Bobby’s clubs. Well, we don’t want any of that whiz kid stuff around here. Cartwright’s gone missing? Tough, that’s your responsibility, you find him. The Drop’s gone? Tough, it’s your fault so it’s your arse on the line and when Bobby finally realises you’re all mouth and no action, no one will be laughing harder than me. You’re a plastic gangster and you’re going to get what you deserve boy. Your big words and your bullshit won’t help you. You’re shitting it aren’t you? Well you should be, you cocky little fucker. You’re gonna learn what it means to be a face in this city. It’s not just about wearing a sharp suit and getting the best table in the restaurant. I’ll bet Finney here can’t wait to get to work on you. Isn’t that right Finney?’
It would have been better for me if Finney had said something at this point, anything really – though I was actually hoping he would tell Jerry Lemon to shut his big mouth – but it didn’t happen. His silence told me everything I needed to know about the accuracy of Jerry’s little prediction. Everyone was waiting for Bobby’s cocky young protege to come crashing down.
‘Thanks Jerry,’ I told him quietly, ‘you’ve been a big help,’ and I walked towards the exit, all the while wondering if he was going to break his cue over my head. Finney ambled after me. It must have looked like I was being followed by the Grim Reaper.
When I reached the door I turned back. Jerry Lemon was still watching me intently, every eye in the room was on me. I gave him what I hoped looked like a faintly amused, half smile. ‘I’m glad you like my suit Jerry.’
EIGHT
Eventually Finney left me on my own. So I went for a couple of drinks in Akenside Traders, right at the bottom of the hill on the Quayside. Miller was sitting at a table when I walked in. It could have been a coincidence but he knew I called in there for a pint sometimes, mainly because the place had nothing to do with us, so I wondered if he was hoping to bump into me. Maybe he had something else to tell me?
I walked over to the long bar, bought myself a pint and got him his usual diet coke before joining him. The place was pretty busy and it was a young crowd but we had a quiet table in the corner, ‘don’t know how you can be in a pub and not drink,’ I told him.
‘You get used to it,’ he said calmly, ‘I like the craic in pubs but I got to the stage where I didn’t like what the booze was doing to me. It made me into an angry person, so I stopped.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that,’ he confirmed. I admired him for that because he would have had to put up with a huge amount of shit from the lads for drinking pop in a pub but he had stuck to his guns, ‘been four years now.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ I said, sipping my bitter, ‘what brings you to town?’ I nodded at a group of twenty-something lasses on a night out, ‘looking for more gullible girls to photo in the buff?’
‘I pop in often enough. Got to make a couple of collections for Bobby later,’ Miller picked up protection money and loan repayments where real muscle wasn’t required, amongst other things. He was a veteran of the firm, who did the low-risk stuff for Bobby but it gave him a decent enough income, ‘I thought I might see you down here.’
Before I could ask him what was on his mind we were interrupted by a silver-haired old lady who’d come into the pub dressed in her Sally Army hat. She was selling ‘War Cry’ so I dropped a quid in her collecting tin but turned down a copy of the magazine.
‘How can you believe in religion or a god if you take just one minute out of your day to think about the universe?’ Miller asked me as he watched her doing the rounds.
‘Most people don’t take a moment to think about the universe mate,’ I told him, ‘most people are unthinking morons. They need to believe in a god because if they didn’t their whole meaningless existence would come crashing down around them. It would make them realise how bloody pointless they are. Not you though eh?’ I asked him, ‘you were always the philosopher in Bobby’s crew, the thinker. You were the only one I ever caught buying the
‘One doesn’t
‘Does one?’
‘Yes, one does,’ he said, ‘and if one does, one will have read their fascinating piece on the stars recently. Not the Hollywood variety. Apparently there are one hundred billion stars like the sun in our galaxy that are likely to have at least one planet capable of supporting life. And there are one hundred billion galaxies in the universe, so that means there are… ’
‘A fuck of a lot?’
‘A fuck of a lot, thank you, of planets that could have life on them but we won’t get to see any of it because the nearest star from ours is hundreds of thousands of years from here at the speeds we are currently capable of. Now, when you consider the vast scale of our galaxy and the ludicrously huge size of the whole universe, you’d have to be completely puddled to believe there’s a god up there somewhere who gives a tinker’s toss about you and yours on planet earth,’ he raised his glass of coke and clinked it against my pint, ‘life is a load of random shite and all of us are just spinning helplessly round the sun. When you can confront that fact head on and still keep your sanity, well, then you are a man my son.’
‘I knew you were a fucking hippy,’ I said, ‘and it may be random shite to you but I have to put some sense into it all and quickly. I’ve got to find Cartwright and I have a funny feeling that, alive or dead, he is still on this planet.’
‘That ought to narrow it down then, eh?’ he said cheerfully.
We had a couple more drinks, him sticking with his coke and me sipping more of the local bitter. People carried on getting bladdered around us.
Sitting with Miller reminded me of my early days working for Bobby. He was a veteran back then but he’d been alright when others had treated me with suspicion if not downright hostility, ‘You know, you’re one of the few from the old crowd who doesn’t treat me like a leper,’ I told him.
‘Well, they don’t always get it, that lot. I don’t think they understand what you do for Bobby, but I can see it David,’ and he thought for a moment. ‘They probably can too, they just don’t want to admit it.’
‘Maybe, but whatever the reason I’ve always found it easier to deal with you, which is why I didn’t bring Finney with me when I came out to see you earlier.’
‘Finney?’ he looked a bit alarmed, with good reason, ‘why would you bring him?’
‘I don’t think you’re telling me everything Mark.’
‘How do you mean like?’
‘About Cartwright,’ I said, ‘everyone I speak to says he’s not the sort of man to get mixed up with anything that’s likely to piss Bobby off but we know he lied about the Drop. He said he was going to take Maggot with him but he didn’t. Now that’s strange behaviour for a man like Cartwright; a quiet, unassuming bloke who seems happy enough with his missus and his football, and a few pints at the weekend, so what the hell happened? You knew him as well as anyone. So what are you not telling me?’ he hesitated then, his eyes moving from me to the floor and back again, ‘you’d be better off telling me Mark, you know I’ll find out sooner or later and I’d rather hear it from you. You’re protecting him aren’t you? What is it?’
He let out a deep sigh, ‘there was something but if I tell you, you have to go easy on him.’
‘No promises and no ifs. You’re going to tell me or I’ll phone Finney and he’ll ask you.’
‘There’s no need for that but please, I’m asking you, can you see what you can do for Geordie if it does go tits up like?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I told him, knowing that my influence wouldn’t count for much if he’d screwed Bobby.
‘Gambling,’ he said simply.
‘Gambling?’ I was stunned, ‘Geordie Cartwright? Are you sure?’
He nodded reluctantly, ‘been doing it for years man, low key at first. I mean he was losing but all gamblers lose don’t they, whether it’s football, horses, casinos, the house always wins.’
