The rain was still falling heavily and they were both soaked through. Scott had given up trying to avoid walking in the puddles. He could hear squelching from his feet each time he took a step. A large signpost opposite the reception indicated roughly the same direction that the officer inside had for Station B. They walked back to the van and drove to make the collection.
The area of large warehouses was surrounded by high steel railings that had once been painted turquoise but the steady erosion of rust over the years left only patches of the original colour intact. The whole area would have thrived a decade or two ago but the demise of the shipbuilding industry along the river had seen the main factories have to retool to adapt to the changing market. Most had shut down completely with a ripple effect impacting other local businesses as a result. The docks themselves were in an obvious state of neglect due to the drop in trade and therefore lack of revenue that came through the port. A gutter high up outside Station B had cracked and the heavy rainfall that gathered on the roof flowed through the break, cascading down causing a flood just outside the entrance. Scott drove through the pooled water and parked up in a vacant bay inside.
Around the inside walls were grey metal shelves around thirty feet high. Labelled boxes sealed in plastic wrap sparsely occupied them. The centre of the floor space was devoted to pallets. Some were crowned with various sized wooden crates although most lay empty. Two yellow fork-lifts were stationed near an office cubicle on the right hand side of the warehouse. One had a bumper sticker that read: My other car’s a Porsche.
‘Just wait by the van,’ Scott instructed, ‘I’ll go and sort this out.’ Twinkle grunted and reached inside his jacket for cigarettes.
Through the greasy windows Scott could make out someone sitting inside the office, whistling to accompany the crackly sound of a portable radio that was struggling to maintain reception. Scott walked up to the door and tapped twice on the glass.
‘Yeah,’ a voice said from the other side. Scott pushed the door, greeted the man and handed him the collection forms along with his ID card. The man gave an appraising glance at the picture and then up at Scott, which was more than the first officer appeared to have done; he then entered the reference number onto a computer keyboard on his desk. Pausing for a few seconds, the man leaned in, squinting at the screen. Taking a step backwards, Scott positioned himself in the open doorway in an attempt to survey any movement in the warehouse. If this was a sting operation and the drugs had been discovered, he knew this was the time he had to be ready if there was to be any chance of escape.
‘Is your transportation ready?’ the man asked, without bothering to turn his head and check for any parked vehicles.
‘Yeah, a van in the bay down there,’ Scott said and pointed, unobserved.
‘OK I’ll have them brought over for you to load up,’ he said, tapping a few more keys which resulted in a printed receipt spilling out onto the desk in front of him. ‘Sign here,’ he indicated, after ripping the receipt free from the printer. Scott duly signed the name that matched his ID, wondering if the slight tremor in his hand had been noticeable. He took a copy along with his ID card and nervously made his way back to the van.
A brief red arc shone in the gloom of the doorway as Twinkle flicked away his cigarette butt which extinguished in the water outside.
‘Are we good?’ Twinkle asked as Scott approached.
‘Seem to be,’ Scott said and heard a whine behind him as a fork lift moved into position in front of a pallet, then a hydraulic whir as the pallet was lifted. He opened the back of the van and waited as their shipment approached. Again he checked the exit for the presence of any vehicles that may have contained watching police. The fork lift came to a halt just short of the van.
‘You want the whole lot hoisted in now or you want to check through it first?’ the driver asked.
‘Just stick it in there man. If anything’s missing it’s somebody else’s problem, you know what I mean?’ Scott said with a grin, pleased with his improvisation.
The driver laughed and nodded; a few seconds later it was all loaded up and Scott quickly closed the rear doors. Twinkle glanced from Scott to the driver and back again as if unsure that the job was actually finished. Scott understood his feeling, as it did seem to have been too easy. He thanked the man again and motioned for Twinkle to get back in the van.
Scott’s heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to slide in the ignition key and missed, the key slipping against the plastic steering column. He cursed, and looking down, tried again. This time sliding into the ignition barrel, Scott turned the key and fired up the engine. Twinkle was beaming and talking excitedly like they were already free and clear, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the dashboard. Scott checked the mirrors and craned his neck around to survey as much of the warehouse and the road outside as possible. As satisfied as he could be that there was no obvious trap about to spring, he reversed the van out of the parking bay and turned towards the doorway out of the warehouse. Moving off slowly, Scott drove through the pooled water and back along the access road for the storage stations. As they passed by some stacked metal shipping containers, an unmarked white van with its headlights on became visible up ahead. It edged slowly through the main gate and stopped just inside, blocking the only exit road out of the docks. Twinkle fell silent, as if only now becoming aware of the possible threat they still faced.
‘Fuck,’ he said, regaining his power of speech and anxiously looking from side to side to see any other possible police vehicles. ‘Fuck.’
Scott held the rising feeling of panic at bay. ‘Stay calm, it’s just a van.’
‘Just a van that’s stopped right in our path out of here, Jesus. What the fuck are we doing? Ten grand each and we could be facing ten years in jail? Fuck me.’
