Heavy Duty People: The Brethren MC Trilogy book 1 (32 page)

‘
You watch too many films you do mate,’ Popeye said as he and his guys reached for the next bag.

Swiftly another three bags followed the first over the side leaving just one lying on the deck. But this one was different. This one was still moving.

I gave it a kick right about where I thought its kidneys would be, just to get its attention, and then squatted down on deck beside it as Popeye and his lads stood next to me.

‘
Spud,’ I asked, ‘Spud, can you hear me?’

There was a groan from within the bag which I decided to take as a yes.

‘Spud, are you into ancient history?

‘
I am,’ I continued without waiting for an answer, knowing that while he could hear me from within the bag where he lay trussed, with the gag of gaffa tape all he could make were muffled grunts and screams, ‘I’m really into the ancient Romans. I was going to do history at Uni. Did you know that? No I guess you didn’t.’

The guys picked up the mummified
Spud by his shoulders and feet.

‘
They were great. Really hard core at times when it came to dealing with people and very big on duty and loyalty. D’you know they had this penalty for patricide? That’s strictly not just someone killing their father but also someone who betrays their country or kills someone they should regard as sacred. Do you get that it’s sort of an extension of the father thing, so killing someone you ought to owe a duty of loyalty to is sort of the ultimate betrayal. So d’you know what they did with patricides?’

The bag was bucking frantically now in the guys
’ hands as they began their swing and Spud writhed and struggled against his bonds.

‘
One.’

‘
They had them bound in a sack with a cock and a snake to symbolise their treachery and ingratitude, and then they were thrown into the Tiber to drown.’

‘
Two.’

‘
So what d’you think of that, eh Spud?’

‘
Three.’

The lads reached the end of their last swing and with my nod they let go and the blue bag with the bound
Spud suddenly went rigid as it arced over the side of the boat with what sounded like a terrified scream before landing in the water with a great splash, while simultaneously further astern Popeye heaved the attached weights over the side, the short linking anchor chain rattling as it rolled over the gunnels. The bag floated on the surface for a moment, thrashing about before the plunging weights jerked it momentarily upright and then pulled it down into the depths in a rush of bubbles.

No one spoke.

It was really ironic, I was imposing a punishment for betrayal on Spud for having taken out someone I’d gladly have done myself. Partly it was because I hated the wanker, but mainly it was to send a message, I wanted the word to get around how betrayal would be dealt with. I wanted to be feared.

We stayed out most of the day. Had to make it look like a real fishing trip after all.

Gut chopped all the vehicles over at the Boneyard. They’d never be seen again.

So we
’d done what I’d sold to Gut and Popeye. A reverse takeover, us taking The Brethren’s charter rather than the other way round.

Now we had to make it work. We had to get back in business and quickly.

That evening I sent a message to Luis confirming safe receipt of the gear. I also asked him to begin to organise his next shipment. Later I would let Luis know that I was in charge of the operation but for now all he needed to know was that the route was working and we would be looking to take more as soon as it could be organised. After all Luis wouldn’t really care who his customer was so long as they paid and were reliable. Business was business.

I had Gut p
ost Wibble’s bricks on as well as if nothing had happened. But in with each one went a note.

I told them to keep
this address clear from now on so I could use it to contact them and that we would work out any other changes needed later. To confirm that we were still in business they were to pay fifteen pounds and eleven pence into the bank account, and if they wanted to talk, pay in stuff in a couple of lots to show me the digits of a phone number.

Fifteen pounds eleven pence came into the account banked as cash the following week.

They deducted it from their next payment, which was only fair I suppose.

*

‘Now what?’ asked Gut.

‘
Now we wait.’

‘
For what?’

‘
A call.’

‘
You think they’re gonna just call after this?

‘
No. I know they’re gonna call.’

PART 5

24 September 1994
onwards

T
o take over a club you need skill and ability; or just plain luck; or you have to use force, either your own guys, or someone else’s.

Damage 2008

1
2              THE RECKONING

I heard the roar of the approaching bikes from way down the valley long before I saw them. And then I watched as the three Harleys appeared from between the trees and headed up the road that curled its way along beside the
rocky bed of the river, before heading straight up the hill and leaving the shelter of the valley below for the bleak exposure of the moorland where I stood waiting.

At the top of the hill, where the road crested the rise in a dip between
the gently sloping higher ground on either side, opposite a small stone cross that marked the summit of the pass, there was a wide patch of bare earth that formed a car park for walkers in the summer. My bike was parked up against the low stone wall separating this from the rough ground beyond. Gut’s was beside it and he stood resting against the wall, behind me and a little way off to my right. In my hand I had a military walkie talkie that had come out of Dazza’s supplies.

‘
Why’re you trusting Wibble?’ Gut asked as we waited, ‘he was Dazza’s guy after all and you had him jumped and smacked up? Dont’cha think he’ll bear a grudge?’

‘
Nah Gut,’ I said without looking round, ‘Wibble’s OK, he’ll come round, you’ll see.’ I wasn’t going to tell Gut this but Wibble was probably the one guy I reckoned I could count on trusting the most. You can’t trust your friends who think you owe them, as much as your former enemies, who know you don’t, and who know they have to work harder for you to make up for it.

