Last Out From Roaring Water Bay (17 page)

Spotty-face climbed in last and made to slam the van doors shut. I managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the moon lit country house that had held me prisoner; it was a rundown place. I heard the passenger door slam and then the engine was started. We set off at a roaring pace and wherever our mystery destination was, it seems it was important to get there in a frigging hurry.

Within the confines of the blacked-out van the American bitch and the two other idiots were sitting there in comfort while I rolled about the floor like a steel ball in a pinball machine. We were approximately ten minutes into the trip when an array of armoury came magically from nowhere and a sequence of metallic clicking began. The way they handled their weapons in the dark strongly suggested that this wasn’t their first venture. Military precision requires time and a meticulous training schedule. This sudden response of loaded weaponry clearly indicated they weren’t intended for me, a simple silenced handgun would have concluded that matter. We were heading for a battle.

I guessed we had been travelling for about thirty minutes before we came to a stop. The driver opened his door and got out. I heard the rattle of chain against steel followed by the clunk of something heavy hitting the ground. The sound I heard next indicated that a huge hinged gate was opening. The driver, who I presumed was the second big guy, got back into the van and the vehicle moved slowly along an uneven trail. Within three minutes we had stopped again and the engine was switched off.

The American bitch (yes I was still angry with her) got out of the van pointing her large automatic hand gun at an imaginary figure in front of her; a little over cautious I thought. The big guy dragged me out with him, the cold steel of his machine-pistol rubbing against my face. If I wanted to make a run for it I didn’t stand a chance. He’d have cut me to ribbons. Besides, my legs were still weak. I could hardly stand up straight let alone scarper. I was in lousy shape and did I know it. I ached from head to foot. The dart wounds were aggravatingly sore, and all I wanted to do was to stand there until the strength came back into my legs. No such luck; the sight of the handgun being waved in my face prompted me to ignore my hurt and I reluctantly headed towards a familiar building.

We were back at Mcklusky’s warehouse, approaching the building from the rear. The big Irishman frogmarched me all the way, the coward using me as a shield from any surprise attacks. Neither did I appreciate him using my shoulder as a rest for his machine pistol. He pushed me up the same flight of steel stairs where I’d been clobbered earlier. At the top I was encouraged to move a little faster along a short gantry with a shove in the back until we had reached a closed door. There was no ceremonious knock on the door to let those inside know we’d arrived. Pugilist features lifted his size twelve boot and effortlessly kicked the door open, smashing the mortise lock in the process. Before I knew what was happening, our entourage had burst through the doorway and we took the group that was inside by surprise.

We were all standing in a large office threatening three startled men sitting round a large oak desk smoking cigars and drinking Irish whiskey. Or at least the others were doing the threatening because I was then pushed to one side leaving Spotty-face to dig his machine pistol into my ribs.

The man sitting behind the desk, with thick, bushy grey hair and a fat beer gut rose sharply to his feet, knocking his chair back with the momentum. I considered him to be an extremely brave idiot to attempt such dramatic movements with three sets of guns cocked and ready to fire at him. He obviously knew them because they didn’t riddle him with bullets.

“Damn fools! Put those guns away!” Beer gut ranted.

“Sit down, you fat fuck,” Big nose ordered, raising his machine pistol to Beer gut’s head.

Beer gut picked up his chair and sat down, but he was still defiant when he continued his protest. “Are you all mad?” he said, searching the faces of each gunman.

We can’t be seen here together. It’s too dangerous. You’ll get us all killed.”

Big-nose extended his gun arm. “You’ll be dead in two seconds if you don’t shut your fat mouth, McClusky. Where’s my merchandise?”

“It’s-it’s- in a safe place.” McClusky murmured his assurance.

I assumed this unscheduled get together had a lot to do with gunrunning.

Big-nose was at him again. “You were paid in advance. You failed to complete the transaction. You fucked us!”

McClusky had the shamed look of a guilty man. He was sweating under the pressure, and he was a practiced pleader. “Listen! I had to change plans at the last minute.”

“You didn’t tell me, you fat fuck!”

“Listen-I tried. Honestly I tried.”

