Heavy Duty People

6 THE PLAN

Dazza had asked me over to The Brethren's pub down by the docks to see him. When I arrived I found him as usual through in his booth in the quiet lounge bar at the back, while his praetorian guard were stood or sat around the pool table in the public bar out front.

Dazza was talking as I walked through into his inner sanctum. He was in a good mood.

'Yeah, just heard the stuff got through safely. I love it when a plan comes together. We'll need to mix it up of course, different types of packet, different addresses, different post offices or just post boxes would be best I guess. Around here and out of area.'

'OK.'

'So that's the next one to go,' Dazza said gesturing to another parcel on the table.

'Where to this time?' Billy asked.

'Wales boyo, not that it's any concern of yours, and Billy,' he added as Billy reached for it, 'Wear some fucking gloves for Chrissakes would ya? D'ya want your dabs all over it, you twat?'

Billy looked sheepish at the rebuke.

'Here,' said Dazza indicating the empty counter as he stood up, 'Nick one of the bar towels for now.'

'So Damage, welcome to my office again!' he smiled, extending his hand in greeting, 'Long time since you've been in here, eh?'

'Yeah,' I nodded, looking around the otherwise empty room, 'Not changed much I see,' I said, noticing the same sewn up ripped seats and even grubbier stained swirly patterned carpet that I had last seen that day five years or so ago after Gyppo's death. We'd run with and partied with The Brethren many times since but having been out of the business I'd not been back in here since. He met me half way across the room and we bear hugged a greeting. It's not a fag thing, it's just we're brothers. And if you're really paranoid like we got later it also gives you a bit of a chance to feel if the other guy's wearing a wire.

We stepped across to the bar where Billy leant over and began rummaging behind the pumps as Dazza continued to issue instructions, 'Take a drive. Make sure you can't be traced.'

The landlord appeared and handed over a couple of bottles and a dry towel before vanishing again back to the public side. Not that with a room full of patched Brethren playing pool all day, there was a lot of what you might call the general public frequenting the bar on any casual basis.

'I'll hire a car.'

'Make sure it's clean.'

'I'll get a girlfriend to organise it. No sweat.'

Billy always had a string of girlfriends on the go.

'OK,' said Dazza turning to me once Billy had disappeared out of the door with a Guinness towel wrapped package under his arm, 'That's got him organised at least. Now all we need is more stuff to move.'

We? More? I wondered.

Beers in hand Dazza waved me back over to his booth where we slid onto the benches and relaxed.

'OK,' I asked, having taken a swig, 'So what's up? I take it this was a business call?'

Dazza leant back in his seat across the table from me where he could face the door and see anyone who might come in while we were talking, draping his free arm across the back of the bench while his right hand gripped his bottle of beer on the table.

'What?' he exclaimed in mock disbelief, 'You mean to say that you don't think I'd just ask you over for a drink and a bit of fun? I'm truly, truly hurt.'

I laughed at his wounded expression and took another pull on my bottle. He cracked me up sometimes.

'Come on Dazza, pull the other one! It's me here not some fucking newbie. Don't forget I know you, mate!'