Irvine Welsh - Filth

– Tip me off when the action takes place Ray, I tell him. – I’d like to be in on that one.

The job can be satisfying.

I’ve just downed the last of my coffee when I clock Ocky in the rear mirror, he’s coming towards the flat with a wee bird. They’re wrapped up in each other. Dirty wee cunt. Mister Ockenden is sporting a fur-lined, dark blue corduroy jacket and a pair of blue jeans. He’s about five-ten, five-eleven with striking blond hair and slightly girlish features. His girlfriend is a cracker, slim, five-sixish and exactly the same sort of blonde as him. You could take them for brother and sister. In fact ah widnae put it past that dirty wee cunt tae be shagging his sister!

– Tidy wee piece, Ray says, noting the scene. All that posh he does still hasn’t strung him out or blunted his edge. Yet.

– Wee being the operative word. This is a stoat-the-baw situ. Ye reckon?

Ray looks at her, narrowing his eyes and curling his lip outwards. – Always hard tae tell. Curvy wee erse . . . he observes as they pass us.

– Never mind the fuckin erse, did ye clock her coupon? A wee fuckin bairn!

– Possible, Ray agrees, – A borderline case. There or thereaboots.

– Nae question. Forty sheets at five tae one, I’d gie ye.

Lennox shrugs and starts tae crap his breeks.

– C’mon Ray, double score. Five tae one, I urge.

– Naw, mibbee yir right, he concedes.

Too right I am. When it comes tae money doon, he’s no bottle. Doesn’t trust his instincts, that’s why, as smart as he may be, the Lennoxes of this world will never oust the Robertsons.

– What dae ye want tae dae? he asks.

– Steam in Ray, I tell him. – Just what these cunts dae. Only nae cunt steams in like the polis. We’re the hardest firm in this toon, and it’s time these scumbags realised it.

– We have to watch here Robbo . . . Ray’s bricking it.

– Baws. Same rules apply. C’mon. We use The Beast routine, that’ll spook the cunt.

I know The Beast routine off by heart. I should fuckin know it.

– Aye . . . Ray raises his eyebrows doubtfully but he’s getting out of the car with me, and by the time he hits the stair, he’s aw fired up, bouncing with adrenalin, taking these steps three at a time, almost squashing a stunned cat which jumps out from under his feet. It’s knocking on this old cat, getting slow. The stair fairly reeks of its pish.

We halt outside the door to get our puff back. – Reckon he’ll be giving it one by now? I ask.

– I would think so. They were practically gaun for it gaun intae the fuckin stair. Lennox looks at me and then hesitates: – . . . Want a line?

– Right, I nod, looking around as Ray puts some posh on the corner of his credit card and takes a rough hit up that hooter.

I look a bit doubtful, not wanting my nose cavities fucked by roughage. – It’s okay, this is good. It’s as fine as fuck, Ray says, his eyes watering as he sniffs and sniffs.

I take a whack, and it is good stuff; that sweet smell in my head, my face numbing, a surge of power flowing through me. Time for action.

I rap heavily on the door. Once, twice, three times. I hear a whingy voice, – Awright, awright! Ah’m comin.

Ocky, aka Brian Ockenden, aka soft little twat with a gob who got in too deep, opens the door in his t-shirt and boxer shorts. His mouth and eyes widen in shock.

– Mister Ockenden. Hello, I smile pushing past him into the hallway.

– You cannae come in . . .

– SHUT THE FUCK UP! Ray screams in his face, causing him to recoil. Lennox’s puffed himself up and he’s standing right over Ocky who’s aw cowed and bent. – You fuckin well speak when you are spoken to or I’ll fuckin well have you right now! Get it!

This wretched wee cunt looks at him, trying to summon up a bit of defiance.

– I ASKED DO YOU FUCKIN GET IT! Ray roars, and Ocky buckles a little bit more.

– Aye . . . cool it man, ah’ve no done nowt . . . he whimpers.

– You’re in serious bother mate, Ray says, closing the door and shaking his head in disgust.

