nice guys you’re gonna be meeting,’ Junior explained. ‘They put a lot of money my way, but don’t mess with them. Especially Sasha.’
‘Who’s Sasha?’ Bruce asked innocently.
‘Serious gangster,’ Junior said. ‘I’m OK with him because he goes back to my dad and the old days, but he’s ruthless. He was in a country pub one time and this dude he bumped into called him a clumsy wanker. Sasha had two of his boys drag him outside. They tied him to the bumper of a transit van and drove five miles before cutting what was left of him loose.’
‘Shit,’ James gasped. He’d read many similar stories about Sasha Thompson and the Mad Dogs, but this particular anecdote hadn’t appeared in the mission briefing.
As they got closer, James saw that five teams were training in yellow kits. They ranged from under-elevens through to adults, all with Thompson Exhaust Centres as their shirt sponsors. Sasha Thompson himself sat on a bench wearing football boots and a tight fitting tracksuit tucked into yellow socks. Every so often he’d cup his hands around his mouth and yell at one of the players.
‘Jonesy you tit, you’re supposed to be marking him!’
Sasha was forty-six years old. He’d given up playing football a couple of years earlier because of a dodgy knee, but he kept in shape by running and lifting weights and he looked hard. His eyes lit up when he saw Junior.
‘Mr Moore, how nice of you to join us,’ Sasha said fruitily. ‘Can I have a word?’
Junior looked anxiously at James and Bruce. ‘You’d better stay back.’
But as Junior started jogging, Sasha yelled out: ‘And bring your two little friends.’
So Junior arrived first and a couple of Sasha’s flunkies shifted over to make space on the bench. James and Bruce stopped a couple of metres in front of Sasha, their trainers sinking into the mud along the touchline.
‘I had a call from your mum,’ Sasha said seriously. ‘She’s really upset. Are these two little yobbos the ones who were round your house causing mayhem earlier?’
‘Yeah,’ Junior nodded, with a touch of fear in his voice.
‘Your ma was crying when she spoke to me,’ Sasha said. ‘What did you call her?’
‘Um …’
‘She says that you messed up at the parole office. She says you missed school and called her a bitch. Is all that true?’
Junior shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’
‘Did you smoke a joint in the house?’
James could see that Junior was scared of Sasha. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted meekly.
Sasha grabbed Junior by the back of his neck and squeezed tight, making his head tilt back in spasm.
‘When he got sent down, your dad said you were trouble and asked me to keep an eye on you,’ Sasha growled. ‘I asked him how far I could go and he said, slap the piss out of him if you have to. But that’s not a place you want to go with me, is it Junior?’
‘No, boss,’ Junior croaked.
‘Buy your mother a bunch of flowers and count yourself lucky that Mr Ormondroyd at the parole office is an old friend of mine. He won’t be writing you up for bunking school.’
‘Thanks, Sasha,’ Junior said, half smiling as the hand slipped from around his neck.
Sasha looked up at James and Bruce. ‘And which hole in the ground did you two crawl out of?’ he asked nastily.
‘James is an old mate,’ Junior explained.
‘Did I ask you?’ Sasha snapped.
‘Junior brought us here,’ James explained. ‘We got moved back round this way after a spell living with our aunt in Scotland.’
‘All right,’ Sasha said, waving a hand in front of his face. ‘I didn’t ask for your bleedin’ life story. You upset Julie Moore who happens to be one of my oldest friends, so you’d better stay away from her, away from Junior and out of my face.’
James could feel the mission falling apart before his eyes. Sasha had taken an instant dislike to him and Bruce, which put his chances of infiltrating the Mad Dogs on a par with his chances of winning the lottery two weeks running.
‘Why are you still here?’ Sasha said, as he made a walking motion with his fingers. ‘Scoot before I get my boys to rearrange your heads with a crowbar.’
‘Come on, Sasha,’ Junior grovelled. ‘They’re mates of mine. They haven’t done nothing.’
‘Did I ask you, Junior?’ Sasha said again. ‘Maybe you’d be a better judge of character if you didn’t put so much shit up your nose.’
But Junior gave it one more shot as James and Bruce turned