The Rack & Cue Page 10

  “We sure did! Lots of money made!” Clive said, participating in the yarn they were spinning.

  “Great news, gentlemen. These next two shall be on the house!” Porky said that massive grin all over his face once again.

  “That’s bloody decent of you!” Danny said.

  “No problem at all, gents,” Porky said, putting two freshly pulled pints in front of Danny and Clive. “And will you fellas be taking part in the tournament later on this evening? There’s a huge prize, you know…”

  “We had noticed. What’s the catch?” Clive wanted to know.

  “No catch, my good man. Just a good old honest competition. A bit of fun, with a cash prize to be won.” Porky said his smile unflinching.

  “Fair enough,” Clive said. “Fancy it?” Clive asked Danny.

  “Yeah, why not.”

  “Fantastic!” Porky said, as he hurried off to serve one of the large truckers who’d walked in around about an hour before. Since then, three others had strolled into the pub, all holding cue cases. The competition seemed to be well known in these parts, at least.

  Danny watched the tubby barman walk away, and then turned on Clive. “What the hell, Clive?! We haven’t got time to be taking part in a game of pool!” he snapped.

  “We have, Danny. And besides, look at it this way – we’re supposed to be businessmen with cash on the hip. We’ve just closed down a big deal. Remember? We need to blend in or they’re going to get suspicious. If that happens, then we’re dead.”

  Clive watched his words sink into Danny’s brain; his mystified eyes clearing. The furrows in his forehead were smoothing out. The moment of him realising Clive’s plan as a good one was hitting home. His cogs were turning. “Okay, we’ll play it your way.”

  “Good.”

  “This is craziness,” Danny muttered. “We don’t even know those clowns will compete…”

  “Oh, they’re competing all right,” Clive interjected. “I overheard two of the Boas speaking earlier. It would seem the two English girls, and the businessman sitting with them, are also competing.”

  “How…”

  “I heard them chatting, too,” Clive said, a smug look drawn all over his face. His eyes twinkled.

  Danny could do nothing but smile and take a swallow of his beer.

  “Porky,” Clive called, waving the £40 above his head like a beacon. “We’ll keep tabs on them all night,” Clive said. “As soon as they make a move, we’ll bust their arses. They’re bound to make a slip. Give away information. And when they do, we’ll have it all on tape,” Clive said, while winking and tapping at the lapel of his jacket.

  Danny smiled back.

  “Let me do the fucking pigs right here?” Slicks asked Diesel, lifting back his denim jacket. It revealed the massive Bowie he had strapped to his underarm.

  “Fuck, Slicks!” Diesel said, pushing Slicks’ jacket closed. “Not now. Right now, those lousy fucks don’t know we’re onto them.”

  After they’d entered the pub, they had fucked with Charlie, Mandy and Grace for a while. They had drunk several rounds with them. Had groped, tried to kiss and got lewd with the girls, until the girls had basically told them to piss off. Charlie had stayed out of it, just like a good little doggie.

  But they’d left the girls alone.

  Diesel hadn’t wanted the fat piece of shit behind the bar tossing them out into the cold and rain. Not that he could, anyway. But he could call the pool tournament off, and that’s something Diesel didn’t want to miss out on. Win or lose, they were taking that two grand out of here – by force, if need be.

  They had settled in one corner of the pub next to the fruit machine, which depicted Andy Cap, and the jukebox – which they kept feeding with pound coins.

  “Where the fuck is Jack, dude?!” Diesel wanted to know. But all Slicks could do was look at his leader with a blank face, as he shrugged his shoulder.

  “Maybe he got lost?!” Slicks offered.

  Diesel huffed, shook his head and took a deep breath. He looked about him, seeing the other crew members gathered around the bandit.

  “Fuck sake,” Diesel muttered.

  “Want me to go outside and check? See if I can see him out there anywhere?”“Nah. Don’t bother,” Diesel said. “Fucking clown, he is.”

  “No problem,” Slicks said.

  “Have you given fatty out entry fee?” Diesel asked.