– Cool it Ray, I say, putting a protective arm around Ocky’s shoulder. – Stay here a minute. Where’s the bedroom? I whisper.

– It’s . . . he looks sideways, – . . . but thir’s somebody in thair . . .

– It’s awright, I tell him with a matey grin. I open the bedroom door, and the lassie’s sitting up in the bed with her t-shirt on. I go in, shutting the door behind me.

– What’s this? she asks. – Who are you?

– Police, I say, whipping out my ID – Do not attempt to leave this room. Do you understand? What is your name?

– I don’t have to say anything to you . . .

She’s a wee honey. Still got those fetching freckles. – Make it easy on yourself hen, I advise, then with urgency ask, – How old are you?

– Sixteen, she says, lying.

– Any ID? I look towards a shoulder bag on the bedside locker.

Her cool’s blown. Her eyes are like the satellite dishes on Tom Stronach’s ootside wall. – Fifteen . . . but I’ll be sixteen in September, she says hastily. Too hastily. Too quick to admit it. I wonder why she doesnae want me in that bag.

– Your boyfriend’s broken the law if he’s had intercourse with you. Has he? I ask, moving closer to get a wee scan of those titties under that T. Not large, but certainly firm enough. Yo ho ho and a barrel full of fun.

She moves back against the headboard a little and pulls the duvet up over her chest. The colour fairly drains from her face though, as I reach over and grab the bag, pouring its contents out on to the bed. This unearths a small plastic bag with what is obviously Ecstasy tablets in them.

– I . . . I didn’t . . . she’s stammering. She’s lost it now.

– D.S. Lennox! I shout, and Ray comes through. I hold the bag of pills up to him. – Looks like MDMA tablets to me. Note that they were found on this girl’s person. At least six hundred milligrams. Please also note that this girl is under the legal age of consent.

– Check, Ray says, exiting.

– You stay here, I say pocketing the pills. – You’re in very serious trouble. What did you say your name was?

– Stephanie . . . she says sheepishly, hugging her knees up into her chest and letting her chin rest on them. Her hair tumbles forward. She pulls one side back and secures it behind her ear.

– Stephanie what?

– Stephanie Donaldson . . .

– Well Stephanie Donaldson, I’ll leave you to think about how silly you’ve been. You’re going to have to give us a wee bit of co-operation here my girl.

A whole fuckin loat ay co-operation. Stephanie Donaldson. Hmmm.

She sits stiffly up in the bed and I go through to see how Ray’s doing. He’s got Ocky in the front room.

– Judges are coming doon hard as fuck on stoat-the-baw, Ray’s telling him.

– I thoat she wis sixteen. She telt me she wis, Ocky protests, then smiles at me, an all-lads-together smile.

I give him a hangman’s smile in return. I run my finger across my throat and make a crackling, slavering sound. – Sorry mate, but as Ray here says, this isnae the time tae be done for stoat; no now, no wi aw that paedophile stuff in the papers. It’s fair goat the magistrates oan the warpath, aw that palaver. Stoat man, thir daein time for it right now. Only aboot a year or so, which means six months. Nae real bother tae you. Mind you, this is posh fanny, so add oan a year. Which makes it a whole year inside.

He’s no looking too happy.

Ray chips in, – Aw aye, Ocky here could handle twelve months inside, eftir aw, every cunt loves a stoat-the-baw. A wee bit ay tackle pits oan some make-up, aw the red-blooded males in Saughton understand the score. A standing prick hath no conscience, Ray smiles, a cold, ghostly grin. – They always ask aboot the ride, the other boys inside. What was she like? Did she have big tits? Schoolie’s uniform? Lennox laughs, a dry cackle. He pulls a bogey down from his beak and examines it to see if any posh has got caught up in the mucus. Satisfied that it’s clean, he rolls it between the forefinger and the thumb, wringing out the moisture, and flicks it on to Ocky’s carpet. He stares at Ocky for a bit and shakes his heid. – Six months for a ride though, doesnae really bear thinkin aboot, eh no? Hope it wis a good one mate. Be yir last for a while.