Tubes

By David Williams

David Wilson has grown up scared. Terrified they will come. They told him that, “One word and you will be brought back.” For six years he’s lived in a bubble, not telling a soul what happened at Hemsworth House. In that time he has learned to steal cars. He feels safe in them. A mistake is made when a car belonging to Vinnie Mossy, a top man in the underworld of Cheshire, is taken. A mistake somebody is going to pay for.

The Tubes are born; a weapon David has mastered over his years of loneliness. Feeling that others would make fun of them, David is frightened to use them in public and keeps them hidden up his sleeves. Soon they become his only hope when he’s forced to fight for his and his best friend’s life. And when used, they change everything.

Robert Mansil is a freak of nature. Only 18 years of age, six feet three tall and with a very large, powerful body, he is well known for terrorizing the town of Mossley where he lives.

A bond is created between the two and now he will follow David through the gates of hell.

Soon a reputation is begun. Others are fearful when confronting David and his Tubes. A small business begins for the boys when they actually take over a club. But they have left people with broken reputations in their wake. People who will do anything to get these reputations back.

David is full of vengeance because of his past that he can’t get away from. There is a need to get rid of the demons that come in the night, and the only way it can be done is to face them all and to get rid of the pain that lies deep inside of him.

The Tubes are a big part of David’s life, giving him strength and confidence whenever they are in his hands; but will the Tubes be enough when the time comes? Will the Tubes still give me the strength I am going to need when I come face to face with the demons?

Set in Manchester and its surrounding areas at a time in the mid 70s when the criminal world was on the move, Tubes is a violent and disturbing story about power and child abuse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Williams
• Release date: Mar 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463757741

David Williams

David Williams was a writer best known for his crime-novel series featuring the banker Mark Treasure and police inspector DI Parry. After serving as Naval Officer in the Second World War, Williams completed a History degree at St Johns College, Oxford before embarking on a career in advertising. He became a full-time fiction writer in 1978. Williams wrote twenty-three novels, seventeen of which were part of the Mark Treasure series of whodunnits which began with Unholy Writ (1976). His experience in both the Anglican Church and the advertising world informed and inspired his work throughout his career. Two of Williams' books were shortlisted for the Crime Writers' Association Gold Dagger Award, and in 1988 he was elected to the Detection Club.

Book preview

TUBES

TUBES

David Williams

Copyright © 2019 David Williams

Published by David Williams Publishing at Smashwords

First edition 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by the Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Bronwen Bickerton for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

Content

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

PROLOGUE

Darkness is all around him. Straining, David looks round. They are there, they are waiting. Terrified, scared out of his wits they will come again, David braces himself. A fight is coming. They are like ghosts in the night. He waits, knowing they will come at any moment. Nothing can be heard except silence, and it’s deafening. This is how it always starts. They rip him from his bed, bind his hands, forcing a vile-smelling sack over his head – and there is no stopping them. It’s just a matter of time. They will drag him across the floor and out into the cold, wet night. They will laugh and punch him, dragging him up the stone steps and on towards the house where the pain will really begin. A shriek, a squeal…it’s somewhere in the darkness. A glint of light then it’s gone, but it was there. Straining his eyes again he is disbelieving. Am I wrong? Am I? Sweating profusely, his back against the headboard, there he waits. Another scream, another shriek comes. David grips the bed as his eyes watch for anything moving. They will drag him down to the cellar where the animals wait. The hook and rope will be there. It will be pushed under his bonds, and then to the delight of the animals hungering for his screams he’ll be yanked into the air. The pain in his shoulders will be excruciating and it will make him cry out, gritting his teeth as he feels it and forcing him to bend forwards, head spinning, eyes searching, lips trembling, tears flowing. He is unable to control his pee; his fear has taken over. A sound is made. Is it a voice? If it was it was only a whisper. They are close, he knows it. Swallowing hard, his throat is dry. Trying to shuffle further up the bed there is nowhere to go. Kicking out in case they are close, the air has gone colder, his sweat is like ice. Heart is pounding. Blood is rushing. Fighting for breath, his back is touched. Is it my imagination? No, there it is again. Arching away from them, he kicks, punching the air. Suddenly there are too many hands grabbing at him, pulling at parts of him. The fight begins, kicking, shaking, the bed is bouncing. David is trying to scream but there is nothing coming out, they’ve taken his voice. Out of the black come faces, they come at him from all sides. Ugly distorted faces with large fangs and deep red eyes, snarling, leering and laughing. Hot drool drips from their mouths onto him like candle wax. There’s a smell of burning flesh as their drool hits him. There’s cheap perfume, smoke alcohol filling his nostrils, stinging pain as he is burnt with their glowing lights. Still he fights on as their fingers touch every part of him, crawling all over his skin, scraping it with their long claw-like nails, pulling at the flesh as the nails dig in. Their long, old bony fingers are searching for something at the top of his legs. He’s still trying to scream but can’t. His whole body tenses, rigid. David cringes as they squeeze parts of him. It’s big and hard, it’s being pushed into him. The deeper it goes it becomes hotter. The pain is excruciating, his mouth is screaming but there is still no sound. Riddled with panic and fear he’s no longer able to breathe. Something large is being forced down his throat, the stench is vile. Terrifying faces let out ear-piercing screams straight into his face, terrible voices that tell him, You are coming back and you will stay with us forever. Violently he shakes, desperate for air he’s drowning in the blackness. Suddenly there’s a scream. He breathes, deeply filling his lungs. Sitting up against the cold wall, pinning himself against it, it’s still black but the demons have gone. David’s nightmare is over for another night.

