Underdog (17 page)

‘Straight up, mate,’ said Frank, turning serious. ‘He ain’t brought that gun to look pretty with. I told you from the beginning that this was the top of the ladder stuff, man. It ain’t the best view. Shouldn’t be, neither. We’ve just got to brass this one out. We both wanted it, and now it’s here. We couldn’t have known that Mick would want the fight, but that’s just the way it’s gone and we’ve got to deal with it. That’s the whole fucking point, ain’t it? Couple more hours and we’re done.’

The image of the gun resting on the dashboard kept jumping into Cal’s head, and so did Sandra. He felt tense as he drove round the roundabout onto the carriageway, hoping Andy would have everything ready for them when they arrived. He wanted it all to be over and done quickly: make the right impression and do the deal as soon as they could.

When they arrived at the track, Frank jumped out and opened the gate to let Cal and the other cars through. He tapped at Mick’s window. ‘We’re just up here.’

Frank was feeling edgy as he got back in next to Cal. His heart was beating harder, a nervous sweat gathering in his armpits that felt cold when it trickled down the inside of his arms. He suddenly wished he hadn’t packed the last joint so full.

The pit barn doors were open and Andy was sitting on the step outside, smoking. Cal parked and jumped out, leaving Frank to organise their guests as he went over to see how things were going.

‘It’s all sorted,’ said Andy, getting to his feet as Cal approached. ‘Barn’s done. Dog’s ready.’

Cal looked into Andy’s eyes. His pupils were no more than tiny black dots. It was clear he’d taken some smack, and, by the look of things, not long ago. He was a mess, pasty-faced and staring back blankly. Cal needed to get him out of sight. He was seething inside, but hid it.

‘And, mate,’ he said calmly. ‘Get yourself down the track and watch the gate. You know who else we’re waiting for. No-one but them. Got it?’

‘But what about the match?’

‘Just fucking do it,’ Cal snapped. It annoyed him to have no choice other than to rely on Andy one last time, but the idea of borrowing some security off Mick wasn’t appealing.

‘No worries, Cal,’ said Andy, too monged to object.

‘Any funny stuff, you get me on the phone and get up here quick. Keep yourself out of sight.’

Andy turned tail and headed off towards the track, giving Mick’s men a wide berth as they got out of the Range Rover.

Cal wandered over to Mick, who was standing at the back of his car, chain in hand, ready to bring out Taser. He could now see what all the fuss was about: Mick was massive, at least six foot five, but it was his girth that was really impressive. It made him look stocky, even though he stood head and shoulders above the other men standing silent around him. Frank seemed like nothing next to him; Mick could have picked him up and snapped him over his knee. Cal was determined not to be intimidated either by his presence or Frank’s stories. He took a deep breath.

‘You going to get him out, then, Mick?’

Mick removed his shades. The sagging flesh under his brows fixed his eyes in a permanent squint. Both were heavily scarred, leathered with ancient wounds that looked as if they had been opened many times.

‘We got some money to sort first, son,’ said Mick, his blue eyes arctic cold as they stared down at Cal. ‘Ain’t that right, Northern?’

It wasn’t what Cal wanted to hear, but he wasn’t about to argue. He took the two grand out of his pocket.

‘That’s our purse. It’s all there.’

‘Northern can count that,’ said Mick, gesturing to Northern to take it, as if it was somehow beneath him to touch the cash. ‘What about the rest?’

Cal looked to Frank, not sure what to do. There was an uneasy moment of silence before Frank stepped in.

‘Sure, Mick. It’s in the car. No problem.’ Frank nodded to Northern to follow him.

‘It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ said Mick, turning his attention back to Cal. ‘I just like to get things in order before we start. Get the business out of the way first. Show me yours, and maybe I get mine out later.’ He smiled broadly, enjoying the supportive laughter that rose up behind him.

In that moment, Cal knew they were going to have to go ahead on a promise. The only chance of seeing any drugs was for the fight to be a success. If Mick wasn’t happy, that’s the last they’d see of their cash, too, and maybe anything else for that matter. For the first time in his criminal life, Cal felt out of his depth.

‘It’s all there,’ said Northern as he returned to the group.

‘There was no-one there, Tom.’

Keith took off his coat and slumped down wearily on the kitchen chair.

‘There must’ve been. Did you go to the right place?’

