Simon Kernick - The Crime Trade

All laughs stopped, however, when, back in the hotel room, Tino produced his startlingly impressive ten-inch appendage and began to service the girls in a variety of positions and in places where, to put it bluntly, the sun don’t shine. In fact, Stegs was masturbating furiously and having a particularly enjoyable time of it, all thoughts of Tino’s clothes sense forgotten as the Dutch dickmaster got to work doing what he obviously did best, when on the screen there was a loud knock on the hotel-room door. It then opened to reveal the hotel’s manager — a smartly clad Trevor Murk, dressed in a suit for possibly the first time in his life outside of a crematorium, who strolled in to complain about the noise. Stegs had had to do an alarmed double-take, penis already wilting in hand, but it was Murk all right. One of the girls immediately knelt down in front of him, unzipped his fly and popped his dick out. Though less impressive than Tino’s, it still wasn’t a bad size and was standing to attention in double-quick time as the girl proceeded to administer a very professional-looking blowjob while Murk stood there looking very unmanagerial, smirking at the camera and making the odd grunt of encouragement.

Stegs had lost all interest at this point, unable to watch a spawny git like the Murky one have it away with an attractive young filly and get paid for it while he, Stegs, was reduced to wanking at home on a Saturday night. The contrast was simply too great and too tragic, and he’d switched off.

The second time he clapped eyes on Tino Movali was in the Cherry Tree Inn on the Saturday evening following his suspension. He was sitting at a corner table alongside Trevor Murk. The two of them were talking and laughing like old friends, oblivious to the fact that more than one woman in the place was looking their way. Stegs bought a pint and made his way over. The room was busy, with most of the tables taken, but thankfully it didn’t feel oppressively crowded.

As Stegs approached, Murk saw him and stood up with a welcoming smile. ‘Hello, Mark,’ he said, using the name they’d agreed. He put out his hand and Stegs shook it reluctantly, affecting a deliberate air of indifference. Tonight, Matthew, I’m a shifty dope dealer with little in the way of patience or morality.

‘All right, Trevor,’ he grunted.

‘This is Tino,’ said Murk, and the youthful Tino stood up with a big grin.

They shook hands and Tino said that he was very pleased to meet him. ‘I have heard from my friend Trevor here that you are the sort of man that is, how you say, good to know.’

‘That depends,’ said Stegs enigmatically, giving Tino a careful once-over. Tonight, the Dutchman was dressed in a paisley shirt and black jeans. There was a suspect-looking bulge in the groin area that Stegs would have thought was a deli-style salami sausage if he hadn’t known better. ‘You look familiar,’ he added, sitting down with his pint. The others followed suit. ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’

‘Do you enjoy erotica?’

‘None of your fucking business,’ replied Stegs, lighting a fag.

‘I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m saying is, I’ve made appearances in porno films. If you watch them regularly, you may have seen me.’

‘I normally only look at the girls.’

‘Well, in the films that I am in, they are usually on the end of my cock.’ He gave a nervous laugh.

‘Anyway,’ said Murk, butting in, ‘Tino’s here with a business proposition. We thought you might be interested in what he had to sell. We’ve already talked about quantities, now we need to sort out a price. That’s if you still want to go ahead.’

‘I may want to,’ said Stegs, thinking that Murk really was a treacherous back-stabbing dog, so impatient to betray his friend that he didn’t even allow for a bit of small-talk. ‘But first I’ve got to satisfy myself about a number of things.’

‘And what are they, my friend?’ asked Tino, leaning forward.

Strangely enough, he had a very innocent-looking, cherubic face that didn’t really fit with the jaded expressions so many in the porn industry wore, that hound Murk included. Stegs put him at early twenties tops, and reckoned he’d probably make quite a good salesman. He had the sort of face you can’t imagine ever having the gumption to deceive you. It seemed a pity that he’d been wasting his life in skinflicks, and was now about to waste it still more in the short-term, fast-burn-out world of small-time dope dealing.

‘First of all, I want to make sure of the quality. I need to acquire a sample of what you’ve got in order to check how pure it is. If it’s satisfactory, then we’ll take things further. Also, I want to make sure that you’re kosher. That is, who you say you are. I don’t like dealing with people I don’t know, even if Trevor here does speak highly of you.’

‘He’s hardly likely to be dodgy, is he?’ said Murk, keen to get things moving. ‘He’s a porn star, for fuck’s sake. He wouldn’t exactly make good undercover.’

‘Not so loud, Trevor. I don’t much want the whole pub to know of our business dealings.’

‘He’s right, though, my friend. I’ve never spoken to a policeman in my life. I’m not, how you say, dodgy. And me and Trevor have known each other a long time. Is that not right, Trevor?’

‘Too right, Tino.’ Murk gave him a comradely pat on the back, then turned to Stegs, flashing him a quick wink. Bastard. ‘I can vouch for this man, Mark. He’s straight. I’ve told you that already. Now, if you’re not interested, we can always go somewhere else.’

Stegs ignored him. ‘Have you got a sample of the goods?’ he asked Tino.

Tino nodded. ‘Sure, man.’

‘All right, give it to me outside when we leave. But in principle, I’m interested. Trevor says you’ve got five thousand to sell, and you could be able to get as much as five thousand a week. Is that right?’

Tino sipped his drink. It looked like a scotch and soda. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And it’s E, yeah? Ecstasy?’

‘That’s also right.’

‘I usually deal with bigger quantities than that. Do you think you’ll be able to get more?’

‘I don’t know, man,’ he answered. ‘I might be able to, but I cannot say for sure.’

‘Fair enough. Well, five’ll do for now. We’ll have to play it by ear.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘See how it goes.’

‘Sure.’

‘I can pay you five cash for the first consignment, as long as it’s you who gets it into the country.’

‘It’s already here.’

‘Fine. That’s my price. Take it or leave it.’

‘I was hoping for six, man. You know, I’ve got expenses.’

‘We’ve all got expenses, Tino.’

‘How about five five, Mark?’ said Murk. ‘A nice clean compromise.’

Stegs sat back and took a drink of his pint. Murk was breaking the cardinal rule of informants everywhere — the rule being, never get too involved in the sting. A grass should sell his information, make an introduction if he has to, then slip into the background and try to put as much distance as possible between himself and the arresting officers. That way he tended to stay alive and healthy a lot longer. But Murk was playing it different. He was acting as Tino’s partner, even though he knew the porn star was going down, involving himself in the whole thing for no obvious benefit. After all, he’d done his bit so, in essence, there was absolutely no point in him hanging around, which made the fact that he was very suspicious. Perhaps he simply thought Tino was too stupid to make the connection. Either way, Stegs decided to cut him out.

‘Five on the first. As I’ve said, that’s my final offer. If the stuff’s good, and I sell it on easy enough, I’ll go up to five five for any subsequent purchase. Trevor’ll tell you I’m a reliable bloke. Isn’t that right, Trevor?’