Vinney Jackson was sat in front of an expansive wooden desk in a sectioned off part of a commercial garage on the Halton Moor estate in East Leeds. It was a popular area of the city with the national media when they needed stories on crime, lawlessness and anti-social behaviour. They christened it ‘The Zoo’. He was wearing a half-length black leather jacket and black jeans, topped off with a James Bond haircut and a physique like a middleweight boxer. On Vinneys left sat Carl Smith, all six foot of him, in baggy jeans and a loose-fitting hoodie, making it difficult to tell if he was put together with muscle or fat. His long, un-kept hair reminded Vinney of a roadie from a seventies rock band. Sat behind the desk, opposite the two men, was Ronnie Keen; medium build, grey crew-cut , one drooping eye, all sixty-five of his years etched deep into his face like a woodcut you might find in an antique shop.
The furniture was a couple of tall filing cabinets along the back wall and a small coffee table with a kettle and a few mugs, next to a box of Yorkshire tea and a jar of Nescafe. A small mini fridge hummed away in the corner, its noise occasionally interrupted by the sound of a drill or a hammer or the hellish grinding of metal on metal. The smell of oil and petrol lingered everywhere like an invisible mist. Ronnies usual business was cleaning stolen cars. If his crew got one at nine o’clock in the morning, by nine at night they had changed everything, from the plates to the engine, and could provide a set of papers that would pass any road-side police check. If it was a stolen pet business, they could probably have changed an Alsatian to a Labrador just as quickly. Ronnie made a good living from the chop shop, but the most lucrative and enjoyable part of his portfolio was setting up high end burglaries.
Ronnie was waiting for someone to take a chip off the iceberg in the room so he gave Carl a look, delegating the task to him.
“So, how’s it hanging, Vinnie, long time no see, eh?”
He leaned over, offered his hand.
Vinney ignored the gesture, noticed some bruising on Carl’s knuckles.
“Who wound you up this time?”
“Just a domestic” he said, ” withdrawing his hand.
“So how’s the wife?”
“Jackie? Same as ever,” said Carl, “why do you ask?”
“Yeah, you’re a lucky man there.”
“Lucky man? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Vinney looked straight into his eyes, and said flatly,
“Well, you’re a lucky man. She’s gorgeous, that’s all.”
Carl glared back.
“Gorgeous, eh?”
“Yeah. Take an army to pull me off her, if I had the chance.”
“How about you don’t say fuck all else about Jackie, eh? How about that?”
“Jeeze, man. Relax. I just said …”
“I am relaxed. You’d know about it if I wasn’t relaxed.”
Vinney put his hands up in mock surrender. Carl jabbed his cigarette out in a polystyrene cup, lit another one up, stood up and went out the door.
Ronnie gave Vinney a cold look.
“Why you got to rile him up like that? You know how jealous he gets about her. You were there when he broke Lucky Steve’s jaw, and that was just for smiling at her.”
“Well, you know I was a bit green-eyed myself for a while. What with him breathing the free air and me banged up in Armly for three years. All because he drove off and left me with a bag of Rolexes which weren’t exactly mine.”
Ronnie frowned.
“Look, I know you’ve got every reason to hate him, but good box men don’t grow on trees anymore. Young bucks these days, probably drop a few E’s and start hacking at the safe with machetes.”
Vinney smiled.
“Yeah,” he said, “Probably take a selfie with some poor bugger they’d tied up and send it off to Facebook.”
Both men laughed quietly.
“Joking aside, you really think we need him for this job?” asked Vinney.
“Better to have a box man and not need one than…”
“OK, Ronnie, OK, I get the picture.”
“Plus, he’s extra muscle. You read about what happened in Manchester last year? Some dick wouldn’t give up the combination ‘till they’d chopped a couple of his fingers off. We don’t want that sort of heat, do we? Makes the cops remember why they first signed up, makes them all keen and such. Get through this one tonight and if you want to sort him out afterwards, I’ll sell you the gun myself.”
“Gun? Behave Ronnie. Just because the guys a twat, doesn’t mean I want him dead.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. You two were tight once,” said the old man.
“As tight as he could get with anyone. Just between me and you, I used to feel a bit sorry for the guy. Everyone on the estate knew what a twat his dad was. But he dropped me right in it, so what can you do?”
Silence.
“Hey, before I forget,” said Ronnie, “I hear your mam passed away last year. Sorry about that, she was…”
“She was a whore and she never got tired of telling me I was a mistake. Only thing I’m sorry about is that they waited until she was dead before burying her.”
Vinney’s eyes told Ronnie that the conversation was over.
