. Think of this as a kind of initiation. Doing something positive for our Regime.’
‘I don’t want to shoot anyone, honestly I don’t.’
‘Tough,’ he said, returning to the intimidating Big Man I saw in my sleep. ‘You’re doing it. End of.’ He slapped my chest with the back of his hand. ‘You’re either with me or against me, and if you’re against me the consequences are massive. Think of all the things I’ve done for you, Charlie Law. Your shed. Your mummy’s medicine. I even let you nick my apples.’
He looked at me as if his eyes were bullets.
‘Tell me, who else will get that medicine for your mum? She’ll be the one who might suffer the most out of all this.’ He put his giant hand on my chin and squeezed my cheeks together. Tight. Sore. ‘I’d think about that before you make your decision.’
‘But …’
‘And you want to see that little scrawny pal of yours again, don’t you?’
‘Pav?’
‘That’s the one. He’s Old Country. You wouldn’t want them to find him, would you? Christ, the things they would do to that pretty mother of his. So if you want to keep things safe your end, you’ll listen to me.’
‘What if I get caught?’ I said, not recognising my own voice.
‘Use this and you won’t.’ His hand released my chin and he tapped my head yet again. Only harder this time.
My throat lump was about to explode, about to let the rivers flow.
Don’t cry. Keep the taps off.
‘Please don’t make me do it.’
‘Let’s put it this way, Law. It’s them who are making you do this, not me. And let’s put it another way: in my town you’re either loyal or you’re not loyal, and if you’re not loyal then what good are you to anyone? Know what I mean?’
‘But …’
‘Just ask Norman and those other two bozos who beat up your Old Country buddy. Ask yourself if they were loyal.’
My world spun, but I could hardly make it out due to the blanket of water covering my eyes.
The Big Man looked thoughtfully into the sky.
‘What I’m offering is a take it or take it deal.’ Not one tear fell. I held it in. I didn’t want to give The Big Man the satisfaction. The bully must NEVER win and all that jazz. ‘I guarantee you’ll feel much better about it afterwards; you’ll feel like a man, like you’ve done something important, something to be proud of. You’ll have given something back to Little Town.’
‘I can’t even use a gun; what if I miss?’
‘I saw you shoot down the coal mine. You can handle it. The target’s easy to hit. Get yourself down behind a boulder, steady aim, steady hand, steady fire. More importantly, steady head. You’ll do it, no bother.’
‘When?’ I asked.
‘Next week.’
‘Next week?’
‘One week from today,’ The Big Man said.
‘Next Tuesday?’
‘Exactly. Next Tuesday afternoon. Two o’clock on the button.’
‘What, I just come back here then and do it?’
‘Don’t be a tosspot, Law. Remember to use the head, son. At all times.’ The Big Man took out a pen and a piece of paper from his inside pocket. He scribbled something. Handed me the note. ‘This is where and when we meet, after. Don’t be late, don’t make me come looking for you and don’t mess me about on this, OK?’
‘OK,’ I said.
‘Remember that medicine for your mummy, and your Old Country buddy.’
‘I will.’
‘Right, hop on and I’ll drop you off.’
I hopped on.
I didn’t enjoy the return trip. I didn’t enjoy being so close to The Big Man, having my hands around his waist, having my face inches from his back. His metal was there, above his bum, no more than a swipe away. I could have done it; I could have done to him what he wanted me to do to Pav’s sister. Reach. Swipe. Fire. Done. No aim required. The only thing that stopped me was that his bike would fall and I’d end up with a broken something. Or worse, the metal might not have been loaded. Then I’m sure I’d have ended up with a broken limb.
Something else stopped me: I wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.
I needed to see Pav. I was worried. I didn’t know whether I should tell him about The Big Man’s plans.
It was agony not knowing what to do.