The three riders rumbled
up the final rise and crested the top of the hill, rolling onto the uneven surface and coming to a halt opposite us.

The one in front was short and wiry. The two behind were obviously along as
his bodyguards. They were hulking, large, and I would guess, armed to the teeth.

It hadn
’t taken long for the call to come. And as we were going to have to do it sometime, I thought sooner rather than later.

I
stood and waited as they kicked out their side stands and settled their bikes at rest as they killed the engines.

Polly
pulled the lid off his short silver hair and perched it on the end of his bars.

Then, taking off his gloves, he
dismounted and stepped towards me with his hand outstretched. His guys remained behind. Having slowly scanned the horizon and our surroundings, they slouched back against the seats of their bikes, watching us warily, jackets unzipped and thick arms folded across their chests.

Shoulder holsters
, I assumed.

Well there was no point in fucking about I
’d decided.

‘
Hi, I’ve got something for you,’ I said cheerfully.

‘
Oh really? What’s that then?’

I
picked up an object draped across the dry stone wall and handed Dazza’s cut off to Polly.

He took it and held it up at arms
’ length to inspect the bloody mess.

‘
And there’s more where that came from,’ I added.

‘
What, cuts or blood?’

‘
Both.’

‘
Unhuh,’ he seemed to consider his options for a moment, ‘Well colours are always club property so we’d better collect those in hadn’t we?’

He let his arm holding the
cut off fall to his side. I knew without him saying anything he had seen that the ‘President’ title was missing from the front of Dazza’s colours and he had clocked that it was now sewn onto my chest of my colours.

‘
Well,’ he said after a moment, ‘Just out of interest, what’s to stop us taking you out right now over this?’

I shrugged
and lifted my hand with the walkie talkie, ‘That my guys on the hills with the rifles will take you out as well?’

He seemed to consider this and looked slowly to either side
. It was a waste of time. Although I thought I knew where Popeye lay hiding, even I didn’t have a hope of seeing him. I had considered that he might think I was bluffing, but I didn’t think so. He would know that I wouldn’t be so stupid as to come to a meet like this without back-up.

‘
OK, fair enough,’ he grinned, ‘So I guess the question is, do we have a problem?’

‘
I don’t know. Do we have a problem?’

‘
Not necessarily, I guess. Not if we don’t want to.’

I considered this.
‘Don’t suppose we do really.’

‘
Well that’s good news,’ he seemed quite cheerful.

‘
But before we go much further it seems to me that you’re missing something,’ he continued reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife.

There was a t
ense urgent crackling question from the walkie talkie.

Polly
caught the sound. Behind him, feeling the change in atmosphere his guys suddenly stiffened upright, hands reaching under their jackets. As if sensing this even though his back was to them, Polly held up his hand and there was a moment of stillness. For a moment it seemed as though everyone was holding their breath. His guys froze, hands not moving further under their jackets, but not moving them away either.

I lifted the walkie talkie to my mouth and pressed the send switch
‘It’s OK,’ I ordered into it, ‘it’s all under control.’

Polly
and I exchanged looks. I nodded to him and he flicked the blade open. ‘It’s OK guys,’ he said over his shoulder, without actually turning round and with an exhale I saw their hands slide back out from under their jackets as they settled back carefully against their bikes.

Lifting up
Dazza’s cut off, with a few strokes Polly had hacked The Bonesman patch from where it had been sewn on and held it out to me.

‘
It seems to me that you are entitled to one of these now.’

I took the proffered badge and holding it between my thumb and forefinger looked at it for what seemed an age. Thinking I guess about how
Dazza had earned it in the first place.

‘
Yeah, I guess so,’ I said eventually, letting my arm fall to my side and gazing back impassively at Polly.

‘
What’s up?’ he asked.

‘
Just a bit surprised I guess.’

‘
Surprised, what about?’

‘
Just the attitude. I think I’d assumed you’d have more of an issue with the situation than you seem to have.’

Polly clicked his knife shut again and slipped it back into his pocket. He held
Dazza’s cut off out behind him and one of his guards stepped forward to take it from him without a word, before retreating back to his bike. Polly shrugged as though the answer were obvious, which of course it was really.

‘
Well it is what it is, ain’t it? You guys are the new reality aren’t you? It’s just survival of the fittest and all that. Why, what were you expecting me to do? Break down in tears for the dear departed?’

‘
No, I guess not.’

‘
Nah. You and me, we have business to discuss, and anyway, at least you didn’t put any holes in the colours,’ he grinned, ‘you’d get fined for that.’

‘
Look I know what you’re thinking,’ he continued conversationally, ‘about The Duckies and all?’

‘
It’s just it makes sense. Peace with The Rebels works. If you think about it, this way we make a cut on their sales, we each stay on our own patch, no bust ups to get the cops interested, and we all just quietly get on with making some serious dosh. It’s perfect, a great little scheme. The only potential problem was the ambition of the guy running it.’

‘
I’m not an ambitious guy,’ I said, ‘I have what I want here.’

‘
That’d be good for us, agreed Polly, ‘So now we have someone running what’s a sweet deal for everyone and we don’t have to worry about where you’re going to be trying to take it next. That works for me.