“It made my men vulnerable to capture. My men were sitting ducks; two hours they spent waiting for the delivery at the arranged rendezvous; two fucking hours, McClusky. And in all that time you couldn’t be bothered to even inform us of a change of plan. You put my men in peril. Your inconsiderate actions could have got my men killed! It’s almost as if you were trying to set us up, you fat fuck!”

“No, no! It was nothing like that. I was ready to make the delivery. But all my plans went wrong. Something of more importance was sprung on me at the last minute.”

“So you don’t consider your customers important?”

“No-I mean yes, of course you’re important, but the timing was wrong.”

“You’re damn fucking right the timing was wrong. You didn’t deliver!”

“You’ll have your merchandise. I promise.”

“When will I have my merchandise?”

It was a simple enough question and one McClusky struggled to answer. “When-ah-well-”

“I want the stuff, now!” Big nose interrupted.

It wasn’t difficult to see that McClusky didn’t have Big nose’s merchandise. The look on his face said it all. “What, right now?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Listen,” McClusky was playing the sniffling weasel again. “It would be awkward moving the merchandise at the present time.”

Big nose hated negativity. I should know. He was maddening every time McClusky concocted an excuse. “It’ll be fucking more awkward for you if I stick a bomb up you fat arse. Where’s my equipment?”

McClusky lowered his stare as if he were embarrassed with the entire situation. “It’s not here. But it’s in a secured place.”

“Well it should be fucking here! Not unless, you conniving sewer rat, you’ve spent the money on personal preferences.”

“I have all your requirements that you highlighted on your list, but not here at the warehouse. I’m scared of moving it at the moment. There’s been a major disruption in outside operations that I have no control over and that has forced me to cancel my personal business transactions.”

“You’re full of shit, McClusky. I should never have trusted a greasy Irishman like you to do a deal.”

“I’ll honour our agreement, but I need more time to sort things out.”

“Who scares you more than I, McClusky?”

“He’s someone who can wipe me out in an instant with a click of his fingers.”

“And I can’t?” Who is this scaremonger you fear more than me?”

“He goes by the name of ‘The Housekeeper’.”

“Where do I find this
Housekeeper
?”

I was absorbing all this information for future reference. So McClusky has a boss. But who’s to say this Housekeeper is only part of the chain and not the man at the top? Nevertheless, he interested me. It suggests a person who cleans up all the mess; disregards the rubbish; probably kills people in the process or hires villains such as Love and Hate to do the dirty work. Yes. I could probably learn a great deal from this ‘Housekeeper’, only McClusky wasn’t for telling where to find him.”

McClusky shrugged. “I don’t know where. He contacts me.”

“How does he make contact?”

“He sends his errand boys.”

“How often do they show up?”

“It depends.”

“Be more specific, McClusky?”

“He contacts me when he wants important material transporting to certain ports.”

Big-nose was thoughtful. He lowered his gun from McClusky’s head to McClusky’s stomach, and said with satisfaction. “I want a meeting with this
Housekeeper
.”

McClusky combined suspicion with a worried look. “What the hell for?”

Big nose smiled sinisterly. I’d seen the same smile twice before during my captivity and interrogation. “Perhaps he can give me my merchandise instead.”

I quickly worked out that McClusky’s worried look probably stemmed from the fact that he had been fiddling the inventory accounts and had also double-crossed this Housekeeper character by pilfering the Housekeepers armaments behind his back. I smiled inside. How naughty of you McClusky. I think Big nose also latched onto the way I was thinking.

“Make the arrangement for a meeting,” Big nose insisted.

McClusky found a lame excuse to avoid any confrontation. “He’d kill me if I were to bring outsiders who hadn’t been scrutinized or vetted.”

“I’ll fucking kill you if don’t make the arrangement.” Big nose threatened. “Then maybe you’re just scared that he’ll discover your secret arms dealing; the fact that you’re selling the same equipment you stole from your employer behind his unsuspecting back.”

McClusky clasped his hands together into a prose of pray. “There’s no need to go to those extremes. I assure you that your merchandise is safe. We can still do the deal together. I just need more time.”

