Today was the first time I genuinely had to make a 999 call. The only time I’d dialled it before was when I was taught about its uses by a kind ambulance lady who visited my primary school. I ran home and made the call to double check I’d be given 3 options before being told off by the operator.
I was cycling back from work, cruising down the redway listening to 1Xtra when I crossed the road and deviated into some woodland as it was a short cut. It was as a reached the top of a small heath that I noticed the shape a human body sprawled out on the ground. As I got nearer I could see it was a man and his eyes were closed so I got off my bike, yanked my earphones from ears and approached cautiously. The fist thing that entered my mind was what was I going to do? I called out to him but there was no answer so I shouted louder and still there was no movement. I kneeled down and checked his chest to see if he was still breathing and luckily it was still moving up and down. Deciding not to slap him I started to pat his shoulder until I was rocking him hard. Nothing happened. It was quite clear that I was unskilled and inexperienced in these situations and I probably wasn’t helping him at all. Noticing small droplets of saliva leaking from his mouth I knew he needed help so after deliberating for a few seconds I decided to recall my training from primary school and pulled out my mobile and dialled those 3 digits.
“Emergency services”
“Erm, yeah, can I have, the Ambulance service please?”
“Ambulance service, yes, patching you through.
…
“Ambulance service here. What address are you calling from.”
“Erm, yeah, I’m calling from near a street off Peartree…”
“Can you tell me the name of the street please?”
“Erm…”
I looked around trying to find a street sign but being in woodland the closest thing I could see were some rather large posh houses. I realised that I wasn’t helping the situation and was about to disclose that there’s an unconscious man lying next to me when I saw a huge bald headed man appear over the heath.
“Don’t worry lad, he’s with me. Been drinking he has.”
A rush of relief ran through me as I finally realised that the man on the ground was just inebriated and not dying. I switched my attention to the Ambulance operator.
“Hi, sorry, a man has just appeared to say he knows the unconscious man and that he’s been drinking.”
“Ok, that’s a relief and thanks for not just cutting the call.”
“Hey, no problem, sorry I couldn’t give you the name of the street.”
I ended the call as the man reached us. He was huge about 6”3 and about looked about 17 stone in weight. He looked at the motionless body and slapped it hard across the stomach.
“Get up you fucking piss head.”
Almost instantaneously two eyes opened staring wildly at everything before closing again.
“Do you need any help?” I asked the big guy.
“Help? No. Thanks though.”
And after that sentence he picked him up and threw him over his shoulder and carried him off muttering as he stared to make his way. I just stood there for a few moments reviewing just how awful I was in that situation and should he really needed help I surely wasn’t someone who couldn’t give. I couldn’t even give the operator decent directions!
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“Of course I can Gregor, I could knock him clean out in one blow, I could break his arm with one hit and I could snap his neck with one twist. Yet why should we do this to a young person?”
“What? You’ve gone crazy, you’ve hit plenty of young blokes, in fact you tourtured that young un’ when he tried to thieve from us. I remember you knocked him out and tied him down so when he woke up all he could see was you with an array of tools. And you want to save this one? Who cares what happens to him. And if you don’t want to do it then Davy has no problems doing it do you Davy.”
Davy raises his head at the sound of his leader’s voice. Of course he’d do it, he cares only for the rewards and thinks little of the consequences of any action taken. He believes Gregor can fix anything. He nods in acknowledgement and waits for Charles’s response.
“I’ve got no problems Gregor with taking him out but my opinion is that if we can annihilate him before he gets to the garage the smoother the operation will run. But if the plan needs me to take him out I won’t bother threatening him I’ll just go straight for him and until he’s unconscious or at least till he won’t be able to jeopardise us.”
Gregor looks at him and reveals his top gum and teeth letting Charles know this was the answer he was looking for.
“And what about the escape route?”
“That is easy. Behind the garage are bushes and trees with a small trail. We can run from the garage up on there follow the trail which takes us near the wood. Now instead of going through the wood we turn left where it’ll take us next to Blenhiem road. We need to drop down from the woodland onto the path where Davy will be waiting.”
“Who’s says Davy is going to be the driver? Don’t assume anything on my project.” Snarls Gregor.
“Now, how secure is this getaway path? Do you know if this Tammy or Yannish aware of it?”
Charles shot him a look of disgust, he didn’t like to be teased and definitely not by a person he loathed more than any. He stared at Gregor’s provocative expression, the smirk, the tightening of his eyes, he was goading him to retaliate. A wave of anger ran over his body resulting in him clenching his fist to control himself, he wanted to punch him so much. He knew though that punching Gregor is what he wanted. Davy accepted everything he was told to do but Charles didn’t and would question him, and for this he believed Gregor wanted to return the favour by using any opportunity to tease or enrage him. However, in this instance the question was a good one even if it had not intended to be. Charles was pretty sure Yannish did know of the trails that ran through the bushes considering it was him that introduced him to the terrain. He didn’t want to tell Gregor though, he was vexed enough already by Charles’s suggestions on how the plan should be. No, Gregor need not know that maybe the young man does know his way around that area, besides he would be taken out.
Charles refocuses his mind to the present and breaks away from the glare he was giving Gregor. He looks at the floor then back up to Gregor.
“No, I don’t believe they know of those trails.” He replies in a calm voice.
“Excellent, well I’ve heard what you’ve both had to say and I’ll think of the plan and call you back in once it’s arranged.”
“What?” Spurts Charles.
“I told you, once I’ve got the plan I’ll get back to both of you.”
“Why can’t we do it now why we’re all here sharing ideas? We can nail this tonight.”
“You’ve shared your ideas and I’ll make the plan, like always.”
“Fuck you. Davy what do you reckon?” Says Yannish breathing heavily as the agitation starts to influence his thinking. He turns to see Davy standing and by shuffling his feet backwards as if trying to escape but not being able to. He looks in despair as Charles forces him to play his hand and give an opinion.
“I think we should do what Gregor says.” He replies in a quick raspy voice, his looking at Gregor.
Gregor shows his gums again in approval.
“You see Charlie, Davy agrees, now piss off and wait for my call.”
Charles turns around walks over to Davy and runs his teeth his along his gums and then pulls his head back and spits in Davy’s face. He sees it trickle from his eye lid slobbering down his cheek before Davy raises his hand to wipe it away.
“I’m going.” Charles tells them both and turns around to walk away. Having taken only two steps he feels his hair pulled then yanked back arching his head. An arm thrusts across his throat the forearm applying pressure downwards gradually closing down the air supply. A knee digs into his kidney while both Charles’s hands are grabbed tightly and twisted backwards.
“I don’t need insubordination within our unit. We are a unit and this is our biggest job in a long while. Now I’m going to stop applying pressure on your wind pipe so that you can apologise to Davy. If not I’ll crush it.”
He knew Gregor would do it so he knew there was little choice. He didn’t want to die and even though feeling emasculated he knew what he had to do. The pressure on his throat subsided and he opened his mouth.
“Davy I’m sorry.”
“Wait for me to contact you about the job.”
The arm slowly slides away from his throat and his body is released. Charles doesn’t bother to turn around to face them. He opens the door and walks out. Walking past his car he carries on until the frustration gets the better of him and he starts to punch a lamp post. The first punch lands cleanly but it’s then followed by another which catches the corner. His knuckles split open letting the blood to flow out. He stops for a moment to examine the cut only for him to carry on punching, this time faster and harder. His other hand cuts open and yet he carries on until he starts to get tired and just as he considers about to slow down he smashes his head on the post causing a deep thudding sound spreads throughout the street. Then, clarity. Screw Gregor and Davy he was still gong to formulate a plan on how to rob the garage, Gregor was good at planning but he wasn’t listening to the key points that were pivotal to get right in order to ensure the successful operation. He’d wait for the call and would listen to his plan if it was good enough then he’d follow it but if it wasn’t then he’d make sure they listen to his alternative. He leans against the post and then slides downwards until he’s hit the ground. The blood starts to drip on the floor so looks inside his pocket for something to dampen its flow. He pulls out a piece of paper and is about to cover his right hand knuckles when he notices that the paper is the letter Karen had sent to Yannish. He pauses for a moment as it hovers over his blood covered hand. Then he carefully slides it back into the pocket concentrating hard not to get any blood on it. Once back in his pocket he gets up and walks over to some grass and rubs his knuckles along it to clean the blood away and heads back towards his car already thinking of the best way to steal the money in the garage.
Still seething about letting Gregor form the plan he manages to clear his head for a moment to formulate his own one. It was simple really, the best day to strike would be on a Wednesday, take Yannish out before he got to work, then about half an hour later storm in wearing masks and Tammy would have no chance. Of course masks would be used and Davy had told them where the security cameras were placed. They would have to enter the store and stick immediately to the right to avoid the camera above, then move to the second aisle to avoid the second camera and be able to place their masks on. The safe was located out the back and although Davy wasn’t able to know exactly where, convincing Tammy to tell would be easy. It was simple really but yet he wasn’t allowed to speak his mind in front of Gregor.
“Fuck him” He thinks convincing himself this would be his last job. All the morals and values he was taught when he was younger had deteriorated over the years as he begun to get more involved in the petty thug crime scene. He looks down at his gashed hands, still seeing blood slowly oozing out and thinks how often had he seen his own blood because of his work. This work, that’s what he used to call it, was about taking, never earning. Other people would earn, they learn new skills and experience new things and then get a job that reflects their achievements. He didn’t. He would be the one that would steal from them or take what they earned. At first it felt good, getting money so easily. He remembers when he was 19 and needed money to go out, he didn’t have a job in the local supermarket or clothes shop. No his job was to hang out by an underpass after dark and mug people for money. This particular time a young lady in her mid-twenties was walking back, probably from work when he noticed her. He stood on the other side behind the underpass waiting until she approached the middle. He could tell she was at the middle because he would smash glass bottles all around that area so when someone walked over them he could hear the crunching sounds. The familiar noise rang out around the underpass as he walks out from behind checking first to see if anyone was coming. When no one was in sight he turned his attentions on the girl and rushed at her with a menacing grin. Grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall he demanded her purse. The woman quivered before braking into hysterics, her body was vibrating all over and wasn’t listening to what Charles was telling her. He pushed the palm of his hand up against her chin so her head titled backwards then he whispered into her ear that he would kill her if she didn’t give him her purse. This time she understood and although still shaking she managed to reach into her bag and hold out her purse to him. Her eyes looked gaunt in terror whereas Charles’s lit up at the sight of the purse. He quickly snatched it and pulled her close before kissing her on the cheek and pushing her on the floor. She wailed as some of the glass cut into her legs. Charles sprinted off until out of sight, until he was alone. Then he opened the purse to find £80. He was so pleased and openly laughed at the thought of how easy it was to get money.
Now he was thinking, yes it was an easy way to make money but how shallow life has become because of it. There was no achievement. Hitting people and terrifying them until they give you money used his innate skills and noting more. And it had been the same process day after day, year after year repeating the same thing for round about the same amount of money. It was only really when he met Gregor that things changed. This little, terrier of a man always wanted to try something new, do a different job and gradually things changed from waiting by an underpass to mug someone to waiting for the drunks to leave the pub at night, to breaking into warehouses early in the morning and stealing things and selling them on. There was a bit of variation in his life for a while but Gregor was evil and wanted it all. He can’t believe how closed minded he was, why didn’t he think of expanding his jobs, then he never would have needed Gregor. No matter now, it had all become boring, or become pointless with no sense of achievement and subsequently he feels his life is the same. All his achievements have been through petty or just above petty crime and he resented those accomplishments so he resented himself to the point now that he hated his life and what it had become. He hated the fact he had to steal to make money, he hated the fact he was a unable to do anything without Gregor’s approval, he hated the way he was starting to obsess hating Gregor. The human brain is an empty container, it is up to it’s owner to fill it with their choice of thoughts. And this was Charles’s. Maybe that’s why Yannish was a growing in presence in his head. This individual, young, and seemingly having a tough life schedule was still managing to live the ‘honest’ way. He was going to college to improve himself, he was working five days a week to earn probably half as much what Charles used to earn at his age from muggings alone. However, he seemed content because there was hope around him. He was emanating hope and Charles could sense it and he was fighting hard to not stay too intrigued as this would lead to jealousy and he didn’t want to hurt him. Instead he focuses on his own problems and uses the boy for inspiration. He knows that to start solving them he needs to cut off the main source, crime, and stay away from Gregor. That’s what he needs to do in order to survive and get clarity. Although in his late thirties he can still re-build his life the way he wants it. Even though he doesn’t know what that is he still knows that by living in this current way will only consume him into a cocoon to awake as a potential killer.
He lays back and blinks a few time to bring him out of his thoughts and back to the present time. The robbery must be a success and therefore he must support Gregor until the job is done.
It was a three days when the text came through. He was sitting on the toilet reading one of Marla’s magazines. It read, “Plan. Mine @ 9.” Finally it had been formulated. Charles couldn’t help but feel that this could have been done along time ago and in fact right now the job could have been done and he could be counting his final takings. Still he needed to speak to Marla to find out if she would be willing to change with him, leave it all to start something new. He pulls up his trousers and goes to find out what she’d think of it.
“What you doing today?”
“I told you, Semmii and I are going out, I want to get some bits.”
“You know, I’ve got a big job coming up.”
“Of course I do. It’s pretty big, well what Gregor told me, you guys could get some huge money from this. And I was thinking with that we could get some new stuff for the apartment, you know, like a new kitchen perhaps, or re-do the bath room. I really would like a bigger bath room.”
“I didn’t know you spoke to Gregor.”
“Yeah, I saw him in town when I was shopping, we got talking and he said some money would be coming your way and in that means also mine.
She leans forward and rubs his legs with her hands.
“Look, this money. The job. I’m thinking of stopping it after.”
“I want to stop.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to quit this, I want to do something else.”
“You can’t leave your friends like that.”
“They aren’t my friends. Fuck, Davy is a wimp and Gregor is one of the sickest men I’ve ever encountered.”
“He wouldn’t like you if he heard that.”
“Screw Gregor. The point is I want out. With the reward from this job we can be alright for a bit but I want to re-train and do something else.”
“You selfish bastard, you can’t do this. I need to live, don’t I?”