Scott tried to block out Twinkle’s anguished cries and swallow the growing panic within himself. He proceeded slowly towards the main gate and what he hoped would be their continued freedom. Still there was no sign of movement from the other van. The rain continued to fall and even with the wipers on high speed, visibility was poor. Scott could make out a shape in the driver’s seat but couldn’t be sure of any other occupants. They were within fifty yards of the gate now and having thought of nothing else, Scott flashed the vehicle’s main beam twice.
The stationary van began to move slowly away from the gate. Scott edged them forward again and as they approached the other vehicle, they could see the solitary driver bent over what looked to be the illuminated screen of a mobile phone.
‘Fuck, it was just some bloke sending a text message,’ Twinkle said, although he still didn’t sound like he could quite believe it. ‘Go Scott, get the fuck out of here.’
Needing no further encouragement Scott accelerated through the gate and beyond. Overhead streetlights illuminated the wet road and reflected up in a pink glow. Scott navigated the first few turns without thinking too clearly about where he was going. He regained some composure and began checking and rechecking the mirrors to make certain they weren’t being followed and tried to recall the escape route as Twinkle had called it. Taking the next left onto Freemont, he turned the van in the direction of the highway, and only then did the frantic jackhammer beating of his heart begin to gradually subside.
Twinkle was still shaken, spinning left and right in his seat and staring intently at every vehicle they passed by. Eyes pinned wide in a state of alarm, he muttered to himself constantly as they drove.
‘Twink, calm down,’ Scott said, trying to keep his voice level. ‘If any feds go by, you looking like that is gonna get us pulled over, even if they don’t know anything.’
Twinkle sat back, his knuckles white where his hands gripped the seat either side of his legs but he continued muttering. Doing his best to ignore the distraction, Scott took the turning onto the highway heading north.
‘They’ll make hundreds of thousands out of what’s in there,’ Twinkle said; his tension seemed to have subsided eno
ugh to allow him to speak.
‘Probably, yeah.’
‘It’s not right man. We took all the risk and all we get is 10K each?’
‘That was the agreement.’
‘Fuck the agreement. I’m getting on in years, Scott,’ Twinkle said, his voice sounding shaky and brittle. ‘The ten grand isn’t gonna last me long. What then, more of this?’
‘This was your gig Twinkle. You asked me to come along. If you’re getting cold feet now then take your pay and go do something else.’
‘Do what? All I’ve ever done is be a fuckin’ drug dealer. I don’t want to die in jail. Scott there’s hundreds of thousands worth of cocaine right in our possession, right there,’ he said, looking over his shoulder. ‘I know people down South who could move this, no problem. No need to get anyone up here involved. We can make the sale then vanish forever.’
For a brief second the thought grew wings and flew through Scott’s mind like a bat at midnight. ‘No way Twink’, he said, struggling against the temptation. ‘You know they’d never stop until they found us. No amount of money is worth getting killed for, and you know it would be anything but painless.’ Scott fixed his gaze on the road ahead. He didn’t like the new direction the day was turning in. This definitely wasn’t a possible outcome he had anticipated.
‘I can’t do this without you Scott. With that kind of cash we could disappear and never be found.’
‘Shut the fuck up Twinkle. I said no. Under no circumstances are you gonna make me think this is a good idea. We deliver the van, get paid then go. That’s it.’
Twinkle fell silent again. Resigned to a success he had dreamed of that morning, but one which now didn’t seem so sweet.
Scott indicated and steered the van off the highway, continuing to check in his mirrors for anyone who could be following them. Making two complete circuits of the roundabout, Scott satisfied himself that there were no pursuers and turned onto an unlit side road that led to the location where they were to make the delivery. Twinkle’s silence continued – intensified. Perhaps realising the magnitude of what he had tried to coerce Scott into doing. Whether the stupidity of his request had sunk in, or the futility in continuing to try, Scott didn’t know, but he half wished Twinkle would say something to relieve the tension which now hung in the van like thick fog.
‘Almost there man,’ Scott said, trying to lift the mood. He didn’t want anyone detecting that something was wrong when they delivered the cocaine, or they might very well insist on knowing what it was and that wasn’t a situation Scott wanted to get into.
The road wound along for a couple of miles without any traffic passing by, nothing but fields on either side marking their progress from the highway. Scott could see the logic in arranging for the drop off to happen out here. There was no way anyone could follow them from the ground without easily being spotted.
The van crested a slope in the road and the collection of buildings appeared up ahead. They looked like they had probably once been used for storage for either crops or farm machinery. Built from a combination of stone and corrugated iron, they now looked unused and dilapidated. The foundations of the building constructed mostly from old stone had subsided into the earth on one side, giving it the appearance of casually leaning as if waiting lackadaisically for a particular event to unfold.
Scott turned off the road and killed the headlights. The rain had relented now into a fine drizzle. The wipers continued to pulse their rhythmic beat. Muddy pools were scattered around below them on the uneven ground. There were two cars parked behind one of the buildings, out of sight from the road. Pulling up alongside them, Scott gave Twinkle what he hoped was a reassuring look and then turned off the engine and got out.