David sits against the wall burning up, and yet he is shaking as though he is cold. So weak, all his strength is gone. The tears flow, he’s sobbing so much he’s struggling to breathe properly. Minutes go by and his breathing starts to relax and cold starts to enter his body. Resting his head against the wall, looking into the darkness they have gone, and so have the pain and the smells. How do I stop them? When will it end, when will I become a normal person and live a normal life? Five years ago it had all happened, and yet when they come in the night he is back there. They say if he does anything wrong or tells anybody they will take him back and keep him there for good. David knows he can’t speak to anyone in case they ask him what happened at Hemsworth Home: Was he cured? No, if he doesn’t make eye contact nobody will speak and he will be safe for a short while.

His bedroom door opens and the light is flicked on. His sister Jenny looks at him and at what is left of the bed. Her heart goes out to him. Running over to him she wraps herself around him, crying, Are you alright? I heard something and I knew it had to be you.

David just says, Mmm.

What was it about David, can you tell me? David just gives her a shudder of his head, petrified to tell her. Nobody must ever know.

CHAPTER ONE

Slowly looking up from his desk, trying to take in what he had just heard, his look was questioning. Did I hear right? Then rage became evident in his eyes as they began to bulge, neck veins suddenly standing proud. His chair slammed against the wall as he took to his full height. Shouting began, and it bounced off the walls. Spittle sprayed over his desk and into the air as he gave a slight stutter. He had a sudden need to hit somebody, to cause pain, pain he or she wouldn’t forget. Knuckles white as they clenched tight in the form of a fist, he brought them down hard on his beautiful, oak, carved desk, forcing the pencils and pens to jump to the floor, making them clatter and dance before they eventually laid flat.

Furious he was, but it had nothing to do with the others in his office, although they were to get the brunt of it. Furious at himself, he exploded the moment Josh his doorman came back into the office attempting to give him an explanation as to why he did not have the package with him.

It wasn’t like Vinnie to get upset so quickly, usually he kept very calm and always kept a cool head, believing that losing your temper in business could lead to a bad decision. Keeping calm would always keep his options open, and right now he was finding it impossible to do that. Right now Vinnie was in a world of disbelief and shock, not wanting to believe he had done something so stupid, so idiotic and it was nobody’s fault but his own. This would probably cost them everything, everything they had built and worked for. Forget the time and the money already lost, or the money they were to lose in the future, it was their future, their existence. The package could have really made them or else it could definitely break them. There was no point in working it out. In his head it was huge, devastating; it would finish them. Still he did not really believe it; how can it be possible? His fist hit the desk again as he breathed in through his teeth, almost choking on his own spittle. His mind was now swimming in an avalanche of water that coursed so much confusion through him. How can I have been so stupid as to leave the package in the car? Yet the car would have been locked, he knew it had been. He had been carried away with the excitement of what it was going to do for them; he should have guarded it with his life. It was sitting in the glove compartment, and only an hour ago he had sat there looking at it in delight of the consequences it would have. It was perfect, a job well done. Smiling, the situation he was about to put a couple of well-to-do people in excited him, knowing full well that when asked, their first thought on the matter would be to say no because they would be more frightened of his competition. That competition being another very well-built organisation that ran the whole of Manchester and its surrounding areas and with the contents of the package it would help him to turn the tables on the so-called pompous bastard who ran it all. So pleased with himself, he thought this was going to put the finishing touches to his project, one he had been working on and setting up for over two years while first getting to know the two people in question. Inviting them to parties and other occasions that had come along, he had listened to all their chit chat, holding his hand out in friendship but secretly getting to know their inner selves and whatever turned them on. They had all got to know each other well; it was perfect, they had fallen into his trap without a clue.