“Of course I won’t let you die. It’s just that you won’t be able to maintain your lifestyle for a while. I was thinking of maybe doing a plumbing course and maybe working as a bouncer at night to keep the income up.”
“No fucking way. I don’t want to give up anything. I want to carry on living the way I do, in fact I want to improve my living conditions not make them worse.”
“Look I want to try something new not carry on living the way I am. If I get caught I could go to prison for a very long time and who’s going to look after you then? You’ll be living with Semmii in a bed sit crying yourself to sleep thinking about how good it use be for you. This must be hard for you but if you love me you’ll trust me, I know what I’m doing it is the best for us and me.”
She gets up walks out of the room. Charles for a moment considers going after her but decides it’s best to let her stew on what he’d told her. He was confident, although kicking and screaming she’d go along with it. He imagined that it might be difficult for her to take, she was a poor girl to begin with and must hate the idea of perhaps returning to it. That wasn’t going to happen but it wasn’t going to be luxury either. He gets up himself and walks to the kitchen to fix a drink, rum and coke, then sits down on the chair in the front room. It’s strange but telling Marla brought his plan public, it wasn’t locked in his head anymore where he could’ve closed it down had he thought it stupid or was just to frightened to go through with it. Now someone else knew about it, and because it was serious he was almost obliged to go through with it even if he did want to back out. How shameful would it for him if he decided not to quit. Marla would torment him every time they had an argument. Things seemed lighter in his head now, this particular part of his life project was now in the open and it made his head clearer. He could move on to what he needed to do next, like thinking what exactly he wanted to do with the money. Closing his eyes and with a smile curling across his face he lets his mind drift into thinking what is he going to do.
Gregor had told them the plan. He decided that they would do it a week today, a Tuesday. They would wait for both employees to be on the shop floor before rushing in. It was deemed too complex and pointless to take out the boy Yannish before he got to the shop. The car would be parked thirty seconds away from the garage in a rural area. Masks would be put on in the car and Gregor would lead the charge followed by Charles. He would run towards the boy while Gregor made sure the lady Tammy did what they asked. This would involve turning off all the lights in the shop and the forecourt and telling them the code to get in the safe. Gregor would get the money while Charles tied and gagged them. In all the whole operation once the first step is made in the garage should take no more than four minutes.
Thursday 24 April 2008
Monday 21 April 2008
Outside The Court House
I had the afternoon off the other day and was waiting for someone. Being a little early, well 30 minutes early I found myself sitting on a bench opposite the local magistrate court. Although trying to initially read my book my eyes kept looking up at what was going on ahead of me outside the court. There wasn’t a fight or a cohort of armed police patrolling the vicinity. No, there were just a few people that looked like they were either waiting to be summoned or taking a fag break before having to go back in. On the left hand side standing at the bottom of the steps was the person who could only be summed up as the ‘hard nut’. Sporting a severely gelled wet French crop haircut which glistened against the sunlight he leaned back sucking up the last drags of his cigarette. It looked like he made half an effort to dress appropriately for court wearing black trousers and a baggy denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up exposing his array of tattoos. He was also wearing a pair of black trainers and a black tie unravelled around his neck as only the rebellious do. I imagined his crime was something to do with fighting. Perhaps someone pushed ahead of him in the queue at the kebab van one drunken Saturday night and took objection. He looked nonplussed about his current circumstance as if this was all procedural to him now. Unlike the young man on the right.
The person on the right looked visibly scared. Dressed in a salmon pink shirt tucked tightly inside his rather tight black trousers he kept rubbing his face in his hands. He looked around 19 – 20 years old. His eyes were not really focussing on anything around him but occasionally looked up when a car drove by. His family were there with him too all dressed smart and symbolising their support by surrounding him and occasionally laying hands of comfort on his shoulder. To me, it seemed he was an accomplice to something rather nasty. Maybe he helped someone to beat someone up or hid them from the police after it was done. It didn’t look like it was something he would do by his own accord and by the shaky look on his face he probably was cajoled into doing it by threats made on him.
At the top of the steps was another smoker, dressed in a dapper suit staring upwards as she puffs away on her cigarette. She looked like she was a lawyer/solicitor of some sort, I don’t know exactly why but her demeanour suggested that she knew the building and its surroundings. I think it was her confident stance at the top of the steps while the criminals stood below wallowing or waiting for their moment in court that convinced me she was a lady of power. She strides over to the rail and rubs it slowly, almost suggestively whilst nodding her head. It looked as if it was some sort of ‘geeing up’ ritual to motivate herself before she takes stage. A man in a suit approaches her and taps her on the shoulder from behind. She startles but before the second elapses she’s already straightened her back pushed back her shoulders and nods systematically to the man before following him inside the court.
It was at that point that my friend appeared and we headed towards a coffee house and my surveillance of the magistrate court ended.
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“That’s a good point Conrad but going into the wood could take ages. I think I’m going to speak to the police about this and get them to help.”
“Must you do that, we’ll have to move for sure.”
“I’m sorry guys but this person needs to be caught for society’s sake as much as mine. You’ve got nothing to fear as you’re all innocent but you’ll be classed as a suspect because it would seem to them that you need money.”
“Money is for fools.” Spits out Conrad.
“What’s that on the ground?” Peter interrupts.
“What? Where?” Yannish replies.
“There, that red thing.” Peter points over to the right and sure enough a small red object is impinged on a twig.
Noticing the foreign colour among the green and brown Yannish runs to it followed by Conrad and Peter no too far behind. He wrestles the small red cube from the twig and examines it.
“What is it?” Conrad asks.
“I don’t know it’s rubbery.” Replies Yannish.
“It’s from the sole of a shoe Yannish. Look on one side it’s got some texture, this came from a shoe probably from the thief. He must of got it caught on this twig as he ran away.” Peter says calmly.
“I, I think you’re right. It’s from those shoes that has a different colour part of the sole at the back by the heel.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know Conrad. But I’m glad I found it. Look, I haven’t got time to go investigating further but I’m going to hold off calling the police for the time being as I want to investigate this place more. You guys can do what you wish but if you want to help me I’ll be in touch tomorrow. I’ll come by your den but right now I need to go and meet someone before I’m late.”
“Ok, we will be ready to help you but when you come please be sure to bring a few cans. It’s been two days since we’ve last had a proper drink.”
Yannish smiles at them both and nods in acknowledgment. He feels elated in finding the rubber sole but isn’t sure why. It doesn’t tell him who he is or where he lives, nothing like that. Yet he feels that by finding something of his is a sign that this person was sloppy, this person didn’t envisage Yannish chasing him through the bushes, field and into the wood. If he left this behind he might of left something else behind. He shoves the piece of sole into his jean pocket giving it one last tight squeeze before letting it go. Now he needs to go to the park and speak to Karen about what is going on in his head.
“Right, I’m going back, anyone care to join me?”
The three of them turn around and slowly amble back out of the woods.
Collecting information on Tammy was easy for Charles. She was a creature of habit. She would finish her night shift and get home to wake up her two young children for school relinquishing her teenage daughter of her baby sitting duties. She’d get them ready and then take them to school and upon returning to her house start to clean the kitchen. It was always the kitchen first, then the dining room followed by the sitting room. Then move upstairs tidying up the bedroom of her two youngest, then the bath room and finally her room. She always did it in that order and always left her eldest child’s room alone. Of course she would open the door and peer inside only to sigh and shake her head as she headed to her room for a nap. Tammy would slept for 4 hours each day then got up to go shopping. She visited the same supermarket every time and even took the same route around picking up the same products. Charles could even tell what make of bread she would buy and how long it roughly took her to get out of there. The only thing that would seriously unsettle her would be if something changed her daily regime like when her boy was too ill to go to school one day. She was so flustered flapping around not knowing what to do that she rang her friend for advice. Charles thought this interesting as equally funny. It was becoming tedious now though, she ran like clock work and he knew full well the best way to get to her would be through her children. He found out their names from stealing their rubbish bags, which Tammy would leave at 5:45pm on a Tuesday night just before she set out to work. All he’d have to do is mention their names to her and nothing more. Then she’d give him the stare. It was something he had got used to seeing when he mentioned something very personal and dear to his victim’s heart. Behind the stare would be a series of questions running through their mind, how do they know? What else do they know? How do they know the one thing most precious to my heart? No matter what their original considerations may be the answer will always end in complying. Tammy was going to be easy to gain co-operation from she hated change and if he offered her a clear solution to the problem, hell she probably would end up packing the money into bags for them all.
Yannish was much more interesting but a difficult person to research. He was unpredictable and didn’t always do what Charles thought. There was a backbone of routine, he would attend college but not always daily and not always for the whole duration of the day. He worked five nights out of the week in the garage which he never missed. Yet there were strange things about his life like the lack of presence of his parents. It seemed he worked the five days to pay for rent on a flat he shared with a pot smoking friend. He didn’t seem to have any family around him. It was impressive, he must have been nineteen at the most yet he would always seemed to be under control and no two days seemed to be the same with him. One day Yannish would leave the flat at around seven thirty and arrive at college at eight thirty. He wouldn’t appear until twelve where he would be walking with a friend called Keith where they would go to the local pub. They’d have a couple of pints there but Yannish always chopped and changed his choice of beverage, it could be cider, ale or lager. Keith would always talk in an animated fashion, gesticulating and throwing his body around as he spoke. Yannish would always be slouched on the chair listening to Keith in a nonchalant manner. It was only if Keith said something Yannish didn’t agree with that made him spring to life rivalling Keith’s body movements as he delivered his opinion. After a few drinks Yannish would leave and return to the flat. He’d stay there until around five and head off to work. That was the only thing Charles could be sure of, that no matter what he got up to in the day he’d always leave around five and start to walk to work. Yet any other day he could be in the library, or stay in his flat or visit other friends.
Charles sat in his car, the empty packaging of fast food contents lay on his belly. He was frustrated about his lack of knowledge on Yannish. His technique on finding a loved one and using it against them wouldn’t really work for Yannish as he didn’t know who they were. What he did know was that he was quite an intelligent, kind person but most of all he was enchanting. Charles wanted to know more about him, not only because so far he’d only been fed scraps of information from his daily routines or lack of them. Not just to find something precious to use against him but because he wanted to know what it was like to be him, find out what it was that inspired his thoughts and choices. Tomorrow he would meet up with the rest of the gang and discuss the information each had gathered to formulate a plan he knew he could probably use Karen against Yannish but he also knew Yannish would be unlikely to comply even if threatened.
A girl approaches the flat, someone Charles hasn’t seen before. She knocks and enters and after twenty minutes she leaves with Tommy. They walk down the street, his blonde dread locks bobbing up and down as slides his hand down the back of the attractive young lady before pinching her backside.
“The stoner’s on a date.” He whispers to himself in slight excitement.
Another half hour passes and the door slams again as Yannish leaves for work in his garage uniform. Charles watches him walk out of the distance and then looks at the flat. He doesn’t know when Tommy will return but he’s willing to take the risk. It would be unlikely someone who spends his waking hours in a comatose state would be able to put up much of a fight. He reaches to his glove box and pulls out a baseball cap and wrench. He slips the wrench down his trousers so that it’s caught on his belt and rests the baseball cap low on his head, tilting the peak further down so that a shadow casts over his face. He gets out of the car, there’s still day light but this is an opportunity he can’t pass up on, Tommy never leaves the house, everyone seemed to come to him. He walks to the door and reaches upwards grabbing hold of the two pieces of wood supporting the roof over the door. He runs his fingers along the support until he finds a divot. With his index finger he prods further until he feels the plastic.
“Jackpot.” He whispers excitedly to himself.
He hooks his finger under the plastic and begins to pull out the little bag. He uses his other hand to grab it from the divot. Taking the key from the bag he unlocks the door.
The flat is small. On the right is the lounge full of the pungent smell of old tobacco and marijuana. There’s a lot of sixties remnants here, Jimmi Hendrix posters, the brown and beige wall paper. Charles looks around but doesn’t see anything that looks like it could be Yannish’s so goes back to the hall way and sees two rooms further along. He approaches the one on the left and enters. The room is fairly neat, the bed has been made, a few dvd’s are scattered on the floor and by the bed is an ash tray with a packet of rolling tobacco next to it with some papers on the floor. He looks on the wall and sees Yannish look back at him in his photos. One of them is of him with his friends on the beach, there’s another of him on a roller coaster ride. And the third is one of Karen and him sitting on a roundabout. It was taken by one of them as it’s very close and you can see inside their open mouths and on the top right hand corner the tip of a finger covering the lens is slightly visible. Charles carefully pulls the photo from the wall bringing it closer to him for inspection.
Knowing this was definitely Yannish’s room he sticks the picture back on the wall and begins looking for something about him. He opens the drawers on the right and finds only clothes, all in order. His top draw are full of pairs of socks attached to one another by the elastic on the top. Underwear neatly spread out so that minimum effort is required to pick one out in the morning haze. In the right hand corner is a box of condoms with the top one peeping out through the lid so a quick swipe is all that is required to get it out. The rest of his draws contain nothing but clothes. Charles rummages through them hoping to find some hidden papers or at least a clue of who he is. Yet it’s only t-shirts that slip through his fingers as it proves fruitless. Next to check is under the bed where it’s murky and unclear what’s there. He kneels down and sticks his hand moving it from side to side almost like a fishing net flaying around hoping to catch anything in its path. Yet there’s nothing there apart from a few stray socks. With one last sweep he hits something, his finger scurries along it’s side to identify a box. With excitement he introduces his other hand pulls it out from the dark. He sits on the bed and eagerly opens the little wooden box only to find disappointment at the discovery of Yannish’s pot stash.
He drops the box and falls back on the bed. He can’t find anything about him. Anything he can use against him. Yet he knows that he already has his bargaining tool in Karen, he just needed an excuse to find out more about him. And all that he’s found out is that externally he may seem un-neat with bits of cigarette remnants all over the floor and the odd sock. Yet when he looked in his draws everything was ironed, everything was in order and separated. Even Marla wasn’t as tidy as this boy. This highly organised boy. He tilts his head forwards and notices the bookcase in front of him. He looks at the books, 1984, Generation X, Girlfriend in a Coma. He moves up to the next shelf, an autobiography of John Simpson the BBC correspondent, another from Greg Dyke. His eyes then move higher to see the small shoe box almost completely hidden by the trilby hat resting on top of it. Charles springs up and reaches for the shoebox knocking the hat off. He opens the box.
