‘Eh, so, can I come in Gran?’ Graeme asked
‘No you bloody well can’t come in,’ Doris said with the anger spitting in each word.
Graeme chuckled. ‘Gran, it’s Graeme, the wee bairn. Come on, let me in.’
‘Not now and not ever,’ Doris said. ‘You’re as bad as your mother.’
‘That wounds me, Gran.’ Graeme snorted as he clutched his chest as if he was wounded.’
‘Derek piped up from the hall. ‘Doris would you…eh, like… me to escort this ruffian aw—’
‘I don’t want any of your trouble, Graeme,’ Doris said.
‘Oh, I didn’t realise you had visitors, Gran,’ Graeme smiled again revealing more of his discoloured teeth and waved at Derek.
‘I’m not letting you make one step into this flat,’ Doris said, her arms folded and a stern expression on her face but her face softened as she looked at the bruises and cuts on Graeme’s face.
‘You’d be better going now, son,’ Derek said from a safe distance.
‘I’m not your son,’ Graeme said too calmly. ‘And I was speaking to my gran.’
‘You’re not getting in, Graeme.’ Doris said.
‘Why not?’ Graeme asked, sounding childlike.
‘Because you stole from me,’
‘But my mum steals from you, and…’
Doris got teary at the mention of her daughter’s name. ‘You don’t have to be like her. You’re smarter than that, but no you choose to…’ Doris started to cry
‘Come here Gran, Graeme said as he gave her a hug. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.’
As Graeme hugged Doris, the wounds on his arms nipped and he could feel the scalded flesh disintegrate.
Doris withdrew from Graeme
Jonah Burns was heading to the meeting point near the docks where, Jerry O’Dowd, the voice at the other end of the line said Jonah was to meet him. The sound of seagulls filled the air as Jonah drove past small shops and well-known high street names. Before he got to the docks and the meeting with Jerry O’Dowd, Jonah made one last stop. Jonah parked his car and walked across the busy road making sure that no one was following him. He then went up a set of stairs to what appeared to be an abandoned pigeon coop, which was once used by a pigeon fancier to house their birds.
‘You might have been a mean bastard,’ Jonah muttered to himself. ‘And loved your pigeons more than me, but at least I found a use for this dear old dad.’
Jonah rummaged around in the innards of the pigeon coop and pulled out three small handguns. You said to come alone, but you never said come unarmed, thought Jonah. Once he took the guns out the pigeon coop, Jonah inspected them and made sure that they were loaded. He couldn’t test the guns out to make sure that they functioned correctly too many people about Jonah thought. And only so many bullets too. Jonah turned one of the guns around in his hands and enjoyed the feel of it in his hands before putting it in his jacket. These should do the trick, nicely, Jonah thought.
He knew that the sound of gunfire in a build up area would alert the police and he didn’t want the cops, not if it was going to end up in jail time for carrying concealed weapons. As he put the guns inside his jacket and walked back to his car, Jonah mentally rehearsed a plan should his latest business partner decide to dispose of him now that their business with each other was coming to an end. Don’t trust anyone. There are too many sharks in this business, too many people willing to stab you in the back. I don’t trust Jerry O’Dowd, so I’m not taking any more risks than I have to.
Jerry O’Dowd grinned as he watched the feed on his mobile device. His men had attacked Malcolm Turner’s and his agents. O’Dowd smirked as his men pummelled Malcolm Tucker’s surveillance unit consuming it in a hail of bullets, grenades, and other weaponry. It was a pyrotechnic marvel but deadly to those on the receiving end. Although O’Dowd’s mobile phone only had a small screen, he could see the smoke and fire from the surveillance unit bellowing up. ‘Got you now, Tucker,’
‘Mr-Mr O’Dowd,’ said one of his underlings
‘Yes, what is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?’
‘Oh for god’s sake, Colin. Spit it out.’ O’Dowd sighed. ‘Look, here.’ O’Dowd handed his stuttering underling a small notebook and pen which O’Dowd had pulled out from a drawer in the small office they were sitting. ‘Write it down on this.’
The underling wrote like lightning. O’Dowd took the piece of paper and read it.’
It’s time to kill Jonah Burns.
O’Dowd smiled at his underling. ‘Yes it is, it is, isn’t it.’
As he made his way out the office and towards a car that would take him to his rendezvous with Jonah at the docks, O’Dowd’s eyes and ears stayed tuned into the deafening noise of his men’s continued barrage of Malcolm Tuner’s surveillance unit
‘Quick, boys,’ O’Dowd said, chuckling to himself. ‘They’ll be sending reinforcement soon so cut the head off the snake while you can.’
As Doris withdrew from Graeme, she looked down at her dress and saw the bloodstains. ‘What’s—’
‘Oh, sorry, Gran,’ Graeme said, wincing from the pain but also chuckling despite the waves of pain rippling through his body. ‘It appears I’ve got some of my blood all over you.’
Doris’s voice filled up with concern. ‘What happened to you, son?’
‘I burnt myself with a kettle,’ Graeme said, laughing.
‘What, on both arms?’ Doris asked. What kind of trouble has he got himself into now?
‘Let’s just say I had some help with that.’ Graeme gave Doris a boyish smile. ‘So, eh, can I come in, then?’ he asked, hoping that the concern he saw in Doris’s eyes would be enough to get into him into her flat.
‘I’ll treat your wounds for you, son,’ Doris said. ‘But then I’ll have to ask you—’
‘To leave,’ Graeme said, grinning. ‘I know, I know. Okay, Gran, you’ve got yourself a deal.’
Doris shook her head as Graeme stuck out his hand to shake on it.
‘Put it there, Gran,’ Graeme said, smiling.
Derek piped up from the living room. ‘Are you sure you want him in your home, Doris?’
‘Yes. It’s okay, Derek,’ Doris called out. She turned and looked at Derek and smiled. ‘I’m sure Graeme will behave himself, won’t you,’ Doris said as she turned back and stared at her grandson.
‘Yes, Gran,’ Graeme said as he walked into Doris’s hall and followed her into the living room. ‘Scout’s honour, dip-dip and all that.’
Doris shook her head, rolled her eyes and sighed.
‘All right, buddy,’ Graeme said as he flashed Derek a smile.
‘Yes,’ Derek said as he sat on one of Doris’ chair staring across the room at Graeme with his arms folded across his chest. ‘Quite all right, thank you.’
As Doris went into the kitchen to find some bandages and something to clean Graeme’s wounds, Graeme went over to Doris’s cuckoo clock and started to poke about inside its innards.
Doris came out the kitchen with some bandages and ointment to help dress Graeme’s wounds. ‘Hmm,’ Doris said, pretending to clear her throat.
Graeme turned round. ‘Eh, Gran?’
‘Where are the diamonds?’