Simon Kernick - The Crime Trade

‘I’ve known Mark years, Tino,’ bullshitted Murk. ‘He’s kosher.’

Tino nodded. ‘All right, man,’ he said. ‘Five it is.’

‘If, of course, I’m satisfied with the quality of the sample.’

‘Sure.’ Tino didn’t seem too happy, his face slipping into a boyish hangdog look, but that wasn’t Stegs’s problem. He was going to be even less happy in a few minutes.

‘I only like to deal with one person when I’m setting something up, Trevor, as you well know.’ Murk opened his mouth to say something, but Stegs continued without pause. ‘So, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll go through the details alone with Tino. You can catch up with him later.’

‘I was hoping to advise him. He’s a bit new to all this, Mark.’

‘I’m sure he’ll learn.’

Tino looked at Murk, not a hundred per cent sure whether he wanted to be left alone with Stegs. Murk shrugged in return. ‘If that’s how you want to play it,’ he said to Stegs.

‘It is. Thanks, Trevor, I’ll see you later.’

Murk finished his drink and said his goodbyes.

‘I’ll catch up with you later, man,’ said Tino.

Stegs didn’t say anything. He waited until Murk was out of earshot, then turned back to the Dutchman with a hawkish smile. Tino returned the smile, but it lacked confidence. He was wary of Stegs, and Stegs knew it, enjoying the fact that he was intimidating the other man.

‘You know, Tino, you seem like a nice guy. Amiable. I like that. You don’t often get it in this industry.’

‘That’s kind of you to say so, man. Thanks.’

‘But you’ve got a slight problem.’

Tino’s forehead creased into barely visible worry-lines. ‘What’s that?’

‘I’m an undercover copper and your mate Trevor — and I use the term most fucking loosely — is a police informer, or grass as we sometimes prefer to call them here in the UK.’

‘Oh no,’ said Tino, looking like he was about to burst into tears. ‘No way, man. Did Trevor — did he, how you say — set me up?’

Stegs’s smile grew wider. ‘He did, I’m afraid. That’s the thing you ought to know about Trevor. He’s a Class A cunt. He always does this.’

Tino put his head in his hands, slumping in the seat. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ he said to himself angrily, sounding not unlike one of those mental people you sometimes get on the Tube.

‘Well, whatever. The point is, I have you, how you say, bang to rights. That’s my warrant card, just in case you’re in any doubt.’ Stegs placed it, open, on the table in front of Tino, who slowly removed his hands from his eyes and gave it a cursory glance before groaning loudly. ‘But luckily for you,’ Stegs continued, replacing it in his pocket, ‘I’m not a heartless man. There may be a way out of this.’

‘What?’

‘Well, for a start, I’m not necessarily going to turn you in. I mean, you’re an idiot, and a criminal too, obviously, but I’m thinking that I may give you a second chance.’

‘Oh man, please, please. I’m not a criminal, I promise. If it hadn’t been for the way the industry treated me, I would never have got involved in this drug dealing, I promise you.’

‘All right, Tino, not quite so loud. I get the picture.’

‘I can’t go to prison, man. Sorry, what is your name again?’

‘Mark.’

‘I can’t go to prison, Mark. It would tear me into pieces. Please. I would die.’ He tried desperately to get his eyes to well up, but failed miserably. He was, Stegs thought, a fucking terrible actor. Thank God he’d got a big cock. ‘And I know you would not want that, Mark,’ he went on, ‘because I can see that underneath the steel you are a good and decent man who would not want my death on your mind. Which is what would happen. It would be the end of me, the end. Do you understand what I’m saying, my friend?’

‘Well, it’s a bit mangled, but I think I get the gist of it. And you’re right, I am a decent man. So maybe we can help each other here.’

‘I’ll do anything, man. Anything at all.’

‘I understand that, Tino, and it’s a good thing too, because I can tell you this: English prisons are roughly on a par with English traffic, English weather and English hospitals. In other words, fucking terrible. And on this little tape recorder in here’ — he opened his jacket slightly to show the edge of the portable tape recorder he’d strapped to his chest — ‘I have evidence that will indict you on charges of conspiracy to sell Class A substances, a most heinous crime in this neck of the woods, and one which will result in you spending several years in exactly such an establishment, and for once being on the receiving end of a rampant penis, like so many of your unfortunate female co-stars, rather than dishing out the punishment. Then maybe you’ll appreciate why some of them scream so loudly when you shove your dick up their arses.’

‘I thought you didn’t watch my films, Mark.’

‘Trevor told me. Apparently, it’s your speciality.’

Tino shrugged. ‘They seem to like it. And they get paid well.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘Excuse me.’ Stegs and Tino both looked up. A young man in his early twenties with glasses and the last remnants of a powerful attack of teenage acne was standing by their table. ‘Are you Tino “Ten Inch” Movali?’

‘I am, my man,’ Tino said with a smile, suddenly perking up.

‘Would you mind signing this?’ asked the young man, handing Tino a beermat and a pen.

‘Sure, of course.’

‘Can you make it out to Pete?’

‘Pete. Sure, no problemo.’

‘I’m a big fan of yours, Tino. I’ve seen loads of your stuff.’

‘Be careful, sonny,’ said Stegs belligerently, annoyed at this unwelcome interruption, ‘it’ll make you go blind.’

The young man turned to Stegs. ‘Who are you? One of the money men?’

‘Don’t be cheeky. I’m his co-star, Charlie “The Chopper” Flanagan. I’m new to the scene. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me.’

‘Can I have your autograph as well, then?’

‘Sure. Have you got another beermat?’

The young man picked up one from another table and handed it to Stegs. Tino finished his signature with a flourish and passed the pen over to Stegs, who wrote the name Charlie Flanagan and drew an erect penis complete with hairy testicles alongside it.

‘So, are you in anything at the moment, Charlie?’

‘We’ve just completed my first film, Urban FuckFest ,’ replied Stegs. ‘It’s due for release later this year.’

‘That’s fantastic. Look, I’ve always wanted to be in porn films. Do you mind if I join you?’

Stegs gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’m afraid not, son, we’re discussing something very important. However, I appreciate your desire to get into the industry, and we’re always on the look-out for new blood, so I’m going to give you the number of an agent I know.’ Underneath the signature, he wrote down his brother-in-law’s name and number. ‘When you ring, you’ll get either him or his secretary. Just tell them Charlie the Chopper said for you to call, and make sure you say too that you’ve heard there’s a vacancy in one of Ben Dover’s new productions, and that you’re interested. And don’t forget to give them your cock size — that’s always at the top of their list of questions. And make sure you add an extra inch.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘Don’t worry. Everyone does it.’

He smiled. ‘Thanks, Charlie. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.’

‘Good luck, son.’

The young man called Pete thanked them both, deposited the beermats in the pocket of his anorak, then did the honourable thing and left them alone.