Howard Linskey - The Drop

‘That’s right.’

‘What am I supposed to do with a captured soldier Terry? No POW camps in Newcastle mate, haven’t you heard?’

‘Please… ’

‘I don’t think so. I reckon you’ve had your chips.’

It was a prearranged signal for Palmer to pull out his gun then make a big show of loading a magazine and cocking it.’

‘No,’ the tears were flowing now.

‘I think we have to say goodnight now Terry.’ I told him.

‘You don’t have to… ’ he pleaded.

My mobile rang noisily in my pocket. I’d turned the volume up to its highest level. I gave an exasperated sigh and answered it, ‘hello?’

‘Is that the gay advice line?’ trilled Our-young-’un. ‘I think me little brother might be a bender,’ he hung up laughing.

‘Bobby,’ I said, trying not to laugh too, ‘yes, I’m here with him now, that’s right,’ then I made a point of looking up into Terry’s fear-filled eyes, ‘I’m just about to take care of it.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ hissed Terry as he suddenly rediscovered his religion.

‘What?’ I asked the disconnected phone in disbelief, ‘are you sure about that Bobby?’ then I paused to let the ghost of Bobby Mahoney issue me some instructions, ‘well, if you say so. You’re the boss.’

I hung up and was greeted by Terry’s expectant gaze.

‘Want me to do him now?’ asked Palmer and he pressed the gun right up against the bloke’s temple. Terry moaned something indecipherable and shut his eyes tightly.

‘Look at me Terry,’ I told him but he was too scared to open his eyes, ‘you’d better look at me Terry or I’ll get irritated and he will shoot you anyway.’ Terry slowly opened his eyes like it was a supreme effort, he was trying not to blink with the gun pressed up against his head like that.

I smiled at him, ‘looks like it’s your lucky day old son,’ and he stared at me as if he didn’t dare believe it was true, ‘Bobby wants you to go home,’ I said, ‘with a message.’

It suited me for the Gladwells to think Bobby was still alive, the victor in this latest war. It added to the myth of the invincible Bobby Mahoney, always one step ahead of his rivals, always coming out on top – and it took the heat away from me. Bobby was high profile. He was like one of those generals in the American Civil War, riding through the massed ranks of his troops on a bright white charger with a feather plume in his hat, so they could all see him and cheer, which is fine until one day when someone from the other side notices and takes a pot shot at you. I needed a figurehead to hide behind, someone who could take all of the hatred and retribution that would be heaped on him by the Gladwell brothers and Tommy’s father. Who better than a dead man?

I told Terry to go and see Gladwell senior personally to let him know that Bobby had killed his son and regained control of his city, and would take a very dim view if there was any further interference in his business. It was unlikely Tommy Gladwell would have had the inclination to tell anyone that Bobby was dead. It would have been too dangerous until he had full control of the city.

We made it clear that Bobby would no longer be based in Newcastle so there was no point trying to find him there. Bobby had gone abroad, somewhere nice and hot, but we didn’t narrow it down. From there, he would continue to pull all of the strings, issuing instructions through a network of trusted associates.

When it was all finally over we went to see Amrein. I drove down to Shepperton early with Palmer and Kinane. We stayed over the night before our appointment.

It was a convivial meeting, relaxed almost, under the circumstances. We sat down together around Amrein’s table. It was a sunny day and the birds were chirruping away outside, oblivious to our recent troubles. We had a light lunch with a bit of small talk; the economy, the trials and tribulations facing the entrepreneurial businessman in these days of a chastened global financial system. Then we came down to business.

Using the bare facts of what had occurred, I went through the whole tale; how Tommy Gladwell had tried and failed to step out of his old man’s shadow, how he had almost been lucky enough to get to Bobby Mahoney, had even managed to kill the legendary Finney. How we had been forced into putting together a new crew and how, finally, we had taken back our city and restored order, leaving Bobby in charge just as before, only stronger.

‘I’m impressed,’ Amrein said quietly and he looked it. ‘And the Gladwell boy, his friends?’ he asked, sounding like a headmaster asking after a former pupil.

‘Gone.’

‘Mmm,’ he pondered this for a moment, ‘is that likely to cause you further problems, an escalation of hostilities perhaps?’

‘Nothing we can’t handle,’ I told him.

‘I’m sure,’ he smiled benignly.

I put the bag on the table in front of him and said, ‘I’ve brought the Drop down early since you were good enough to see us at short notice and we’ve upped it, by ten per cent,’ that surprised him. ‘We like to think we will be doing business together for a very long time,’ I explained, ‘if things go well between us then it will be the same amount each time from now on.’ He tried hard but failed to hide the fact that he was pleased. I was relaxed about it because I knew Kinane’s sons would have arrived at the Sunnydale estate by now, ‘though we obviously expect you to earn it.’

‘Of course,’ he smiled like he couldn’t quite believe my cheek, but you could tell he was a happy man.

‘There is one other thing,’ I said.

He held his hands out expansively, ‘how can I help,’

I nodded towards the French windows, ‘mind if we take a walk?’

‘Certainly,’ he rose and the bodyguard opened them. The two of us walked out into the garden together, crossing the great expanse of manicured lawn, the lush green symbol of Amrein’s success and he let me talk, sensing I had a matter of some delicacy to raise that I would come to in my own time.

‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ I said, ‘a beautiful house, priceless connections, all the influence that large sums of protection money can buy, which is why Bobby Mahoney has used you all these years and never complained about the price, not once, because he knew what he was getting out of the deal.’

Amrein nodded, ‘peace of mind,’ he said.

‘Peace of mind,’ I emphasised, ‘there’s a lot to be said for it,’ we were half way across the lawn now, almost at the summer house, but he hadn’t noticed anything different.

‘And that’s why we want to continue with a long-standing relationship that will be mutually beneficial and lucrative.’

‘You won’t hear any argument from me,’ and he gave me that same disarming smile he’d given me weeks ago when he had warned us to sort out the mess back home.

‘I respect you,’ I told him. ‘We listened to your advice, got our house in order, showed the world that a few guys from Russian Special Forces and a jock with delusions of grandeur aren’t enough to knock us off our perch – but Bobby Mahoney isn’t happy with you.’

‘What?’ He seemed genuinely taken aback. I’d lulled him with the quiet words and the increased payments.

‘Because he trusted you completely,’ I stopped and turned to face him and noted the faint glimmer of fear in his eyes. I’d timed it to perfection because we were almost at the summer house.

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ he said weakly.

‘He thought that, because he had worked with you for years and put money into your bank account time and time again, you would never give your blessing to the next wannabe gangster who came to you with a half-baked plan to take over his city. But I know that you did give Tommy Gladwell your blessing.’