It Wasn't The Bullet (4) “She’s not a whore Charlie. We’re going to get married.” “You really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you? Jesus Christ. You sappy cunt. Where is she?” John backed himself into a moth eaten armchair and sat down still holding the two mugs out in front of him. “She’s out with some friends in Brighton. She’s coming back tomorrow.” “That’s good then. Put the tea down.” Charlie repeated and squatted down in front of John so that they were at eye level with each other. “Terry was doing the books yesterday and he had a little freak out. He found out that all the people that owe us a little bit of money make a big bit of money when you add it all together. He is super pissed off and right now is making his way round all the people just like you John. He is very, very angry. Terry is not a nice person when he this upset, believe me I’ve seen what happens. It ain’t pretty. I’ll bet he’ll lose his temper on one of you poor fucks and boom. We’ll be burying a body in the foundations of a tower block.” Johns face was now covered with a waxy film of sweat; he was the definition of wan. “I happen, for some reason I can’t get to grips with, to like you. I suggest, that you, right now, go upstairs and fill a bag with clothes go to Victoria station and buy a train ticket to some small village in Scotland, clean your fucking act up, meet some nice girl and live out your days without any fear of this happening,” as Charlie got to the word ‘this’ he grabbed the back of John’s head by the hair and jammed the pistol into the scared man’s temple. He thumbed the hammer back, which made an eerie snap. John kicked over of the tea and the cups bounced onto the floor. “Oh shit, oh shit, stop it Charlie, please stop it, oh shit, I pissed myself Charlie” The gun vanished as swiftly as it had appeared and Charlie let go of John’s hair, his head slumped forward and he started to sob quietly to himself, “Oh fuck I pissed my trousers. Fuck, fuck” He was beginning to shake violently, Charlie was pleased, he kind of thought it might be a bit harder to frighten someone to a near death experience. “So John, why aren’t you packing? Spit spot. Scamper” “What about Lilly? I can’t just leave.” “Did you not understand a fucking thing I was fucking telling you?” Charlie was shouting now, “Get the fuck upstairs and pack some clothes and get the fuck to Scotland and don’t come fucking back.” “But Lilly..” Charlie cut him off before he finished, “So help me, Johnny, if I see that cunt near you I’ll shoot the bitch myself.” John slowly got up and made his way to the stairs……… “Charlie, Charlie, come on, wake up. You haven’t got much time.” Charlie was startled out of his waking memories and for a moment was confused by Samantha’s urging face. He glanced around and saw he was inside an x-ray room, wow he must have really zoned out. Samantha pushed the chair over to a telephone; he strained to turn his head and smiled at her. “Where’s the copper?” “He’s waiting out side, I told him he couldn’t come in, and I said it would take as long as it takes.” “Are you sure you’re just a nurse?” Charlie picked up the receiver and again felt he saw some kind of turmoil pass across her features. He dialled the directory enquiries number and asked for the number to Paddington Green police station. He severely hoped that the person he needed to talk to still worked out of that office. The monotone operator read back the number and Charlie broke the connection and redialled. “Paddington Green, where can I direct your call?” “I would like to speak to Detective Sergeant Andrew Clay please.” Charlie had many things crossed for luck; in fact he wasn’t surprised how tense he felt. After all, this was a last ditch effort to escape from a certain long-term prison sentence and just as certain a knife in the ribs when he got there. “Detective Inspector Clay is in the office today, whom should I say is calling?” Inspector now is it, Charlie thought, well this is going to burst his bubble, “I would prefer to remain anonymous; I have information pertaining to a crime.” There was a pause, a static click and then the sound of ringing. Charlie felt a bead of sweat roll down the inside of his arm. “D.I. Clay, serious crimes, how can I help you?” the confident voice sing songed down the line and Charlie mentally braced himself, this was a one shot deal and he knew that was it, all or nothing, he grinned and said to himself, ‘Damn the torpedoes’, “Hello Cassius, how the devil are you?” The line plunged into scratchy silence and he could imagine the detective squeezing the telephone tightly and be worried that the pounding of his heart would be audible down the line. Finally he spoke, “What the fuck are you doing? Are you fucking nuts? I can’t speak to you here.,” his voice was hushed and strained, Charlie could see him squirming and peering round his open plan office to see if anyone else could possibly hear his conversation. Once again Charlie kept the pitch of his voice even and low, almost hypnotic, “Cassius you owe me, in fact you owe me everything from that afternoon onwards.”, Charlie halted briefly to gauge the silence on the line, he could hear Clay breathing, “I just want to wipe the slate clean and you’ll never see or hear from me as long as you live.” “Greens’ got you locked up tighter than a ducks arse. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” “Are we not talking on the ‘phone, Cassius?” “I don’t know how you’ve managed that, but I know you gonna ask me to get you out but I can’t do it. There’s just no way.” “Ok, listen to me, don’t interrupt and then you can give me your answer.” Charlie bit down onto his lip so his exhale of breath would not be heard on the other end of the line. “Go ahead, I owe you that much.”, there was a tone in Clays’ voice that made Charlie happy, the trouble with having dirty little secrets is that you are always worried that someone else knows, and the more time that passes, the more reality is based upon that secret, the more the mind works to tell you that you’re not safe, somebody knows. That somebody was Charlie. He glanced quickly in Samantha’s direction, she would have to hear what he was going to say, and he hoped she wouldn’t open the door and send in the policeman who was waiting patiently outside. “Cassius, under whatever circumstances you would like to apply to this situation, I saved your life. You were dead up until we burst in, two seconds later and you wouldn’t have a chance of getting out of there, but as the fates decree, here I am and there you are. However, that’s not the finger on the trigger, Cassius. The reason you are going to help me is this. A couple of years ago I was bored and probably a bit high, when I started to mull over those events. The papers called you a hero, working undercover, having to deal with nasty little villains, risking life and limb at every corner. You said that it was gangland hit, a war over drug territory. You testified two masked men kicked down the door and shot the two Yardies, threatened you and left. Well, it seemed reasonable at the time; you didn’t identify us because we saved your life. But then that rainy evening, sitting there with a bottle of wine, with nothing to do and all evening to do it. I thought, that’s a bunch of bollocks! Why would you care about two villains whether they saved your life or not. You were part of the drugs squad then, the fucking elite, the fucking zealots, the ‘Britain must be a drug free nation’ Thatcher style fascist bastards. I got to thinking you knew what we took from that flat, you saw us leave the drugs and take the money. I think you even worked out why we didn’t take the coke; it was message time. Don’t try and rip off the Justin crew. I think you were also worried about what was in the bags we took. You knew it was money, but what else was in the bags. Well you were right, Cassius, the stupid cunts kept their books with the fucking money! I kept them, Terry wasn’t interested in their business and besides it was in some kind of code, but I kept them, saving them for a rainy night when I was bored and couldn’t find a crossword puzzle. It took me a while to crack the code, thirty odd hours, but I did, and you know exactly what I found don’t you Cassius. Your dirty little secret. You weren’t no hero, were you? Just another copper on the take. Maybe they found out you were drugs squad and gave you an option, die or give us the inside scoop. Or maybe you went to them, give me money or I call in the big boys and you all go to prison. Whichever way it went down, Cassius, you owe me. You know I have nothing left to lose, you know I’m more than likely to get killed in the nick before I even get to trial. So I have the books, and you can have them back for two things. One for your life.” Charlie stopped, he felt exhausted, his chest was burning and he swore he could feel a trickle of blood ooze from under the bandage. He glanced again at Samantha; she seemed to be confused and enthralled by the whole thing. Her delicate hands clasped together, eyes like moons, staring at Charlie but not really conscious that Charlie was looking at her. The phone crackled back into life, “Fuck Charlie. You’d do it wouldn’t? My name all over the front page of the Sun. One more corrupt copper. I’ve got a two-month-old kid now; I’d last less time in prison than you. My Mum and Dad would probably die of shame. I don’t have any choice. What do you need?” Charlie smiled a victory smile, “Get me out of the hospital, and far enough away that I have a fifty-fifty chance of getting out of London.” “I think I can do that, I’ll have to contact some friends, do you want to go North or South?” “South coast way.” “Ok, that’s the first thing. Now what’s the thing I have to do so I can sleep at night?" “I want my gun back.” That was the piece of the jigsaw, no forensic evidence, and no murder charges. “Fucking hell! I don’t think I can do that. I ….” Charlie cut him off, “Think of a way, and you can go back to doing what ever the fuck you’re doing now, raise your family, retire with your ill gotten gains, I’ll give you the papers, and the only person left alive is me, and I make you a promise, when I have what I want, you will have your life back and we will never speak or see each other again. Deal?” The was a slight hesitation and then, “Deal.” The connection was broken, and Charlie replaced the handset. Samantha’s eyes were still wide, she was staring at Charlie with a touch of fear and excitement. “What did he say?” she asked quietly “Samantha, I’m not a very nice person. I’m a fucking villain. This is not a movie, this is as real as it gets. Bad things will happen to John if you repeat any of this to anyone.” “Charlie, I don’t know whether to be terrified or excited. I’ll never say anything to anyone about this; I will never endanger John. I want to help you and I will do all I can to do that” Charlie suddenly overcome with fatigue, sighed and whispered, “Get me back to my room, I have to sleep.” Chapter Three Hungry, buddy? Charlie woke up in his bed, he had no idea how long he had been asleep or how he got back to his room after his chat with Clay. As Charlie’s mind cleared he reason that his guardian policeman had certainly called in his unexpected expedition and he knew it wouldn’t be long until Green made an appearance. Two hours passed and the door swung open to reveal the frustrated inspector with a face like thunder. “Ello, Ello, Ello, what’s going on here then?” he smiled at his own policeman’s humour, strode over to the bed and sat down on the edge so he was level with Charlie’s torso. “Decided to take a little jaunt down the corridor? I talked to the doctor and he seems to think that you did indeed need some kind of x-ray, but when I asked to see the film he got all flustered and said it was a doctor patient thing. What do you make of that, Charlie? Wouldn’t let a copper look at your insides.”
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