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Authors: Gerard Brennan

Wee Rockets (33 page)

BOOK: Wee Rockets
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They pulled into a space and got to work. Liam emptied a can of lighter fluid onto the seats and floor mats. Matt and Eddie stood behind him and twisted pages of the Andersonstown News into tapers. They lit a bunch of them, dropped them onto the seats and stood well back, waiting for the fire to catch. Black smoke belched from the open doors, swiftly followed by slender fingers of flame.

"Seems a real waste, that."

Liam spun on his heel as the first melting tyre popped. The comment had come from an older kid on a BMX. His white Carbrini hoodie glowed orange. Four others stood behind him. They cheered as another tyre exploded.

"We could have had a go before you wrecked it," BMX Boy said.

"All right, mate?" Liam said.

"Who you calling mate?"

Liam sighed. "Is there going to be a problem here? Because I couldn't be fucked breaking your legs."

BMX Boy turned to the four youths behind him. "You hear that? Couldn't be fucked breaking my legs." He turned back to Liam. "You've some balls on you."

He stepped off his bike and it clattered to the ground. Liam glanced at the four hoods behind him. They watched with hungry eyes, anticipating a satisfying show.

"Where you from, Legbreaker?"

Your ma,
he thought. But even with the twins behind him, he'd have no chance of getting away without a serious kicking. He did his best to keep his smart mouth in check.

"Down the road a bit. We came up because we heard you can buy the best drugs in Poleglass."

"And do you have enough money for the best?"

Liam nodded. "Aye, but I'm not stupid enough to carry it on me. Awful lot of people getting mugged these days. I thought I could place an order first."

"Well... I might be able to help you. But I don't do shitty wee ten-deals. You're not going to waste my time over a bit of hash, are you?"

Liam had to swallow the insults on the tip of his tongue. BMX Boy wanted a good kick in the scones, but Liam knew they'd be safe if they had something to offer the prick. Different street, same rules.

"No, I'm not talking about a ten-deal, or even about hash. We're after some class A shit for a major party. It'll be well worth your while."

"How much you got to spend?"

"Three hundred."

BMX Boy had a shit poker face. His eyes almost rolled out of his head. Liam and the twins would live to fight another day.

"Right, give me your mobile number. I'll have anything you need in two days."

"Great. What's your name then, big lad?"

"Eamon, but most of the headers around here call me E Man."

"Dead on, E Man. Listen, would you and your mates walk us to the taxi depot? We don't want to get into any trouble on our way home."

"No sweat, mate. You'll be safe with us."

The rear tyres on the RX8 popped in unison. E Man offered his hand to Liam.

###

Stephen stretched out on the sofa. He set his beer bottle on the cork coaster on the wooden floor and aimed the remote control at the DVD player, skipping forward to the next fight scene. On screen, Jet Li opened a can of whup-ass on a gang of Chinese-American triads. One man against an entire crime organisation. If only life were so simple.

His doorbell chimed and he rolled off the sofa, sleek as a kung fu master. He hadn't been expecting company, so he readied himself to open his door to kids looking for a party to crash. The wee bastards tried it on every so often, thinking they'd get in by sending the prettiest girl first, then crowding in after her. He geared himself up to unleash a mouthful of abuse, and opened the door to Joe. The teenaged beanpole stood on the doorstep, shaking like a junkie. He cupped a cigarette in his hand. You can take the kid off the schoolyard...

"What the fuck, Joe? It's almost one in the morning. Why are you not at home?"

"Everything's fucked and I've nobody else to talk to. My ma keeps saying you want to get to know me. I'm desperate enough to test that."

"You're a real charmer, Joe. Come in. But lose the fag. This is a no smoking zone."

Joe flicked the butt into the street and stepped past Stephen. He stood in the middle of the living room until Stephen waved a hand at the armchair. Joe sat on the edge of the seat and Stephen sat on the sofa, placing one foot on either side of his beer. He wrapped a fist around the bottle neck and lifted it to his mouth. After a slow, satisfying swallow, he set his beer directly on top of the little wet circle in the centre of the coaster. Then he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looked at Joe.

"So what is it?"

Joe licked his lips and glanced at Stephen's bottle. "Any chance of a beer?"

"When you're eighteen, maybe."

Joe sighed, but didn't complain. He took a plastic lighter from his pocket and fiddled with the flint. Little bursts of spark jumped.

"Joe, did you just come here for somewhere soft to sit or did you want to ask me something?" Then a thought occurred. "Or have you more info on them Wee Rockets for me?"

"What? No, I told you everything you need to know. Fat Liam Greene is in charge. The other six just follow his lead."

"What then? Spit it out for fuck's sake."

"You're mates with Paul Gibson, aren't you?"

"Aye, I suppose. We both play for Davitts, like."

"Will you get in touch with him and let him know his wee brother's in the hospital. Not sure which one, but last time I saw him he was bundled into an ambulance."

"Shit. What happened to him?"

"He got clunked on the head with a baseball bat."

Stephen scrunched his face up. "Nasty. What did he do to deserve that?"