Inside are records of achievements, young entrepreneurial finalist, winner of the 6th government debate and 3rd in the cross country race, all in the past year. Charles can feel the jealousy burn inside him, this person was on the cusp of greatness, youth pushing him forward into a successful man. A beautiful girl was chasing him and himself living in a highly organised world. Why couldn’t his world be like this? Why can’t he achieve? Not the achievements of executing a crime but in contributing to something. Yannish was all geared to contribute successfully, maybe pivotally, to society. He only contributed to its downfall.
“I will.” He whispers to himself. Thinking that once this last job is over he will change his path in life. He will re-train, leave this life of crime. He just needs to get this job done.
He shuts the box lid down. He can’t find anything in his room. Anything he doesn’t want people to find is well hidden that only a complete ransack of the place would uncover. He couldn’t risk doing that, it would alert suspicion. He’d already gotten close by breaking in here. If only he could find a computer or a laptop it might not prove completely fruitless. He checks the room over to see nothing looks out of place. He goes back to the draws making sure the clothes are neatly folded in place and heads out of the room. He goes to the other door opposite and tries to open it unsuccessfully. This must be Tommy’s room but being the local cannabis dealer it would prove wise to secure his interests when not on premises.
Walking back into the lounge and searches round for a computer, laptop or even a cable to suggest there maybe one in the flat somewhere. Yet nothing can be found. Giving up he leans against the wall to rest a little and contemplate what he’s going to say in the meeting tonight. As it stands, the only thing he can really use against him is his ex-girlfriend.
The door bell sounds. Charles quickly ducks down and looks towards the window. All of them have the curtains drawn so he slowly gets back up as the doorbell rings again. He keeps still listening for any sound or movement. The person taps on the door with their hands and then after a few moments the letter box flap comes open and a small envelope floats gently to the ground. Charles waits for the sound of footsteps before making a move, finally assured that they have gone he goes to the letter. Lying back down he picks up the small envelope and turns it over to see the name “Yannish” written on it. Looking at it for a moment he considers what to do and flicks the letter against his knuckles while debating his next action. Then without a flinch he slides his finger in the gap and starts to tear the top off and finally takes out the letter.
Yannish,
I know you hate me but I know you’ve probably forgiven me being the person you are but I want to explain what happened and maybe put what went wrong between us.
My mum’s boyfriend stole a lot of money from us. I never trusted him but she was besotted with him not noticing that she was paying for his way in life. He’d moved in within two months of meeting her and not any rent. It was paid when he convinced her to convert her savings account into a joint savings account when he did his real damage. He wiped out her account in one go and vanished. Just like that, he was gone. He took all my mother’s £9000 savings leaving our only income based on my part time jobs. She was distraught that he left and didn’t understand that he stole from her. She’s gone into depression and has lost her job. I couldn’t go full time, I wouldn’t crush my own dreams because of my mum’s bad judgement and some pricks conniving. You know how much I want to be a journalist. I just couldn’t do it and that’s when I saw the collection jar at your flat. At first I thought it was Tommy’s drug money so I didn’t care so much of taking it. The rent needed to be paid and I was short, my mum, she refused to get out of bed. I just kept saying she was ill to you and leaving it as that. Taking that money made me feel bad but I needed to make sure my mum and I could live. When I found out that it wasn’t Tommy’s drug jar but both of yours rent money that I knew I was doing something wrong. You looked so confused when you told me, so unsure of yourself. I felt like crying but had to be strong. I should have told you then but I couldn’t I needed the money. And when you started to hide the money I would look for it. You never ever thought it was me but it was. It was me, but not the Karen you know, I’m having problems Yannish. I’m not the same person you knew but I need you, I need you to get me back to normal because I know when you look at me you see that same girl you enchanted eight months ago. At the moment I’ve had to take on an extra shift at work, I can’t go full time as you know because of college. But it’s hard and I need your help. I can’t ask you to feel differently but I hope this explanation lets you know what happened to me in order to do the thing I’ve done. I was selfish, fucking selfish. It still haunts me how scared you were when we lay in bed together and you tell me how worried you were about being evicted. How you was worried about what was going to happen in the future whether you’d have to go to the YMCA until you finished college. And I held you tightly but silently I wept by your side because the person you trusted most was the person who was betraying you.
I don’t want you to give up on me. I thought you would be hysterical when we met at the park. But of course, you don’t get angry like that but when I saw in your eyes the hurt I couldn’t help but cry. Something seemed different. I don’t want to lose you. Please remember the time in the field two weeks ago when we sat there talking, alone and content in each other’s company when you told me just how much you loved me. I remember it. Everything melted around me, the trees, the grass, everything apart from you. You looked directly into my eyes and told me those words again and you unlocked my feelings for you and told you I feel the same. Please don’t forget that moment.
You are the most precious thing ever to me. I won’t call or text you anymore but I will ask you to contact me after reading this letter if you still feel some of that love that rolled of your tongue two weeks ago. I’ll keep fighting for you but I’m fighting many battles on different fronts. I’m still trying to track down this fucker who my mum loves but he’s been in the Ukraine the last couple of months.
I love you,
Karen.
Charles screws up the letter and stuffs it in his pocket. He walks into the kitchen looks around for anything else of interest and then looks out of the window. He can’t see Karen or anyone else and is happy that it is safe to leave. Opening the door he gives one more look around to see he hasn’t left any marks. Happy that all is well he closes the door, places the key in the divot and starts to make his way back to his car, walking slowly at first then gradually speeding up until it looks like he’s skipping across the road.
“Pint of lager.” Says Charles to the barmaid. She pours it for him and the usual procedural exchange of money for alcohol completes. He sits down and thinks about the letter he read.
“Fuck.” He says. He just can’t believe that no matter what he gets involved in, even in his own personal world Gregor’s demonic presence has always some thing to do with it. His actions had implications for other generations to deal with, stealing from Karen’s mother had caused a lot of trouble. It wasn’t that Gregor even needed the money, he had more than Charles easily but he doesn’t like to spend it. He probably lusted after this woman at first but once he had his way with her probably looked for other opportunities to arise. And when it did he doesn’t screw about with emotions he just takes so that he can move on and feel better. Yet he can’t feel sorry for Karen or Yannish he still has his job to complete.
He takes a deep breath to regain focus on the situation. Pulling out a paper and pen from his pocket he begins to write out what he has found from his research. Tonight he is going to tell the others how he’ll accomplish his part of the raid and needs to write it all out to help him think better. There can be no mistakes as the risk is too much. Armed robbery carries a long sentence and the thought of being in prison makes him shiver. He shivers so much that the hand holding his pint glass wobbles and splashes of lager escape. Quickly noticing what had happened he wipes it with a beer mat on the table. No mistakes can be made.
“Right what’ve you got?” Asks Gregor looking at Charles directly in the eye. He’s aware that he had become a meticulous planner ever since the bank manager incident but either way he liked to scrutinise what he said, see if he could pick holes and maybe find something to tease and torment him with.
“The woman, who works the night shift, her name is Tammy. She lives in a two bedroom flat shared with her eldest daughter and two young children. She’s not interested in being a hero as she has to work hard making sure her family lives as working in the garage is their only income. She won’t be any trouble and just the mention of her children’s names should sober her up into doing what I say.” Charles explains. He waits for the barrage of questions from Gregor to come. He’s gotten used to it now, the constant unpicking of what he says when forming a plan.
Gregor breaks the stare between the two men and starts to wander around Davy.
“So what happens if she does want to be a hero? Davy told us there’s a silent alarm behind the till and that’s usually where her fat behind is parked. It doesn’t take much effort for her to be a hero, just a push of a button and then we’re fucked.”
“The way I see it in my head we shouldn’t go barging in throwing our guns around. We should walk in casually, maybe not even together then I’ll get her away from the till by asking her for some help and then I’ll knock her to the ground tell her not to fuck with us. She’ll listen once I pull out my pistol.”
“I’ll think of the plan Charlie you opportunist shit. I just want a simple answer to my question but you fail to do that and instead want to create a whole new plan disregarding the information that has been provided just so you can get the lady from the till easily.”
“I’m not…”
“Shut it. What about the boy? How do you plan to deal with him?”
Silence ensues around the converted garage.
“You haven’t bothered to do any background work on him have you? Too busy perving on the female to bother. Yet it is he who is likely to cause the most disruption being young and sprightly unaware of the risks he is willing to take…”
“…I did do my research. You’re right he will be the more difficult. Yannish is a workaholic enigma. He is at the garage doing the night shift every week day. I couldn’t find much on him with the time given and without jeopardising revealing myself to him. He doesn’t seem to have any family other than his friends. He has just split from his girlfriend but he still is very passionate about her, he loves her and that is what I’ll use against him. I believe he will put up a struggle, he seems a very moral person with a belief of right or wrong and coupled with what you said in his naivety of what peril his life is in, if an opportunity arises he will try and stop us, I believe. I think we need to stop him going to work on the night, take him down before he gets there.”
“You told me that telling him we’ll hurt his girlfriend will be enough to stop him.”
“It is, well it may. He’s not stupid and has shown a lot of integrity, once he realises what we are after he’s probably going to put up a fight.”
“You can’t handle him?”
The person on the right looked visibly scared. Dressed in a salmon pink shirt tucked tightly inside his rather tight black trousers he kept rubbing his face in his hands. He looked around 19 – 20 years old. His eyes were not really focussing on anything around him but occasionally looked up when a car drove by. His family were there with him too all dressed smart and symbolising their support by surrounding him and occasionally laying hands of comfort on his shoulder. To me, it seemed he was an accomplice to something rather nasty. Maybe he helped someone to beat someone up or hid them from the police after it was done. It didn’t look like it was something he would do by his own accord and by the shaky look on his face he probably was cajoled into doing it by threats made on him.
At the top of the steps was another smoker, dressed in a dapper suit staring upwards as she puffs away on her cigarette. She looked like she was a lawyer/solicitor of some sort, I don’t know exactly why but her demeanour suggested that she knew the building and its surroundings. I think it was her confident stance at the top of the steps while the criminals stood below wallowing or waiting for their moment in court that convinced me she was a lady of power. She strides over to the rail and rubs it slowly, almost suggestively whilst nodding her head. It looked as if it was some sort of ‘geeing up’ ritual to motivate herself before she takes stage. A man in a suit approaches her and taps her on the shoulder from behind. She startles but before the second elapses she’s already straightened her back pushed back her shoulders and nods systematically to the man before following him inside the court.
It was at that point that my friend appeared and we headed towards a coffee house and my surveillance of the magistrate court ended.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“That’s a good point Conrad but going into the wood could take ages. I think I’m going to speak to the police about this and get them to help.”
“Must you do that, we’ll have to move for sure.”
“I’m sorry guys but this person needs to be caught for society’s sake as much as mine. You’ve got nothing to fear as you’re all innocent but you’ll be classed as a suspect because it would seem to them that you need money.”
“Money is for fools.” Spits out Conrad.
“What’s that on the ground?” Peter interrupts.
“What? Where?” Yannish replies.
“There, that red thing.” Peter points over to the right and sure enough a small red object is impinged on a twig.
Noticing the foreign colour among the green and brown Yannish runs to it followed by Conrad and Peter no too far behind. He wrestles the small red cube from the twig and examines it.
“What is it?” Conrad asks.
“I don’t know it’s rubbery.” Replies Yannish.
“It’s from the sole of a shoe Yannish. Look on one side it’s got some texture, this came from a shoe probably from the thief. He must of got it caught on this twig as he ran away.” Peter says calmly.
“I, I think you’re right. It’s from those shoes that has a different colour part of the sole at the back by the heel.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know Conrad. But I’m glad I found it. Look, I haven’t got time to go investigating further but I’m going to hold off calling the police for the time being as I want to investigate this place more. You guys can do what you wish but if you want to help me I’ll be in touch tomorrow. I’ll come by your den but right now I need to go and meet someone before I’m late.”
“Ok, we will be ready to help you but when you come please be sure to bring a few cans. It’s been two days since we’ve last had a proper drink.”
Yannish smiles at them both and nods in acknowledgment. He feels elated in finding the rubber sole but isn’t sure why. It doesn’t tell him who he is or where he lives, nothing like that. Yet he feels that by finding something of his is a sign that this person was sloppy, this person didn’t envisage Yannish chasing him through the bushes, field and into the wood. If he left this behind he might of left something else behind. He shoves the piece of sole into his jean pocket giving it one last tight squeeze before letting it go. Now he needs to go to the park and speak to Karen about what is going on in his head.
“Right, I’m going back, anyone care to join me?”
The three of them turn around and slowly amble back out of the woods.
Collecting information on Tammy was easy for Charles. She was a creature of habit. She would finish her night shift and get home to wake up her two young children for school relinquishing her teenage daughter of her baby sitting duties. She’d get them ready and then take them to school and upon returning to her house start to clean the kitchen. It was always the kitchen first, then the dining room followed by the sitting room. Then move upstairs tidying up the bedroom of her two youngest, then the bath room and finally her room. She always did it in that order and always left her eldest child’s room alone. Of course she would open the door and peer inside only to sigh and shake her head as she headed to her room for a nap. Tammy would slept for 4 hours each day then got up to go shopping. She visited the same supermarket every time and even took the same route around picking up the same products. Charles could even tell what make of bread she would buy and how long it roughly took her to get out of there. The only thing that would seriously unsettle her would be if something changed her daily regime like when her boy was too ill to go to school one day. She was so flustered flapping around not knowing what to do that she rang her friend for advice. Charles thought this interesting as equally funny. It was becoming tedious now though, she ran like clock work and he knew full well the best way to get to her would be through her children. He found out their names from stealing their rubbish bags, which Tammy would leave at 5:45pm on a Tuesday night just before she set out to work. All he’d have to do is mention their names to her and nothing more. Then she’d give him the stare. It was something he had got used to seeing when he mentioned something very personal and dear to his victim’s heart. Behind the stare would be a series of questions running through their mind, how do they know? What else do they know? How do they know the one thing most precious to my heart? No matter what their original considerations may be the answer will always end in complying. Tammy was going to be easy to gain co-operation from she hated change and if he offered her a clear solution to the problem, hell she probably would end up packing the money into bags for them all.
