Read Little Men - The E Book Online
Authors: Ronnie Yax
Little Men - The E Book (11 page)
So, which is fastest?
”
Ian asked innocently.
“
Well, the Astra is quick, but this would still kick its arse. I
’
ve had it chipped, but it
’
s a faster car anyway.
”
“
Like fuck!
”
Stuart roared, becoming animated.
“
Anyway, fuck what it says on paper. It
’
s how you drive that matters. It
’
s no good having a car like that if you can
’
t control it.
”
“
What you sayin
’
?
”
It was Kevin
’
s turn to get defensive.
“
Nothing, it
’
s just a motor like this needs to be driven by someone with experience to do it justice, that
’
s all.
”
“
You sayin
’
I can
’
t drive?
”
Kevin was angry. It was like a red rag to a bull. He couldn
’
t believe what he was hearing. Who did this Stuart cunt think he was? Dissing a man
’
s driving in front of his mates outside his pub on a Friday night. Kevin didn
’
t care that Stuart was older, bigger and had a large group of his friends with him.
“
You wanna watch yer mouth, mate.
”
Sam sensed a physical confrontation could be approaching.
Just leave it. Let
’
s go inside and have a drink,
” he said calmly.
“
No! This prick said I can
’
t drive!
”
“
Okay, I
’
m sorry. Of course you can drive.
”
Stuart
’
s extra years meant he was almost above petty arguments about who said what. It was tedious. His friends turned to walk away.
“
Where you going?
”
Kevin was yelling now.
“
You scared?
”
Stuart stopped. Although far more mature than Kevin, he couldn
’
t let a teenager accuse him of being scared. And Stuart
had
started it.
“
”
Kevin continued.
“
I
’ll
race yer. I
’
ll show you who can
’
t drive!
”
The idea got drunken hollers of approval from both groups of blokes, their inhibitions squashed by alcohol.
You can
’
t let that one go, Stuart,
”
Ian egged.
Stuart thought for a few seconds.
Okay, let
’
s do it. What d
’
ya reckon? Three laps of the town centre then back here?
”
“
You
’
re on.
”
Neither group of friends did much to discourage them, smelling a bit of excitement. Kevin was well over the alcohol-driving limit, and Stuart would be close to it, but egos and pride were at stake.
The two groups piled into their respective friend
s car, the two drivers with looks of concentration etched on their faces, testosterone and adrenalin flowing. They started their engines and taxied their vehicles to the main entrance of the car park. There was enough space for two cars to sit alongside each other.
Stuart
s front passenger, Ian, wound his window down so he could speak to Kevin.
“
Those lights are red now; when they turn green, go!
”
There was a set of traffic lights allowing vehicles from the side road onto the main highway.
“
Cheers, loser!
”
Kevin replied, his friends baying from the back seat.
The two vehicles
engines growled as the drivers teased the accelerators, waiting for the lights to change, their hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. The red light switched to amber and, a few seconds later, green. The two cars roared forward in unison, tyres screeching. The occupants of both vehicles screamed with delight, apart from the drivers, who sat stony-faced as they regained control from the initial surge of power.
It was ten-thirty in the evening. The roads were mainly clear. The two cars veered dangerously close as they negotiated the first bends as they reached the infamous one-way system of Dartford town centre.
It quickly became apparent that Stuart had been spot-on about Kevin not being able to control his car. He swerved this way and that, struggling to manage the immense torque that threw him back in his seat as he accelerated. Stuart was far more experienced, and had driven plenty of cars in the five years since he had passed his test. He was more than a match for the considerable power of the Astra. He took a clear lead, and expertly guided the vehicle around the roads, while Kevin became more and more frustrated.
Sam and Ravi, sitting in the back, sensed victory. They looked out of the rear window and taunted Kevin with hand gestures. This made Kevin more and more angry and he paid even less attention to driving his vehicle with any sense of precaution to safety. The Imprezza skidded and squealed, and Kevin
s poor clutch control caused it to rev erratically.
Sam felt incredibly childish doing what they were doing. He knew it was exceedingly dangerous, and he probably wouldn
t have participated had he not been intoxicated. The interior of the car was now filled with a strong smell of alcohol. But the highly dubious actions of Stuart and Kevin provided a welcome escape for Sam from his problems.
The two vehicles completed the second lap, with Stuart easily extending his lead. He was tormenting Kevin now, just cruising around bends, allowing Kevin to catch up. Then, just as he was attempting to overtake, Stuart would use the Astra
s power to block Kevin
’
s path. Stuart
’
s superior skill as a driver and knowledge of the road layout allowed him to force Kevin to slow down or face certain death by hitting a lamp post, another car, or some railings.
Stuart was also well aware that two high-performance cars screaming around a busy town centre, even at this time of the evening, was sure to attract the attention of the police or general public or both. Three laps was more than enough. It had been fun. Stuart felt proud that he had shown off his new car and driven it so expertly.
Does anyone want to go back to the pub?
”
he enquired, hoping the answer would be
‘
no
’
.