  “Of course, brother.” Slicks said.

  “Good. The sooner we can get this monkey show started, the sooner we can fuck off out of here with that two grand.”

  “Well, we better get rid of those fuckers first,” Slicks said, indicating the cops. “They’ll keep until the end,” Diesel said, smiling. He then headed to the bar to get another round for him and the boys. His shoulder clashed with the trucker who was wearing a hat.

  “Want to watch your step, buddy?!” Iain said, looking at the biker as if he were a piece of shit he’d just stepped in.

  “Why don’t you watch yours?” Diesel said, getting in Iain’s face. Both men stood toe-to-toe, almost nose-to-nose. Neither man gave much away in size, nor did either of them flinch or backed down until the burly trucker was pulled away by his mate.

  “Come on, mate. It’s not worth it,” Rigs coaxed.

  “Yeah. You heard your mate. It’s not worth it,” Diesel said, his smile mocking. “You wouldn’t want to get all smashed up, after me and my crew roll all over you!” Diesel said.

  Iain broke the stare for a moment, and watched as the rest of the Boas turned from playing the fruit machine. They glared at him. Iain smiled, and then looked back at Diesel. “One on one, I’d eat you for breakfast, lad.” Iain said, grinning. Then slapped the biker around the mouth, softly.

  This enraged Diesel, who had to be held back by Slicks. “Cool down, man. Cool it!”

  “You’re fucking dead!” Diesel told Iain, who had already turned his back on the squirming biker. “Fucking dead!”

  “I heard you the first time. ‘Dead’.” Iain said, taking his seat opposite Rigs.

  The sharp clanging noise of the inn’s bell stunned them all into silence.

  “Hey. Any more of that nonsense,” Porky said all his charm and smiles gone. “And I’ll turf you all out. All funds for the tournament shall be given back. You and your money will never be welcomed here ever again! A permanent ban will be issued,” he commanded, his fierce authority in the matter unnerving.

  This calmed Diesel. Slicks let his leader go. Diesel didn’t say anything else, nor did he react in any way, knowing the trucker would pay once they got outside. He went to the bar as planned, and got his drinks.

  “I think we should forget about the competition, Mandy, love, and get the hell out of here while we still can!” Grace said. She’d been having a bad feeling about the pub all afternoon. The drink had managed to sooth the fears, but since the Boas had arrived, and now the truckers, the place seemed even more dangerous.

  “What! Why, Grace?” Mandy wanted to know.

  “Yeah, you can’t leave now,” Charlie said who had his hand on Mandy’s thigh.

  Grace disregarded Charlie’s comment, and again tried to plead with Mandy. She raised her voice a little, to be heard over the hubbub of music and chatter. “It’s getting rough in here. Those bikers are trouble. They also look capable of anything, Mandy. Come on, please. Porky said we can have our money back.”

  “Oh, come on, Grace. You are the one who suggested it in the first place!”

  “It’s not like Porky’s going to let anything bad happen here, is it?” Charlie piped in again.

  “True,” Mandy said. “Look at how he just handled that spat,” she concluded.

  “Fair point, I guess,” Grace buckled. “But we go straight to our room after it?”

  “Yeah,” Mandy said.

  “Good,” Grace said, noticing Charlie’s hand had slipped further up Mandy’s leg, who wasn’t complaining, either. Grace didn’t say anything, just picked her drink up
and tried to relax.

  “Besides,” Mandy said, “I think I’ve got a good chance of winning the whole thing.” Smiling, she too picked up her drink and drank.

  Charlie just sat there, copping a good feel and grinning madly.

  Porky cast his eye around the bar, making sure everything was okay before he went out back to check on Baby’s progress. The truckers were both settled by the fire, each drinking their beer and tucking into their third Porky Pie – which made Porky smile. “A great source of income, for something that cost very little – ingredients wise, that is,” he muttered under his breath.