A toilet flushed. Carl came back, blew his nose and threw the tissue on the floor next to the bin by Ronnie’s desk. Ronnie shook his head slowly, let out a sigh, then opened the draw in front of him, took out a key fob and tossed it over to Vinney.
“Audi 380. Greasy Mike’s been playing with it all afternoon. Like shit off a stick in a hurry.”
“I’ll drive,” said Carl, holding out his hand.
“Whatever,” said Vinney, and threw him the key.
Carl stood up, nodded at Ronnie as he walked past. Vinney shook Ronnies hand and followed Carl out the door.
***
As the car snaked its way through the early morning streets, if silence were a hurricane, the two men were in a category five. Carl cracked first, knowing he had a big bridge to build.
“OK, I’m sorry. What can I say? I know you’re still pissed off at me. But if I’d hung around we’d both have been nicked. And then what?”
Vinney looked at Carl like he was something he needed to scrape off his shoes.
“Well look on the bright side” he went on, “we could have been banged up in the same cell. Pretty boy like you, I’d have just made you suck my dick every night for three years, eh?”
He nudged Vinney playfully with his elbow and, despite himself, a slight grin appeared. One thing about Carl, he always made Vinney laugh.
“Ok, tell you what” Carl continued, “I’ll blow you and then we can cuddle for a few minutes afterwards. I’ll tell you none of it’s your fault and it’s all gonna be alright, eh. Best offer you’ll get tonight.”
Vinney had to smile.
“Fuck you,” he said, “shut up and drive while you still can.”
The tension lifted for a few minutes until Carl slammed on the breaks. It was hard to tell in the half light of the dim street lights but the four figures, in hoodies and baggy jeans, blocking the cars advance, looked anything between thirteen and sixteen years old. The tallest one came around to Carl’s side of the car, a zombie knife slipping into his hand from the tunnel of his sleeve, while his cronies stood in front of the car. One of them was drumming away with his hands on the hood. Carl lowered the window.
“Nice car, bro. Mind if we take it for a spin?” He lowered the knife onto the bonnet to make sure the men could see it.
Carl looked into the abyss of the boy’s eyes, reached up with one arm, grabbed a mixture of hood and hair and banged the youths head on the car door. Then, with his other hand, he fired some pepper spray into his eyes. When the youngster cried out, Carl kept hold of him and fired the spray into the back of his mouth for a few seconds then shoved him to the ground. Vinney opened his door and stood leaning on the roof.
“Don’t you kids have homework to do? Take your friend home while he can still walk. ”
The youths scrabled to pick up their friend, mouthing threats of revenge as they walked away. Vinney got back in and they drove on.
Vinney smiled again, said, “I was with you all the way there but the pepper spray in his mouth? That was just mean.”
“Just setting the kid right. You can’t hug the bad out of shit like that. Things’ve gone too far. No jobs and no dads? What did they think was gonna happen?”
“Guess you’re right. At least we knew right from wrong, not like now. Didn’t stop us, but we knew the difference.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Carl, “my dad beat the crap out of me and him and my mam were always fighting but at least they were there.”
“Yeah, and you turned out all right!”
Carl let the dig hover in the air. Vinney immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Look, I’m not perfect but I never hit anyone who didn’t have it coming. Even if I was starving, I’d eat a dead rat before I’d rob an old lady of her purse. That kid would have gutted me just for bragging rights. You can’t compare what we do to what happens with kids now. Different league.”
“I’m with you on that one.”
“Remember Jamie Lee?” Carl continued.
“Rings a bell, but I didn’t hang out with any of the Lees. Too unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable? That Jamie would punch his own mother if he was bored enough. But when he did Porky we were gobsmacked. A knife, for Christ’s sake? Who used a knife to settle a beef?”
“Know what you mean,” said Vinney.
“Only way you’d get out of fight now without getting stabbed is if someone has a gun.”
Vinney felt himself being drawn, against his will, back to the time when him and Carl were mates. But that wasn’t the plan for today. Far from it.
“Don’t laugh,” said Carl, “but I’m studying for my coaching badge. Boxing. Maybe get a gym. Teach some kids a bit of self-respect, so they don’t need a knife.”
Vinney was surprised into silence for a moment.
“You should do it,” he said, just before the pause became noticeable.
“Gotta retire sometime, eh?” added Carl.
“No, it’s a good idea. Good luck with it.”