Vinnie was quiet for a few seconds, now sitting deep in thought. What the hell am I going to do now? Thinking back over the past hour, he had driven the car to the back of the club and parked it in its usual position and only now had he suddenly remembered he’d not brought the package in with him, and now the car was gone. He exploded yet again. "Find it, fucking find that car! The group of guys who were standing in his office were to say the least a little shocked and flummoxed at his sudden outburst. Nobody had a clue on what had just happened or its consequences. Vinnie shouted again, Who the fuck? Then, sucking in more air so he could scream some more he continued, Who would have the fucking audacity to take my car? Who would have the nerve to go anywhere near it?"

It’s only a car Vinnie, said one of his brothers Barry, fuelling Vinnie’s rage.

Vinnie glared at him. "It’s only a bloody car, is it? It’s what’s in the fucking car that matters you stupid bastard!"

Vinnie was the youngest of three brothers but was certainly no lightweight within the businesses of his realm. Most of the undesirables who ran some kind of business within the area of Cheshire feared him and his brothers and, therefore, paid accordingly. Whatever business the brothers conducted, it all went through a small office situated in the smallest of their three night clubs.

Vinnie, as he was known to all was the brains of the outfit, his whole demeanour one of power and control, demanding respect wherever he went. Unlike his brothers who had plenty of brawn and were never afraid to use it, Vinnie did his fighting with his head, wheeling, dealing and manipulating. People became nervous when having to do business with him. A very shrewd character, it meant he was going to get whatever he wanted one way or the other, taking body parts, making sure he left just enough to sign some sort of agreement. Threats had often been used against friends or their families, anything to give Vinnie some kind of leverage. Vinnie showed no signs of a conscience or any remorse for what he did; to him this was just business.

Growing up this way from very young, all three of them had to fight for everything they had and they now had built a nice business that consisted of three night clubs, with a new one in the process of being built. That was the legal side of the business; the other enterprises were not.

Vinnie was a man with a reputation of somebody you did not want to cross. He was the shortest of the three brothers. Just less than six foot and a stockily-built guy, he was not short of a muscle or two. With a strong-looking square jaw and dark brown hair that was now showing signs of grey around the edges, he combed it straight back, leaving it to lie in waves. He had cold dark eyes that never flinched when looking into others, and a sense of streetwise and cunning were two of his attributes. A third was his business sense.

People often said he had no sense of humour, well at least in business. He kept himself on the ball at all times, making sure a good few officers from the local nicks were in his pockets and they would often give him the up when something was about to go down, keeping him and others who paid for the privilege in the clear.

The Golden Horse Shoe was the smallest of all three clubs and their very first. Legally it had been bought, but the owner had never been seen since the signing, and having the document to prove it was theirs was all he needed. It certainly didn’t do their reputation any harm. The club stood on the side of a busy main road that ran straight through Ashton U/Lyne. Although not exactly in the middle of town, it was close enough to be surrounded by all the local pubs. Located along the top floor of a line of shops, only a set of solid double wooden doors with the sign above them in the shape of a golden horseshoe stood on the main road. Its entrance was to be found between two shops. Once inside there was a small area consisting of a cloakroom, a place you paid your entrance fee, and a set of stairs; nothing too fancy or elaborate. To get into the club all you had to do was climb the stairs passing Vinnie’s office on the right at the top. Then into a large room passing the kitchen as you went, a kitchen that cooked chicken in the basket and such like, allowing them to stay open until two in the morning which was about the time they did most of their business. The large room was full of small, wooden tables with small but very comfy maroon leather chairs. Long, deep red curtains covered all the windows, everywhere dimly lit except for the bar. It looked a bit of a dive, but if you had already had a few drinks beforehand then it would easily pass for a club. Plenty of their girls were hanging around the bar at the far end of the room, with a small stage in a corner just big enough for the D.J. to do his bit. It was the ideal spot to carry on drinking after closing time when all the local pubs had shut their doors, and getting your leg over before going home to your wife was a dead cert.

