Give The Devil His Due (24 page)

       It was now 7.20 p.m. We were still waiting for the Brothers Bryce to arrive, their time being far more important than ours. Martin Sedgely was starting to get agitated. I was careful with Martin. Some of the cabbies would wind Martin up, but they were playing with fire. They'd never seen him lose it. I had, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

       It happened outside his house a few years previously. Someone had parked across Mart's drive. I'd only called round for a chat and cup of tea but I couldn't find a parking space. I knocked Mart's door and asked him if he thought my car would be safe parked up the far end of the street.

       Mart was so incensed by the parked car that he went back inside his house, only to return moments later carrying a baseball bat. He stood in the middle of the street bellowing for the owner of the car to show himself. The owner duly appeared out of a house a few doors down from Mart's. He was obviously visiting one of the neighbours.

       He was huge. By the way he was shouting the odds he must have thought he'd give Mart a right tuning. Martin didn't debate the matter as the guy was expecting. He just walked up to him and smashed the bat across his kneecaps, so hard you could hear bone crunch. He hit the deck and Mart gave him what I would describe as an unreasonable number of clips across the elbows and ribs. The force used was perhaps a tad excessive. The guy was begging Mart to stop. Mart told him never to park across his driveway again. I was stunned.

       Mart shouted, ‘If anyone else wants some, then call the fucking law.’

       I was expecting at least one of his neighbours to call the police but no-one did. Maybe the fear of reprisal was too much for any of them to cope with. I was shocked that Mart's victim didn't even call them, but I guess he must have had form.

       It really didn’t come as much of a surprise that whenever I'd visited him subsequently there was always space for me to put my car across the driveway. I asked Mart how he managed to sleep at night. He told me that a few spliffs and half a bottle of tequila usually did the trick.

       Now, as we awaited the arrival of Bob and Roy, Mart's behaviour was starting to worry me. I tried to distract him. ‘D’you fancy a beer somewhere else after this Mart?’

       Mart looked at me with menace. ‘Let's see what the arseholes have to say first.’ Oh dear! That comment did not bode well.

       In my experience a mass audience with the Brothers didn’t usually take place unless they wanted something. It could be that they’d booked themselves a world cruise on the QE2 or perhaps ordered a couple of new Jags – things that cost money. Why pay for them yourselves if you could get all your customers to stump up a little more? An additional fifteen quid a week from each car on a 100-plus fleet would give them an extra seventy-five grand a year to play with.

       As these thoughts crossed my mind, the room started to go quiet. Neil tapped my arm and nodded his head towards the door on the far side of the room. Coming through were the chosen ones themselves – the Brothers Bryce.

       Bob Bryce, resplendent in all his finery, followed closely by Roy, whose head seemed to have inflated slightly since the last time I'd seen him – only a couple of weeks earlier. I heard one of the early arrivals who'd no doubt throated a few pints of Dutch courage mutter, ‘What time's kick off then?’

       Some of the drivers laughed. Einstein was none the wiser. Bob, now at the front of the room and having gained the attention of everyone, started proceedings. ‘I've called this meeting because, as some of you may know; our work has been building steadily through Roy’s efforts and our existing customer loyalty.

       ‘In order for us to protect our market share of the work that's out there, I've taken the decision to increase the company profile. We are about to launch a major advertising campaign which should pay big dividends for all you people.’

       Pele was sat near him and gently nodding as if to confirm every word that Bob said was God’s truth. In reality it was a story out of the bible, Bryce’s bible: the gospel according to Saint Bob the Breadgiver!

       ‘That brings me to the next part of the meeting. Now there really is no easy way for me to say this but that cost has got to be met from somewhere ...’

       I thought
Here we go
. The mumblings and rumblings of the crowd increased.

       ‘Unfortunately, in life, prices never stay the same. Now it has been over two years since we had to increase the radio fees …’

       I looked at Mart. He was starting to go red in the face. Antonio Sallis, an owner-driver and Barry Gibb look-a-like yelled, ‘I've heard enough of this shit. Why don't you stick your radio up your arse Bryce?’