Yannish was much more interesting but a difficult person to research. He was unpredictable and didn’t always do what Charles thought. There was a backbone of routine, he would attend college but not always daily and not always for the whole duration of the day. He worked five nights out of the week in the garage which he never missed. Yet there were strange things about his life like the lack of presence of his parents. It seemed he worked the five days to pay for rent on a flat he shared with a pot smoking friend. He didn’t seem to have any family around him. It was impressive, he must have been nineteen at the most yet he would always seemed to be under control and no two days seemed to be the same with him. One day Yannish would leave the flat at around seven thirty and arrive at college at eight thirty. He wouldn’t appear until twelve where he would be walking with a friend called Keith where they would go to the local pub. They’d have a couple of pints there but Yannish always chopped and changed his choice of beverage, it could be cider, ale or lager. Keith would always talk in an animated fashion, gesticulating and throwing his body around as he spoke. Yannish would always be slouched on the chair listening to Keith in a nonchalant manner. It was only if Keith said something Yannish didn’t agree with that made him spring to life rivalling Keith’s body movements as he delivered his opinion. After a few drinks Yannish would leave and return to the flat. He’d stay there until around five and head off to work. That was the only thing Charles could be sure of, that no matter what he got up to in the day he’d always leave around five and start to walk to work. Yet any other day he could be in the library, or stay in his flat or visit other friends.
Charles sat in his car, the empty packaging of fast food contents lay on his belly. He was frustrated about his lack of knowledge on Yannish. His technique on finding a loved one and using it against them wouldn’t really work for Yannish as he didn’t know who they were. What he did know was that he was quite an intelligent, kind person but most of all he was enchanting. Charles wanted to know more about him, not only because so far he’d only been fed scraps of information from his daily routines or lack of them. Not just to find something precious to use against him but because he wanted to know what it was like to be him, find out what it was that inspired his thoughts and choices. Tomorrow he would meet up with the rest of the gang and discuss the information each had gathered to formulate a plan he knew he could probably use Karen against Yannish but he also knew Yannish would be unlikely to comply even if threatened.
A girl approaches the flat, someone Charles hasn’t seen before. She knocks and enters and after twenty minutes she leaves with Tommy. They walk down the street, his blonde dread locks bobbing up and down as slides his hand down the back of the attractive young lady before pinching her backside.
“The stoner’s on a date.” He whispers to himself in slight excitement.
Another half hour passes and the door slams again as Yannish leaves for work in his garage uniform. Charles watches him walk out of the distance and then looks at the flat. He doesn’t know when Tommy will return but he’s willing to take the risk. It would be unlikely someone who spends his waking hours in a comatose state would be able to put up much of a fight. He reaches to his glove box and pulls out a baseball cap and wrench. He slips the wrench down his trousers so that it’s caught on his belt and rests the baseball cap low on his head, tilting the peak further down so that a shadow casts over his face. He gets out of the car, there’s still day light but this is an opportunity he can’t pass up on, Tommy never leaves the house, everyone seemed to come to him. He walks to the door and reaches upwards grabbing hold of the two pieces of wood supporting the roof over the door. He runs his fingers along the support until he finds a divot. With his index finger he prods further until he feels the plastic.
“Jackpot.” He whispers excitedly to himself.
He hooks his finger under the plastic and begins to pull out the little bag. He uses his other hand to grab it from the divot. Taking the key from the bag he unlocks the door.
The flat is small. On the right is the lounge full of the pungent smell of old tobacco and marijuana. There’s a lot of sixties remnants here, Jimmi Hendrix posters, the brown and beige wall paper. Charles looks around but doesn’t see anything that looks like it could be Yannish’s so goes back to the hall way and sees two rooms further along. He approaches the one on the left and enters. The room is fairly neat, the bed has been made, a few dvd’s are scattered on the floor and by the bed is an ash tray with a packet of rolling tobacco next to it with some papers on the floor. He looks on the wall and sees Yannish look back at him in his photos. One of them is of him with his friends on the beach, there’s another of him on a roller coaster ride. And the third is one of Karen and him sitting on a roundabout. It was taken by one of them as it’s very close and you can see inside their open mouths and on the top right hand corner the tip of a finger covering the lens is slightly visible. Charles carefully pulls the photo from the wall bringing it closer to him for inspection.
Knowing this was definitely Yannish’s room he sticks the picture back on the wall and begins looking for something about him. He opens the drawers on the right and finds only clothes, all in order. His top draw are full of pairs of socks attached to one another by the elastic on the top. Underwear neatly spread out so that minimum effort is required to pick one out in the morning haze. In the right hand corner is a box of condoms with the top one peeping out through the lid so a quick swipe is all that is required to get it out. The rest of his draws contain nothing but clothes. Charles rummages through them hoping to find some hidden papers or at least a clue of who he is. Yet it’s only t-shirts that slip through his fingers as it proves fruitless. Next to check is under the bed where it’s murky and unclear what’s there. He kneels down and sticks his hand moving it from side to side almost like a fishing net flaying around hoping to catch anything in its path. Yet there’s nothing there apart from a few stray socks. With one last sweep he hits something, his finger scurries along it’s side to identify a box. With excitement he introduces his other hand pulls it out from the dark. He sits on the bed and eagerly opens the little wooden box only to find disappointment at the discovery of Yannish’s pot stash.
He drops the box and falls back on the bed. He can’t find anything about him. Anything he can use against him. Yet he knows that he already has his bargaining tool in Karen, he just needed an excuse to find out more about him. And all that he’s found out is that externally he may seem un-neat with bits of cigarette remnants all over the floor and the odd sock. Yet when he looked in his draws everything was ironed, everything was in order and separated. Even Marla wasn’t as tidy as this boy. This highly organised boy. He tilts his head forwards and notices the bookcase in front of him. He looks at the books, 1984, Generation X, Girlfriend in a Coma. He moves up to the next shelf, an autobiography of John Simpson the BBC correspondent, another from Greg Dyke. His eyes then move higher to see the small shoe box almost completely hidden by the trilby hat resting on top of it. Charles springs up and reaches for the shoebox knocking the hat off. He opens the box.
Inside are records of achievements, young entrepreneurial finalist, winner of the 6th government debate and 3rd in the cross country race, all in the past year. Charles can feel the jealousy burn inside him, this person was on the cusp of greatness, youth pushing him forward into a successful man. A beautiful girl was chasing him and himself living in a highly organised world. Why couldn’t his world be like this? Why can’t he achieve? Not the achievements of executing a crime but in contributing to something. Yannish was all geared to contribute successfully, maybe pivotally, to society. He only contributed to its downfall.
“I will.” He whispers to himself. Thinking that once this last job is over he will change his path in life. He will re-train, leave this life of crime. He just needs to get this job done.
He shuts the box lid down. He can’t find anything in his room. Anything he doesn’t want people to find is well hidden that only a complete ransack of the place would uncover. He couldn’t risk doing that, it would alert suspicion. He’d already gotten close by breaking in here. If only he could find a computer or a laptop it might not prove completely fruitless. He checks the room over to see nothing looks out of place. He goes back to the draws making sure the clothes are neatly folded in place and heads out of the room. He goes to the other door opposite and tries to open it unsuccessfully. This must be Tommy’s room but being the local cannabis dealer it would prove wise to secure his interests when not on premises.
Walking back into the lounge and searches round for a computer, laptop or even a cable to suggest there maybe one in the flat somewhere. Yet nothing can be found. Giving up he leans against the wall to rest a little and contemplate what he’s going to say in the meeting tonight. As it stands, the only thing he can really use against him is his ex-girlfriend.
The door bell sounds. Charles quickly ducks down and looks towards the window. All of them have the curtains drawn so he slowly gets back up as the doorbell rings again. He keeps still listening for any sound or movement. The person taps on the door with their hands and then after a few moments the letter box flap comes open and a small envelope floats gently to the ground. Charles waits for the sound of footsteps before making a move, finally assured that they have gone he goes to the letter. Lying back down he picks up the small envelope and turns it over to see the name “Yannish” written on it. Looking at it for a moment he considers what to do and flicks the letter against his knuckles while debating his next action. Then without a flinch he slides his finger in the gap and starts to tear the top off and finally takes out the letter.
Yannish,
I know you hate me but I know you’ve probably forgiven me being the person you are but I want to explain what happened and maybe put what went wrong between us.
My mum’s boyfriend stole a lot of money from us. I never trusted him but she was besotted with him not noticing that she was paying for his way in life. He’d moved in within two months of meeting her and not any rent. It was paid when he convinced her to convert her savings account into a joint savings account when he did his real damage. He wiped out her account in one go and vanished. Just like that, he was gone. He took all my mother’s £9000 savings leaving our only income based on my part time jobs. She was distraught that he left and didn’t understand that he stole from her. She’s gone into depression and has lost her job. I couldn’t go full time, I wouldn’t crush my own dreams because of my mum’s bad judgement and some pricks conniving. You know how much I want to be a journalist. I just couldn’t do it and that’s when I saw the collection jar at your flat. At first I thought it was Tommy’s drug money so I didn’t care so much of taking it. The rent needed to be paid and I was short, my mum, she refused to get out of bed. I just kept saying she was ill to you and leaving it as that. Taking that money made me feel bad but I needed to make sure my mum and I could live. When I found out that it wasn’t Tommy’s drug jar but both of yours rent money that I knew I was doing something wrong. You looked so confused when you told me, so unsure of yourself. I felt like crying but had to be strong. I should have told you then but I couldn’t I needed the money. And when you started to hide the money I would look for it. You never ever thought it was me but it was. It was me, but not the Karen you know, I’m having problems Yannish. I’m not the same person you knew but I need you, I need you to get me back to normal because I know when you look at me you see that same girl you enchanted eight months ago. At the moment I’ve had to take on an extra shift at work, I can’t go full time as you know because of college. But it’s hard and I need your help. I can’t ask you to feel differently but I hope this explanation lets you know what happened to me in order to do the thing I’ve done. I was selfish, fucking selfish. It still haunts me how scared you were when we lay in bed together and you tell me how worried you were about being evicted. How you was worried about what was going to happen in the future whether you’d have to go to the YMCA until you finished college. And I held you tightly but silently I wept by your side because the person you trusted most was the person who was betraying you.
I don’t want you to give up on me. I thought you would be hysterical when we met at the park. But of course, you don’t get angry like that but when I saw in your eyes the hurt I couldn’t help but cry. Something seemed different. I don’t want to lose you. Please remember the time in the field two weeks ago when we sat there talking, alone and content in each other’s company when you told me just how much you loved me. I remember it. Everything melted around me, the trees, the grass, everything apart from you. You looked directly into my eyes and told me those words again and you unlocked my feelings for you and told you I feel the same. Please don’t forget that moment.
You are the most precious thing ever to me. I won’t call or text you anymore but I will ask you to contact me after reading this letter if you still feel some of that love that rolled of your tongue two weeks ago. I’ll keep fighting for you but I’m fighting many battles on different fronts. I’m still trying to track down this fucker who my mum loves but he’s been in the Ukraine the last couple of months.
I love you,
Karen.
Charles screws up the letter and stuffs it in his pocket. He walks into the kitchen looks around for anything else of interest and then looks out of the window. He can’t see Karen or anyone else and is happy that it is safe to leave. Opening the door he gives one more look around to see he hasn’t left any marks. Happy that all is well he closes the door, places the key in the divot and starts to make his way back to his car, walking slowly at first then gradually speeding up until it looks like he’s skipping across the road.
“Pint of lager.” Says Charles to the barmaid. She pours it for him and the usual procedural exchange of money for alcohol completes. He sits down and thinks about the letter he read.
“Fuck.” He says. He just can’t believe that no matter what he gets involved in, even in his own personal world Gregor’s demonic presence has always some thing to do with it. His actions had implications for other generations to deal with, stealing from Karen’s mother had caused a lot of trouble. It wasn’t that Gregor even needed the money, he had more than Charles easily but he doesn’t like to spend it. He probably lusted after this woman at first but once he had his way with her probably looked for other opportunities to arise. And when it did he doesn’t screw about with emotions he just takes so that he can move on and feel better. Yet he can’t feel sorry for Karen or Yannish he still has his job to complete.
He takes a deep breath to regain focus on the situation. Pulling out a paper and pen from his pocket he begins to write out what he has found from his research. Tonight he is going to tell the others how he’ll accomplish his part of the raid and needs to write it all out to help him think better. There can be no mistakes as the risk is too much. Armed robbery carries a long sentence and the thought of being in prison makes him shiver. He shivers so much that the hand holding his pint glass wobbles and splashes of lager escape. Quickly noticing what had happened he wipes it with a beer mat on the table. No mistakes can be made.
“Right what’ve you got?” Asks Gregor looking at Charles directly in the eye. He’s aware that he had become a meticulous planner ever since the bank manager incident but either way he liked to scrutinise what he said, see if he could pick holes and maybe find something to tease and torment him with.
“The woman, who works the night shift, her name is Tammy. She lives in a two bedroom flat shared with her eldest daughter and two young children. She’s not interested in being a hero as she has to work hard making sure her family lives as working in the garage is their only income. She won’t be any trouble and just the mention of her children’s names should sober her up into doing what I say.” Charles explains. He waits for the barrage of questions from Gregor to come. He’s gotten used to it now, the constant unpicking of what he says when forming a plan.
Gregor breaks the stare between the two men and starts to wander around Davy.
“So what happens if she does want to be a hero? Davy told us there’s a silent alarm behind the till and that’s usually where her fat behind is parked. It doesn’t take much effort for her to be a hero, just a push of a button and then we’re fucked.”
“The way I see it in my head we shouldn’t go barging in throwing our guns around. We should walk in casually, maybe not even together then I’ll get her away from the till by asking her for some help and then I’ll knock her to the ground tell her not to fuck with us. She’ll listen once I pull out my pistol.”
“I’ll think of the plan Charlie you opportunist shit. I just want a simple answer to my question but you fail to do that and instead want to create a whole new plan disregarding the information that has been provided just so you can get the lady from the till easily.”
