Кен Бруен - The Hackman Blues

I nodded, asked Danny, ‘You in?’

‘Sure, but we can expect deep shit from that guy, he’s a serious operator.’

‘You leave Leon to us.’

‘Didn’t mean him, it’s the Paddy, he’s no fool.’

‘Naw, no worries.’

I was wrong of course.

Danny asked how I planned on it going down.

I launched forth:

‘We’ll need CS gas, a van and luck. All you need is to make sure the engines running and stop for nothing... Okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘That’s about it. Once we got here, we deliver her to Dulwich, collect the cash and avoid Brixton for a bit.’

Reed said, ‘I gots me a thought.’

‘Shoot.’

‘Let’s keep the bitch.’

Danny laughed.

I didn’t, asked, ‘Keep her?’

‘Sho’, we tell de man she be kidnapped, he pay to git her back, she his daughter.’

‘Jesus.’

‘An... we’s offer her back to Leon. Gits him to pay too.’

‘That’s crazy.’

Danny said, ‘I like it, get ’em both to cough up.’

‘Okay, Reed, say I’m daft enough to agree. Who gets her... Leon or Jack?’

‘I dunno bro’, I be making dis up as I go’s along.’

Already I was thinking, it was just manic enough to work. We had a warehouse for storing videos. Reed and I had sometimes crashed there and it had the essentials...

Electricity

Shower

Bed

Small cooker

Yeah, I could get to like this.

Reed smiled, said, ‘Yo’, like it... yeah, yo’ like it a lot.’

I repeated, ‘Make both the bastards pay.’

‘It’s evil bro’, real fuckin’ wicked.’

Danny thought so too, shouted, ‘Crystal, bring a rake of cold ones, honey.’

Danny had the burglar’s pre-requisite: invisibility, or as near as matters. Unless he spoke, you didn’t notice him. Every time I saw a police photo-fit, I thought, ‘Danny.’

Yeah, he looked like everybody and nobody. He was about five-ten. I say ‘about’ cos there were times when he seemed to have shrunk. His hair was light brown, his features even and he weighed in about 160lbs. But I wouldn’t swear to any of that.

The only distinctive feature was a cross he wore. He had all the necessary south-east London gear:

bent Rolex

Sovereign rings

gold ID bracelet

— the mandatory villain’s outfit.

The cross was plastic and looked like it had been chewed. He wore it on a thin string of leather.

I’d said to Reed, ‘What’s with the Woolworth’s plastic?’

‘Man, dat be the third cross.’

This was supposed to enlighten me?

I asked ‘This supposed to enlighten me?’

And got the story.

When Danny got grassed, he received two years and with the overcrowding, he was shuffled to the Isle of Wight.

Some guys, prison is a natural habitat, they adapt fast and even thrive. Others, it’s the very last place they ought to be. Danny was the latter. Being banged-up completely freaked him.

Suicide was his desperate decision. One December morning, he’d wandered into the Chapel in search of heat... and down there, in winter, it is real fucking cold. Shivering, his eyes fell on a makeshift model of Calvary. The three crosses and little figures huddled at the base. The central cross had a figure and also the one to the right. The left was empty.

From Sunday School he knew one thief had taunted Christ. The other guy had been Mr Nice.

But could he find out the name of the rebel... could he fuck? He asked the chaplain who said, ‘Concentrate on God and the Good Thief.’

Danny went back to the model and slapped the empty cross off it’s base, thinking ‘I’ll get you outa this prison for starters.’

Shortly after, he got early release and believed the cross changed his luck.

I’d said, ‘Not the full shilling, our Danny, is he?’

Reed was angry.

‘Man needs something to believe in... to hold on to...’

‘C’mon, a broken piece of plastic.’

‘Yo’ no be mockin’ bro’.’

357 Magnum or the Colt Python. Bloody cannons they are. Feel the weight of those suckers, you’d like two guys to hoist it. You stroll into yer nearest Nat West...

‘This is a hold up. Hang on a mo’ while I heft this bloody thing up to threaten you.’

Sure.

Guys like to throw the names of them about. When it comes to show time, you want some fire you can handle... unlike grief.

Crystal headed off to bingo shouting, ‘Tar-a... see ya later.’

Like that.

Danny produced the hardware:

Browning automatics,

Glocks,

Revolvers,

22s,

Sawn-offs

Reed asked, ‘No Uzi?’

Danny grunted, not amused and Reed added, ‘Dee homies likes de UZI.’

I said:

‘They jam.’

Both of them were impressed. Danny said ‘I didn’t know you knew hardware.’

‘I don’t. I winged it, it’s a macho line and see... you two went right along.’

‘You’re a real funny guy, Tone, hope you’ll be more than winging it when you go up against Leon.’

‘Yeah bro’, dat Leon love to see yo’ comin’ wit a sense o’ humour.’

I said:

‘Fuck’s sake, lighten up... all these weapons are making you ape shit.’

We divided up the preparations.

Danny to get the van, CS gas and balaclavas.

Reed to watch Leon’s club, get a handle on the time they usually left.

Me to prepare the warehouse for our guest, get whatever might be needed.

We juggled round with this and Reed clapped Danny on the shoulder, said, ‘Yo’ Daddy be surprised to see his boy now, see what he be planning.’

Danny was feeling the drink, a pile of empty cans lay at his feet. I said nothing, kept my eyes on the weapons. A drunk is annoying, a drunk with guns is downright scary.

He had that tilt to his eyes, caught somewhere between maudlin and rage. I knew it, I’d been there if by a different route.

He said:

‘Lemme tell you about my old man. Remember Rawhide ? That fuckin’ whip, jeez! He never missed it and every week as the credits rolled, they’d show that shot of the bloody ranch, he’d say, “Where do they get all them cows?” Every floggin’ week, same daft question.’

He closed his eyes and you had to figure he was back at the ranch. We didn’t know whether to laugh or just shut it.

So we shut it.

Then he jumped up, shouting, ‘That’s the gospel truth. Wait here, don’t move, I’ll show you exactly who he was...’

And off he went.

Reed said:

‘Do you think he’ll come back.’

‘Oh yeah.’

He did.

Carrying a letter, a battered worn, faded page, pushed it at me, said, ‘Go on then, see if I’m right.’

This is what it said:

Dear Daniel

By the time you red this, I’ll be dead. The cancer has spread and I have terrible pains.

You have been a bitter dissapointment to me son. Where did I go wrong? The shame of you being in prison killed your mother. I enclose her wedding ring tho you’ll probably sell it.

Before I go I want to help you. I advise you go to the Warden and tell him you’ve realised the error of your ways. Open your heart and he’ll help you. It’s not too late.

What could I say? I said, ‘Bummer.’

Gave it to Reed who read it, then asked, ‘Wha’ cho do with dee ring?’

‘Sold it.’

‘Ah!’

He opened a fresh brewski, had a mega swallow. One of those where you see the Adams Apple pump into overdrive. Quite ’orrible. The thirst he had, it wasn’t for booze, but was I going to be the one to tell him? Was I fuck!

He said:

‘Sundays! Everyone came round our house, uncles, aunts, neighbours and they’d all pitch in for the dinner. A chop, two veg, and roast spuds. Then they’d have a few drinks. Come evening, everyone would gather round the piano... wishing somebody could play it...’