working class mix of James Bond and Robin Hood. Scott just hoped the euphoria wasn’t causing Twinkle any oversights that they might both end up paying for.
‘Everything in place for today then Twink?’
‘All taken care of: paperwork, transport, route,’ Twinkle said, smiling as he ticked off each point on his fingers then patted his shirt pocket causing a rustle. Scott noted the strong smell of beer on Twinkle’s breath and wondered if it was only his second pint or if he’d been in since opening.
‘Let’s take a walk and you can tell me all about it then,’ Scott said, eager to get them out of the bar and into fresh air. Twinkle looked reluctant but grudgingly gulped down the rest of his drink and stood up, slightly uneasily Scott thought, but hoped it was just his imagination.
They walked past a fast-food place and Scott ran back to get them both some lunch. He hadn’t been hungry himself but thought getting some food into Twinkle would help to sober him up. Walking to the nearby park, they both ate in silence. It was a cold morning and the schools had yet to break up for the Christmas holidays, so other than the odd dog walker it was fairly deserted. The hot greasy burger tasted good to Scott despite his initial lack of enthusiasm and Twinkle was putting away a fair amount himself, which helped ease Scott’s concern. Coming to an empty bench in a secluded area dense with yew trees and rhododendron bushes, Twinkle threw the carton and paper containing the remaining fries into a bush and sat down.
Twinkle took a cigarette from his pack and lit it, pulled his jacket tightly around his gaunt frame and took a deep inhale. Taking another quick look around, Twinkle slid a hand inside his jacket and removed the papers from his shirt pocket that the rustle had hinted at back in the bar. He handed them to Scott and exhaled the smoke.
Scott looked them over. There was a customs form, already filled in with what he supposed the relevant reference numbers, and the name and an address for the firm they were to collect the shipment for. On a separate sheet was a printed street map with a route marked away from the docks, onto a highway and then off again a few miles north to what looked like a collection of farm outbuildings.
‘What about the van?’ Scott asked after looking over the papers for a third time.
‘Supermarket car park,’ Twinkle said, turning his wrist to look at his watch. ‘It’ll be dropped off there in about an hour; I’ve been shown where to look. Once you’ve got the escape route memorised, you’ve to burn that sheet.’
‘Escape route? You make it sound like we’ll be fleeing with a dozen squad cars chasing us,’ Scott said, shaking his head. Watching Twinkle carefully, Scott held his lighter below the customs forms, as if about to burn them by mistake instead of the evidence of their intended destination. Twinkle made no move to stop him. Scott knew then that Twinkle’s mind wasn’t remotely focused on the job and that he could only count on himself. If it came down to it he’d just have to leave Twinkle behind.
‘You know what I mean though Scott,’ Twinkle said with a grin as Scott set fire to the correct sheet of paper. ‘Back to the pub for a few pints while we wait then?’
Having managed to keep Twinkle away from any licensed premises during the next hour, they arrived at the car park. Being so close to Christmas the place was overrun with avid shoppers looking to stock up for the holidays. The arrangement had been to park the van in as far away a spot from the supermarket as possible, to ensure there would be a free bay. Twinkle led the way through the rows of parked cars to a dirty four year old white Transit van in a remote corner of the lot. A company logo was emblazoned on the side reading: ‘D. Mearns Electrical and Engineering Ltd.’, matching the name on the customs forms that were now in Scott’s pocket.
‘What do you think then?’ Twinkle asked as they
‘Everything in place for today then Twink?’
‘All taken care of: paperwork, transport, route,’ Twinkle said, smiling as he ticked off each point on his fingers then patted his shirt pocket causing a rustle. Scott noted the strong smell of beer on Twinkle’s breath and wondered if it was only his second pint or if he’d been in since opening.
‘Let’s take a walk and you can tell me all about it then,’ Scott said, eager to get them out of the bar and into fresh air. Twinkle looked reluctant but grudgingly gulped down the rest of his drink and stood up, slightly uneasily Scott thought, but hoped it was just his imagination.
They walked past a fast-food place and Scott ran back to get them both some lunch. He hadn’t been hungry himself but thought getting some food into Twinkle would help to sober him up. Walking to the nearby park, they both ate in silence. It was a cold morning and the schools had yet to break up for the Christmas holidays, so other than the odd dog walker it was fairly deserted. The hot greasy burger tasted good to Scott despite his initial lack of enthusiasm and Twinkle was putting away a fair amount himself, which helped ease Scott’s concern. Coming to an empty bench in a secluded area dense with yew trees and rhododendron bushes, Twinkle threw the carton and paper containing the remaining fries into a bush and sat down.
Twinkle took a cigarette from his pack and lit it, pulled his jacket tightly around his gaunt frame and took a deep inhale. Taking another quick look around, Twinkle slid a hand inside his jacket and removed the papers from his shirt pocket that the rustle had hinted at back in the bar. He handed them to Scott and exhaled the smoke.
Scott looked them over. There was a customs form, already filled in with what he supposed the relevant reference numbers, and the name and an address for the firm they were to collect the shipment for. On a separate sheet was a printed street map with a route marked away from the docks, onto a highway and then off again a few miles north to what looked like a collection of farm outbuildings.
‘What about the van?’ Scott asked after looking over the papers for a third time.
‘Supermarket car park,’ Twinkle said, turning his wrist to look at his watch. ‘It’ll be dropped off there in about an hour; I’ve been shown where to look. Once you’ve got the escape route memorised, you’ve to burn that sheet.’
‘Escape route? You make it sound like we’ll be fleeing with a dozen squad cars chasing us,’ Scott said, shaking his head. Watching Twinkle carefully, Scott held his lighter below the customs forms, as if about to burn them by mistake instead of the evidence of their intended destination. Twinkle made no move to stop him. Scott knew then that Twinkle’s mind wasn’t remotely focused on the job and that he could only count on himself. If it came down to it he’d just have to leave Twinkle behind.
‘You know what I mean though Scott,’ Twinkle said with a grin as Scott set fire to the correct sheet of paper. ‘Back to the pub for a few pints while we wait then?’
Having managed to keep Twinkle away from any licensed premises during the next hour, they arrived at the car park. Being so close to Christmas the place was overrun with avid shoppers looking to stock up for the holidays. The arrangement had been to park the van in as far away a spot from the supermarket as possible, to ensure there would be a free bay. Twinkle led the way through the rows of parked cars to a dirty four year old white Transit van in a remote corner of the lot. A company logo was emblazoned on the side reading: ‘D. Mearns Electrical and Engineering Ltd.’, matching the name on the customs forms that were now in Scott’s pocket.
‘What do you think then?’ Twinkle asked as they
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