believed that he was cured now. That the psychiatrist had cured his compulsion to bet on anything and everything.
When he had got into debt with Mikey Devlin he had honestly believed he was just having a run of bad luck and that soon it would be over. Instead he got himself in deeper and deeper. The worst thing was, before Mikey, he had rung up loan companies and mortgaged the house and business to the hilt as well. He was a desperate man and desperate men were exactly what Mikey was always looking for. Especially desperate men with a scrapyard and no previous convictions.
69
At first it had seemed like the answer to all Alan’s prayers. He was out of debt in no time and the money was rolling in. Then the flight set in. One night the Old Bill arrived and he had literally shat himself with fright at the thought of getting his collar well and truly felt. It turned out they were looking for two youngsters who had broken into a warehouse nearby, but it had been enough to take the gleam off what he was doing. It was Alan’s wake-up call and he knew that he had needed it badly.
Now he was still making a mint but wanted out before he was locked up somewhere and the judge threw away the key.
But it just wasn’t that easy telling Mikey he didn’t want to do it any more. Mikey had once facially scalped a bloke he’d thought was going to grass him up. When their little disagreement was finally resolved and the man was deemed innocent, Mikey had apologised profusely and given him a rather large drink. About ten grand. But did that make up for the fact he looked like a reject from the space shuttle crash? Not as far as Alan was concerned.
So he was in a quandary. He knew he was on borrowed time;
deep inside he knew a capture was on the cards. If scams went on too long it was inevitable. Most people got a lump through sheer greed. They kept up a scam even though it was getting shaky and more and more people were getting involved. The more people in the game, the greater the likelihood of a grass being among them. It was common sense really. Someone gets banged up for one offence and talks their head off to get out of doing bird. Consequently, whoever they were ducking and diving with gets the full bifta of the law while they get a quick eighteen months. Old Bill have a field day and everyone’s happy. Except that Alan knew that if it ever went off over the scrapyard he would be the one getting twenty-five years, not eighteen months.
It was his yard, his premises and his money that was supposedly backing this lot. Mikey was out of the frame through pure and unadulterated fear. No one would dare finger him. Any grassing was going to bring the knock straight to Alan’s front door.
As if these thoughts had conjured him up, Mikey’s car pulled up in the yard. Alan saw the headlights and walked out of the shed to greet him.
‘You locked that bleeding dog up?’
Carlos the Rottweiler was a bone of contention between them. The dog hated Mikey who normally fancied himself a dog lover. Normally the wilder ones loved him but Carlos would rip anyone
70
apart, it was in his nature. So Mikey had drawn a blank where he was concerned and now he hated the animal.
‘He’s in me office, having his tea.’
Mikey walked into the yard. He wasn’t a big man but he was heavy. His bald head and big gut made him look fatherly, until he opened his mouth. Then he was a loud and obnoxious individual with a wicked temper. He was chauvinist and racist with the tattoos to prove it.
In his hand-made suit he looked what he was, a diamond geezer, and proud of it.
‘Has it arrived?’
He walked back into the shed with Alan as he spoke.
‘They put fucking “Hospital Supplies” on the package. Is he fucking stupid or what?’
Mikey grinned.
‘He is a cunt but I’ll talk to him, OR Help me load it in the car and then we have to do a drop at Thurrock services for about midnight. Jimmy Baxby is a partner now and we are supplying him
When he had got into debt with Mikey Devlin he had honestly believed he was just having a run of bad luck and that soon it would be over. Instead he got himself in deeper and deeper. The worst thing was, before Mikey, he had rung up loan companies and mortgaged the house and business to the hilt as well. He was a desperate man and desperate men were exactly what Mikey was always looking for. Especially desperate men with a scrapyard and no previous convictions.
69
At first it had seemed like the answer to all Alan’s prayers. He was out of debt in no time and the money was rolling in. Then the flight set in. One night the Old Bill arrived and he had literally shat himself with fright at the thought of getting his collar well and truly felt. It turned out they were looking for two youngsters who had broken into a warehouse nearby, but it had been enough to take the gleam off what he was doing. It was Alan’s wake-up call and he knew that he had needed it badly.
Now he was still making a mint but wanted out before he was locked up somewhere and the judge threw away the key.
But it just wasn’t that easy telling Mikey he didn’t want to do it any more. Mikey had once facially scalped a bloke he’d thought was going to grass him up. When their little disagreement was finally resolved and the man was deemed innocent, Mikey had apologised profusely and given him a rather large drink. About ten grand. But did that make up for the fact he looked like a reject from the space shuttle crash? Not as far as Alan was concerned.
So he was in a quandary. He knew he was on borrowed time;
deep inside he knew a capture was on the cards. If scams went on too long it was inevitable. Most people got a lump through sheer greed. They kept up a scam even though it was getting shaky and more and more people were getting involved. The more people in the game, the greater the likelihood of a grass being among them. It was common sense really. Someone gets banged up for one offence and talks their head off to get out of doing bird. Consequently, whoever they were ducking and diving with gets the full bifta of the law while they get a quick eighteen months. Old Bill have a field day and everyone’s happy. Except that Alan knew that if it ever went off over the scrapyard he would be the one getting twenty-five years, not eighteen months.
It was his yard, his premises and his money that was supposedly backing this lot. Mikey was out of the frame through pure and unadulterated fear. No one would dare finger him. Any grassing was going to bring the knock straight to Alan’s front door.
As if these thoughts had conjured him up, Mikey’s car pulled up in the yard. Alan saw the headlights and walked out of the shed to greet him.
‘You locked that bleeding dog up?’
Carlos the Rottweiler was a bone of contention between them. The dog hated Mikey who normally fancied himself a dog lover. Normally the wilder ones loved him but Carlos would rip anyone
70
apart, it was in his nature. So Mikey had drawn a blank where he was concerned and now he hated the animal.
‘He’s in me office, having his tea.’
Mikey walked into the yard. He wasn’t a big man but he was heavy. His bald head and big gut made him look fatherly, until he opened his mouth. Then he was a loud and obnoxious individual with a wicked temper. He was chauvinist and racist with the tattoos to prove it.
In his hand-made suit he looked what he was, a diamond geezer, and proud of it.
‘Has it arrived?’
He walked back into the shed with Alan as he spoke.
‘They put fucking “Hospital Supplies” on the package. Is he fucking stupid or what?’
Mikey grinned.
‘He is a cunt but I’ll talk to him, OR Help me load it in the car and then we have to do a drop at Thurrock services for about midnight. Jimmy Baxby is a partner now and we are supplying him
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