A Real Job (8 page)

Seeing a full pint next to his father’ drink, David sat down and said, ‘They did the usual of looking at every bloody stall, but once I got what I needed, I got off and left them to it. I’ll get us another round in before the game starts. Do you want another bitter with an Irish chaser?’

‘Thanks son.’

The Wheatsheaf was the first pub David drank in and the familiar faces from his childhood still frequented it. Being with his own kind, he felt safe. It was one of the few places he could relax. Stood at the bar waiting to be served, the regulars greeted David. Standing next to him was Peter’s boyhood friend, Mick Callaghan. Slapping David on the back, he said, ‘Alright Davey. It’s been a long time. How’s things?’

‘Alright Mick, when did you get out?’

‘Two months ago. Because of my good behaviour, I only did two of the five years I got.’

‘You make me laugh. You’re better behaved in nick than out of it.’

‘It’s hard to make a legit living around here. Are you on your own?’

‘No, I’m with me Dad. Do you want a drink?’

‘No it’s alright, I’m in a round and it’s my shout. So how’s life in the plod, still catching those big time criminals in Manchester?’

‘Well you know what it’s like, it keeps me busy.’

Mick laughed, ‘That’s why we don’t mind you being a bizzie in Manchester, because you’ll leave us lot alone.’

‘I take it you’re not going to start earning an honest living then?’

‘Now I didn’t say that, I might open a business or two if I get the right backers. You know, get a club or a couple of tanning salons, that sort of thing.’

David started laughing and said, ‘To launder your ill gotten gains?’ The barman asked David what he wanted to drink. Giving his order he added, ‘. . . and a double Irish for this reprobate here, I’ve not had the chance to celebrate his homecoming!’

‘Cheers Davey. I’ll send some drinks over to you and your old man later.’

‘There’s no need. I’m just pleased to see you out again. Our Peter will be here later, so perhaps we can catch up then?’

Mick smiled at the thought of meeting his childhood friend and said, ‘That’ll be great. Mary was saying he’s a QC now. Fucking hell, you three have done well. You never need to worry, when you and Peter aren’t here, we all look out for your old man and Mary.’

‘Thanks Mick.’ David paid for the drinks and passed Mick his. Raising his glass, he said, ‘Cheers Mickey, long life and Everton for the League next season.’

Mick raised his glass and said, ‘Is right. I’ll see you later.’

David walked back over to James. Placing the drinks on the table he watched his father still pouring over the runners and riders and said, ‘Have you picked the winners?’

‘You know me, I always pick the three legged donkeys,’ James said finishing his first pint. ‘I see you were catching up with young Mickey Callaghan at the bar. Mickey’s not a bad lad. He just got mixed up with the wrong type that’s all. It was a good night in here when he got out of Walton Prison. When you think that he and Peter were inseparable as kids and then you look at how they both turned out.’

‘Didn’t he get sent down for GBH?’David asked.

‘He battered a couple of lads from Birmingham trying to muscle in on the Liverpool drug scene. Like most round here, Mickey hates drugs especially the dealers. He and his security firm was the reception committee and sorted them out. Peter’ll be able to tell you more about it when he gets here. How did Debbie get on with Siobhan?’

‘They got on great. So now you’ve met, what do you think of her?’

‘She’s a lovely girl. You’re both well matched. She’s got you well sussed lad.’

‘Thanks Dad, I’m glad you approve.’

‘Is it serious then?’

‘It could be.’

James lent forward in his seat towards David and said, ‘That tells me it is.’

‘We’ll see.’ As David settled back in his seat, two men entered the pub he knew would spoil the time he planned to spend with his father. Watching O’Byrne and McElvaney walk up to the bar his first thought was this was no coincidence. After what happened in London with McCrossan, then seeing O’Byrne in the market that morning he was convinced he was being followed. Thinking this was where they were going to kill him, he drank his pint in one go and started to stand up out of the seat.

‘You’ve gone a bit pale lad. Are you alright?’ James asked.

‘I’m fine Dad,’ David said. Not taking his eyes off the two Irishmen, ‘I’ve just got a bit of business to sort out.’ Walking over to O’Byrne and McElvaney he thought how they had balls coming into this pub knowing he would be surrounded by his friends. Regardless of the risk to himself, he was going to front them. He was thinking how he could not carry on looking over his shoulder fearing these men. Working out how he could handle this, he remembered that in the past PIRA never had any compunction in killing innocent people in order to achieve their target. Collateral damage was all part of the terrorists’ war. Unaware he was there, David stood behind McElvaney and O’Byrne. ‘What the fuck are you two bastards doing here?’

