licence, but he has a car. Cost him four hundred quid. Little blue Peugeot. Peterkinney should get along with it, because they’re not far off being the same age. Mostly held together by bloody-mindedness, but it’s faster than walking, just about. And he’ll get that licence when he has time. No, really, he will. Next thing is a flat of his own. Gathering savings to pay for the essentials he’ll need for that. Then a driving licence. It’s all planned, and the plans are getting bigger.
He’s been a busy boy, these last couple of months. Used to have no job at all. Now he has two. And people say the economy’s circling the drain. Marty keeps him busy. That’s dirty work. Doing shitty collection jobs. Doing them well, but not enjoying it. Gets reasonable money, but smarty Marty’s always trying to screw you. Always trying to persuade you to take anything other than money. Take some girls. Take some drugs. Take anything other than the money you earned. Marty understands the value of cash, understands that nothing matters more. That’s why he hangs on to every damn penny. Peterkinney understands the value of paper money too. Always insists on cash. That’s why he and Marty don’t always get along.
Bowles is different. He has a different sort of business, a different way of handling it. Give your people the money they earn, keep your head down and your mouth shut. His is a business of silence. In many ways, he’s the anti-Marty. Doesn’t make him a good person, mind you. Don’t make that mistake. Does make him dependable. Right now, dependable is attractive. Every job is well paid. Usually about a hundred and fifty quid for a couple of hours of easy work. The money reflects the risk, and buys silence.
Pulling up along the street from the house. Taking precautions, because that’s what common sense tells him to do. Look around, play it careful. Not a lot of people know what Bowles does. He’s smart and careful. But some people know. That makes working for him a risk. The police could find out. They follow you on a job, pick you up after you’ve collected the gun. Automatic jail term. Years inside. You don’t want your name connected with him.
Through the side gate and round to the back garden. Glancing across at the little wooden shed, wondering if there’s a gun in there. That’s where they’re returned, when people are finished with them and don’t want to keep them. See, most people, most professionals, only want a gun for a short time. Then, after using it the one time they want it, they’re stuck with something incriminating. Why chuck it in the river and lose all your investment? It still has value, just not to the person who’s used it. Take it back to Bowles, dropped inside the loose panel on the side of the shed. A few days later, you’ll get some of your money back. Not all of it. Bowles still has to make a living. No charity in this industry, you’ll find. But it becomes a rental fee, rather than a purchase. If you don’t return the gun, Bowles keeps all the money.
Knocking on the back door and waiting. You do not go into his house without permission. You do not go into his shed at all. You do not ever deal with the people he sells to. You do not recommend him to anyone. You do not mention that you’ve ever even heard of the man. Keeping your gob shut is the key to being a good employee. He finds his own clients, develops relationships with them over time. Any verbal element to a job belongs solely to Bowles.
Door’s opening. Bowles looking back at him, nodding for him to come in. This is all familiar. First time Bowles called Peterkinney to come and do a job for him, Peterkinney thought it was going to happen there and then. That’s how it works with Marty. Marty calls you up. Tells you what he wants done. You go and do it straight away. Not Bowles. Bowles always gives him at least a day’s warning, sometimes more. Different business, different set of rules. No set of rules is right
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