  The girls were looking rather friendly with the young businessman, as they chatted and laughed with one another. Also, the two businessmen at the bar looked happy, as they engaged each other. That left the bikers. They seemed to be quiet at the moment – they hadn’t really caused any trouble since they got here, apart from that little scuffle with the trucker twenty minutes ago.

  The newcomers were scattered about the place – one was using the ratty pool table for practice, while another sat alone drinking his beer and cleaning his cue. The third was wondering around the bar, reading the clippings which decorated the walls. There was a delightful hubbub inside the bar, which contented Porky.

  Satisfied, he turned around and headed towards the rear of the pub. Passing the cellar door, he opened it, and listened. Doc was at work. Steel could be heard cutting through bone. Blood and other fluids could be heard splashing the floor along with God knows what else.

  “Doc? Doc, is that you down there?” Porky thought his voice sounded very hollow. The sawing and hacking sounds of flesh and bone halted. “Doc?!” Porky tried again, his tone sharper this time.

  “Yeah? What do you want, Porky?” Doc called up, apparently not leaving his work to stand at the bottom of the stairs to look up at Porky.

  “Where are you, I can’t see you?”

  “I’m busy, Porky. What do you need?”

  “Just wondering if you’d managed to finish down there. I’ll be ringing the bell in about fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Not quite. Best I stop yapping to you, Porky, and get my arse in gear!”

  Porky chuckled. “Okay, I’ll get Baby into position.”

  There was no reply from Doc – only the sound of the man returning to his work.

  Closing the cellar door, Porky left Doc to it. He whistled a little ditty as he entered the kitchen and opened the back door to the garden.

  Baby was still outside. Her PVC suit had soapy suds all over it, suggesting she had cleaned herself down. She was letting the rain wash the soap away, as she slowly and methodically hosed the stonework ridding it of blood and bits of flesh. It flowed down the path and disappeared into the storm drain.

  On seeing Porky, the big woman shut the hose off and reeled it back in.

  She knew.

  “It’s time,” he told her, and with that, she nodded.

  Her eyes smiled.

  “Good. I’ve been waiting,” she replied, then touched a hand to her crotch.

  Chapter 11

  …Clang, clang, clang, clang…

  Porky rang the bell with as much might as he could muster. The clock had struck seven o’clock – it was time to get the proceedings underway. Normally the games would begin at oh-nine-hundred-hours, but tonight, Porky decided to get things moving sooner.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen…Can I have your attention please?!” A slight ripple of noise continued throughout the pub, but most had settled down to hear what Porky had to say. For the others, he clanged the bell a few more times until the place fell deathly silent. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Now, before we start proceedings, I have to take you all through the rules. I see there are no returning faces this year, which is a surprise. Normally we have combatants come back time and again,” Porky lied. He found it hard to keep a straight face as he delivered his well-rehearsed patter.

  “There are few rules, but nevertheless, there are rules. Rules which must be adhered to, no questions asked, or you will not be welcome back. This game. This tournament,” Porky continued, “is a very special one. Nowhere else will you get such a cash prize for such a small entry fee as an amateur. This competition is not well advertised, or yelled about. We like to keep it small. Quiet. The number we have in the room at the moment is perfect. Just right.”

  “After the rules have been spoken, the front doors will be bolted. The shutters that grace the windows will be closed and locked. The curtains drawn. You can still buy beer and snacks, of course,” Porky said, smiling.

  “Why lock us in?!” Diesel wanted to know.

  “Yeah, what’s the big idea?” Danny barked.

  Porky raised his hands to the air. “Settle down, settle down please. All will be explained.”

  “Well, best you fucking start speaking up,” Roadblock said, getting into a standing position. Gently easing past Diesel, he thrust a fat finger in Porky’s direction. “I’ll fuck your shit up, if you don’t!” the huge, monster of a man bellowed as he cracked his knuckles.

  Fuck. Here we go, Danny thought, about to step from behind Porky. He was prepared to intervene if necessary. He felt for the snub-nosed .38 at the small of his back, and felt relieved. For one horrible moment, he thought he’d left it in the van.