Turning round, both men looked in surprise to see David Hurst standing behind them. ‘I’m going to have a drink with my friend here,’ McElvaney said turning away from David, ‘so fuck off and return under the stone you fucking crawled from.’

Pushing McElvaney away from the bar, David leaned into his face and shouted, ‘If you’re going to fucking do it, do it here. Kill me now. You said I was a fucking dead man, so let’s see if you can carry out your threat or are you full of shit? If anyone’s going to fuck off from this pub, it’s you two fucking murderers.’

The pub went silent as they watched Hurst challenge the two men, except for one voice that asked, ‘Are they Kopites?’

Getting up from his seat, Mick Callaghan walked over to David. Standing beside him he said, ‘Need a hand Davey?’

His gaze permanently fixed on O’Byrne and McElvaney, David said, ‘No, these two are just leaving

McElvaney smirked and said, ‘Are you going to give me a good kicking like you did last time? You can only do that when you’ve got your mates around you. You’re not so fucking hard.’

‘I don’t need anyone else to deal with you two fucking bastards.’ David said, then slowly emphasising each word, he added, ‘Now fuck off.’

Gerry, the licensee shouted over, ‘David, I want no trouble, take your business outside.’

Still glaring at O’Byrne and McElvaney, he said, ‘They’ll be no trouble Gerry. These two are leaving right now.’

Trying to provoke David, O’Byrne laughed and said, ‘How are you going to make that fucking happen?’

David head-butted McElvaney before they could get the first punch in. Reeling back in pain he instinctively put his hands to his face covering his now bleeding nose. As O’Byrne came towards David with his fist raised, he moved to one side and punched him hard in the stomach causing O’Byrne to double up. As his head went down, David grabbed the back of his hair and slammed his face into the bar counter. With blood streaming from a cut over his left eye, O’Byrne slid down onto the floor. McElvaney picked up a glass. Smashing the end of it, he lunged at David with the lethal jagged edges pointing towards him. Mick Callaghan grabbed O’Byrne’s arm. Kneeing him hard in the testicles, he shouted, ‘No you fucking don’t.’

Fists clenched David stood astride O’Byrne while Mick Callaghan adopted a similar position over McElvaney. Mick looked over at his friends, ‘Get them out of here.’ Six men sitting with Mick Callaghan came over and picked them up from the floor. Carrying the stunned Irishmen, they threw them out of the door to the pub and stood there to make sure they didn’t get up and enter it again.

‘Thanks Mick,’ David said walking back to his father.

‘What the fuck was that about son?’ James said pushing David’s glass of whiskey across the table to him, ‘you had me worried there.’ David told his father they were two Irish drug dealers he arrested that got sent to prison a few years ago who made threats to him when they got sentenced. ‘Well we won’t mention this to your mother, she’ll only get worried. I’ll tell the boys in here not to mention it when they see her.’

‘That makes sense. Excuse me for a minute Dad, I need to make a phone call,’ David said as he began to walk out of the pub.

Stood on the pavement by the entrance to the pub, David put a cigarette to his lips as he rang Debbie. Two of Mick Callaghan’s men were also outside the pub making sure the Irishmen did not return walked over to David. ‘That was some handy work by you in there,’ one of them said holding out his lighter to David, ‘I see you can still look after yourself.’

‘Cheers Frank,’ David said after lighting his cigarette, ‘You know what they say about being raised in the Dingle, to get out of trouble you’re either quick on your feet, quick with your mouth or quick with your fists. Unfortunately for me it’s always been the fists.’ Hearing Debbie answer his call, he said, ‘Excuse me lads, I’ve just got to make this call.’ Walking a few steps away from them, he told her what happened in the pub.

‘Nothing’s happened here in Liverpool One and when I checked with my colleague on our man, he got out of the taxi near to Ullet Road. So you could be right. I suggest you stay in the pub and I’ll get them down to you while I contact Craig and tell him what happened to see if he’ll OK them to watch us while we’re here in Liverpool.’