It was from that very office that Vinnie ran all the other enterprises, from insurance to protection, and of course, the street girls. The brothers’ domain ran from Stockport to Oldham and down to the border of Manchester. A border you didn’t cross.

The Mossy brother’s had taken a very large gamble buying land on the outskirts of Manchester right on the edge of their border, then having a very large casino built on it. A casino that would be up and running in about another seven months if everything went to plan and there were no problems from building regulations, unions or the opposition. In Vinnie’s plan, there had been one thing left to do and picking up the package that evening had added the finishing touches. It would have been the last straw; it would get him the document he desperately needed to complete it all, and with that it would be all go.

His brother Barry, the pretty boy of the family, was full of good looks and charm, the tallest of the three and standing some six foot three. Built of solid muscle, he possessed a body that he was proud of, weighing in at approximately 18 stone and with not an ounce of fat on him. Blonde, going on silver, he kept it short in a crew-cut fashion. He had liquid blue eyes and a chiselled chin. Ladies adored his looks and the charm that oozed out of him every night as he put himself round their clubs. Barry loved them all back and did that as often as he could. It was a string of ladies who would drop all if he was to call, but what they didn’t know was that he had a very sadistic side to him, a side only the brothers knew about, and of course the unlucky people who had had to deal with him in the past. Fingers and other body parts, it was like a game to him. Afraid of nothing and no one, he walked with head held high and a grin that, depending on who it was for, would change from a warm pleased-to-see-you type of grin, usually for the ladies, to a very sadistic one, more like a smirk. He had eyes that flashed with excitement when it came to business. A stiff attitude and a physique that was always emphasised by the made-to-fit shirts he often wore always made people step to one side as he approached in the knowledge that he could instantly change his temperament. A bit of a schizophrenic, nobody ever wanted to cross him. When it came to business, mentally he always seemed a little on the slow side and Vinnie always did the guiding for him. A qualified butcher, trained from leaving school, he now owned his own shop. The cutting and chopping of bloody flesh was something he loved. There was no end of course to those who had lost limbs in accidents. It was well known round their patch where you would end up if you were to break one of their rules. He was married at a young age owing to the fact that his girlfriend had become pregnant, and at that age of 16 it was still thought that one must do the right thing, or so his parents had said. Now with one daughter, he tended to live a separate life from his family.

You don’t think it’s gone down to Manchester do you Vinnie?

Raising his hands in the air Vinnie answered, "How the hell would I know that Barry, but if it has and they have the package, then we have just given them a bloody big trump card and they must be laughing their heads off at us now, because they’ll know what we are trying to do and they will know we’re fucked."

Barry thought again. Why don’t we just get the cops? Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, We pay them enough.

Vinnie swung around in his large chair to face him. Don’t be so stupid Barry. If the wrong cop picked up that package we would have a lot of explaining to do. You don’t think for one minute that the law would turn it back over to us, do you? No, we have to find it ourselves.

Well, let’s get out there and put the word out on the street and make some calls, somebody somewhere knows something, said his brother Clifford.

Brilliant idea Cliff, Vinnie said sarcastically as he raised his eyebrows. It is about time somebody thought of something.

But what if they don’t? Barry asked.

There are only two possibilities, aren’t there Barry?

What are they Cliff? Vinnie asked as he began to lose what was left of his patience.

It will either have gone to Manchester, and if so why would they do that unless they knew for sure that you had left the package in the car and knew its contents? Cracks like that made Vinnie feel a whole lot better; his own brother now having a dig at him.

Vinnie then thought for a moment. So what would the other possibility be Cliff?

The joyrides Vinnie. It’s got to be some young kid who has taken it just for a spin.

What!? he snapped. Clifford gave a nod and with it he smiled. Clifford had a bit of a sick sense of humour when it came to things like this and could always see the funny side when Vinnie got himself all worked up. Yes I do, let’s face it, they wouldn’t know whose car it was, would they Vinnie?