  “There’ll be no need for violence,” Porky said, still raising his hands in protest. He didn’t seem the least bit phased by the behemoth making his way towards him. “What we have here,” Porky said, stopping to clear his throat. A smile flashed across his face before he continued. “Is a slightly unorthodox tournament to say the least, boys and girls.”

  This seemed to settle the giant. His shoulders slumped, and he unclenched his fists. The only noise heard at that very moment was the rattle of the big biker’s chains, which dangled from the left side of his jeans. “Hmph,” he uttered.

  “Fair enough,” Diesel said. “It’s okay, Block;” the gang leader said, patting his Samoan brother on the shoulder. This told Roadblock he could stand down.

  Getting into Porky’s face, Diesel stared right through the man. “Don’t go trying any funny shit, though, fatty,” he told Porky. “Or me and my boys are going to tear this fucking joint of yours apart. It’ll be a pile of smouldering brick and mortar by the time we finish.”

  Porky smiled, before entertaining Diesel’s threat with a light-hearted chuckle.

  Iain couldn’t get over how massive the landlord’s balls were, especially when Porky patted the vicious outlaw on the shoulder to soothe him. The man has more brass in his neck than he does in his fucking beer pumps, Iain thought.

  Rigs snorted a laugh, as he turned to Iain. “Can you believe Porky? What a man. He’s putting that fruit in his bloody place.”

  “Aye, I know. I still don’t like it though. Shit could get ugly. Fast. I wish I was carrying El Bandito right now,” Iain said.

  “You still have that crooked piece of lead pipe?!”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Are you sure you didn’t nick it from my Cluedo set? I still haven’t found that missing piece, you know!”

  “Shit, are we going to go through this again?” Iain asked, smiling. “You’re a worse nag than a wife.”

  “Ever been married?” Rigs asked, knowing the answer.

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know what a nagging wife sounds like?”

  “Because you sound like a girl when you get going,” Iain said.

  “Fucking charming,” Rigs said.

  Before the truckers could continue their chat, Porky broke their chain of words.

  “Now, now,” Porky said, continuing to pat the biker and grin. “There’s no need for threats of violence. We’re all friends here. I run an honest competition, that’s all. I take the participants’ money and the winner gets to walk away with the cash prize.”

  Diesel backed down.

  “Doesn’t that sound good?” Porky asked Diesel, his tone walkin
g the line of condescension.

  Diesel nodded, before nuzzling back into his pack.

  “Good,” Porky said, a ridiculous smile haphazardly splashed across his fat face. “Then I shall continue. When the main event gets underway, which will be in ten to fifteen minutes’ time, the front doors will be barred. The windows locked and slatted. Curtains drawn. We may be in the middle of nowhere, ladies and gentlemen, but we often get the police out here doing routine checks. Why? Because they know I’m out here running this place with my family.”

  “Family?” Grace muttered.

  “What was that, young lady?” Porky asked.

  “You said family? I’ve only seen you…” Grace said, letting her words trail off.

  “Yes. That’s because my niece and son are far too young to be working the bar. They do, however, tend to work in the kitchen and cellar, etc. I also have a brother who helps me run the pub, but he’s away today on important business.”

  “I see,” Grace said, not totally convinced any longer by Porky’s gleaming smile and sparkling personality. Something was amiss.

  “As I was saying, the police make fairly regular trips out here, and I wouldn’t want them catching wind of this little tournament of mine. If they did, they’d shut it and me down. The stakes are high for you and me,” Porky said.

  “Then why risk it?” Rigs wanted to know. This caused everyone in the pub to turn to face him. He caught Grace looking at him. He couldn’t help but smile at her. She shrugged away, her cheeks turning rosy, but managing a cheeky smile back.

  “The answer to that is simple. My business is not actually making a great deal these days, but by holding this little game once a year, it helps keep the wolf from the door. I’d hate to lose the old place, as it’s been in the family for generations. I took the place over after my eldest brother…became…sick…”

  Porky looked about him. The faces of the punters/competitors looked sombre. He had them on his side with this last bit of information.