‘Yeah, I looked over the gate. Saw the kennels. The house was empty apart from the dogs at the back.’ Keith looked at his watch. ‘I tried, Tom. I’ve been there all afternoon, but there was no sign of him. No sign of anybody. Believe me.’

‘They must have taken him back to those barns, then. Getting him ready for tonight. Dad, please; we’ve got to go and get him.’

Keith was deep in thought. He didn’t want to disappoint Tom, but he was too aware of just how dangerous these men were. There was only one thing left to do now. For once, he wasn’t going to let his son down. He’d have to chance it.

‘What time’s it starting?’

‘Stevo said ten o’clock.’

‘Then I’ll be able to get up there in plenty of time.’

‘I want to come with you, Dad. I’ve got to. Jeffo’s my dog; you can’t leave me out again.’

‘We’ve been through this already, Tom. You’re going to have to stay here and let me handle it my way.’

‘Then I won’t tell you where the barns are. I’ll go on my own.’ The determined look on Tom’s face was enough to make Keith soften his approach.

‘I need you here, Tom,’ he said. ‘I want you safe at home.’

‘Either we go together this time, or I’m going to go on my own. I’ll go right now if I have to.’ Tom stood up.

Keith threw up his arms and sighed.

‘Okay,’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘You win. But if we go up together, you do exactly as I say.’

‘I will.’

‘You stay in the car and you let me take care of everything. You get us up there and you let me do the rest.’

Tom beamed. They’d get Jeffo back; he was sure of it.

Everything was going to be alright.

‘I’m just going upstairs,’ said Keith. ‘Need to get a few things together.’ He got up from the table, leaving Tom alone in the kitchen.

Tom glanced up at the clock: not even eight. Still plenty of time. While he waited, he searched the refrigerator, smiling to himself as he came across some leftover sausage and beans; Jeffo could have them as a treat when he came home. As the fridge thudded shut, there was a knock at the front door.

‘Tom. Get that,’ called Keith from upstairs. ‘It’ll be Sonia.’

When he opened the door, Tom was surprised to find Stevo slouched outside in the drizzle, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

‘What d’you want?’

‘I wanted to say sorry,’ mumbled Stevo, his beanie pulled low over his guiltily shifting eyes.

‘Well, you’ve said it. Now, piss off.’

‘I didn’t come here to fight.’

‘You’re a bastard, you know that? And so’s your stinking dad. He should be in prison for what he’s been doing.’

‘I know. I know it’s not right. That’s why I’ve come. I wanted to tell you something about the match.’

A sudden feeling of dread washed over Tom. ‘What about it?’

‘They’re starting earlier than planned. It’s going to happen soon. Eight o’clock, they said. I tried to get out earlier, honest.’

Even if they left at once, they would be late. It might be over by the time they got up there.

‘I don’t know if there’s anything to be done about it,’ said Stevo. ‘Just thought you should know. I really am sorry, Tom.’

Tom nodded, but he was too sick with worry about Jeffo to say anything more. Smiling sadly, Stevo turned, head down as he walked away.

Tom closed the door. He had to move fast. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he burst into Keith’s bedroom.

‘Dad, something’s happened. We’ve got to go. Now.’

Keith looked over his shoulder when the door flew open, shielding the mobile phone in his hand from view as he continued rummaging in his work bag and took out the telescopic truncheon.

‘That was Stevo,’ Tom sputtered. ‘He reckons it’s starting early. Come on!’

Keith followed as Tom raced back down the stairs. Within moments, they were out of the house and in the car.

Mick opened the boot of the Range Rover and leant in to chain Taser, who flinched and crouched submissively, licking at the hands that leashed him. When he was secure, Mick let him jump down and stand beside him.

‘Stunner, ain’t he?’ He beamed proudly.

Cal, impressed, stepped forward to get a better look: Taser was sixty pounds of rock-hard muscle, the weight of the scarred head between the stumps of his ears carried by a good stub neck and bulging shoulders.

‘No denying it,’ he enthused. ‘Got the look, hasn’t he? I’ve got a bitch that’d go well with him. Make for some awesome pups.’

‘We’ll see.’

Mick looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the plain, blond-haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat of the estate car. She got out, followed by three surly looking boys dressed in tracksuit bottoms and football shirts, crew cuts and ear studs, the youngest no more than eight years old.

‘That’s enough hanging about,’ said Mick. ‘It ain’t fucking Crufts. Let’s get it on. I wanna see some action.’

