Howard Linskey - The Drop

Five? I’d seen four. I wondered where the fifth was hiding.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘What can you give me? Go on, convince me, tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you. You might be begging me to kill you in an hour when I let these lads at you. You see, they really enjoy their work.’

I shook my head. I didn’t know what the hell he wanted and I had no idea what information I could give him that he didn’t already have.

‘That cunt Mahoney,’ he hissed it angrily, ‘wouldn’t even shake my hand when he came to see my father. No respect,’ he told me, ‘well I think he respects me now don’t you?’

Tommy was pacing up and down now, tight lipped, like the memory of the humiliation was fresh in his mind, ‘you shook my hand. I remember that. You were the only one who did and that is the reason you are still alive, for now.’

That gave me an insight into the man we were up against. A forty year old with the chronic lack of self-esteem you get from living your whole life in the shadow of your old man. Tommy Gladwell hadn’t been allowed to order a cab without running it passed his daddy first and now he was going to take us all down. Yet I was still alive, for now, because of a handshake.

‘Where’s Bobby,’ I asked him again, ‘what have you done with him?’

‘He’s in there,’ said Gladwell and he jerked his head towards the next room. Vitaly shoved me out of the room we were in and up against the door of the next one.

‘Open it,’ he ordered.

I pushed the heavy wooden door and it creaked open. I was peering into the darkness of a gloomy store room but I couldn’t see anything, ‘Bobby?’ I called.

Silence.

Vitaly pushed me into the room and turned on the light. At first I thought the figure in the chair was dead or unconscious, the body slumped, the silver hair streaked with blood from a blow to the skull. ‘Bobby?’ I called again and the head slowly came up.

Bobby Mahoney had been tied to his chair just like the others. I reckoned that was the only thing keeping him upright. His head lolled back again, he looked drugged or maybe it was just the effect of the beating they’d given him.

‘Bobby,’ I said it again, quieter this time, willing him to say something back to me but it was all he could manage just to return my gaze.

Gladwell was at my side, ‘I’m going to give you a chance boy,’ he told me, ‘just one, so think fast.’ Vitaly gave an order in Russian and one of his men handed Gladwell his Makarov, the Soviet era military pistol that was the weapon of choice for Eastern Europeans in our game. It was widely available on the streets of every city in Britain because it was cheap as chips.

Gladwell took out the magazine and ejected all of the bullets then he held it up so I could see and put one bullet back into the magazine before slotting it back into the gun. ‘You have a choice,’ he told me, ‘either this bullet goes in Bobby Mahoney’s brain or it goes in yours.’ Bobby finally made a sound. He actually laughed. It was a big, deep, mad laugh but I was astonished by his balls nonetheless. I wish I could have been that defiant.

‘What?’ was all I could manage.

‘Tell me,’ he urged, ‘I want to hear you say it,’ he cocked the pistol and pressed it hard against my skull, ‘him or you? Go on.’

I looked at him then I looked at Bobby, who was still laughing, like Gladwell had just said something really funny.

I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to say anything.

‘Say it!’ ordered Gladwell.

‘Him,’ I croaked the word out, too ashamed to look at Bobby.

‘Good lad,’ he said like it was the correct answer and he lowered the gun.

Vitaly and one of his men grabbed me and pushed me forward till I was no more than a few feet from Bobby then they released their grip. Vitaly pulled his own pistol and stood to one side of me, then pressed it against my head.

‘One move,’ he told me, ‘one move and… ’ he made a sound like a gun firing. I got the message.

Gladwell walked round to face me, standing between Bobby and me. ‘I’m glad you feel that way because you are going to have to earn your life today. We both know I need Mahoney out of the way,’ he told me reasonably, ‘so I want you to do it for me.’

‘What?’

He couldn’t be serious. He didn’t really want me to do it, surely.

Tommy Gladwell pulled my arm up then he pressed the Makarov into my right hand and wrapped my fingers round the cold metal of the gun. Before he released it into my grasp, the Russian pressed his pistol harder against my head.

‘One move,’ he reminded me.

Gladwell stepped away and walked behind me. I was left holding the gun in my outstretched hand and it was pointing straight at Bobby. He was staring back at me, serious now. The laughter had stopped.

‘Do it,’ urged Gladwell, ‘shoot him and walk away.’

‘Fuck off,’ I managed, ‘you’ll kill me anyway.’ I was still holding the gun in my outstretched hand. I could feel the barrel of Vitaly’s gun pressing into my skull and sweat forming on my forehead.

‘No I won’t,’ he assured me, ‘do this thing and we are even. I’ll put you on a train to London. You have my word.’

‘Your word?’ I didn’t believe he could be serious.

‘You’re basically a civilian. You’re no threat to me. What the fuck are you going to do on your own – without Finney, without Mahoney, you’re nothing! But, like I said, you have to earn your life. You have one round. Use it on Mahoney and live. Try and use it on us and Vitaly will drop you where you stand. But I won’t wait all day son. In a moment I’ll start counting down from ten and when I finish, Vitaly will kill you anyway if you haven’t done what I’ve asked. Then he’ll kill Mahoney.’

This didn’t make any sense to me. None at all.

‘Then why get me to shoot him?’

‘Because I want to make you do it.’

‘Why?’

‘To prove that I can.’

‘What’s the point?’

‘Oh fuck this,’ he suddenly lost patience, ‘Vitaly… ’

Vitaly cocked his gun, ‘No!’ I shouted, quickly, ‘I’ll do it.’ I was just desperate to buy some time. That’s what I needed. Time, to think, Christ, I needed time to think.

‘Ten…’ said Gladwell.

‘Wait,’ I said, my hand shaking so badly there was a chance I’d miss, even from here. I lowered the gun just a little.

‘Nine… ’

‘Fucking do it,’ said Bobby suddenly. Those were the first words he’d spoken since I walked in the room. His voice sounded incredibly weary all of a sudden, like he was tired of the game.

‘Eight…’ I levelled the gun again, pointing it straight at him.

‘Good lad,’ said Bobby, ‘you’re doing me a favour,’ and he actually managed a grim smile of encouragement.

‘Seven… ’

‘Do it, they’ll do it anyway,’ Bobby was selling the idea to me.

‘Six…’

‘Get out of here, find Sarah, look after her,’ so that was his reason.

‘Oh, she’s being looked after,’ said Gladwell and the Russians laughed.

‘Five.’

I tried to squeeze the trigger but I couldn’t. I tried again but my arm shook. I knew I was crying now like a little girl, tears streaming down my cheeks, my face all snot and tears. I let my arm drop and the gun fell to my side. My head went down and all I could see was my shoes. Next to me Vitaly said something that sounded like he was swearing in his own language.

‘You stupid cunt,’ Bobby told me.

‘Four.’

I tried to raise my arm again but I couldn’t. I just wanted to lie down on the floor and let them shoot me so it would all be over.

‘Three…’

‘Do it you spineless fucking cunt! Do it!!’ Bobby was screaming at me now.