The mood Kevin would be in, Stuart didn
t fancy parking outside The Crown again tonight. Someone could decide to throw a bottle at it or something. Plus any police patrolling the area would have got wind of a bright red Astra driving at high speed around the town centre. The Crown
’
s car park was probably the first place they would look.
Stuart knew Kevin was too stupid to realise this and, sure enough, as he drove past they saw the Imprezza gingerly pulling into the car park in the rear-view mirror. The race was well over.
Stuart was relieved when the consensus was to drive back to Sam
s flat to continue the drinking session accompanied by spliffs and computer games.
Chapter Nine
Sean lay face-down in the long grass at the side of the road. It was a chill winter’s night and large drops of rain were falling from the sky. It intensified, and the cold water hammering down stirred him awake. He blinked with complete disorientation, until the sudden realisation of what had happened hit him along with an extreme pain to the back of the head. He tried to move but it was impossible, he was bound tightly. His hands were tied behind his back and his feet were fastened together. His mouth was also taped, which meant he could only breathe through his nose.
He managed to roll sideways towards the road. He made it as far as the van, which was parked at an angle in front of the level crossing, its door still gaping open. The road surface was covered in broken glass which cut into Sean’s legs as he attempted to kneel up. He tried to move his arms and realised he was only bound with gaffer-tape, not rope or wire. The binding should be relatively easy to cut if he could find a decent-sized shard of glass.
Sean felt for fragments behind him with his fingers as he sat upright on the tarmac, rain soaking him and blurring his vision. He cursed his predicament aloud with the frustration of trying to get free. Eventually, he found a piece of glass large enough which felt like it should be sufficiently sharp to saw the plastic and fibre of the gaffer-tape. It was difficult work. The rain was pelting down now and Sean had severe pain in his head, chest and limbs. After what seemed like hours he managed to cut the tape enough to wrench his hands free. He then ripped the tape from his face and unbound his legs.
Sean surveyed the wreckage of the van. It couldn’t be salvaged. He thought quickly, trying not to let the hopelessness of the situation overwhelm him. His head spun. The blow to the skull and the speed he’d taken less than half an hour ago was having a weird effect on his thought-processes.
It felt like a very weird and surreal dream.
He couldn’t stay with the van, it was completely immobile. Any second another road-user could appear and would undoubtedly call the police. Sean grabbed a few personal items from the vehicle (luckily he still had his wallet) and set off as fast as his painful legs would let him. He began walking alongside the main road, but well into the grass verge so as not to be noticeable. If he could just get to one of the roadside hotels he had seen earlier he could reassess his options.
Sean cut a very dishevelled figure as he fought his way through the long grass and scrub. Bruised and bleeding, he was soaked through as the rain continued to pour down. He was angry with himself for letting it happen. He
knew
the red van was trouble the moment he saw it in the filling station. He should have trusted his gut-instinct and done something about it then. But Sean was made of strong stuff. He was a born survivor. He could get through this.
After approximately half an hour of walking he reached the car park of one of the inviting-looking hotels he’d passed earlier. It still looked very warm and appealing but there was no way Sean could venture inside in his state. It would surely arouse suspicion, and the police may get involved. They would ask all sorts of questions about why Sean was travelling through Holland alone at night, and what could have possibly been in his vehicle to make a gang of renegade thieves ambush him in the middle of the road.
There were plenty of vehicles in the car park, and Sean was an accomplished car-thief with plenty of experience gained before he took up the far more lucrative occupation of drug-dealing. He looked around for a suitable vehicle. It needed to be something fast, but nothing too flash as it would have a sophisticated security system and would undoubtedly draw attention.
He settled on a medium-sized Ford, a make he was well-practised in gaining entry to. It took him less than thirty seconds to enter the car and get it started. He revved the engine then roared out of the car park as he tried to adjust his driving position to account for the fact that the steering wheel was on the left-side and the gear-stick now on his right. He accelerated hard down the road. Getting as far away from the hotel as possible was his first priority.
Sean came to a lay-by. He stopped the car and reached for his mobile phone. Luckily his attackers had not thought to take it. He dialled Tony’s number.
“Fashanu, hello.” There was a note of concern in Tony’s voice. The fact that Sean was calling him late on the Wednesday evening of the pickup was bound to spell trouble.
“I’ve been fucking robbed! They done me!” Sean was wired on speed, in pain and exhausted. His panicked voice was difficult for Tony to comprehend.
“What? Who done you? What d’you mean you’ve been robbed?”
“I had the fucking pills in me van. I was driving back and some cunts whacked me over the head, took the pills and drove off! I need you to fucking sort it out!” Sean was too embarrassed to use the word ‘help,’ even in the terrible state he found himself in.
“Wait, just slow down.” Tony had been in the drug business a long time. He had witnessed murders, kneecappings, beatings and violence too horrible to describe. What had happened to Sean was fairly commonplace, but a problem nonetheless.
There was little etiquette in the drugs world, but both Tony and Sean understood the unwritten rule that says if the courier or go-between somehow loses a batch, it’s then down to him to retrieve it or compensate his co-conspirators. Tony considered this for a moment and decided he would sort it out with Sean when was calmer. He realised that if he were to stand any chance in recouping his investment he would have to co-operate with Sean by utilising his considerable wherewithal.