Clifford the eldest had a shaved head because of his loss of hair on top, and with a flat nose from coming up through the ranks of boxing, he was strong as an ox with dark piercing eyes like Vinnie’s. The look of him sent your blood cold and chills down your spine. In his day a legend as a top street fighter, his reputation gave him great respect within the community. Shop owners loved it when he called in, often telling him there was no charge; it was for their own protection. Nobody would dare turn their shops over fear of Clifford showing up. His look had often made strangers cross the road, what with an earring in one ear, tattoos on both arms and hands, letters of love and hate across all his fingers, and a violent nature like his brothers when crossed. There had been plenty of breaking of arms and legs and the cracking of skulls when needed; certainly he was not afraid to use whatever came to hand. Clifford was what you would call perfect for the kind of business he was in. Wherever he went people gave him a wide berth, but unlike his brother Vinnie, when you got to know him he had a great sense of humour, liked a good joke and could easily find the funny side of things. Running his own reclamation yard where he would reclaim roof slates and bricks from demolition sites, it was a yard full of ex-cons who were quite loyal to him. Married with two kids and a great family life, that was the other side of him, a side he kept very private.

Vinnie thought for a moment. If Clifford was right it could still be in the car. There’s a good chance of getting it back. A feeling of relief washed over him; all they had to do was to find the car and the kid who had taken it and hope to God the kid hadn’t run off with the package. Vinnie stood up at his desk, drawing in deep breaths in the attempt to keep himself calm. Leaning across his desk, looking at his two senior men, he said in a raised voice, Nipper, you and Jacko get word out on the streets and find it. Ring everybody, all the yards that have anything to do with cars, even Rochdale. Offer a reward, say 250 for any information that leads to finding it. See if anybody on the streets knows of any joyrides. In a definite tone he added, "But fucking find it no matter what and find me the kid who took it."

CHAPTER TWO

Is everybody present? Looking around the table in his boardroom, there were his two sons, Stanley and Philip, his right hand man Justin McKenzie, his accountant Martin Cheatham and three of his managers, Eddy Walton from Salford, Renaldo Sizemore of Cheetham Hill, Richard Samuaels of Moss Side, and Sue his personal secretary.

Right Stanley, give me some good news. Smiling and rubbing his hands together he added, Is everything coming together? Have you had any success with the other clubs?

Stanley, the oldest son of Ted McCain, ran the accounting, contracting and loan side of the business, anything to do with figures and he was only answerable to his father. Stanley looked the part; a typical businessman, tall with a Mediterranean look about him with his olive skin and dark hair, which he kept short with a good back and sides, well greased back with a parting on the right side. Steel spectacles sat on a thin-featured face and he was very fond of his pin-striped suits. He had spent his younger years going to all the right schools eventually finishing among the top of his class in business school, and now he was holding a very nice degree.

Everything is going well sir. I have another meeting at the Golden Garter in Wythenshaw tomorrow. Up until now they have all liked the contract we have put forward and the amount of money we have offered them.

The board Stanley, what did it have to say when you saw it yesterday?

Stanley thought for a moment, remembering how all the board members of the licencing board had looked at him when he had put the question to them. It had been something they really didn’t want to do, but what choice did they have? His face changed from the stern look he always wore to a smirk. I think because they know who they are dealing with sir that everybody seems happy to go along and nothing should be a problem.

But what about the delaying of the Mossy brothers’ applications? That is critical. Can it be done?

Again Stanley smirked. I explained how important it was to us and how we would appreciate what they had done for us and there was a mention of six-month delay, so I think you can safely say it will be taken care of sir.

Good, it should just about cripple them. When the news comes out there will be no licences for their clubs because I think they have sunk a lot of their cash into the new place and they will be heavily counting on good news and it will have cost us nothing; no effort and no money and no disruption. Their club will turn out to be a complete white elephant for them, and I don’t think they will be able to afford the loss. Laughing heartily, he added, It will look good in our portfolio. Moving on, what is happening to the new club Philip?

Philip was his younger son. He had not completed business school yet, but liked to keep his hand in, wanting his father to know he could cope and that he wasn’t afraid of anything. A little more aggressive than his older brother and without a great deal of patience, he was certainly a little more forward. All the time wanting to prove that he was going to be an asset to the family business, Philip had a hankering to do more. The shorter of the two brothers, he had the look of a typical student, with brown mousy hair down to his shoulders, a long tash giving him the look of a Mexican bandit, and he always had an eye for the ladies.

