CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,82
young assistants and rather than inviting them into the house, he took them on a two-hundred-metre walk into an open area with rusting barns on either side. The metal played havoc with the signal from the listening devices, and a generator running inside one of the barns created a background hum.
‘Two hundred each,’ Woodhead said, as he peeled money off a bundle of fifty-pound notes. ‘I hear you were forty minutes late with the delivery. These kind of people don’t like being messed about.’
‘Traffic on the M5,’ Julian said. ‘What can you do?’
‘For two hundred pounds, you can get your shitty arse out of bed,’ Woodhead snapped back. ‘Now, about tonight.’
‘Yeah, about that,’ Nigel interrupted. ‘My brother Will’s out of town and my girl Caitlyn’s parents are out of town, so I’m not gonna be able to make it.’
Woodhead’s voice grew into a reedy shout. ‘We have a consignment tonight, young man. There’s nobody else: the only reason your spotty face got near a job like this is that all my usual people are on the run up to Cambridge.’
‘I’m sorry, Paul. Things just spiralled. I’m not gonna make it.’
McEwen and Neil heard a booming sound, which was Nigel getting rammed against the metal barn.
‘Now you listen to me, you bag of donuts,’ Woodhead shouted. ‘We have a deal. Four hundred pounds apiece for two hours out at sea and some loading and unloading back on shore. And you’re going to be there because if you let me down I’m gonna fix it for some Brigands to pay you a visit. And they’ll fix it for you to spend about two months in hospital suffering from agonising pain because every bone in your body got smashed with hammers.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll come,’ Nigel said. ‘But I can’t bring my brother. He’s left already.’
‘Him then,’ Woodhead said, pointing at Julian.
‘I didn’t agree to this,’ Julian said, sounding stressed. ‘This is serious crime. I’m way out of my depth here.’
‘I appreciate your honesty,’ Woodhead said. ‘But I need bodies tonight and you’re all there is. I’ll pay you the four hundred, plus Nigel’s four hundred. And since you like a smoke I’ll throw in a couple of ounces of the finest shit you’ll ever lay eyes on.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Julian said, audibly trembling. ‘This isn’t my style.’
Woodhead turned towards Nigel. ‘You’d better try persuading your friend, because if you’re not both on that boat with me, you’re the one who’s gonna get seriously mangled.’
‘I could ring around,’ Nigel said. ‘Get someone else.’
‘Great bloody idea,’ Woodhead shouted. ‘Why don’t you put a card in the newsagent’s window while you’re at it? Gun smuggler required, suit teenager, some heavy lifting, applicants with criminal records considered.’
‘Julian, you’ve gotta help me out,’ Nigel begged. ‘With my share and the dope that’s more than a grand for an evening’s work. Please.’
‘If I help tonight, I want it to be the last time I’m involved with anything like this,’ Julian whined.
‘You got my word,’ Woodhead said. ‘I’ve got no beef with you, Julian. It’s this little mother who’s made me promises he can’t keep.’
With that, Woodhead lunged forwards and punched Nigel hard in the stomach. ‘Dumb kid,’ he shouted, as Nigel groaned in agony. ‘You’re out of your depth and after tonight you’d better keep out of my face. Now I’ll see you on the fishing wharf at Kingswear, eight o’clock sharp. Boat by the name of Brixton Riots.’
Nigel gasped and retched as Julian helped him back towards the red Fiat. The audio quality improved as their voices got picked up by the bugs in the roof of the car.
Julian sounded deeply upset. ‘What the hell have you got me into here?’
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Nigel said, as Julian started the engine. ‘You saved my arse back there. You can have my two hundred from yesterday and you can have all the weed you can smoke from me for two months.’
Julian pounded on the dashboard. ‘What if we get caught on this? What if that crazy bastard McEwen springs up again?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nigel said desperately as he buried his head in his hands. ‘McEwen left me a card. I could call him and tell him what’s going on.’
‘I don’t trust him,’ Julian said. ‘I don’t know who he is or who he really works for. I say we do what Paul wants us to do, then we keep our heads down and stay the hell away from the Brigands, the Monster Bunch and all the other crazy bastards.’