“I’m not…”
“Shut it. What about the boy? How do you plan to deal with him?”
Silence ensues around the converted garage.
“You haven’t bothered to do any background work on him have you? Too busy perving on the female to bother. Yet it is he who is likely to cause the most disruption being young and sprightly unaware of the risks he is willing to take…”
“…I did do my research. You’re right he will be the more difficult. Yannish is a workaholic enigma. He is at the garage doing the night shift every week day. I couldn’t find much on him with the time given and without jeopardising revealing myself to him. He doesn’t seem to have any family other than his friends. He has just split from his girlfriend but he still is very passionate about her, he loves her and that is what I’ll use against him. I believe he will put up a struggle, he seems a very moral person with a belief of right or wrong and coupled with what you said in his naivety of what peril his life is in, if an opportunity arises he will try and stop us, I believe. I think we need to stop him going to work on the night, take him down before he gets there.”
“You told me that telling him we’ll hurt his girlfriend will be enough to stop him.”
“It is, well it may. He’s not stupid and has shown a lot of integrity, once he realises what we are after he’s probably going to put up a fight.”
“You can’t handle him?”
Tuesday 15 April 2008
Chasing The Unknown
It reads strange but I think we sort of all are to a certain extent. I certainly am chasing something I don’t know what it is, what it looks like or even smells like. One of my first thoughts about it concludes it must be like I’m in the pursuit of happiness. We all are. Are we? Of course happiness is the ultimate objective. It’s getting to the point to be happy and how we judge it. Money seems to bring a degree of happiness. I know if I had a lot of it I’d be happy. The main reasons being my financial future was secure, I would have the confidence to experiment with things knowing the end of the day I can pay for most things within reason and not worry about anything else. Also I could share this financial security with family and friends. That would make me happy. So I take it that is what happiness is, striving for loads of money as much as I can get. Yet, would I be happy to get money if I’d have to do a job I hate. For example, being chief programmer on C++. The thought of staring at Microsoft Notepad on the computer all day writing code that’s about as interesting as the number of socks I own (I have 23 pairs by the way). I couldn’t handle working like that for the prime hours of the day – of my life! Even for £1,000,000 per annum. So this must mean I’m looking for something that I can do with my day that will earn me copious amounts of money. Isn’t that the crux of this entry and probably the thoughts that have fluttered in and out of our minds at least once in the last 6 months? Speaking from my point of view and experience I don’t think I’m really doing anything stunningly interesting or earning a vast amount of money. It’s not boring or ill paid it’s just, it’s just that I think there’s something out there in life that’s better. I’m a believer that some where out there is something better, like some sort of sequence of enlightenments on my life that will open up ideas and ways of living this thing that’s called ‘life’. Like I wrote earlier, I haven’t got a clue what or where it is. This is when I get frustrated because I can’t sniff out the trail, not even get a whiff of the scent but it’s there. It’s almost like how Sam Beckett must have felt in Quantum leap, “…always hoping that his next leap, was the leap home.” Yet I don’t want to finally find it when I’m 58 years old, I want it now but I know realistically I could find it tomorrow or never find it at all so life in ‘present’ must be lived and therefore I’ll carry on doing my thing. I won’t though give up on my thoughts and perhaps more importantly turn these thoughts into actions and perhaps maybe carve my own way. Hmm, now that sounds a good idea. I think I’ll sleep on that though.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Laying on his bed Yannish tries to sleep but can’t. Keith had gone, he gave his advice and thought it best to flee. It was unlike Yannish to act like this, even Yannish thought the same thing. Keith’s words had sobered him and decided to take advice but getting to sleep wasn’t easy. He wonders where the stranger is right now, is he counting his money thinking it was a job well done or was he thinking it should have been a more successful plundering. He wanted to know badly, and it was probably the anxiety to find out that was keeping him awake. That and the fact he considered him self split in two, one half crying out for help, not complex psychological evaluation but an ear that will listen to him spill it all out. Blurting bits out to Keith was a surprising start but he wanted to speak to Karen. She was always very considerate of his fears. Of course she would tease him about his fear for sharks, the likelihood of him encountering one in an urban built up area was as likely as Jeffrey Archer receiving a knighthood. It was with the more immediate less solid fears that she helped him with. When studying for his exams, he would read and work and read then work more. Time would disappear between them but she understood his intentions, even when Yannish didn’t. He would ask her why he was doing all this studying, all this reading. What for? He could be spending his time with a beautiful young woman instead of turning the pages of smudged library books. And for what? Yet she knew that his questions on the future were just his way of telling her how scared he is of it. The fact it is an area no one knows about, the tramp, the politician, even the aristocrat have no say on what is going to happen. She would a reassure him that no one knows the future but by studying, by contributing to bettering yourself you’ll increase your chances of making it prosperous. Yannish accepted this, he would look at her in utter amazement how someone so beautiful physically can only be overshadowed by the inner beauty and wisdom she possessed within. He couldn’t comprehend it and decided not to try to understand but kiss her instead.
The only thing stopping Yannish calling her now was that the other half of him, the brooding side was determined to investigate this robbery further. Any chance to find something about this cretin is something worth looking for. The fear of death still burns within him and he doesn’t know what to do. He picks up his phone and brings up Karen’s number again and pushes dial.
…
“Hello”
“Hi Karen, it’s me.”
“Yannish you alright?”
“I want to speak to you. Can I do that?”
“uh, yeah sure. Is everything all right.”
“Yeah, it is. I just need to talk to you. When can you be free?”
“I can be free at 12:30. Where do you want to meet?”
“Where we always do, used to, I mean See you then.”
He struggled not to start talking about it, he didn’t want to get her worried or hear what she had to say over the phone. He wasn’t going to sleep and to appease his ever growing feeling to find the stranger he decided to visit the garage again and see what Conrad and the others were up to. They might know something, then after he’d meet Karen at the park. He got up to take a shower.
The garage was unsurprisingly closed. Police tape had cornered off the vicinity and two police cars were parked on the forecourt. There were a few members of the public taking interest of what was going on, all behind the tape barrier. A policeman appeared from the bushes with a sniffer dog that had its nose all over the floor moving along from side to side. The people talking amongst themselves had decided that it was a fatal unsuccessful robbery and that the robber had fled in his car long ago. Yannish appeared amongst the crowd, he felt a lot better since a hot shower and a shave, he still hadn’t eaten but he was never a big eater. He listened intently to the people bouncing ideas off each other, then gradually building up their own hysteria and finally climaxing with the doom this part of town was soon to experience.
“Do you know what, I can’t believe someone was murdered in the garage, can it be true? This town has fallen down in standards the last fifteen years.” A weather-beaten looking man in a gruff voice says.
“I agree, there’s robbery, mugging and it’s escalating to murder in a garage.” Concurred a woman standing next to the man.
Yannish, satisfied that the accurate news hadn’t been made public yet set off round the back of the garage to see if he could find anything. He walked back towards the houses and up into the bushes so that he’d be able to get closer and within the police tape. He walked through the trees, bushes crunching his feet on the twigs until he pushed them aside to find himself in his old smoking oasis. He looked around to see it was still the same, nothing had changed since he was banned to go there for a smoke last month. He wanted to sit down and roll a cigarette for nostalgic purposes but he knew this would attract attention. It looked like the police hadn’t discovered this place yet from the fact that his old butts hadn’t been picked up. He thought he’d help them out and collected them all and placing them in his pocket. He made his way to the garage from the back. There was another police car round the back which meant immediately that they were close by. There was no point him trying to enter the garage from the back, if they caught him he’d only be taken to the station again and he’d probably have to endure another interview too. No, as an alternative he would try and find the trail of the thief from when he got away. He turned around and pushed himself through a cluster of bushes heading upwards.
Finding the trail wasn’t too difficult as he’d walked through here many times before. Once he got to the bottom of the heath he wondered whether he should visit his three chums first or venture into the woods where he got knocked out. The whole event in him being knocked out seemed strange, he had only just entered the woods when it happened. He tried to recall if what had hit him was flat or had texture, whether it felt cold or warm, yet nothing really sprung to mind other the that it felt heavy crashing against the back of his head. He decided he wanted to try and find out what it was that hit him so going to the woods was going to be his first stop. Trudging his way through the long grass he looks at the ground swaying his head from side to side so that his eyes might pick up on something. He notices his foot print. He’s able to identify it by the pattern of the imprint, he bends down to touch it. The dirt is cold and crumbly but he can’t help but allow the imprint to relive part of last night when he flew down the heath, charging forward to catch him. He wasn’t scared then, he wanted to get this man so much that he forgot just how fast he ran, how much the adrenaline must have been pumping through him. He flicks the dirt back to the ground. Yannish stands back up and looks around, hoping to see some police officers but also hoping they don’t see him. Yet there is no one here, it’s almost like they’ve forgotten about this place. An armed robbery is a serious crime and therefore a proper investigation needs to be carried out, not just strap a bit of police tape around a few trees. He carries on walking towards the wood until he notices more of his footsteps. This must have been where he entered.
Even though it was morning the wood still managed to encapsulate Yannish in almost utter darkness. He used his mobile phone as a light by pressing the keypad frequently to illuminate the screen. There was no chance of finding a path way now, everything was covered in leaves, twigs and mud. His only chance was to locate the dying tree he stood by before getting knocked out. He walks forward but more cautiously examining every tree he passes. The phone is unable to brighten up a vast area so to check each tree he needs to be extremely close to it. His chin scrapes the bark while he checks. After looking around ten trees he realises how stupid this feels and futile it is. He might as well go and come back with a torch. Agreeing with this he slumps himself on the last tree he checked and slides himself down, pulls out his rolling tobacco and begins to roll a cigarette. Sprinkling the tobacco on the rolling paper he hears a cracking sound. He quickly turns round to where the noise is coming from but he can’t see anything past a few metres. Another cracking sound reverberates around and Yannish gets up now leaving his packet of tobacco on the floor. He starts to think who it is. If it’s the stranger, then now matter what happens he’ll get to see his face. Even if he’s wearing the clown mask again it’ll be the first thing he’ll lunge at just so he can catch even a glimpse of the face. If it’s the police then, well, he’s going to look very suspicious. It could be Conrad, George or Peter though. It’s likely they would have moved to the wood knowing the likely hood of the police conducting a search of the area. Yannish clasps his cheeks with his hands and rubs them up and down so his stumble can tickle his palms. He walks from behind the tree.
“Hello?”
All the background noises seem to have been removed.
“Hello?”
He repeats but this time with a bit more force so it sounds like it was coming from someone who was confident in themselves. Yet this wasn’t the case, Yannish, didn’t like the stillness and calmness, from this breeds terror. Not there yet but aware of the path it leads too he cries out even more forcefully.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
“Yes.” Says a voice in a whisper.
Silence.
Another cracking sound of breaking twigs can be heard only a few meters behind Yannish so he turns round. He pulls put his mobile press the keypads and raises it to the air. He doesn’t know who is there but if it is the thief he’ll charge at him and go straight for the larynx. Allowing such dark thoughts to invade his mind gives him a boost of confidence as he takes a step forward so he can see who is there. Waving the phone above him so he can see a wider rang he sees Conrad and Peter walking cautiously towards him lowering the phone, slightly disappointed it wasn’t the clown man.
“What are you doing here Yannish? We thought you would be at the police station locked up in one of their cells” Said a rather surprised looking Conrad.
Once again Yannish could see Peter evaluating the situation, thinking of reasons why he wasn’t there but here. Before he could open his mouth to answer Conrad’s question Yannish beats him to it.
“Looking for clues. The police are a joke. An absolute pack of jokers…they completely let me down..”
Noticing Yannish about to erupt in anger Conrad gestures they sit down on a large fallen branch beside them. Yannish agrees while running his fingers through his hair.
“They took me down asked me about six questions then let me go. I even had to help prompt the interviewer. They don’t give a shit.” Says Yannish about to carry on when Conrad interrupts him.
“Yannish, haven’t I told you this governmental tool doesn’t care for people like us. They care only for the rich and to convince them to support them. What can we give them?”
“Votes!” Cried Yannish noticing Conrad was about to divulge about his opinions on the government again.
“They don’t care about us. We give them a paltry vote and let me ask you this how many times have any of us exercised this vote when asked to?”
“I haven’t yet had the chance too.” Retorted Yannish quickly becoming irate with Conrad’s attempt to politicise the situation.
“Ok, ok, you have a valid reason but neither myself, Peter or George have exercised the right for over fifteen years. And it’s because of reasons like this. I’ve told you umpteen times how we got in this situation and now you’re experiencing it first hand.”
Yannish looked at Conrad, he disliked the talk of politics yet something was beginning to annoy him that he might have a point.
“Yannish, we’ve been here for over ten hours and no one has come by other than two men walking their dogs. An armed robbery is a really serious act yet no one from the police have seemed it fit to check beyond the garage, not even to the heath. And if they are coming it’ll take them at least till tomorrow to even get to the woods and by then key pieces of evidence may have disappeared. Evidence like hair from this guy which has now blown away with the wind and landed somewhere of no use to you and them. You’re on your own Yannish. They will look but it’ll only be due to an obligation on procedures.
“Shut the fuck up. If you really thought they didn’t care about the robbery and wouldn’t bother searching any further than the garage then why did you leave your den? Why did you come into the wood?” Shouts Yannish.
“We haven’t left out den, as you call it. George is their now. Both Conrad and I decided to do some investigating of our own. We wanted to see if we could find anything that could help trace this person. We’ve been looking around the area for a few hours and all we’ve found are foot prints.” Replies Peter who is calmly staring at him.
Yannish looks to the floor and then back up to meet Peter and Conrad’s stare.
“Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just came here to do the same thing myself. It’s just so dark around these parts that I can’t find the dead tree where I remember being last.” Yannish explains rather remorsefully.
“When we found you Yannish it was a over there.” Said Conrad who points over to his left.
Yannish flies up from his position he runs over to the place they found him. First he looks around on the ground seeing if he can see anything. Then he gets on his hands and knees and begins inspecting the ground carefully, half hoping to see a hair, a piece of clothing a bullet. Anything, anything to work on. Yet the ground looks as hegemonic and plain as it should be. Finally admitting nothing is there, he starts to feel the anger boil inside him again from his lack of discovery. He turns to the two vagabonds.