‘I think we should get back to Manchester as soon as. I was lucky there. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Mick and his boys weren’t in the pub to help me out.’

‘I disagree. We’ll stay here. We’ll have two from my firm watching our backs. To be on the safe-side we’ll not drink tonight, well not much anyway. If they wonder why we’re not drinking, we’ll say we have to go back to Manchester tomorrow as there’s been a development in our investigation.’

‘Are you having a fucking laugh? They tried to shoot me and Steve on Wednesday or have you forgotten that?’

‘No I haven’t! Think about it for a moment. If it was a hit, they wouldn’t have strolled into the pub the way they did. From what you told me I’ve a feeling they’re not linked to McCrossan and are in Liverpool for something else unrelated to McCrossan’s activities. Look, it’s really hard to talk out here. I won’t tell Mary you had a fight in the pub and I’ll make an excuse we need to get back. When we meet up we can go through a plan then.

Chapter
Six
Isaac Street, Dingle, Liverpool
Sunday, 1
st
July, 12.15 hours
 

‘See you Mum.’ David said, giving Mary a hug outside the house he was brought up as a child, as he and Debbie were about to leave Liverpool to return to Manchester.

As his large frame enveloped her, she looked up at him, placed both of her hands on his cheeks and kissed him in that way mother’s do where no words are needed to express their love for their children, no matter how old they are. ‘Take care son. Don’t leave it too long before you bring this lovely girl back to Liverpool.’

‘I won’t Mum.’ David shook hands with James and said, ‘See you Dad.’

The fight in the pub was still playing on James’ mind even though Mick Callaghan gave him reassurances that he and his boys would look out for him and Mary. Taking a firm grip of his son’s hand, he placed his arm around David and quietly said in his ear, ‘Take care son. Keep your eyes peeled and don’t become complacent.’ Letting go of David, he hugged Debbie and whispered, ‘Look after that boy of mine. You know what I mean.’

‘I will,’ she said, giving a reassuring smile.

As David and Debbie were getting into David’s old Aston Martin DB7, Mary walked up to the passenger door and said, ‘I wish you’d sell this car and get a sensible one. It’s far too fast and dangerous.’

Thinking how the threat to his life was not his car, David waved and starting the engine said ‘Yes mother.’ Driving away from the house, they waved to each other. Once out of his parents’ road, David drove along Park Road and began heading back to Manchester. ‘Thank God that’s over. Next time we’re only staying for one night.’

‘Don’t say that, your parents are lovely and made me so welcome. Of course that’s tempered with having to deal with O’Byrne and McElvaney. I know it was strained last night and Peter kept asking me why we weren’t drinking. After what happened last Wednesday, I don’t think he fell for the line we both had to be at work today, especially after James told him about the fight you had. To add to Peter’s fears, even though James said they were drug dealers you got sent down, he went and mentioned the fact it was with two Irishmen. At least they didn’t tell Mary.’

‘That’s understandable, she’ll only worry for Britain and keep ringing me up every half hour to make sure I’m alright!’ David said turning into the filter lane to join Parliament Street, ‘You were right yesterday. Having the two from MI5 tailing us helped.’

‘It confirmed what I thought. They were not there to get you. I thought that when you told me what happened in the pub. Even you said they were surprised to see you. That tells me we’ve stumbled across them. I don’t think whatever it is they’re up to here is directly linked to McCrossan’s activities in London. While there’s no doubt McCrossan was definitely after you and Steve, those two walked into the pub and didn’t even give you eye contact until you approached them.’

‘You could be right. When I fronted them, they seemed genuinely surprised to see me.’

‘After the pub incident, they never made another move to get you. My two other colleagues Craig sent over to Liverpool to watch them said that when they got back to the flat in Ullet Road they never moved out for the rest of the day.’

‘It was good of Craig to send two more over to help out. I didn’t know he thought so much of me!’

Debbie laughed at the thought of the social climber Craig being good friends with the likes of David. ‘Before you go thinking he’s your bosom buddy, I know that while he respects you at work, it wasn’t protecting you that was his priority, it was finding out what O’Byrne and McElvaney were up to. You should know Craig by now, anyone’s expendable if it means getting the job done.’

‘True.’

‘That leads me onto the two Irishmen, I reckon it’s no coincidence they stayed close to the address you and Steve were watching in the nineties.’