salad. Filling but tasty.”
On the floor Coco moaned in pain. Benny kicked out at him again with a booted foot.
“Shut up, you ponce, can’t you see we’re on a tea break!” He laughed at his own wit.
“Can’t beat Marks for a good bit of grub.”
Abul nodded agreement.
“Worth paying that little bit extra, ain’t it? What are you going to do with him?”
He nodded towards Coco.
Benny chewed on the last of his sandwich before replying.
“Kill him, I expect.”
“You’re joking!”
Benny shook his head.
“Never been more serious, mate. People saw you take him: it’s the best way I know to put out the message that I am on the fucking war path. Well, I’m right, aren’t I?”
Abul sighed.
“He ain’t heavy duty, Benny. He has a nice house, a nice mum and dad, and a nice little bird. He earns you dosh. Give him a fucking break, man.”
Benny put his hands to his chest in mock horror.
“What are you, Abul, stuck up his fucking arse or what?”
Abul laughed despite himself.
“You are one mad cunt, I tell you, Benny.”
“I will do a deal with you, OK?”
Abul nodded.
“I will leave him alive on one condition, right?”
Abul nodded again.
“I get the last of the sandwiches.”
Benny was deadly serious and Abul knew this. He pretended to think before he answered. He knew how to handle Benny better than anyone.
“All right. It’s a deal.”
Benny poured the last of the hot tea over the unconscious man’s face to wake him.
“Come on, wanker, up and out of it. I got a hot date tonight with a big-chested bird.”
When Coco finally came round, the first thing he saw was Benny Ryan standing over him with a cattle prod, a big smile on his face.
Kenny Smith kissed his little daughter goodbye and left his large rambling house in Laindon. He got into his new Mercedes. As he went to put the key in the ignition a snub-nosed revolver was poked into the side of his neck.
Garry Ryan’s voice was low and menacing.
“Drive, Smithy, and don’t make any unnecessary moves.”
Kenny closed his eyes in distress.
“You piece of shit, Ryan. What you gonna do now? Make my baby an orphan?”
Garry laughed.
“Only if you push your fucking luck, mate. But think about this. If I wanted you dead, you already would be. No discussion, nothing. Now, drive.”
“Drive where?”
“Just drive. We’re meeting some friends in a minute. Be nice for you, won’t it, eh? We can have a chat about old times.”
Kenny drove away, his heart in his mouth and his hands itching to get into the glove compartment where he kept a strategically placed firearm.
Prison Officer Danzig walked through the unit quietly. It was early evening and the maximum-security prisoners were on TV hour. Unlike burglars and car thieves in open prisons, the Max prisoners could only watch one hour of television twice a week. It caused endless trouble when they couldn’t keep up with the soaps, and now the video had gone A.W.O.L. they couldn’t even tape things. Danzig sighed. The powers-that-be sometimes forgot that this was a unit dealing with the higher echelons of crime. Boredom and the men’s innate intelligence were a worrying combination.
A man looking at an eighteen stretch was on the edge. He needed to be occupied far more than a youngster doing two or three years. It wasn’t a case of making their lives easier, more a case of making life easier for the screws in charge. And how could you really be in charge of a crowd of men when all the time you were shit scared of them?
He blew his nose noisily before going into the rec room so they would be alerted to his arrival. That way any nefarious dealings would cease until he had left. Inside he was amazed to see only two men silently watching Pet Rescue.
He walked to his small office and unlocked the door, waving at the other POs on the way. Inside the office he found Vic Joliff. He was hanging from a beam on the ceiling, his mouth stuffed with papers from Danzig’s desk.
On the floor Coco moaned in pain. Benny kicked out at him again with a booted foot.
“Shut up, you ponce, can’t you see we’re on a tea break!” He laughed at his own wit.
“Can’t beat Marks for a good bit of grub.”
Abul nodded agreement.
“Worth paying that little bit extra, ain’t it? What are you going to do with him?”
He nodded towards Coco.
Benny chewed on the last of his sandwich before replying.
“Kill him, I expect.”
“You’re joking!”
Benny shook his head.
“Never been more serious, mate. People saw you take him: it’s the best way I know to put out the message that I am on the fucking war path. Well, I’m right, aren’t I?”
Abul sighed.
“He ain’t heavy duty, Benny. He has a nice house, a nice mum and dad, and a nice little bird. He earns you dosh. Give him a fucking break, man.”
Benny put his hands to his chest in mock horror.
“What are you, Abul, stuck up his fucking arse or what?”
Abul laughed despite himself.
“You are one mad cunt, I tell you, Benny.”
“I will do a deal with you, OK?”
Abul nodded.
“I will leave him alive on one condition, right?”
Abul nodded again.
“I get the last of the sandwiches.”
Benny was deadly serious and Abul knew this. He pretended to think before he answered. He knew how to handle Benny better than anyone.
“All right. It’s a deal.”
Benny poured the last of the hot tea over the unconscious man’s face to wake him.
“Come on, wanker, up and out of it. I got a hot date tonight with a big-chested bird.”
When Coco finally came round, the first thing he saw was Benny Ryan standing over him with a cattle prod, a big smile on his face.
Kenny Smith kissed his little daughter goodbye and left his large rambling house in Laindon. He got into his new Mercedes. As he went to put the key in the ignition a snub-nosed revolver was poked into the side of his neck.
Garry Ryan’s voice was low and menacing.
“Drive, Smithy, and don’t make any unnecessary moves.”
Kenny closed his eyes in distress.
“You piece of shit, Ryan. What you gonna do now? Make my baby an orphan?”
Garry laughed.
“Only if you push your fucking luck, mate. But think about this. If I wanted you dead, you already would be. No discussion, nothing. Now, drive.”
“Drive where?”
“Just drive. We’re meeting some friends in a minute. Be nice for you, won’t it, eh? We can have a chat about old times.”
Kenny drove away, his heart in his mouth and his hands itching to get into the glove compartment where he kept a strategically placed firearm.
Prison Officer Danzig walked through the unit quietly. It was early evening and the maximum-security prisoners were on TV hour. Unlike burglars and car thieves in open prisons, the Max prisoners could only watch one hour of television twice a week. It caused endless trouble when they couldn’t keep up with the soaps, and now the video had gone A.W.O.L. they couldn’t even tape things. Danzig sighed. The powers-that-be sometimes forgot that this was a unit dealing with the higher echelons of crime. Boredom and the men’s innate intelligence were a worrying combination.
A man looking at an eighteen stretch was on the edge. He needed to be occupied far more than a youngster doing two or three years. It wasn’t a case of making their lives easier, more a case of making life easier for the screws in charge. And how could you really be in charge of a crowd of men when all the time you were shit scared of them?
He blew his nose noisily before going into the rec room so they would be alerted to his arrival. That way any nefarious dealings would cease until he had left. Inside he was amazed to see only two men silently watching Pet Rescue.
He walked to his small office and unlocked the door, waving at the other POs on the way. Inside the office he found Vic Joliff. He was hanging from a beam on the ceiling, his mouth stuffed with papers from Danzig’s desk.
Similar Books
