Guns Of Brixton (41 page)

    He
took the cash back to his room and stashed it behind the wardrobe, a hiding
place that he'd always trusted in the old days, just keeping ten thousand back.
Then he phoned Tubbs on the number he'd been given.

    Tubbs
was still with Eddie and they were still in the pub - or another pub for all he
knew - judging by the noise in the background. 'Are you pissed, Tubbs?' asked
Mark.

    'Just
a bit. It's the thought of all those island women.'

    'Forget
that for now. We need to meet. But I want you sober. Can you get away tomorrow
morning?'

    'Sure.
I've got a good kid as assistant manager. University graduate, would you
believe?'

    'I'd
believe anything right now. So, tomorrow.'

    'Sure,
I'll phone him later. If I could drop him a few quid…' 'Yeah, that's sorted.
I've got money here. But it's not for spending in boozers.'

    'I'll
be as sober as a judge.'

    'Sure.
I've had experience with judges and that doesn't fill me with confidence.'

    'You
know what I mean.'

    'And
try and keep Eddie on the straight.'

    'No
worries. He can stay at my place tonight. You want him there tomorrow?'

    'Course.
There's a boozer in Waterloo. Quiet. Round the back of the station. The Little
Red Engine. Know it?'

    'No.
But I'll find it.'

    'Be
there tomorrow at eleven. We'll talk then.'

    'No
problem Mark.'

    'Good.'

    'And
Mark…'

    'What?'

    'Thanks.
Thanks for giving us a chance.'

    'You
might not end up thanking me. This isn't a joy ride.'

    'We
know that.'

    'Eleven
then. The Little Red Engine. Look up the address in the phone book.'

    'We'll
be there.'

    Mark
nodded, although he knew no one could see and pressed the 'End' button on his
mobile.

    He
was at the pub dead on time and ordered a mineral water while he waited. Tubbs
and Eddie arrived about eleven-fifteen, complaining about the lack of parking
spaces. They both looked a little the worse for wear and again Mark wondered
about the wisdom of using them in his plan. But needs must, he thought as he
carried them over two bottles of overpriced water.

    Eddie
looked disgusted. 'I need a proper drink,' he moaned.

    'Drink
it or leave it,' said Mark. 'But I need you on top.'

    Eddie
sipped at the drink and pulled a face but kept quiet.

    'What
about wheels?' asked Tubbs.

    'I've
spoken to Dev. Remember him?'

    Both men
nodded.

    'He's
still in the game and thinks he knows where he can lay hands on some fancy BMW.
You know the sort. Red, with black windows, lowered and flared.'

    'Sweet,'
said Tubbs. 'I've always fancied one of those.'

    'Typical,'
said Eddie, grinning like a monkey.

    Tubbs
grabbed him in a neck lock. 'Don't disrespect me, mon,' he said in a heavy West
Indian accent. 'Me chop your balls off and wear them for earrings.'

    'Leave
it out, you two,' said Mark. 'This is serious.'

    'Sorry,
baaas,' said Tubbs and even Mark had to smile. He took an envelope of money out
of his pocket and slid it across the table.

    'There's
five G's in there,' he said. 'Four for you and one for him.' He pushed Eddie on
the shoulder. 'Exes, right? Not just for booze, Eddie.'

    Eddie
pulled a 'what, me?' face and Mark smiled again. If he had to trust anyone he
supposed that these two were as good as any, for all their faults. 'I'll know
about the motor later. Keep in touch. Tubbs, you'd better take some proper time
off. I don't want you frying chicken when you're supposed to be a player.'

    'I've
got some holiday due,' said Tubbs.

    'Use
it. You've both got my number. Use that too. But don't say anything on air that
anyone could use.'

    'We'll
be OK,' said Tubbs.

    'Yeah,
I know,' said Mark. 'And get some clothes more fitting to your new occupation,
Tubbs.' He looked at his nylon jacket embossed with a cartoon chicken looking
aghast at the sight of a flaming barbecue, teamed with a pair of baggy jeans.
'I don't think that's the look of the day for a man looking for a big score of
coke.'

    Tubbs
looked down at himself too and nodded his head in agreement. 'You could be
right. Fancy a trip to Camden, Eddie?' 'Sure.'

    'And
when you've done that, why don't you both go home and get some sleep,' said
Mark. 'You look like you need it.'

    For
once they did as he said. Obviously the sight of so much cash had made the pair
of them realise who was boss. Or maybe they were both tired.

    Later
that afternoon, Mark tried Linda on the off chance. 'Can you talk?' he asked
when she answered the phone.

    'Yeah.
The kids are upstairs in the playroom with Greta. I'm doing some housework,
would you believe?'

    'Not
really.'

    'Well,
I am.'

    'It's
good to hear you got domesticated.'

    'After
you've had two children, it's hard not to. For me anyway.'

    'So
you're doing a bit of dusting.'

    'Something
like that.'

    'Got
your apron on?'

    'Not
the kind of apron you'd like, part of a French maid's outfit.'

    'Shame.
Can I see you?'

    'What?
In a French maid's outfit?'

    'That
would be good, but seriously, can we meet?'

    'Suppose
so.'

    'Don't
sound so keen.'

    'Mark.
We've been through this. I want to see you, but I don't trust you an inch.'

    'I
suppose I deserve that.'

    'You
do.'

    'How
can I prove to you how sorry I am?'

    'Just
stick around. Be a nice bloke. Pay me compliments and tell me I look great even
when I don't. Just be a man. Not a shadow of one.'