Rick seems to be doing a good job Father. The place is coming on well and is certainly taking shape.

Has he had any visitors yet? Ted asked.

No, but he is expecting them at any time. The building has a look of being finished and is ready for opening.

Well as long as they think he is bank rolling the place himself there shouldn’t be any problems. He must just remember to keep his mouth shut; it could really jeopardise things if he doesn’t.

I did warn him about that sir, but he says there is nothing to worry about. Ted had to smile; he knew his son was young and a little naïve when it came to dealing with these sorts of people, but he could see he was doing his best and it made him feel proud. Ted knew what the consequences could be if it became common knowledge that he had crossed the border and built a new club only five minutes down the road from the Broadway, a club owned by the Mossy brothers. Ted knew full well that doing what he had done could start a war, a war he didn’t want. There was far too much at stake now, and as far as he was concerned it would come along just fine if everybody played their part.

CHAPTER THREE

Time was moving on and tensions were high. It was mid afternoon on the following day, almost three, when Vinnie Mossy’s phone rang.

Josh spoke, Vinnie, its Steve Walker from Walkers scrap.

Good, put him through Josh. Yes Steve, have you got something?

Well, you said you were looking for a joyrider. Well I think I might have just found you one.

It was about 6.30 in the evening as David stood looking at himself in the full-length mirror. Disappointed with his own body, at the age of just 18 he felt he had the body of a 12 year old. Turning to the side he could see some of the marks down his back. His mind ran wild for a moment as he felt the pain from the belt that was used. At only five foot eight and weighing about eight stone wet through, meaning if he had been in a bath fully clothed, he still wouldn’t weigh any more than eight stone, it was no wonder his mother made fun of him and told neighbours a good gust of wind would blow him over one day. Flopping down onto his bed he thought, am I never going to put any weight on? If only he had been built like Robert. Robert was big, strong and full of muscle. People who knew him called him a freak of nature because he had grown so big, but to David he was built like a Greek God. David stuck his chest out trying to imitate Robert. Nobody will laugh at me then, he scoffed. Yet as it was he felt everybody laughed at him when he was out. A load of brown hair that matched his eyes somehow managed to make him look even younger than he was. Now dressed, putting the final touches to himself, straightening his tie, running the comb through his hair one last time, he was ready to go out. Picking up the two bunches of keys made him smile; they were another world to him, one that took him far away from the one he lived in every day. His other world was full of excitement and daring. It was freedom; no problems, no demons in his head, nobody to answer to. It just allowed him to escape the tragedy and troubles of his past. It had been an easy day, Monday always was. It was day release and he spent every Monday at Hyde technical collage learning his trade to be a boilermaker. Starting at nine, finishing at four, it was a bit like being back at school but with one big difference. Nobody flogged or bullied him there, and he didn’t end up in embarrassing situations. Liking it and yet disliking it, being in a room full of boys had always made him nervous and very anxious, with them being rowdy or pushing him about even in fun. It would shake him up badly but doing the studying was really easy for him. For a long time he hadn’t realised it; he had just accepted the fact he could always remember everything. Robert had often told him he must have a photographic memory and when David thought about it he was probably right, making him feel pretty good. David had found another gift that he had at work. They all told him he had to be some kind of mathematician. The Platers would get together and try to beat him at his maths, and it was as clear as day they couldn’t because as fast as they got the answer out, David had already said it. Everybody would laugh at those who tried and ask how he did it. His answer was he didn’t know, it just happened, he could just see the maths in front of him.

David was due to meet Robert outside the Cheshire Cheese pub at 7.10. All being well, Robert’s bus would get in on time, giving him a five-minute walk up Hyde Lane to the pub. David would meet him outside, never dreaming of going in without him; all those people would make him very anxious. Yet the moment Robert turned up and went in with him, it would be like a calming sensation that came over him, allowing him to breathe normally. So come hail, come snow, David would wait outside until Robert turned up, whatever time that was.

The rain had stopped but David felt it better to still put his parka on. Not only so that he could keep dry, but also so he could hide, pulling the hood over his head and not making eye contact with anybody who came close to him. The walk was going to take 10 minutes exactly; it had been timed right down to the last second. David didn’t like surprises or to take chances. Everything he did was timed to perfection, except when it came to taking cars, and even that had to be done in such a way that every moment had to be precise.