“You mentioned footprints. Where?”
“They’re over there about a five minute walk. We’ll take you there.” Says Conrad already starting to get up. He helps pull up Peter and all three start to walk deeper into the wood.
“Yannish can I ask what you are planning to do?” Said Peter.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, yesterday you finished your last exam. You are a free person now, free from the bondage of education should you choose it.”
“I chose that bondage Peter, after sixteen you can leave education. I didn’t. I just didn’t know what I wanted to do but knew leaving was too early.”
“So you are leaving for university?”
“No, no, no. I’m not. I decided not to apply. I don’t want to go. I guess I’m on your side here, I think the government has got it wrong with further education. Allowing us to take out huge loans to live and pay for our time at university. I will be spending the rest of my life paying it off. Yet I wonder how they managed to pay for those students in the 70’s and 80’ even most of the 90’s. The only conclusion is that not as many people carried on in education and the places were more competitive. I know they’ve reintroduced grants to a certain extent but I feel there could be better ways in qualifying for a grant.”
“You don’t think you’ll qualify?”
“I probably would but it wouldn’t be enough. And besides I chose not to go because I wanted to go straight into work. I had been applying for jobs since last month but no one had got back to me. I was going to spend today looking for jobs and visiting companies to see what they had on offer. However, things change. I think I’m changing and all I want now is to find the fucker who robbed the garage. The rest can wait.”
“You can’t let that event change your outlook on life.” Said Conrad in a rather sympathetic tone.
Yannish shot him a look, a weary yet menacing one. Conrad felt Yannish was letting him know that he too had a scar of life, be it his first, but he can talk about robberies now with a certain conviction that only someone else who had experienced them can empathise with.
“It has. I didn’t want it too but it has. That person didn’t just steal from the bank he stole from me. I don’t feel the same and I hate the person who has done this to me. I want to catch him so bad.”
Conrad looks to Peter who is looking straight back at him, worried at what seems to be brewing in the young man.
“Yes, but what would you do if you meet him? You cannot tackle someone with a gun.”
“I don’t care I will run at him, I will go straight for the throat. Besides I don’t want to kill him, I want answers. I know I need to beat him down a bit first. I’ve seen him first hand, he’s not that much bigger than me. I little fuller maybe...”
“There are other ways to inflict pain other than violence Yannish. If you do get him, let me know as I’d like to speak to him also.”
“Why do you want to speak to him?”
“Because I want to help you if I can, I can see what this person is doing to you. I don’t like it.”
Yannish opens his mouth to retaliate but nothing comes out. His mind acknowledges Peter’s observation and thinks him correct. He isn’t the same Yannish 24 hours ago. Instead he morphs his open mouth into a smile at Peter. All three walk on in silence.
“They’re over there.” Says Conrad nodding his head.
Yannish scrambles a few feet and sees a set of foot prints in the mud. He looks down to check the pattern, he turns his sole and notices they are different. In fact the size of the print is larger. Maybe he is a size ten even 11 where he is only 9.
“These aren’t mine.” He says gleefully.
He carefully walks around the prints to see where they lead but after these prints are twigs and leaves and no sign of another. He goes back to the prints and thinks could these be the robber’s. It must be him, no one else really goes in the woods, not even people wanting to walk their dogs. Only Conrad and Peter.
“Show me the soles of your shoes?”
Conrad and Peter lift up a leg each and bend it round so that it’s pointing in Yannish’s direction. They lock arms and lean against each other so that they both don’t fall over. He walks up to them and checks the pattern on each one/ None one them match.
“I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted to check that you hadn’t made the mistake of finding your own footprints.” Says Yannish rather unconvincingly to the two men.
“It’s ok.” Replies Peter.
“So we’ve found where these footprints seem to be heading further in to the wood. This person didn’t really know where he was going if he headed that way. The quickest way out of here is probably to turn left.” Says Conrad.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Laying on his bed Yannish tries to sleep but can’t. Keith had gone, he gave his advice and thought it best to flee. It was unlike Yannish to act like this, even Yannish thought the same thing. Keith’s words had sobered him and decided to take advice but getting to sleep wasn’t easy. He wonders where the stranger is right now, is he counting his money thinking it was a job well done or was he thinking it should have been a more successful plundering. He wanted to know badly, and it was probably the anxiety to find out that was keeping him awake. That and the fact he considered him self split in two, one half crying out for help, not complex psychological evaluation but an ear that will listen to him spill it all out. Blurting bits out to Keith was a surprising start but he wanted to speak to Karen. She was always very considerate of his fears. Of course she would tease him about his fear for sharks, the likelihood of him encountering one in an urban built up area was as likely as Jeffrey Archer receiving a knighthood. It was with the more immediate less solid fears that she helped him with. When studying for his exams, he would read and work and read then work more. Time would disappear between them but she understood his intentions, even when Yannish didn’t. He would ask her why he was doing all this studying, all this reading. What for? He could be spending his time with a beautiful young woman instead of turning the pages of smudged library books. And for what? Yet she knew that his questions on the future were just his way of telling her how scared he is of it. The fact it is an area no one knows about, the tramp, the politician, even the aristocrat have no say on what is going to happen. She would a reassure him that no one knows the future but by studying, by contributing to bettering yourself you’ll increase your chances of making it prosperous. Yannish accepted this, he would look at her in utter amazement how someone so beautiful physically can only be overshadowed by the inner beauty and wisdom she possessed within. He couldn’t comprehend it and decided not to try to understand but kiss her instead.
The only thing stopping Yannish calling her now was that the other half of him, the brooding side was determined to investigate this robbery further. Any chance to find something about this cretin is something worth looking for. The fear of death still burns within him and he doesn’t know what to do. He picks up his phone and brings up Karen’s number again and pushes dial.
…
“Hello”
“Hi Karen, it’s me.”
“Yannish you alright?”
“I want to speak to you. Can I do that?”
“uh, yeah sure. Is everything all right.”
“Yeah, it is. I just need to talk to you. When can you be free?”
“I can be free at 12:30. Where do you want to meet?”
“Where we always do, used to, I mean See you then.”
He struggled not to start talking about it, he didn’t want to get her worried or hear what she had to say over the phone. He wasn’t going to sleep and to appease his ever growing feeling to find the stranger he decided to visit the garage again and see what Conrad and the others were up to. They might know something, then after he’d meet Karen at the park. He got up to take a shower.
The garage was unsurprisingly closed. Police tape had cornered off the vicinity and two police cars were parked on the forecourt. There were a few members of the public taking interest of what was going on, all behind the tape barrier. A policeman appeared from the bushes with a sniffer dog that had its nose all over the floor moving along from side to side. The people talking amongst themselves had decided that it was a fatal unsuccessful robbery and that the robber had fled in his car long ago. Yannish appeared amongst the crowd, he felt a lot better since a hot shower and a shave, he still hadn’t eaten but he was never a big eater. He listened intently to the people bouncing ideas off each other, then gradually building up their own hysteria and finally climaxing with the doom this part of town was soon to experience.
“Do you know what, I can’t believe someone was murdered in the garage, can it be true? This town has fallen down in standards the last fifteen years.” A weather-beaten looking man in a gruff voice says.
“I agree, there’s robbery, mugging and it’s escalating to murder in a garage.” Concurred a woman standing next to the man.
Yannish, satisfied that the accurate news hadn’t been made public yet set off round the back of the garage to see if he could find anything. He walked back towards the houses and up into the bushes so that he’d be able to get closer and within the police tape. He walked through the trees, bushes crunching his feet on the twigs until he pushed them aside to find himself in his old smoking oasis. He looked around to see it was still the same, nothing had changed since he was banned to go there for a smoke last month. He wanted to sit down and roll a cigarette for nostalgic purposes but he knew this would attract attention. It looked like the police hadn’t discovered this place yet from the fact that his old butts hadn’t been picked up. He thought he’d help them out and collected them all and placing them in his pocket. He made his way to the garage from the back. There was another police car round the back which meant immediately that they were close by. There was no point him trying to enter the garage from the back, if they caught him he’d only be taken to the station again and he’d probably have to endure another interview too. No, as an alternative he would try and find the trail of the thief from when he got away. He turned around and pushed himself through a cluster of bushes heading upwards.
Finding the trail wasn’t too difficult as he’d walked through here many times before. Once he got to the bottom of the heath he wondered whether he should visit his three chums first or venture into the woods where he got knocked out. The whole event in him being knocked out seemed strange, he had only just entered the woods when it happened. He tried to recall if what had hit him was flat or had texture, whether it felt cold or warm, yet nothing really sprung to mind other the that it felt heavy crashing against the back of his head. He decided he wanted to try and find out what it was that hit him so going to the woods was going to be his first stop. Trudging his way through the long grass he looks at the ground swaying his head from side to side so that his eyes might pick up on something. He notices his foot print. He’s able to identify it by the pattern of the imprint, he bends down to touch it. The dirt is cold and crumbly but he can’t help but allow the imprint to relive part of last night when he flew down the heath, charging forward to catch him. He wasn’t scared then, he wanted to get this man so much that he forgot just how fast he ran, how much the adrenaline must have been pumping through him. He flicks the dirt back to the ground. Yannish stands back up and looks around, hoping to see some police officers but also hoping they don’t see him. Yet there is no one here, it’s almost like they’ve forgotten about this place. An armed robbery is a serious crime and therefore a proper investigation needs to be carried out, not just strap a bit of police tape around a few trees. He carries on walking towards the wood until he notices more of his footsteps. This must have been where he entered.
Even though it was morning the wood still managed to encapsulate Yannish in almost utter darkness. He used his mobile phone as a light by pressing the keypad frequently to illuminate the screen. There was no chance of finding a path way now, everything was covered in leaves, twigs and mud. His only chance was to locate the dying tree he stood by before getting knocked out. He walks forward but more cautiously examining every tree he passes. The phone is unable to brighten up a vast area so to check each tree he needs to be extremely close to it. His chin scrapes the bark while he checks. After looking around ten trees he realises how stupid this feels and futile it is. He might as well go and come back with a torch. Agreeing with this he slumps himself on the last tree he checked and slides himself down, pulls out his rolling tobacco and begins to roll a cigarette. Sprinkling the tobacco on the rolling paper he hears a cracking sound. He quickly turns round to where the noise is coming from but he can’t see anything past a few metres. Another cracking sound reverberates around and Yannish gets up now leaving his packet of tobacco on the floor. He starts to think who it is. If it’s the stranger, then now matter what happens he’ll get to see his face. Even if he’s wearing the clown mask again it’ll be the first thing he’ll lunge at just so he can catch even a glimpse of the face. If it’s the police then, well, he’s going to look very suspicious. It could be Conrad, George or Peter though. It’s likely they would have moved to the wood knowing the likely hood of the police conducting a search of the area. Yannish clasps his cheeks with his hands and rubs them up and down so his stumble can tickle his palms. He walks from behind the tree.
“Hello?”
All the background noises seem to have been removed.
“Hello?”
He repeats but this time with a bit more force so it sounds like it was coming from someone who was confident in themselves. Yet this wasn’t the case, Yannish, didn’t like the stillness and calmness, from this breeds terror. Not there yet but aware of the path it leads too he cries out even more forcefully.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
“Yes.” Says a voice in a whisper.
Silence.
Another cracking sound of breaking twigs can be heard only a few meters behind Yannish so he turns round. He pulls put his mobile press the keypads and raises it to the air. He doesn’t know who is there but if it is the thief he’ll charge at him and go straight for the larynx. Allowing such dark thoughts to invade his mind gives him a boost of confidence as he takes a step forward so he can see who is there. Waving the phone above him so he can see a wider rang he sees Conrad and Peter walking cautiously towards him lowering the phone, slightly disappointed it wasn’t the clown man.
“What are you doing here Yannish? We thought you would be at the police station locked up in one of their cells” Said a rather surprised looking Conrad.
Once again Yannish could see Peter evaluating the situation, thinking of reasons why he wasn’t there but here. Before he could open his mouth to answer Conrad’s question Yannish beats him to it.
“Looking for clues. The police are a joke. An absolute pack of jokers…they completely let me down..”
Noticing Yannish about to erupt in anger Conrad gestures they sit down on a large fallen branch beside them. Yannish agrees while running his fingers through his hair.
“They took me down asked me about six questions then let me go. I even had to help prompt the interviewer. They don’t give a shit.” Says Yannish about to carry on when Conrad interrupts him.
“Yannish, haven’t I told you this governmental tool doesn’t care for people like us. They care only for the rich and to convince them to support them. What can we give them?”
“Votes!” Cried Yannish noticing Conrad was about to divulge about his opinions on the government again.
“They don’t care about us. We give them a paltry vote and let me ask you this how many times have any of us exercised this vote when asked to?”
“I haven’t yet had the chance too.” Retorted Yannish quickly becoming irate with Conrad’s attempt to politicise the situation.
“Ok, ok, you have a valid reason but neither myself, Peter or George have exercised the right for over fifteen years. And it’s because of reasons like this. I’ve told you umpteen times how we got in this situation and now you’re experiencing it first hand.”
Yannish looked at Conrad, he disliked the talk of politics yet something was beginning to annoy him that he might have a point.
“Yannish, we’ve been here for over ten hours and no one has come by other than two men walking their dogs. An armed robbery is a really serious act yet no one from the police have seemed it fit to check beyond the garage, not even to the heath. And if they are coming it’ll take them at least till tomorrow to even get to the woods and by then key pieces of evidence may have disappeared. Evidence like hair from this guy which has now blown away with the wind and landed somewhere of no use to you and them. You’re on your own Yannish. They will look but it’ll only be due to an obligation on procedures.
“Shut the fuck up. If you really thought they didn’t care about the robbery and wouldn’t bother searching any further than the garage then why did you leave your den? Why did you come into the wood?” Shouts Yannish.
“We haven’t left out den, as you call it. George is their now. Both Conrad and I decided to do some investigating of our own. We wanted to see if we could find anything that could help trace this person. We’ve been looking around the area for a few hours and all we’ve found are foot prints.” Replies Peter who is calmly staring at him.