A wooden door stood open in front of the parked cars and he could see a dim light from within. Unsure of what else he should do, Scott slowly advanced towards the doorway. A metallic bang from behind made Scott’s frayed nerves sing, but a quick look showed it was just Twinkle slamming the van door.
The inside of the building smelt of wet straw and rot. Scott could just make out Dominic Parish and another equally large individual, whom he didn’t recognise, illuminated by a battery powered lantern hung on the wall behind them. The bluish white glare glinted off the man’s earlobe from what Scott guessed must have been a diamond stud earring. Nobody spoke until Twinkle entered the building too, then Dominic gestured for him to close the door. Scott’s heart was hammering in his chest again; he tried to slow his breathing and appear as calm and confident as he could.
‘It done?’ Dominic asked. His voice split the silence like an axe.
‘Yeah,’ Scott answered, even though the question had been aimed at Twinkle.
‘Any problems?’ This time he focused on Scott and directed the question at him.
‘No,’ Scott said, hoping he sounded convincing.
‘Alright then. Keys,’ Dominic said and held out a hand. Scott took the door key Twinkle had first been given, added the ignition key and dropped them both into the giant outstretched palm.
‘Here,’ Dominic barked after pocketing both of the keys from Scott, and held out a different car key. ‘That’s for the blue Mazda parked outside. You drive back to town and leave it where you got the van from. Put your ID cards and papers in the glove box. Lock the doors and put the key under the seat. Twinkle, someone will contact you.’ With that Dominic walked towards the door. His silent companion collected the lantern and walked past Scott to follow.
‘What about our money?’ Twinkle asked, his voice sounding thin and weak compared to Dominic’s authoritative bellow. The previously silent character now laughed. The first noise he’d made since they arrived; tiny triangles of light danced from his ear.
‘Like I say Twinkle, someone will be in touch. You really think we’d turn up here with twenty thousand not knowing if anyone dressed in blue was along for the ride? No. Everything will be inspected and then you’ll be paid,’ Dominic said in the patronising tone of one explaining something to a small child.
After that, they both left. The sound of the two engines starting up as Scott and Twinkle remained rooted in the darkness. They heard the car and van reverse up, then drive out onto the road and away.
‘We should go,’ Scott said. Twinkle didn’t respond but Scott heard him follow as he made his own way back outside.
Scott opened the unlocked door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Mazda. Twinkle was a few paces behind and Scott watched him approach the car on unsteady legs. His face was pallid and older than Scott had seen it look before. The craggy lines that made up the character in his face now seemed like scars of defeat, inflicted on him over time.
The car started with one turn of the key and a few minutes later they were back on the road towards the highway, this time headed for home.
‘We didn’t get paid right away but everything went OK.’ Scott said, attempting to put a positive slant on the outcome, and reached to turn on the car radio; anything rather than the oppressive silence. He tried a few more attempts to engage Twinkle in light conversation on the journey back but each was greeted only by mumbled acknowledgement that he’d even been heard.
‘You want dropping off at home then Twink? I can take the car back on my own and go grab a cab after that.’
‘No, just drop me at the Balloon.’ The first words he’d uttered since they got in the car.
‘You sure? It’s been a long day, you not rather get a few cans and just drink them in the house?’
‘The Balloon.’
Scott was a little unnerved. He knew Twinkle would be drinking like there was no tomorrow to try and escape the events of the day. Scott didn’t care one way or the other if the old man woke up in a ditch. But he didn’t want him saying anything stupid to some local scumbags after having a skin full that could jeopardise him as well. Reluctantly accepting there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent this, he agreed.
Twinkle got out of the car outside of The Balloon, bringing
Scott’s day full circle. He said he’d phone once there’d been word of the next meeting. Scott nodded, shifted the car into gear and drove off.
Chapter 8
Scott woke suddenly the next morning sheathed in a cold sweat. After a few seconds he realised the combined ringing and vibrating of his mobile phone on the thin carpet beneath the bed was the cause of his alarm. It was Angela, who told him that Stephanie had woken up. She sounded tired but excited, although she said there was no new information on the attack. After promising to come up to the hospital and see her as soon as he could, Scott hung up the phone.
He hadn’t had much sleep. Thoughts of Twinkle inadvertently giving them both up plagued him throughout the night, and now, despite not having had anything to drink himself, he had woken with what felt like a hangover, probably attributed to fatigue.
Scott made coffee and fed Boris while his computer was booting up. He sat down to enjoy his coffee and inhaled greedily from the first cigarette of the day, as he sifted through emails to work out which jobs needed his attention first. Despite the intake of caffeine and nicotine he couldn’t keep his attention focused for long. The images and words on the screen floated around like driftwood caught in the pull of a tide.
Deciding to try and tackle his work load again later, Scott thought he would keep his promise to Angela and go up to the hospital to see her and Stephanie.
He let the dog run around out back while taking a shower, phoned for a taxi to arrive in twenty minutes from Pressman cabs and then made a sandwich while waiting for it to arrive.
Halfway through eating his hurriedly made snack Scott heard two quick blasts on a car horn from the front of the house. He threw the remainder of the sandwich to Boris, grabbed his things and left.