***
The backdrop soon changed from the abandoned city streets to the blanket darkness of the Pennines, a set of hills and mountains part of which seperate the counties of Yorkshire and Lancashire The scenery soon changed again into a forested tunnel of winding country road. Carl kept the car at a constant forty-five until Vinney noticed a sign, half hidden by the overgrown branches.
“Briar Wood, there it is,” he said.
Carl slowed to about thirty for a few minutes until he saw a set of wooden gateposts to his right and the Audi crept along the gravel path for a few yards then pulled up under the cover of the branches of a huge oak tree. Carl turned off the engine. Both men got out of the car, changed into boiler suits. Vinney put on his balaclava, Carl lit a cigarette, cupping his hand against the breeze. The grounds of the house were in darkness so the men checked the photos that Ronnie had supplied. It was a four-bedroom detached that sat at the end of a twisting, gravel path about twenty meters long, bordered on all sides by bushes and trees. Ronnie had also told them that the owner had two Mastiffs that usually slept in the conservatory.
“Go do your magic,” said Carl.
Vinney walked along the grass to avoid waking the hounds. The area in front of the house was paved over and had two cars parked in front. In the background stood the silhouettes of trees and more trees. He ignored the decoy alarm box on the front of the building and went straight around the back to the conservatory. He was greeted at the door by low growls then a heart stopping moment as a dark flash exited the cat flap to dissolve a few seconds later into the black of the trees and bushes. One of the growls turned into a tentative bark as a snout teased open the flap to be met by a biscuit, spiked with aceptomazine and diazepam, which was snatched greedily out of Vinney’s hand. He threw a dozen or so more through the opening and the growling was replaced by what sounded like crunching and slobbering in a small cave. Leaving the mutts to their feast, Vinney looked up and noticed with a smile that the real alarm was about ten feet from the ground, but within reach of a drainpipe. This was surprisingly common, as was a ladder placed next to a shed or an open back window, like it was Be kind to Burglars Week. He took off his shoes, climbed the drainpipe and took care of the alarm in less than three minutes. He dropped back down and texted Carl to join him. The lock on the conservatory door held out for two minutes and the burglars were inside. Carl’s torch revealed the two dogs flat on their sides. He leaned down to pet one of them and it attempted a half-hearted tail wag but soon gave up. Carl leaned in close to its head.
“Hey, Red,” Carl said, using one of the pseudonyms they used to avoid a slip of the tongue, “He wants to know where he can score some more biscuits.”
Vinney ignored him and carried on up the stairs, through the unlocked doorway, to the hallway, Carl following. To their left was a door which, upon inspection, led to a vast living room cum dining room. Vinney shut the door and the pair walked along the plush carpet, veered right, then crept up the stairs slowly, fearful of a give-away creak, Vinneys flashlight momentarily reflecting off the crystal chandelier that hung from the hallway ceiling. The first door Vinney opened, over to his left, was an office, with a stack of books on one wall and a desk, with the form of an open laptop, in front of the window. As they approached the second door opposite, they heard gentle snoring. Vinney opened it carefully then groped around for the light switch to his right and, with a look to Carl to check he was ready, flicked it on.
“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine, granddad,” shouted Carl, “tax man’s here!”
Seconds later, John McFay was bolt upright in bed like he had just mainlined a gram of uncut Columbian. Beads of sweat had already appeared on his bald head. The skin on his ample chest was dotted with red spots corralled by middle-aged wrinkles. The girl lying next to him was around thirty years old, the sort of girl that didn’t need make up to look stunning. Her shoulders revealed the straps of a black negligée. She looked up then put her head back down on the pillow, an annoyed look on her face.
“Smart girl,” said Vinney. “She’s already figured out it’s you we’re here for.”
The man in the bed looked at Vinney, trying to get his breathing under control. Carl stood in the doorway, back straight, arms behind his back, bouncer style, while Vinney dragged a chair across from the dressing table to the bottom of the bed. He sat down, eyes fixed on Mc Fay.
“So two things can happen here. Number one, we can rob you and be out of here in about ten minutes and everyone can get on with their lives as though nothing happened. Or, number two, my friend over there can start hitting you and maybe when you give him the combination to your safe, he’ll stop. But I wouldn’t count on it. Pardon my French but he can be a right bastard when he hasn’t had his dinner.”
“Had a cheese and bacon sarnie about eight hours ago,” Carl chipped in. “Bread was stale, tiny bit of cheese, bacon was all rind, and there was no tomato sauce. Didn’t even finish it. It was shit.”
“So,” said Vinney, “what’s it gonna be?”
McFay twisted his face into a look that almost resembled confidence and layed down his Royal Flush.
“Do you know whose money it is in that safe?”