Yannish looks to the floor and then back up to meet Peter and Conrad’s stare.
“Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just came here to do the same thing myself. It’s just so dark around these parts that I can’t find the dead tree where I remember being last.” Yannish explains rather remorsefully.
“When we found you Yannish it was a over there.” Said Conrad who points over to his left.
Yannish flies up from his position he runs over to the place they found him. First he looks around on the ground seeing if he can see anything. Then he gets on his hands and knees and begins inspecting the ground carefully, half hoping to see a hair, a piece of clothing a bullet. Anything, anything to work on. Yet the ground looks as hegemonic and plain as it should be. Finally admitting nothing is there, he starts to feel the anger boil inside him again from his lack of discovery. He turns to the two vagabonds.
“You mentioned footprints. Where?”
“They’re over there about a five minute walk. We’ll take you there.” Says Conrad already starting to get up. He helps pull up Peter and all three start to walk deeper into the wood.
“Yannish can I ask what you are planning to do?” Said Peter.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, yesterday you finished your last exam. You are a free person now, free from the bondage of education should you choose it.”
“I chose that bondage Peter, after sixteen you can leave education. I didn’t. I just didn’t know what I wanted to do but knew leaving was too early.”
“So you are leaving for university?”
“No, no, no. I’m not. I decided not to apply. I don’t want to go. I guess I’m on your side here, I think the government has got it wrong with further education. Allowing us to take out huge loans to live and pay for our time at university. I will be spending the rest of my life paying it off. Yet I wonder how they managed to pay for those students in the 70’s and 80’ even most of the 90’s. The only conclusion is that not as many people carried on in education and the places were more competitive. I know they’ve reintroduced grants to a certain extent but I feel there could be better ways in qualifying for a grant.”
“You don’t think you’ll qualify?”
“I probably would but it wouldn’t be enough. And besides I chose not to go because I wanted to go straight into work. I had been applying for jobs since last month but no one had got back to me. I was going to spend today looking for jobs and visiting companies to see what they had on offer. However, things change. I think I’m changing and all I want now is to find the fucker who robbed the garage. The rest can wait.”
“You can’t let that event change your outlook on life.” Said Conrad in a rather sympathetic tone.
Yannish shot him a look, a weary yet menacing one. Conrad felt Yannish was letting him know that he too had a scar of life, be it his first, but he can talk about robberies now with a certain conviction that only someone else who had experienced them can empathise with.
“It has. I didn’t want it too but it has. That person didn’t just steal from the bank he stole from me. I don’t feel the same and I hate the person who has done this to me. I want to catch him so bad.”
Conrad looks to Peter who is looking straight back at him, worried at what seems to be brewing in the young man.
“Yes, but what would you do if you meet him? You cannot tackle someone with a gun.”
“I don’t care I will run at him, I will go straight for the throat. Besides I don’t want to kill him, I want answers. I know I need to beat him down a bit first. I’ve seen him first hand, he’s not that much bigger than me. I little fuller maybe...”
“There are other ways to inflict pain other than violence Yannish. If you do get him, let me know as I’d like to speak to him also.”
“Why do you want to speak to him?”
“Because I want to help you if I can, I can see what this person is doing to you. I don’t like it.”
Yannish opens his mouth to retaliate but nothing comes out. His mind acknowledges Peter’s observation and thinks him correct. He isn’t the same Yannish 24 hours ago. Instead he morphs his open mouth into a smile at Peter. All three walk on in silence.
“They’re over there.” Says Conrad nodding his head.
Yannish scrambles a few feet and sees a set of foot prints in the mud. He looks down to check the pattern, he turns his sole and notices they are different. In fact the size of the print is larger. Maybe he is a size ten even 11 where he is only 9.
“These aren’t mine.” He says gleefully.
He carefully walks around the prints to see where they lead but after these prints are twigs and leaves and no sign of another. He goes back to the prints and thinks could these be the robber’s. It must be him, no one else really goes in the woods, not even people wanting to walk their dogs. Only Conrad and Peter.
“Show me the soles of your shoes?”
Conrad and Peter lift up a leg each and bend it round so that it’s pointing in Yannish’s direction. They lock arms and lean against each other so that they both don’t fall over. He walks up to them and checks the pattern on each one/ None one them match.
“I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted to check that you hadn’t made the mistake of finding your own footprints.” Says Yannish rather unconvincingly to the two men.
“It’s ok.” Replies Peter.
“So we’ve found where these footprints seem to be heading further in to the wood. This person didn’t really know where he was going if he headed that way. The quickest way out of here is probably to turn left.” Says Conrad.
Monday 14 April 2008
The First Cut Is The Deepest
Last Tuesday I played football at the annual work’s football tournament. Now having shimmied, dazzled and fooled my way into the opposing team’s area one of my team mates slid a neat through ball into my path as I galloped (waddled) towards it. Now the strength of the pass was a little stronger than I had originally thought and was heading towards the oncoming goalie. Of course being one of those over competitive idiots (both my greatest strength and weakness) I chased after the ball enticing an imminent collision. I managed to beat the keeper to the ball but by doing so outstretched my leg inviting the right boot of his to crash right onto my shin. I didn’t receive a penalty, I didn’t receive sympathy. I did receive a sharp jolt of pain on my shin.
On first inspection it seemed that I’d grazed the skin leaving a trickle of blood. My blood looked a lot darker in colour the last time I saw it but thought nothing more. I washed it off and considered sticking a plaster on but as I didn’t have one on me I carried on my normal day. It wasn’t until mid afternoon that someone first mentioned I was leaking blood. I looked astonished to see a little bread crumb trail of red droplets along the path. On further inspection my right trouser leg was now a dark crimson colour. I bolted to the Occupational Health department. The old lady who I presumed was a nurse took me into a little room and pulled up my trouser leg. It was then I saw it, the hole. A puddle of my own claret juice spurting out blood like it was the fountain of youth. It reminded me of the scene from Requiem for a Dream where Jared Leto shows one of the Wayne brothers his increasingly infected arm. The image of the black blood oozing from his vain still makes me shake now. Having this thought running through my head made me shout. “Arghhh, that’s rank.” The old lady announced that if it was any deeper I would need stitches but luckily it’s near the bone. “Is that the bone there?” I thought, looking hard at the white object protruding through the sea of red like a lighthouse over the harbour. She patched me up using steri-strips, magic cream and a large plaster/bandage telling me that I need to put ice on it when I got back to avoid it swelling and subsequently increasing the chances of me getting a blood clot.
So for the last week I’ve been placing, frozen peas, corn on the cobs, green beans, Quorn style beef slices and various other things I could find that was frozen on my shin. It’s worked though there isn’t much swelling, it’s just gone a bit yellow. Now I can’t tell if this is just bruising or something is seriously wrong. Either way I don’t plan to take the risk so have made an appointment with a doctor. By this I mean I’ve got to ring them tomorrow at 8:30 on the off chance that there’s a cancellation. Nice.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Charles couldn’t help but feel for this boy. It confused him why he would start to feel like this, a sort of sorrow, it was something he wasn’t used to feeling and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. He still wanted to do the job, his own life plans were dependant on him robbing the garage and it was important that everything works out well. Yet there is something that makes Charles want to know more about Yannish, what he likes, what he does, why he doesn’t flip out when things don’t go well for him like the woman shutting down his smoking oasis.
He finally picks himself up and dusts off the leaves he managed to collect whilst crouching. He walks back out to the back of the garage and peers into the car and notices a pink steering wheel cover. The car surely is Tammy’s and not Yannish’s, there’s a child’s seat in the back which suggests that she may have children. Turning away from the car he goes the other way and sees the car wash round the corner. He runs his fingers along its concrete pillars struggling to get away from his thoughts. He didn’t even know this person and yet he was intrigued by him. As he comes round to the front of the garage he turns back and notices another man made trail this time it leads upwards and into the bushes towards the wood it seems. At the front he can see Yannish stacking shelves with tins and Tammy at the till staring at the boxes of contraception above her. Charles looks around and sees no cars on the fore court and so pulls out his phone and turns on its camera function. He zooms in on Tammy and takes a photo of her. The flash illuminates but no one in the garage notices. He then points it at Yannish and clicks, the photo comes out crisp.
He strolls back to his car and drives it opposite the garage so that it’s out of sight but he’s still able to see who comes in and out of the door way. Now he just waits for Yannish to finish his shift so he can follow him to his rendezvous with Karen. Charles isn’t interested about the £700 pounds that’s going to be exchanged, no, her wants to see more of Yannish and how he thinks, how he acts. Even though this is supposed to be research work for a job he wants to learn more.
Charles waits outside Yannish’s flat. He followed him back and decided to rest there in the car. He told himself it was because he didn’t want another argument with Marla. He looks up at the rear-view mirror and feels the stubble that’s grown over his face. There’s a purple tint scattered under his eyes where that area has puffed up, part due to lack of sleep and part due to the sadness that had invaded him recently. The pity he felt for himself and the way his life was turning out had turned into sadness about the whole situation he was in. He felt sad that events and circumstances had formulated his life into one of empty crime. Yet the sadness was slowly starting to ebb away and turn into hatred. The flickers were all ready appearing and it he didn’t like it yet he knew inside that he truly hated himself now. But what was he going to do about it? He shakes his head and stops looking at the mirror, he didn’t want to start thinking like this, not yet it was too early for him and for the day for the hatred to bloom.
At nine thirty two he sees Yannish leave his flat, carefully shutting the door and starting to make his way up the road. Charles lets him walk past then he gets out of his car. He watches him walk along the houses and crosses the road. He starts to pursue, keeping a distance until he can work out where he is going. Yannish turns to walk through an alley way and then enters the park. In pursuit Charles walks through the alley way and sees the park in which a Yannish has entered. In the middle of the green oasis is a cluster of benches and sitting at the end one is a young female lady. He can’t see her features as he is too far away but he can see her forlorn figure, her head facing downwards. “That must be Karen” he thinks to himself as he increases the pace. He enters the park to see Yannish approaching her. There’s no way he can hear their conversation without them at least noticing him there which he wants to avoid. All he can do is head towards the trees to get a better view. He knew that this would be the case. There was not much information to get if you can’t hear people speak but he didn’t care he wanted to see. He walks behind a tree and looks out, if they look over he’ll pull out his mobile phone and pretend he’s texting someone to indicate he’s not interested in their business.
Yannish walks past him looking bereft. Karen notices him and stands up immediately, her captivating blue eyes look upon Yannish in utter sorrow, she puts her hand across her face shaking her head. Yannish stops walking towards her, he stands still, looking straight at her. There’s no anger upon his face, just a blank expression, apart from his bottom being sucked in from his mouth. It’s the look that makes Karen stream with tears now, she runs to him but before she gets to him he’s opened his hand out. The business like manor startles her run and she slows down as she looks into her bag. She rummages around until she reaches Yannish then she pulls out a roll of notes and lays it on his palm. Yannish doesn’t even look at it. He retracts his hand with the money and shoves it in his pocket, his eyes only on Karen. They meet each other’s gaze and then Karen throws herself around him and he returns the embrace. They hold each other tightly but with no movement until Yannish leans into Karen and whispers in to her ear. He breaks the hug and pulls away. Karen starts to shake and scream.
“Please don’t do this.”
Yannish turns around.
“I thought we were going to talk.”
He starts to walk away.
“Please don’t leave.”
Charles looks at Yannish as he carries on walking. He can see the tears falling from his eyes, his bottom lip no longer sucked in but being used instead to help control his breathing as he leaves the park crying. Charles returns to Karen who is still standing at the same spot. He wishes he knew exactly what he said to her. It was obvious he was confirming the break up but he wanted to hear the words. He moves away from the trees and walks past Karen, she’s in too much a state to care about his presence. He feels sorry for her but he’s shocked at the way Yannish handled it. He didn’t lunge at her, shout at her, he kept his dignity. He liked this girl and even though he asked for the money their embrace was genuine. Heading back towards the car he thinks what he would have done. For sure he would have grabbed her and threw her to the floor then snatched her bag got the money and walked away. Why can’t he do it like the young man? He closes his eyes and tries to put himself in Yannish’s place doing all the things Yannish did with Karen, but he just can’t imagine himself hugging someone that had stolen from him. The images of anger start to take over so he opens his eyes and kicks the tyre in frustration. He gets in and drives off.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Still clutching his mobile phone in his hand Yannish opens his front door. There’s no sign of Tommy again. He feels a lot lighter from crying, he can’t remember the last time he did it. He doesn’t dwell on it too much, he’s still troubled with what has happened. Not sure of what to do first he reverts back to his default routine and heads to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He checks there’s water in the kettle, turns it on and fingers trough the cupboard passing Tommy’s box of green tea until he manages to find the more common kind, throws it in an empty cup and waits. He wants to act, he wants to catch this stranger that robbed the garage but there’s no way how. Even if he did know how there were a few things he’d have to do first like see how Clarence was, tell Tommy and Keith about what happened. He wants to tell Karen but he stifles the desire. Telling her would be the first steps to closing the ordeal, her powers of emotional healing would help him through. He doesn’t want that yet. A bang on the door breaks the discussion going on in his mind and he opens it to see a bleary eyed Keith standing there. Still in the same clothes from the last time he saw him in the pub last. Last night seems a long time ago to him now.
“Hey, how’s it going? Thought I’d pop by on my way home let you know what you missed out on.”
Yannish turns away from the door and heads to the kitchen, Keith doesn’t need an invitation and quickly scurries behind him in a boisterous mood for such an early time in the morning.
“You missed a great night, I can’t believe you missed your final exam night out. Girls were putting out big time, just letting it all out. Look at me I got lucky I just left her house about twenty minutes ago.”
The thought that Keith may have got together with Karen thrusts into his mind submerging everything about the robbery and police interview. He knows he has no over her but knows Keith wouldn’t miss an opportunity to feel her body if invited. A coldness runs through him as he prepares to find out head on.
“Was it with Karen?”
Keith looks at him in silence for a moment. His expression isn’t one of anxiety or tension as if to be silent was to quickly think of an excuse or build up courage to tell him. No, it was a look of enlightenment. He’d picked up from the tone and the pace of the question the trepidation Yannish was feeling and therefore understood why he was asking.