    Mark
was silent for a moment. 'So I suppose a blow job is out of the question?'

    Linda
laughed out loud. 'You're a dirty boy, Mark, but you're getting me excited.'

    'So
let's meet.'

    'Not
tonight. It's Greta's night off. I'm being a real mum. We've got the new Disney
DVD and I'm ordering in pizza as a treat.' 'You really are domesticated, aren't
you?' said Mark. 'That's me.' 'Tomorrow then?' 'Yes. I think I can manage
that.' 'Where?'

    'Come
to the flat again. I'll even cook for you.' 'I don't believe it. You've never cooked
for me in your life.' 'Maybe that's where we went wrong. Maybe I should've.'
'We never had the chance. Not with one thing and another.' 'And that's the
really sad part.'

    'Don't
get morbid,' he said, clutching his phone tightly. 'With all the things that
have happened to me, it's hard not to.' 'I'll cheer you up.'

    'That's
what I was hoping you'd do.' 'What time? Tomorrow, I mean.'

    'About
seven. I'll go round early and get the place sorted. Greta can look after Luke
and Daisy. I'll tell her…well, whatever I decide to tell her.' 'I'll be there.'
'Fine. See you then.' 'You will.' 'Goodbye.' 'Bye, love.' And she hung up.

    The
next morning Mark went to check the car that Dev had found. It was perfect. A
bright red BMW 5 Series with plenty of chrome. The body had been lowered, and
the wheel arches were flared over wide wheels with low profile tyres. Inside
was a multichange CD player with a huge amplifier and a dozen speakers. The
seats were black leather and a little fir tree air freshener hung from the
rearview mirror. 'What do you reckon?' asked Dev.

    'Good,'
said Mark, walking round the car before inspecting the interior. 'All it needs
is a coke spoon in the glovebox for it to be perfect.'

    "Where's
it going?' asked Dev.

    'Keep
it here for now,' said Mark. 'I'll have Tubbs pick it up later. Do you remember
him?'

    'Sure.
The black fellah.'

    'That's
the boy.'

    'I
hope he dresses the part,' said Dev.

    'Me too.
I sent him off shopping yesterday with a pile of Uncle John's money.'

    Mark
called Tubbs right away and told him to get over to south London pronto.

    'No
problemo,' said Tubbs. 'What about Eddie?'

    'Leave
him. I just need you right now.' And remembering what Dev had said added: 'And
wear something in character. You kick off today.'

    'Got
just the thing.'

    The
thing was a long leather overcoat over a black tracksuit with a thick gold
chain around his neck. 'How do I look?' asked Tubbs an hour or so later, once
he'd appeared at the Half Moon pub, just around the corner from Dev's garage.

    'Like
you're auditioning for a part in the Wesley Snipes story,' replied Mark.

    'Is
that good?'

    'At
least you left your leather hat at home.'

    'It's
in my car.'

    'I
think it'd better stay there for now, don't you?'

    Tubbs
shrugged. 'I love that hat. Cost you a lot.'

    'Where
is it?' asked Mark, ignoring Hibbs's last comment.

    'On
the back seat.'

    'The
car I mean, fool.'

    "Tubbs
grinned, showing a lot of white teeth. 'By the station, on a meter.'

    'Right.
Let's get it and dump it at Dev's. From now on, you're a bad boy from the
frozen north of Highgate looking for a new source of snow.

    I'll
show you where these people hang out, then you're on your own. Last chance to
change your mind, Tubbsy boy.'

    'No,
man,' said Tubbs. 'You're going to change my life.'

    'One
way or another,' said Mark, too quietly for his friend to hear.

    They
collected Tubbs's ancient smoker of a car and drove to the garage. Dev looked
at Tubbs in his new clothes and pulled a face at Mark, who shook his head in
reply. This wasn't the time for Tubbs to feel self- conscious. Not that it
looked like he would be. He strode over to the BMW as if it had been made for
him, which well it might have been, so perfectly did his new clothes fit the
ostentatious motor. He shrugged his mighty shoulders in the huge coat and slid
behind the wheel, turned on the ignition and altered the electric driver's seat
to accommodate his bulk. 'Nice, man,' he said to Dev. 'Mark, my friend, pass me
some CDs will you? They're in the glove compartment of mine.'

    Mark
went back to the Vauxhall and collected a handful of discs and took them to
Tubbs who fitted them into the player in the boot before returning to his seat
and fiddling with the controls on the dash. After a second, the sound of Snoop
Doggy Dogg burst from the speakers and Tubbs danced on the seat. 'Cool,' he
yelled above the din.

    Mark
leant in and turned down the volume. 'Bit ancient, isn't it?' he said.

    'Good
old school rap,' said Tubbs defensively. 'Kill the bitch, kill the bitch,' he
sang.

    'Christ,'
said Dev. 'What's he all about?'

    'Don't
worry,' said Mark. 'Just store that banger of his well out of sight and we'll
be off.'

    'Now
you take care of that car,' said Dev. 'It's not paid for.'

    'You
amaze me,' said Mark as he got into the passenger seat next to Tubbs. 'I never
would've believed it.'

    Tubbs
switched on the engine, listened to the grumble from the twin exhausts, stuck
it into first gear and shot off the forecourt into the traffic with a screech
of tyre rubber. The last Mark saw of Dev was through the side mirror: he had a
look on his face that said he thought he'd never see them or the car again.