“That would be Jack Bentley,” said Vinney, “everyone’s favorite drug dealer. Known him for years, but you’re not gonna say anything to him.”
Mc Fay’s jaw dropped. Vinney continued.
“See, we know where you live. Long before Jack Bentley even finds out who we are, you’ll go to bed with your whore there…”
“Charmed I’m sure!” said the girl, raising her head sleepily.
“go to bed with the lady there, and one night you’ll wake up trying to hold the gash in your throat together.”
“Yeah,” grinned Carl, “then I’ll come tickle you under the armpits until you let go and bleed out all over the bed.” Carl’s grin vanished, along with his smiling eyes, in an icy flash.
“And before you bleed out,” said Vinney, “you’ll realize that you were just a bent lawyer wanna be gangster who played pool with a few real outlaws a couple of times. You thought you were a big man when Jack Bentley asked you to do him a favor and hold onto some cash for a while. You thought you were connected but people like you are a joke to us. You got about as much pull in our world as a teenage car-jacker trying to flog a bald tire.”
McFay tried to swallow but it was like Vinney had rammed his five cards straight down his throat. Carl took over, his eyes boring into his prey like a cat on a limping rat.
“So, if she hasn’t fucked all your brains out already, you’ll give us the combination, sell a couple of them houses you got in Spain, put Jack fuckin Bentley’s money back in the safe and no one will be any the wiser.”
Silence.
Vinney shrugged his shoulders and nodded at Carl, who cracked his knuckles and took a couple of steps towards McFay. The wannabe gangster reached for the notepad and pen on his bedside table, and hand shaking like he had the DT’s, he scrawled down a number.
***
Two hours later the men were parked up in a lover’s lane on the outskirts of Leeds. Even the hardened doggers had called it a day, probably tucked up in bed dreaming of having sex with their partner in the middle of Elland Road at half- time. A light wind occasionally disturbed the leaves from their slumber, while an owl in the distance hooted out its claim to the land.
“What’s up with you?” asked Vinney. “Relax. Those two can’t get free and they won’t be found for hours. Can’t see him inviting anyone around for breakfast with his squeeze lying there next to him. And it’s not like he’s gonna call the cops.”
Carl turned to Vinney with a weird look on his face. Vinney couldn’t work out if he was worried or scared or angry.
“So why does Ronnie want to meet us here, in the middle of nowhere?” Carl said.
“You know him. He’s always got his reasons.”
The sound of a car engine slowly emerged from the night.
Vinney turned his head to look over his shoulder, said “Look, here he is now.”
Carl adjusted the rear-view mirror and peeked through the back window to see a vehicle slowing to a halt about five yards behind them. His eyes squinted so he raised a hand to shield them from the headlights and Vinney struck. He launched a vicious left hook followed by a torrent of punches leaving Carl’s head lolling from side to side. He gave him one more dig for good luck then took out two plasti-cuffs from his pocket and fastened both of Carl’s hands to the steering wheel. Then he climbed into the back seat and attached one around his neck to secure him to the headrest, leaving him just enough room to breathe.
The lights on the car behind went dead and a few moments later Carl’s wife, Jackie, opened the left side door and sat down by Vinney on the back seat.
She smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek.
“How much, love?” she said.
“A hundred grand, give or take. All used notes, so no need to clean them. A couple of nice necklaces and all.”
Carl groaned, tried to shake his head until he felt the restraint. Jackie stood up as straight as the roof would allow and leaned forward, landed a punch on his cheek.
“Boot’s on the other foot now, arsehole,” she said, “you’ve given me my last hiding and guess what, I’ve been screwing Vinney for months. What you think about that? And now we’re off to spend all your money.”
She raised her arm to land another dig, but Vinney stopped her, pulled her back down to the seat.
“Leave it now, Jackie. We got what we came for.”
She gave him her sultry look, the one that turned him to mush.
“Speak for yourself, babe.”
She put her hand on his thigh, her teeth nibbling at his ear.
“Come on Jackie, not here, not like this.”
But she carried on, her hand moving up his thigh while her tongue buried itself in his mouth.
Soon her hand was in his pants, working his cock past the point of any resistance. He wanted to tell her to stop again but it was too late. She took him in her mouth, worked it slowly his moaning getting louder but, even as he was coming, he was aware of his former friend, silent as a coffin, tethered in the seat in front of him.
She took a tissue and wiped him clean.
“What’s up, babe. You’ve gone all quiet.”