       Some quick-witted soul in the crowd added, ‘He won't get any reception up there.’ Most of the attendees laughed.

       Sallis wanted to have the last word and shouted, ‘I’m sure it’ll produce better results than the crap that's coming out of it at the moment.’ More laughter followed.

       I looked at Bob’s face; he wasn't happy. The meeting wasn't going as smoothly as he had planned.

       Neil was enjoying himself. He leaned over and whispered, ‘I wish I'd brought a video camera with me.’

       Roy stood up. Jumping to his brother’s defence he said, ‘Let's have a bit of respect for Mr Bryce if you people don't mind!’

       Which Mr Bryce did he want us to respect? I glanced at Mart who was getting even redder. Then Roy said the wrong thing. ‘If we hadn't given you people a living for all these years you'd have starved. You're nothing without us, do you hear me? Nothing!’

       I was watching Mart who was now beetroot-coloured. Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Without any verbal warning – it was so fast, blink and you'd have missed it – Mart was across the room and had his hands around Pele's throat. One of the Bryce faithful, who’d been sitting near the front and hanging on to their every word, got up and tried to pull Mart off. He received a headbutt for his trouble. His nose split open and we could see blood pulsing out. The headbutt had brought three new guys into the mix and they now set upon Martin.

       So Mart had a trio to deal with, one of which was rabbit-punching him in the kidneys from behind. He had to let go of Pele, who was now coughing, and being aided by Bob, to deal with his assailants. The weight of numbers levelled at Mart went against Glyn Rogers’ sense of fair play. Glyn wasn't big, and to make up for the size deficiency, picked up a chair and smashed it over the back of Martin's rear attacker. That was it. A free-for-all started.

       I turned to Neil who looked as if he was going into shock and grabbed his arm. ‘Quick, we can't get involved in this.’ Neil and I shot down the stairs and out into the car park. The noise of furniture being broken, the shouting and smashing of glasses was to say the least, disturbing.

       We sped away in the car. About a mile or so down the road we passed two police riot vans, a squad car and two pandas going full-tilt in the direction we'd just come from. Their blue lights were flashing, sirens wailing.

       ‘Are the meetings always like that Will?’

       ‘No, that was a bad one. There'll be some fallout from this.’

       ‘That Sedgely's a fucking nutter.’

       ‘No, he's not. He's one of the good guys Neil. He was only showing those money-grabbing bastards how most of us feel.’

       ‘I don't think he'll be driving on the fleet tomorrow.’

       ‘I don't think he really cares to be honest with you. I just hope he doesn't have to take the rap for all of that. The landlord's probably having puppies over the damage.’

       We got back to the house and Neil poured us a couple of stiff ones.

       ‘Do me a favour Will. Don't take me along to any more cab driver meetings. If we'd got roped in back there, everything would have been completely fucked up.’

       He was right. If things had gone against us we could have quite easily have been sitting in the custody suite of the local nick instead of my lounge. Neil started to laugh.

       ‘What's so funny Fairburn?’

       ‘Did you see Mart's hair flying about as he was getting stuck in? It looked a little bit like a horse’s mane in the wind. Really animated.’

       I thought about this and started to laugh. Now looking back on things it was quite comical.

       ‘What about Pele's face? Did you see the look of shock on it when Mart grabbed him?’ We were both in stitches.

       ‘I expect that's given the brothers some food for thought over their proposed increase.’ This was true. I wondered how things had ended up after we left. I glanced at my watch; nearly 9 p.m.

       ‘Weren't you supposed to be seeing Denise tonight?’

       ‘Yeah, but that isn't till later. I thought we'd be at least a couple of hours in the meeting.’

       I looked through the front window. ‘Her car's across the road Neil. She must be at Tegan's. Shall we go over?’

       ‘Yeah.’

       We ambled over to Tegan's house. I had keys, but for some unexplained reason, decided to knock. Denise answered. She looked concerned. We followed her into the kitchen where Tegan was sitting at the table.

       ‘You’re here! Thank god for that. Didn't you go to that meeting?

       ‘Yes. Why?’

       ‘We were just about to go to the police station. We heard the sirens and it's just been on the local radio. Thirty-one people have been arrested for public order offences – all of them taxi drivers. We thought you were both involved.’

