The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 10

LONDON CALLING by Ian Ayris and Nick Quantrill

King’s Cross, London – 18.50

HAD ANOTHER EAR-BASHIN off the missus. “Hull?” she says. “Hull? What you got to go to Hull for?” “Business,” I says. And it is. My business. She don’t know nothing about what I do. She thinks I’m one of them blokes what pick up cars and drop em off places, you know, them geezers you see carryin number-plates round with em. She don’t know I’m on the firm. Harry’s firm. Harry Sullivan.

I been doin jobs for Harry ten years now. I’m what you might call, a specialist. Harry’s got a problem, he phones me up, I clear it with the missus, and I sort the problem out. The problem’s always got a name, and a place I can find em. In this case it’s Tony Weathers. And he’s in Hull. Apparently, so Harry says, this Weathers geezer owes him a large wedge and needs teachin a lesson. Only one lesson I teach. The hardest one there is. Harry’s brother is based up there, but he don’t trust him to sort it, even though he’s Harry’s number two. Can’t say I blame him. Still, he’s got us a lead on where Weathers is hiding out, so I have to play along.

So I’m on this train to Hull. Bound to be a dump. Up north, ain’t it? It’s all like that up there. Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds, Newcastle. Like goin back two hundred years. I been all over, doin jobs for Harry. But I’m gettin sick of it now. This is the last one. I’ve made me mind up on that. Tracey, that’s me missus, she reckons I let Harry walk all over me. “Whenever that phone rings,” she says, “and it’s Harry, you’re all, ‘Yes, Harry, no, Harry, three bags full, Harry.’”

That’s what she reckons. Not any more. Not after today. I’ll show her. I’m gonna be the big man. Got a couple of fellas onside, high up in the firm, you know. Harry won’t know what hit him.

Holderness Road, Hull – 19.50

Fuck’s sake. You just can’t get the staff in this business. I look around the staff-room. Lazy to a man. Playing cards, laughing and joking, like there’s nothing better to do. I shake my head and close the door on them. Don’t they realize we’re in the grip of the biggest recession in living memory? I’ve given them jobs and roofs over their heads. Looked after their families. It’s all right for them. They’re not entrepreneurs like me. They’re happy just to pick up their wages. Knobheads, the lot of them.

My office is upstairs. It’s small, but it does me. My wife, Denise, helps out sometimes. She passes me some paperwork. I’m not really in the mood. I ask her to make me a coffee. She disappears. Reluctantly. I need to look over the accounts, make sure I’m making the right decision here. The best advice I ever got was from my brother. If you’re standing still, you’re going backwards, he told me. He was always the clever one. And the handsome one. And the more successful one. The only thing I got that he wanted was Denise.

I’m looking at the income and expenditure on the spreadsheet. It’s giving me a headache. The figures don’t add up, that’s for sure, and I have to sort it. Times are tough and I’ve got a decision to make. This Weathers situation is an opportunity, and it’s important to recognize opportunities when they present themselves. Denise breaks my concentration by putting a cup of coffee in front of me. I look up at her. He’ll be here soon, she says.

Hull Interchange – 20.15

Hull station’s just like any other in this god-forsaken country. Soulless. Fuckin soulless. Pretentious wankers even call it an “interchange” rather than a station. The place is fuckin empty. End of the line. Nobody just passes through here. There’s even a statue of Philip Larkin. What kind of place celebrates an old racist? That said, I don’t mind a bit of his poetry. I like a bit of culture.

Eddie said he’d meet me out front. Eddie Painter. One of my boys. Or he will be, give it a couple of weeks. Went to school together, me and Eddie. I trust him with me life.

Here he is.

“Hello, Pete. You all right? Bloody place this, ain’t it?”

I nod. Grim. Gotta be distant when you’re the boss. Enigmatic, you know.

“Motor’s over here, Pete.”

We get shiftin. He’s parked down a side road. Good thinkin. CCTV’s a bastard.

Turns out Eddie’s got hold of a Merc. C250. Classy. That’s what I like about Eddie. Comes across as a fuckin idiot at times, but the boy’s got class.

So off we go. Through the streets of Hull. Fuck me, I thought the East End was a shithole, but this up here, it’s a different fuckin game. But it ain’t the time for no sight-seein, I gotta set me stall straight and then I’m home free. Me and Eddie’ll drive back, then it’s straight over to Harry’s gaff to make him an offer he can’t refuse. That’s out The Godfather, that is. The first one.

Eddie pulls the motor into a sideroad and squeaks the kerb as he parks.

“You all right?” I says.

He nods his head. Says nothing.

“Is this it, then?” I says.

A Portakabin on an industrial estate. It might be time for Harry to learn the facts of life, but I’ve got to admit I still have some respect for the bloke. He’s done a lot better than his brother, that’s for sure. I shake me head. A fuckin Portakabin.

Holderness Road, Hull – 20.25

I hear a car pull up so I look out of the window. It’s them. I tell Denise to disappear. She doesn’t need to be about for this bit.

Eddie Painter leads them in. I nod to him. Decent bloke is Eddie. He’s put the years in. Behind him comes Pete. I shake his hand, tell him it’s good to see him. We all sit down. I’m behind the desk, they’re both sat in front of me.

“It’s a bit of a shithole up here, ain’t it?” Pete says. “A fucking Portakabin on a building site?”

I shrug. It does me. Low-key. Keeps me under the radar. I tell him I know where Tony Weathers is.

Pete sits down and smiles at me. Horrible teeth. “I’m not interested in Weathers,” he says.

I see him go to his pocket.

Eddie speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Pete.” I watch as he turns towards his mate.

By the time he turns back to me, I’ve got my gun out. It’s my turn to smile. “You thought you could come here and try to turn me against Harry? My own brother? Eddie told me all about your little plan.”

My brother might be the blue-eyed boy, and I might be the one stuck up here, but there’s a line you don’t cross. He lets me get on with my thing, run my own sidelines up here. I know which side my bread’s buttered on. Harry’s not ready for the scrapyard just yet.

Eddie has a gun trained on him, too. “Sorry about this, Pete,” he says.

“Do you think me and Harry don’t speak?” I say to Pete. It’s slowly dawning on him that he’s been stitched up.

My mobile rings. I hold it up to him. The display says Harry. “London calling,” I say. I listen as Harry talks and then tell him we’re just about done here. Times are tough, but I’ve made my decision. “Blood’s thicker than water,” I say to Pete after terminating the call. “Much thicker.”

And sometimes it’s handy operating from a Portakabin on a building site. Plenty of foundations that need filling in.