“Bet she forgot to tell you why I gave her a few slaps, eh?” said Carl, in a shaky voice. “You think your special, Vinney? She’s been banging my mates since she got back from the honeymoon. She even gave that old bastard Ronnie a taste. She mention that, eh?”
Vinney looked at Jackie, his eyes begging her to deny it.
“Maybe a couple of times, babe. Just for fun. Not since I hooked up with you.”
Why was it that every girl he liked turned into a bitch, just like his mother?
He hesitated for a moment then reached up, put a hand around Jackie’s throat, and brought his head down onto hers, knocking her clean out, then he pushed her to the corner of the car. It was only the second time he had struck a woman, and just like the first time, a feeling of self-loathing was beginning to crawl its way up, but he pushed it back down in disgust, like he was flushing a turd down a toilet. All his life he had been looking for someone who wasn’t his mother, the woman who, when he was still in primary school, he had heard giggling, laughing, moaning in the next bedroom, with blokes he never met. And if this one could do what she had just done to Carl, what would she do to him if he ever stepped out of line. Or if the crazy bitch just thought he had.
Vinney picked up the hold-all and got out of the car. He dropped the bag on the floor, reached down, and took out a Bowie knife. Carl’s window was already down.
“Look Carl, I’ve been shagging her for about a year. It was just to have a dig at you but after a while, well, you know what she’s like. In the end it wasn’t just sex. I don’t know, maybe it was love, whatever the hell that is. This job came up and she talked me into robbing you. One big fuck off from both of us, then off into the sunset. But I swear, I had nothing to do with what just happened in there.”
Carl turned his head, looked in Vinney’s eyes.
“Shit! What I mean is, I had nothing to do with setting that up. My dick gets hard and I follow it over a cliff, just like the rest of us. That was all her.”
Carl turned his head back to staring straight ahead.
“But you didn’t deserve what happened to you there …no one does.”
Carl turned to face Vinney again, blinked his eyes a couple of times, the color drained from his face. He looked as though Jackie had gnawed off his balls and spat them back out in his face.
“Like I said, she’s been doing it for years,” said Carl, “Tom, Dick, Harry and all their fuckin brothers. Ten years we were married, and I never strayed once. Not once. She was the sunrise that never set for me. But what the fuck, all part of life’s rich tapestry, eh?”
Carl looked away again, as the moisture in his eyes threatened to leak.
“So what happens now?” he said.
“I’ll tell you what happens now,” said Vinney. He reached down into the hold-all again, picked up a bundle of notes, tied up with a plastic band, and threw them into Carls lap.
“There’s five grand pocket money for you. Ronnie still gets his third and I keep the rest. I did nearly three years over you, so as far as I’m concerned, that’s us even.”
Carl’s face seemed to relax a little. Vinney went on,
“I’m not the sort of bloke to sleep with one eye open, so if you come at me you better kill me, or I’ll kill you. Simple as that.”
Carl turned to face Vinney again, swallowed the boulder in his throat.
“Call it a day then,” he said,” I haven’t got the energy for it. Shit, you’d probably finish me anyway. Always were a jammy bastard. Even Mc Fays’ squeeze back there was eyeing you up, and you had a balaclava on? What was that all about, eh?”
Vinney hesitated for a moment, then reached into the car and cut through Carl’s restraints with the Bowie knife. Carl bowed his head down to the wheel, let out a sigh.
“That motor that Jackie turned up in. It’s mine,” said Vinney, “so I’m away in that.”
He turned away and started walking.
Carl rubbed his eyes and said, “So what about you and the missis. You two still an item?”
Vinney turned around.
“No mate. She disgusts me. Just like the rest of them.” A bitter smile crossed Vinney’s face.
“She’s your trash. Do what you want with her.”
He started walking towards his car again, then stopped for a moment, and turned around.
“I’m just saying,” he said. “Ronnie was telling me a story the other day. Some girl had a row with her husband. Smelt some perfume on his shirt. Whatever. So she’s really pissed off, drives away in a huff, husband tailing her. Misses a turn, probably texting her friend or something. Drives straight into a tree. The bloke wanted rid of her anyway, so he torched the car and her in it. Even got a few grand from the insurance. But that’s just a story. Whatever you do, don’t forget to light up the car. Petrol’s in the boot. Fingerprints and DNA and such.”
“Yeah,” said Carl. “That DNA’s a real bitch, eh?”
Vinney turned on the ignition, the engine fired and he drove into the darkness. Somewhere in the distance the owl hooted again. Carl turned his head to look at Jackie for a moment, then he turned back and lit a cigarette.
[Image Credit : Photo by Ian Cylkowski on Unsplash]
by 
John Helden
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