Her Last Call To Louis MacNeice by Ken Bruen Page B

not … the proof? Well, if you go to the flat of Arnold White, accountant, you’ll find maps, diagrams, plans for all the jobs. The address?… wot, you want me to do all the bloody work, try detectin’ it. White, you want me to spell it … No … not Leonard … A … R … N … O … L … D … yeah, I’ll tell you how it works. These are the three big banks,
    Barclays
    Nat West
    Lloyds
    Yeah, in each of those, there is a clerk who supervises the transfer of large sums to provincial branches. Their names?… Detect them. They inform Mr White as to when and where. Yer cop Noble, he provides the data on local policing. Who and what to avoid. Course it’s simple … why cha fink it works.
    ‘ – Yeah, up yours too.’
    And she banged the phone down. I said. ‘That went rather well, don’t you think.’
    Her face was enraged and she moved to a cupboard, took out a whopper-size bottle of vodka, one glass. Poured a shoot amount, knocked it back clean. I remembered the gun dealer, his Yeltsin brand. If it hit the spot, she didn’t show it, said, ‘I’ve been a lot of things in my sorry time but never a grass. I don’t like the taste of it and I don’t think I like you a whole lot better – know wot I mean.’
    I counted out her money, all crisp new bills, asked, ‘Do you like my new gear, only got it today.’
    ‘Wot?’
    ‘While you’re “finking”, lemme ask you this. When Jimmy told you about the job, did he say you’d have to like me, maybe we’d share sob stories, fight a little but eventually love would blossom? And we’d fade away to the Kinks playing in the background. Did he mention shit like that?’
    ‘Wotcha on about, course he didn’t!’
    I stood, liked the way the new jacket hung — stylish but not blatant, said, ‘So, shut yer bloody mouth. I also suggest you forget this whole incident. You’re going to have to trust me on this but, you wouldn’t want me to come back.’
    I expected further cheek but instead, ‘You’re an only child, aren’t you?’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘I can always tell, you have that air of front and black-guardism.’
    I liked that word, said, ‘To tell you the truth Sharon, I asked my old Mum if I’d been adopted. She said she’d tried but no one would have me.’
    She took the money, counted it and I thought … when the Doc told me that yarn everyone cracked up but perhaps my timing was off. As I left she was lifting the vodka.
    As I turned towards Waterloo Bridge, Jimmy came out of a doorway. He was grinning, not a pretty sight. I said, ‘This better be coincidence.’
    ‘Don’t be like that, I only wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. Iron out any problems, that’s all – cross my heart, straight up.’
    ‘It’s good, I’m glad I met you here.’
    ‘You are.’
    ‘See … see that spot over there, that’s where I near killed the mugger, you heard about it right … wot I went to the nick for.’
    He backed off, not noticeably but a gradual edging away, I went with him, continued, ‘I never told anyone this Jimmy, not a soul, but I want to tell you … fuckit, I need to tell someone …’
    He was glancing round, avenues for escape. I slapped my open right hand on his shoulder, said, ‘Jim, I enjoyed it … but wait … hang a mo’ … I want to do it again so badly … Know wot I mean?’

Chapter 3
The Last Call
    B oth barrels in the cashier’s face and the blast threw her from her till. I’d been holding the shotgun in her direction, Doc a few feet away was roarin’, ‘Everybody get the fuck down –
now
.’
    And one of the great British traditions came to play – a bastard ‘had a go’. A fuck in a blazer, near seventy. I’d taken my eyes off him and he walloped me across my shoulders with his walking stick – my fingers had squeezed the trigger as I stumbled forward. Doc leapt for him, clubbed him with the gun’s stock. Now everyone was screaming. The girl was dead, had to be, so I thought I’d salvage something,