“Your problems are not my problems. You had the money up front, as we agreed. Since you failed to deliver the weapons on time, I shall have to take my business elsewhere, either to the mystery ‘Housekeeper’ or whoever gives me a better deal than you have.”

McClusky went white. His eyes widened and he clutched his chest where his heart was. “You…want the money back instead of the weapons?”

Big-nose arched his eyebrows. “There’s a problem with my request?”

“I’ve invested the money in another project.”

“That’s tough, McClusky. I want my money now. And I don’t take cheques.”

“I-er-I don’t keep that much cash here on the premises.”

Big-nose yelled at McClusky. “That’s fucking bullshit!”

“It’s the truth!”

“You’re a crook, McClusky, and crooks always have plenty of money stashed away for a rainy day. And it’s pissing down outside.”

Spotty face actually turned to look to see if it was raining outside. The fool! I should have taken the opportunity to clobber him and make a run for the exit door while his head was turned, but the intrigue of what I was hearing held me back.

McClusky was pleading once more. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

I suspected Big-nose wasn’t going to fall for anymore of McClusky’s drivel.

“Tomorrow’s too late.”

“I’ll get it as soon as the bank opens.”

“You’re a double crossing piece of Irish shit. Shall we try again? I want to see two hundred thousand Euros on the table, now!”

Big-nose levelled his machine pistol to McClusky’s head.

McClusky put the palms of his hands up in front of him and gulp hard. “Okay! Okay! Calm down. The safe is downstairs, in the warehouse.”

Big-nose waved his gun in the direction of the office door. “Get moving McClusky, along with your merry men. No tricks or I’ll decorate the wall with different patterns of your brain.”

Spotty face shoved me forward and I followed the troupe down a flight of stairs into the main warehouse. Nervous eyes watched each other. McClusky led the way, as he angled across the grain dusted warehouse floor. He stopped beside a broken fridge/freezer unit and from inside the freezer compartment he produced a bulk of money wrapped in a plastic bag. I noticed his hand was shaking as he gave the wad to Big-nose. I guessed by the size of the money package the amount was going to be considerably short.

Big-nose snatched the money from McClusky’s grasp and then rammed his gun into McClusky’s grovelling face. Spittle flew from Big-nose as he talked. “You don’t value your fucking life do you? Where’s the rest of the money?”

“I-I said I don’t keep that kind of money on the premises. There’s twenty grand, that’s all. I’ll get the rest tomorrow. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Big-nose was ready to explode but somehow managed to keep control of his temper. He tossed the wad over to Spotty-face. It was then McClusky looked suspiciously at me, if only to use me as a distraction from his imminent death.

“Who’s the rag merchant you’ve got there?” He asked carefully. “He isn’t one of my men.”

My minder shoved me to the front so McClusky could get a better view of me.

Big-nose said, “Ah-yes. He wants to rob your place; steal a bag of corn or two.”

McClusky frowned with uncertainty, not sure if Big nose was taking the piss or not.

Big nose was quick to put things in their true perspective. “Actually, he’s a vigilante. He wants to know why you had his friends killed.”

McClusky looked hard at me. “I’ve never seen him before.”

That was it! I’d had enough. I made an attempt to move towards McClusky but a huge arm from pugilist features blocked my path. I still had plenty to say despite not being able to land a punch on McClusky’s chubby face.

“You’re going to know me, McClusky! I have you down for ordering your murdering heavies to kill an old farmer and a photographer, you frigging bastard!”

I could see McClusky was confused. “What’s this vagabond talking about?”

Big-nose laughed. “It seems everybody knows what you’re like, hey McClusky?”

McClusky’s face slowly turned to shock as he worked it out what I meant. His eyes widened. “You’re the metal detector man?”

“Bravo, McClusky,” Big-nose scoffed.

“How come you have him?”

Big-nose beamed with confidence. “He belongs to us, McClusky.”

McClusky flustered. “I want him! He can get me out of a jam.”

I was surprised to witness McCluskly’s rediscovered courage despite the threat of his head being splattered with bullets.

“You’re in no position to demand anything,” Big-nose snarled. “What’s so special about him?”

“‘The Housekeeper’ wants him.”

Big nose was amused. “What for, McClusky?”