The Drop by Howard Linskey Page A

and his bloke and the scene repeated itself. It was a carbon copy of the fight outside, with the addition of Kathy, our poor cash-desk girl, ducking under the counter and, though we didn’t have the benefit of volume, more than likely screaming her head off in the process. Our lads were well surprised but at first they held firm. Fat lot of good it did them. Their only reward was a serious pummelling. When they finally fell to the ground, the shaven heads waded in with their boots, and as soon as all four lads were out cold, the shaven heads turned on their toes and marched off. The whole thing took less than two minutes. It was amazing. If it had not been our lads on the receiving end I’d have probably been seriously impressed.
    ‘Fuck me,’ said Finney, ‘where did those twats come from?’
    ‘No idea,’ said Vince, ‘it happened just like you saw. They came in, they decked all four of our lads and gave them a proper kicking, then they left, didn’t take a thing, didn’t say a word, just did what they came here to do and went. Our boys are all in hospital. I sent Kathy with them. That’s why there’s no one on the door.
    ‘I’ll make a call,’ I told him, ‘get you someone down here. I doubt they’ll come back again tonight but in case they do… ’
    ‘What good will it do?’ He asked me. ‘I’m not being funny but you saw that… ’
    ‘We’ll make sure the next lot have baseball bats,’ said Finney.
    ‘Fuck that,’ I told him, ‘I want them armed. Those guys weren’t just a bunch of arm-chancers or local lads with a grudge. Someone was sending us a message.’
    ‘Yeah, probably best to be tooled up after this,’ Finney conceded.
    ‘Have you ever seen Benny Evans take a beating like that?’ I asked him.
    He shook his head, ‘I’ve never even seen him take a beating.’ He banged his fist down on the desk, ‘I don’t care how hard they are, I’ll fucking murder them. All of them, personally,’
    ‘Give me that tape,’ I ordered.
    ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Vince
    ‘Show it to Bobby.’
    ‘He’ll have someone’s eyes for this,’ said Finney.
    I took the tape up to Bobby’s house. It was a big mansion style building in Gosforth. The posh-end as he liked to call it. He’d come a long way since he was a youngster. The house lay behind two massive wrought iron gates.
    Bobby poured us both a drink, ‘you can come through, Sarah’s at her mate’s house.’ Sarah Mahoney was the one person who could wrap Bobby round her little finger. She was twenty years old, had gone off to college a year early and was now graduated, back home and living with the old man again. Her graduation picture held pride of place on his mantelpiece. She was still beautiful, even in that ridiculous get-up they make you wear when you pick up your certificate. I think Bobby was delighted she was home and he was in no hurry to move her out. His missus had been dead nearly ten years now and he’d shown no interest in replacing her. He had women when he wanted them of course, but nothing permanent. Like every dad I’ve ever met, he thought his girl was the most special thing on the planet. Bobby would have done anything for his daughter, anything.
    He watched the tape silently then asked me, ‘what the fuck does this mean?’
    ‘I think someone is testing us, sending us a message. They are trying to say they can take over whenever they like.’
    ‘That’s bullshit.’
    ‘I know but I think that’s what they are telling us.’
    He thought about this for a moment, ‘Who has got the balls to come after us like that?’
    ‘What about Anderson? There was that row in Ibiza.’
    ‘Nah, he wasn’t too happy about it but he’s got too much on his plate for this. His accountant’s not as slippery as ours. Now he’s got ARA all over him ‘cos he can’t explain how he’s got the house, the cars and all the bling with no visible means of support.’
    ARA was the Assets Recovery Agency, tasked