       I was quite taken aback. Things must have really got out of hand.

       She continued. ‘Yes. On the news it said there are police injured – a couple of them very seriously.’

       I looked at Neil. ‘I told you there'd be some fallout from this.’ I couldn't believe how quick the local radio station had got hold of it.

       ‘What else did they say then?’ I asked.

       ‘They said that one unnamed man was being questioned on suspicion of attempted murder.’

       ‘Tell me you’re joking?’

       ‘I'm not.’

       ‘That's bloody Bryce trying to get Mart fitted up.’

       I looked at Tegan. ‘You know Martin Sedgely – the weedsmoker guy, he drove us home once. Do you remember him?’

       ‘Yes.’

       ‘During the meeting, Einstein Bryce pushed Mart's button, and Mart had his hands round Roy’s neck. I'm sure he wasn't going to do anything like … heavy. He just wanted to scare him a bit.’

       ‘It bloody-well scared me.’

       ‘Yes Neil, well you don't know Mart like I do. He’s got a cut-off point. He wouldn't have taken it too far.’ It wouldn't be helpful to Mart's cause if Neil had to give a police statement indicating that he thought Mart was trying to throttle Bryce.

       ‘I’ve got an idea. I'll phone the police station and tell them we were there when the trouble started. I'll tell them that Bryce provoked Mart and it was just an argument that became a little over exuberant.’ I borrowed the phone from Tegan and dialled the number.

       ‘Good evening, South Wales Police, how may I help you?’

       ‘Er, could I speak to someone about an incident?’

       ‘What type of incident sir?’

       ‘Um, the one at
The King’s Head
pub earlier this evening.’

       ‘Please hold, transferring you.’

       I heard a ringing tone at the other end. The phone rang about half a dozen times. The operator cut in.

       ‘Trying another extension; please hold.’ Again it started ringing. This time I was in luck, only two rings and someone had picked up.

       ‘Front desk, PC Adams speaking’

       I suddenly had an unwelcome sense of
déjà vu
. It couldn't be. Adams was a common name and besides, this voice sounded different.

       ‘Er, I wonder if you can help me. I'd like to give some information about a meeting that took place this evening, to which the police were called.’

       ‘Oh yes sir, and which meeting would that be, if you don't me asking?’

       ‘Er, the one held at
The King’s Head
.’

       ‘And your name sir?’

       ‘I'd rather not give that, if it's OK with you.’

       ‘It might help us to establish the strength of the information offered if we know who you are sir.’

       ‘Er, I'm sure I've seen appeal adverts on the TV where it says you can phone information in confidentially.’

       ‘Yes, you are correct sir, although there is a dedicated number for those calls.’

       ‘Do you want me to phone another number?’

       ‘No sir, now I'm on the phone, you might as well tell me. What is the information you'd like to give?’

       ‘Umm, the radio news said that a man is being questioned on suspicion of attempted murder.’

       ‘Oh?’

       ‘Yes, and I'd like to say I was at the meeting and left – just as the trouble was starting, and that Martin Sedgely wasn't going to murder anybody.’

       There was a pause from the other end. I could hear Adams flicking through some pages. ‘Before we go any further, would that be Martin Desmond Sedgely of 52 Wimbourne Avenue sir?’

       ‘Yes.’

       ‘And you’re saying that Sedgely wasn’t going to murder anybody?’

       ‘Yes.’

       ‘Ah, so in actual fact, what you are telling me is that Mr Sedgely committed an act that was premeditated?’

       ‘No I'm not.’

       ‘I think you are sir.’

       I knew it. Knobsworth was definitely the copper on the other end of the line. I had to stand my ground.

       ‘No I'm not saying that.’

       ‘Mmm, my question to you sir is this: unless Mr Sedgely indicated his intentions to you prior to the outbreak of violence, how could you possibly know what those intentions were?’

       ‘Well it's sort of difficult.’

       ‘What sort of difficult is it sir?’

       ‘Er, the difficult sort.’

       ‘So Mr Sedgely didn't indicate his intentions to you at the meeting?’