Joe took off his hat and rubbed the crown of his head. Scalp flakes hopped like fleas. "We did something well fucking stupid tonight."

Stephen sat with his jaw hanging as Joe told him about the quality time he'd been spending with his father. He'd figured Dermot for a complete scumbag, but Joe's story put him into a whole new league.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe your da took you and your fourteen-year-old mate on an armed robbery. And I thought your ma letting you smoke was bad. Fuck me. What chance did you ever have in life?"

"Look, I didn't come here so you could take the piss out of me."

"What did you come here for?"

"I thought we could help each other."

"Oh, I see. You want me to deal with daddy Dermot." Stephen snorted. "Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

"Don't you want to clean up the streets? Isn't that what your hard-on for the Rockets was all about? Playing vigilante? I thought you'd have jumped at the chance to take out someone like my da."

"I wanted to help out my community in a time of crisis. If Dermot is doing over shops in student land, why should I care? It doesn't impact on me or mine."

"Does it not? Armed robbery is only the tip of the iceberg, mate. He's been working more than one angle since he got back. You've plenty of reason to care."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's been in your house, McVeigh. Poking through your personal shit. He even photographed some of your bank statements. Ever hear of identity theft?"

Stephen launched himself out off the sofa and grabbed the front of Joe's hoodie. He hoisted him off the armchair and shook him.

"How do you know that? Were you with him, you wee fucker?"

Joe smirked. "It was me who wrote on Bruce."

Stephen dumped Joe to the floor. "You sneaky wee bastard. I should dance on your face."

"I'll tell my ma!"

"Not if I do a good enough job."

Joe rolled away, but Stephen made no move to follow him. He couldn't risk his relationship with Louise over Joe.

"Get off the floor, dickhead."

Joe stood and held his palms up to Stephen. "Look, I'm sorry for breaking in, okay? But now that you know about it, you can do something to stop your personal info being used, can't you?"

"Like kicking the shite out of your da? How convenient."

"I'm not asking you to give him a punishment beating."

"What then?"

"I need your protection. Do you think he'll just forget about the fact I left him for the cops? If he hasn't been arrested, I'm fucked." Joe blinked back tears as he waited for Stephen to react.

"You want
me
to protect you?"

"Well, I can't do it. He'd pick me up and break me in half. But you're built like a shithouse. So long as you don't turn your back on him, it'll be a piece of piss for you."

"Wait there."

Stephen went to the kitchen to fetch a fresh beer. He stood at the fridge thinking about Dermot Kelly. The bastard had violated his home. And that wasn't his first offence. Stephen's kidney still throbbed a little from their first meeting. And he'd stooped low enough to use kids, one of them his own flesh and blood, in an armed robbery. But even knowing all of this, Stephen couldn't see himself becoming a teenaged hood's bodyguard. But Joe didn't need to know that.

He popped the lid off his beer bottle and returned to the living room. Joe stood in the spot he'd left him.

"Joe, if your da is determined enough, the only way to stop him from hurting you will probably be to hurt him worse. Maybe even kill him."

Joe nodded. His face hardened. "I know. I've thought about that."

"If I were to do something to your da you'd be able to hold it over my head for the rest of my life. Let's face it; you'll never be a doctor or a barrister. What's to say you won't blackmail me when you're struggling to make ends meet on the dole?"

"I swear to fuck, McVeigh. I wouldn't do that. Getting rid of the bastard who fucked my best mate over would be enough for me. I'd be in your debt."

"But I've only got your word on that. I need something else. Some insurance."

Joe shook his head. Lost.

"Before I agree to something so serious, I need you on the same boat. I need you to deal with someone for me. Then you'll be in no position to blackmail me. We'll be evens."

Joe frowned. "Who?"

"Liam Greene."

Chapter 16
 

Dermot grabbed Emily's upper arm and spun her to face him. Her blonde waves billowed like a flamenco skirt. She caught his bruised face with a slap on her way around, the force multiplied by his own aggression.

"Don't you put a finger on me, Dermot Kelly. I'll bite your Niagaras off."

He rubbed his hot cheek. "I asked you a question."

"And I told you. It's business."

"You've never needed to stay out all night before. And it's only gone past six. Why do you need to leave so early in the evening? What's really going on?"

"Exactly what I told you.
Business
.
My business
. That's all you've ever needed to know before now. So sort yourself out, darling. You're losing grip."

"I think you have a boyfriend. Or someone who wants you to believe he's your boyfriend to get a few freebies."

"Sounds a bit like you."

"What's your point?"

"Are you jealous, Dermot?"

He curled his lip and instantly regretted it as it began to bleed again. "Aye, yeah. That must be it. I just don't want to share my common-law whore."

Emily gave him a sweet smile. "You know, we can fix that situation quite quickly. I'm beginning to think I'd be better off without you. I'm certainly making more money than you."

"Sure didn't I know it'd come back to cash? Never mind that I've been lifting and laying you. Making sure some sick fuck hasn't dumped you in the Lagan. Thought beyond making a quick score to try and build something we could both enjoy. Aye, go ahead. Fuck away off to your new boy and let him look after you like I have. I can do without the stress."

BOOK: Wee Rockets
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