“No, you fool I couldn’t get with her if I tried. And believe me I tried last night and even when she’s drunk she doesn’t want to know. No, I got with Tasha, we went back to her house as her parents are away on holiday and well, lets just say I’m exhausted.”
Yannish feels the cold evaporating by the heat of his satisfaction. The relief makes his head wobble a bit as he thinks just for a moment everything is ok.
“You alright man?” Asks Keith looking at him concerned.
“The garage was held up last night.”
The kettle clicks.
“What?”
“It got robbed Keith, it was messed up.” He turns to the kettle.
“Screw the brew tell me what happened. I mean are you alright? I mean…”
“This guy came in, he seemed odd and then the next thing I know he’s pulled a clown mask over his face and is pointing a gun at me and Clarence.”
“Fuck.” Is Keith’s reaction.
“He forced us out back and took the money from the safe then ran away. I tried to follow him but I lost him in the woods and I think he knocked me out.”
“Do the police know? I mean this is some serious crime, especially for round here. I know of off licences being robbed but garages have CCTV footage, there’s alarms. I mean he’s gonna get caught?”
A silence grows between them as Keith expecting Yannish to answer his question stays quiet. He turns back to the kettle again and pours it into his cup. He clasps the cup tightly and his hand begins to shake, then his arm until his whole body starts to look like it’s rippling. And with a lash of venom he throws the cup against the wall passing Keith by as it cracks in pieces on impact.
“I want to get to him before the police do. He took things away from me, things I didn’t realise are so important to a person until they’re wrenched from you. He took away the feeling of safety, he took away my control. I need to find him, see him. Yeah I want to mess him up but I also want to ask him why.”
Keith looks on stunned, first by the near miss of the cup of boiling water but even more so by the reaction of Yannish. An even tempered young man was scowling in anger, almost revelling in it. There was passion in his words but all were menacing. He felt a bit scared yet he knew Yannish was in trouble here.
“Mate, mate, look you need to get some rest. You need to relax. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. You’re mind must be trying hard to work it out and the only way it can do that is to rest. When you wake up then I think you need to speak to someone about this, someone that will understand and be able to advise you. And if you still feel the same about finding this person then I’ll help you but you’ve got to get some rest.”
Yannish bore his eyes down at Keith, his breathing heavy until Keith finished his sentence. He was right, rest was the best option. This feeling of anger might just be down to the exhaustion and the shock of it all. This feeling is strong and needs to be remedied. Once he’s rested he’ll call Karen.
On first inspection it seemed that I’d grazed the skin leaving a trickle of blood. My blood looked a lot darker in colour the last time I saw it but thought nothing more. I washed it off and considered sticking a plaster on but as I didn’t have one on me I carried on my normal day. It wasn’t until mid afternoon that someone first mentioned I was leaking blood. I looked astonished to see a little bread crumb trail of red droplets along the path. On further inspection my right trouser leg was now a dark crimson colour. I bolted to the Occupational Health department. The old lady who I presumed was a nurse took me into a little room and pulled up my trouser leg. It was then I saw it, the hole. A puddle of my own claret juice spurting out blood like it was the fountain of youth. It reminded me of the scene from Requiem for a Dream where Jared Leto shows one of the Wayne brothers his increasingly infected arm. The image of the black blood oozing from his vain still makes me shake now. Having this thought running through my head made me shout. “Arghhh, that’s rank.” The old lady announced that if it was any deeper I would need stitches but luckily it’s near the bone. “Is that the bone there?” I thought, looking hard at the white object protruding through the sea of red like a lighthouse over the harbour. She patched me up using steri-strips, magic cream and a large plaster/bandage telling me that I need to put ice on it when I got back to avoid it swelling and subsequently increasing the chances of me getting a blood clot.
So for the last week I’ve been placing, frozen peas, corn on the cobs, green beans, Quorn style beef slices and various other things I could find that was frozen on my shin. It’s worked though there isn’t much swelling, it’s just gone a bit yellow. Now I can’t tell if this is just bruising or something is seriously wrong. Either way I don’t plan to take the risk so have made an appointment with a doctor. By this I mean I’ve got to ring them tomorrow at 8:30 on the off chance that there’s a cancellation. Nice.
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Charles couldn’t help but feel for this boy. It confused him why he would start to feel like this, a sort of sorrow, it was something he wasn’t used to feeling and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. He still wanted to do the job, his own life plans were dependant on him robbing the garage and it was important that everything works out well. Yet there is something that makes Charles want to know more about Yannish, what he likes, what he does, why he doesn’t flip out when things don’t go well for him like the woman shutting down his smoking oasis.
He finally picks himself up and dusts off the leaves he managed to collect whilst crouching. He walks back out to the back of the garage and peers into the car and notices a pink steering wheel cover. The car surely is Tammy’s and not Yannish’s, there’s a child’s seat in the back which suggests that she may have children. Turning away from the car he goes the other way and sees the car wash round the corner. He runs his fingers along its concrete pillars struggling to get away from his thoughts. He didn’t even know this person and yet he was intrigued by him. As he comes round to the front of the garage he turns back and notices another man made trail this time it leads upwards and into the bushes towards the wood it seems. At the front he can see Yannish stacking shelves with tins and Tammy at the till staring at the boxes of contraception above her. Charles looks around and sees no cars on the fore court and so pulls out his phone and turns on its camera function. He zooms in on Tammy and takes a photo of her. The flash illuminates but no one in the garage notices. He then points it at Yannish and clicks, the photo comes out crisp.
He strolls back to his car and drives it opposite the garage so that it’s out of sight but he’s still able to see who comes in and out of the door way. Now he just waits for Yannish to finish his shift so he can follow him to his rendezvous with Karen. Charles isn’t interested about the £700 pounds that’s going to be exchanged, no, her wants to see more of Yannish and how he thinks, how he acts. Even though this is supposed to be research work for a job he wants to learn more.
Charles waits outside Yannish’s flat. He followed him back and decided to rest there in the car. He told himself it was because he didn’t want another argument with Marla. He looks up at the rear-view mirror and feels the stubble that’s grown over his face. There’s a purple tint scattered under his eyes where that area has puffed up, part due to lack of sleep and part due to the sadness that had invaded him recently. The pity he felt for himself and the way his life was turning out had turned into sadness about the whole situation he was in. He felt sad that events and circumstances had formulated his life into one of empty crime. Yet the sadness was slowly starting to ebb away and turn into hatred. The flickers were all ready appearing and it he didn’t like it yet he knew inside that he truly hated himself now. But what was he going to do about it? He shakes his head and stops looking at the mirror, he didn’t want to start thinking like this, not yet it was too early for him and for the day for the hatred to bloom.
At nine thirty two he sees Yannish leave his flat, carefully shutting the door and starting to make his way up the road. Charles lets him walk past then he gets out of his car. He watches him walk along the houses and crosses the road. He starts to pursue, keeping a distance until he can work out where he is going. Yannish turns to walk through an alley way and then enters the park. In pursuit Charles walks through the alley way and sees the park in which a Yannish has entered. In the middle of the green oasis is a cluster of benches and sitting at the end one is a young female lady. He can’t see her features as he is too far away but he can see her forlorn figure, her head facing downwards. “That must be Karen” he thinks to himself as he increases the pace. He enters the park to see Yannish approaching her. There’s no way he can hear their conversation without them at least noticing him there which he wants to avoid. All he can do is head towards the trees to get a better view. He knew that this would be the case. There was not much information to get if you can’t hear people speak but he didn’t care he wanted to see. He walks behind a tree and looks out, if they look over he’ll pull out his mobile phone and pretend he’s texting someone to indicate he’s not interested in their business.
Yannish walks past him looking bereft. Karen notices him and stands up immediately, her captivating blue eyes look upon Yannish in utter sorrow, she puts her hand across her face shaking her head. Yannish stops walking towards her, he stands still, looking straight at her. There’s no anger upon his face, just a blank expression, apart from his bottom being sucked in from his mouth. It’s the look that makes Karen stream with tears now, she runs to him but before she gets to him he’s opened his hand out. The business like manor startles her run and she slows down as she looks into her bag. She rummages around until she reaches Yannish then she pulls out a roll of notes and lays it on his palm. Yannish doesn’t even look at it. He retracts his hand with the money and shoves it in his pocket, his eyes only on Karen. They meet each other’s gaze and then Karen throws herself around him and he returns the embrace. They hold each other tightly but with no movement until Yannish leans into Karen and whispers in to her ear. He breaks the hug and pulls away. Karen starts to shake and scream.
“Please don’t do this.”
Yannish turns around.
“I thought we were going to talk.”
He starts to walk away.
“Please don’t leave.”
Charles looks at Yannish as he carries on walking. He can see the tears falling from his eyes, his bottom lip no longer sucked in but being used instead to help control his breathing as he leaves the park crying. Charles returns to Karen who is still standing at the same spot. He wishes he knew exactly what he said to her. It was obvious he was confirming the break up but he wanted to hear the words. He moves away from the trees and walks past Karen, she’s in too much a state to care about his presence. He feels sorry for her but he’s shocked at the way Yannish handled it. He didn’t lunge at her, shout at her, he kept his dignity. He liked this girl and even though he asked for the money their embrace was genuine. Heading back towards the car he thinks what he would have done. For sure he would have grabbed her and threw her to the floor then snatched her bag got the money and walked away. Why can’t he do it like the young man? He closes his eyes and tries to put himself in Yannish’s place doing all the things Yannish did with Karen, but he just can’t imagine himself hugging someone that had stolen from him. The images of anger start to take over so he opens his eyes and kicks the tyre in frustration. He gets in and drives off.
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Still clutching his mobile phone in his hand Yannish opens his front door. There’s no sign of Tommy again. He feels a lot lighter from crying, he can’t remember the last time he did it. He doesn’t dwell on it too much, he’s still troubled with what has happened. Not sure of what to do first he reverts back to his default routine and heads to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He checks there’s water in the kettle, turns it on and fingers trough the cupboard passing Tommy’s box of green tea until he manages to find the more common kind, throws it in an empty cup and waits. He wants to act, he wants to catch this stranger that robbed the garage but there’s no way how. Even if he did know how there were a few things he’d have to do first like see how Clarence was, tell Tommy and Keith about what happened. He wants to tell Karen but he stifles the desire. Telling her would be the first steps to closing the ordeal, her powers of emotional healing would help him through. He doesn’t want that yet. A bang on the door breaks the discussion going on in his mind and he opens it to see a bleary eyed Keith standing there. Still in the same clothes from the last time he saw him in the pub last. Last night seems a long time ago to him now.
“Hey, how’s it going? Thought I’d pop by on my way home let you know what you missed out on.”
Yannish turns away from the door and heads to the kitchen, Keith doesn’t need an invitation and quickly scurries behind him in a boisterous mood for such an early time in the morning.
“You missed a great night, I can’t believe you missed your final exam night out. Girls were putting out big time, just letting it all out. Look at me I got lucky I just left her house about twenty minutes ago.”
The thought that Keith may have got together with Karen thrusts into his mind submerging everything about the robbery and police interview. He knows he has no over her but knows Keith wouldn’t miss an opportunity to feel her body if invited. A coldness runs through him as he prepares to find out head on.
“Was it with Karen?”
Keith looks at him in silence for a moment. His expression isn’t one of anxiety or tension as if to be silent was to quickly think of an excuse or build up courage to tell him. No, it was a look of enlightenment. He’d picked up from the tone and the pace of the question the trepidation Yannish was feeling and therefore understood why he was asking.
“No, you fool I couldn’t get with her if I tried. And believe me I tried last night and even when she’s drunk she doesn’t want to know. No, I got with Tasha, we went back to her house as her parents are away on holiday and well, lets just say I’m exhausted.”
Yannish feels the cold evaporating by the heat of his satisfaction. The relief makes his head wobble a bit as he thinks just for a moment everything is ok.
“You alright man?” Asks Keith looking at him concerned.
“The garage was held up last night.”
The kettle clicks.
“What?”
“It got robbed Keith, it was messed up.” He turns to the kettle.
“Screw the brew tell me what happened. I mean are you alright? I mean…”
“This guy came in, he seemed odd and then the next thing I know he’s pulled a clown mask over his face and is pointing a gun at me and Clarence.”
“Fuck.” Is Keith’s reaction.
“He forced us out back and took the money from the safe then ran away. I tried to follow him but I lost him in the woods and I think he knocked me out.”
“Do the police know? I mean this is some serious crime, especially for round here. I know of off licences being robbed but garages have CCTV footage, there’s alarms. I mean he’s gonna get caught?”
A silence grows between them as Keith expecting Yannish to answer his question stays quiet. He turns back to the kettle again and pours it into his cup. He clasps the cup tightly and his hand begins to shake, then his arm until his whole body starts to look like it’s rippling. And with a lash of venom he throws the cup against the wall passing Keith by as it cracks in pieces on impact.
“I want to get to him before the police do. He took things away from me, things I didn’t realise are so important to a person until they’re wrenched from you. He took away the feeling of safety, he took away my control. I need to find him, see him. Yeah I want to mess him up but I also want to ask him why.”
Keith looks on stunned, first by the near miss of the cup of boiling water but even more so by the reaction of Yannish. An even tempered young man was scowling in anger, almost revelling in it. There was passion in his words but all were menacing. He felt a bit scared yet he knew Yannish was in trouble here.
“Mate, mate, look you need to get some rest. You need to relax. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. You’re mind must be trying hard to work it out and the only way it can do that is to rest. When you wake up then I think you need to speak to someone about this, someone that will understand and be able to advise you. And if you still feel the same about finding this person then I’ll help you but you’ve got to get some rest.”
Yannish bore his eyes down at Keith, his breathing heavy until Keith finished his sentence. He was right, rest was the best option. This feeling of anger might just be down to the exhaustion and the shock of it all. This feeling is strong and needs to be remedied. Once he’s rested he’ll call Karen.
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Who is
- Paddington's Shadow
- I like listening to Rob da Bank, Mista Jam on 1Xtra, drinking coffee and ginger tea. I enjoy listening to the radio, particularly Radio 5Live and World Service and am also learning Spanish which seems to be going ok. Another thing I like doing is writing which is why I have this blog.