Everywhere was wet, which made it look like the tarmac had been freshly painted in black; it felt cold and a little damp. It was funny how it always gave him the feeling of freedom. Taking a deep breath and filling his lungs, expanding his chest until it hurt, it felt good and it made him cough a little as he let the air out. The air was fresh, cold and yet damp. Turning the corner onto Hyde Lane, it was easy to see all the way down the long road, right to where the Cheshire Cheese was, and there was no sign of Robert outside. It made him swallow, his mouth going dry as he slowly walked on. Looking at his watch Robert should have been there by now, or at least coming in the other direction. David started to become a little anxious, but it wasn’t unusual for Robert to be a little late and he knew it, it was just for the fact that he hated it. David had always had a thing about being on time, even getting there a little early if possible, but there was no such thing built into Robert. Robert didn’t give a damn, only ever pleasing himself.

The closer David got, the more anxious he became. Seeing others entering the pub he knew he would have to stand outside as they passed him. It made him shiver slightly as though it was cold, and stop a few times pretending to look into shop windows at whatever they had on sale, when really all he would be doing was wasting time and watching for Robert. Reaching the doors and leaning against the wall, head hung low, a quick look at his watch showed Robert he was over 15 minutes late. The temperature was rising under his coat as his nerves were on edge. Has Robert forgotten? Has something happened? What?

At 6.30 the same evening two large men wearing brown, beaten leather jackets, worn jeans and looking more like over-grown gorillas walked into the Cheshire Cheese. Neither had bothered to shave for a while, hair straggled and earrings in both ears, and one obviously supporting an old broken nose. Inside it was a clean looking establishment, with its modern-day furniture and new fittings having only been refurbished some nine months previously.

Can I help you gentlemen? said a rather nervous John as he weighed the two guys up and down quickly, realising he would not want to argue with either of them. John was a tall thin sort of a guy, but very pleasant; the locals loved him, probably because he allowed them to get away with murder. With a humorous nature he had been the landlord for the past four years.

We are looking for a young lad who goes by the name of Wilson, David Wilson, said the guy with the broken nose. It was obvious that it caused him a little difficulty when talking, giving him a sound as though he was full of a cold, but John definitely had second thoughts about laughing about it. The figure stopped speaking for a moment while he took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke, allowing it to drift across the bar, giving John a half smile. You know of him?

Just looking at them had already sent the hairs on the back of John’s neck to a standing position. He swallowed. This felt like trouble, and he didn’t want to get too involved in it. He was a little bit surprised that David had managed to get himself into any kind of trouble; he was so bloody quiet.

He does come in from time to time, he said, his eyes moving from one to the other, half expecting to be dragged over the bar because they didn’t believe him, but I haven’t seen him lately.

Get us two pints of your bitter and give us the nod if he comes in, right?

John was a man who lived on the edge of his nerves most of the time. When trouble did raise its head he would often leave it to his wife Cath to throw it out. She was a very large lady who stood for no messing and right now he was in the bar on his own, so the last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of whatever was about to happen to David.

Watching from the shadows of the car was Mark, a devil of a guy known for weaving his way in and out of places and getting information which others had found impossible. At the moment he was putting all his concentration on the young lad who was now standing outside the pub and leaning against the wall, only a few feet away from the doors. Through use of his intuition and a feeling in the pit of his stomach, this told him the lad leaning against the pub wall could be the very one he was looking for. Mark had not been given a lot of information to go on, but what he did have he was using. Short in height, lightly built, this lad had a very nervous disposition and that was obvious the way he kept his head down and did not want to speak to anybody who passed. The information had come from another young lad, one who had gone to the same school as David. The young lad had witnessed a car chase over a week ago, close to the canal and to a large wooded area. It had eventually eluded the police in that wooded area and the driver of the stolen car had been none other than David. The young man who had witnessed it all had turned out to be Walker’s son.

Mark had quickly put it all together, which he was very good at, and had decided to go and confirm it. This was typical of the kind of work Mark took on; finding people mainly because they owed money and then having the job of explaining to them in no uncertain terms that it was wrong not to pay it back, usually leaving them suffering in some way and with the definite agreement that it would be paid. If not then and there then he just might give them 24 hours, making sure they understood what the consequences would be if it wasn’t there. Mark had built himself a good reputation that others such as Vinnie had come to rely on. It was said that he was so good he could probably find the verbal needle in