‘Frank, take them to the pit,’ said Cal, heading for the last of the barns. ‘There’s a couple of buckets ready for washing the dogs down. I’ll see you in there.’

When Jeffo heard the barn door being unlocked, he came forward in his cage, hoping the wait for Tom was finally over. Then the door swung open and Cal stepped inside, heading straight for him. As he approached, Jeffo’s tail stopped wagging, his heart sinking like a stone.

‘This is it for you, then.’

Cal stood in front of the cage, taking a moment to look him over. Regardless of the quality he had just witnessed in Mick’s dog, he was pleased to see that Jeffo wasn’t going to seem too out of place in the pit; he looked solid and was well washed and groomed, the white of his coat brilliant; Andy having done something right for once. He opened the cage door and picked up the chain, dragging Jeffo out with it, then collaring him tight on a short lead.

‘Just don’t embarrass us,’ he said, reaching for the card wrap in his pocket. ‘This’ll keep you going, give you some puff and numb you up a bit. First few contacts won’t hurt so bad.’

Opening the packet, he emptied the pale yellow powder into his palm, then rubbed it over Jeffo’s teeth and gums until it was completely dissolved, holding the jaws together so none of the amphetamine could be coughed or spluttered out. Satisfied, he loosened his grip and led him out of the barn.

The light drizzle outside was turning to rain and the evening sky was becoming heavy with a layer of dark cloud. It was gloomy in the pit barn when Cal entered with Jeffo, the dank space filling with a scented cloud of quality skunk, everyone chatting and laughing, already well into the beers. He flicked the switch by the door, turning on the strip lights hanging directly over the pit, increasing the atmosphere as the sunken ring was bathed in light and the rest of the barn cast in shadow.

‘So this is what we’re up against, is it?’ asked Mick, leaving Taser with Northern and coming forward to meet them. He looked over the dog at Cal’s side carefully: the sheen to the coat and contrasting centred black spot were exceptional, the handsome head and powerful frame well set on long legs that were proof of Irish bloodline.

‘Jeffo,’ said Cal, looking Mick in the eye as he introduced him.

‘Not bad,’ Mick grunted, grudgingly impressed with the dog’s bearing, his calmness a total opposite to Taser, who had started barking and fighting his lead the moment he was walked into the barn. ‘Bit on the small side, but then you’ve always gotta watch the little ’uns.’ Mick returned Cal’s stare with a grin, as if his comment had been aimed at both of them. ‘I like the look of it. Should be a good scrap if it’s game.’

Cal nodded. ‘What time is it, Frank?’

‘Just gone eight.’

‘Let’s not hang about, then,’ said Mick. ‘Quicker we’re done, sooner we’re gone. Sooner you can start making us all some money.’

The comment lifted Cal’s spirits. ‘How d’you want to play it?’ he asked, sounding out Mick on the rules. ‘Scratching? Turns? Breaks?’

‘No. Nothing like that.’ Mick’s eyes widened slightly, gleaming in the half-light. ‘Just fighting.’

When Cal looked at Taser, he understood why: the dog was agitated, pacing at Northern’s feet and snapping at anyone who got too close: dangerous to be with in the pit. The telltale signs of its having been dosed were already there: Taser was breathing too hard, his eyes bulging; thick, frothy spittle dripped from the corners of his jaws.

‘Put them in and let them go,’ Mick continued. ‘No need to hang about in the pit with them either. Takes as long as it takes.’

Not being in the pit bothered Cal. It was yet another loss of control and not how he liked to run a fight; more importantly, it wouldn’t allow him to stretch things out and make the match seem more even, should he need to. The last thing he wanted was to be unable to break a hold that might finish the fight in seconds, worrying they would look like time wasters if it went too quickly. But there was nothing to be done. It was all up to the dog now; if it lasted ten minutes it would be something.

‘After you, then,’ said Mick, his massive hand ushering Cal down into the pit. Cal pulled Jeffo in after him.

Jeffo’s senses went into overdrive as soon as his feet hit the rough, uneven floor. He could smell the blood streaking the pit walls and trodden into the dirt under him. For the first time, he struggled on the chain, suddenly aware all was dreadfully wrong. Fear gripped him, sending a bolt of adrenalin speeding through his body. When he looked up, all he saw was a wall of leering faces staring back at him, crazed bloodlust flashing in their eyes.