“So what do you think?”
“What about?”
“About him making one in the same place?”
“Talk. Just silly Walter-talk. He's just trying to stir us up a little bit. If he started one there he'd only do it to get us nicked and he daren't do that. He'll try and scotch us, but that bit's just silly Walter-talk.”
But Walter is not silly. The next day Tommy saw Gearing making the tool in the machine shop. Apart from anything else, Tommy was interested to see how Walter intended getting the tool out of the shop past the metal detector. What Walter did was to put the tool in his vacuum flask. While they lined up waiting to be searched, Walter waited until it was almost his turn and handed the flask to Terry while Walter made a performance of getting his cigarettes out and lighting up, dragging out the performance so that Walter was about to be searched while Terry was still innocently holding the flask. But Tommy had been watching Walter's behaviour all morning like his life depended on it and so he said to Terry: “Don't take it, Terry. Give it back to the cunt.”
Terry took one look at Tommy's face then he looked at the flask then tried to pass it back to Walter but Walter scuttled up to the screw to be searched and so Terry could do nothing. So Tommy discreetly took the flask from Terry and gave it to Gearing. Gearing was dropped on. According to Tommy, Gearing looked as though he was going to hurl the flask and run off screaming but Tommy said to him: “Take it out as a favour to Billy, eh, mate?”
That had made Gearing swallow it. But he was lucky. He put the flask on the floor while he was searched and that way he beat both the metal detector and the screw.
Back in the wing, Terry did his pieces.
“You cunt, Wally, you nearly fucking did me, you bleeding bastard.”
Walter was unperturbed.
“Don't be ridiculous, Terry,” he said. “Do you think I'd do a thing like that to you?”
“Yes, you cunt, I fucking know you would.”
“Terry, there's nothing in the poxy flask. Have a look. See?”
Walter showed him the flask which by now, of course, was empty. Terry carried on swearing at Walter but in the end there was nothing he could do but swallow. Unless there's a Bible handy, you don't stand much chance of winning an argument with Walter.
The next day Tommy came screaming into my cell. He was almost crying with rage and frustration.
“That dirty slag is trying to get us nicked,” he said.
“What's happening?”
“The bastard's only prised a lump out of the shower room wall near where we're working.”
I couldn't speak. My chest felt as if steel hawsers were tightening round it. I got off Ray's pit and went straight upstairs to Walter's cell, Tommy right behind me.
Walter was lying on his pit facing the door. Gearing was sitting on a chair by the wall.
“Walter,” I said, holding it all back, “you digging a hole in the showers?”
Walter looked at me for a moment. He assumed an expression of mild interest.
“Yeah,” he said. “That's right, Billy.”
Tommy couldn't contain himself.
“You know you can't dig out there, Walter,” he said. “You know you can't. You're not even on the outside wall.”
Walter raised himself up on his elbows.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Is that right? Well, just so's you know, we're going to branch left when we get in a little way. And in any case, what are you so excited about? I can dig out without you sucking it in, can't I?”
“Wally,” I said, “you know we were working in there. Don't take us for a pair of cunts.”
“I don't know nothing about you wankers.”
“Look, just leave it out,” I said. “After we've had our pop you can have yours. We started first.”
“So why didn't you put us in it? We'd have put you in. I already asked Tommy if he'd like to make one and he said No.” Now Walter was sitting up, waving his arms about all over the place. “What is it with you people? I'm in here as well, aren't I?”
“That's a load of ballocks, Walter,” I said. “You're just being fucking crafty. You just leave it out.”
“I'm not leaving it out, son,” he said. “You can dig your hole and we'll dig ours, won't we, Jackie?”
Gearing didn't look at him. He just stared at the bed, impassive.
“All right, Walter,” I said. “Let's stop playing. If you don't leave it out I'll break your jaw.”
I gave him the whole bit, right down to the wagging finger. Walter stood up.
“You'd better do it now, then,” he said.
“I'm warning you, Wally.”
“Don't warn me. Do it.”
We were like two kids in a playground. Except we were both acting. I was trying to frighten him and he was trying to blackmail me and I wasn't going behind my door for forty days on account of Walter, not now.
“All right,” I said. “Down to the TV room. On our own.”
If you pull people on their own they often swallow it, whereas in front of people they're brave because they don't want to lose face. Or in the nick, if there's a screw near by, they rely on it getting broken up before they get hurt.
We walked out of the cell together. A screw on the landing saw what was in the wind, and he watched with interest as we walked into the TV room. Strachey was watching
Watch with Mother
. He took one look at the pair of us and stood up and left.
I turned to face Walter.
“Walter,” I said, “I know exactly what you're doing. You're grassing me. You're blackmailing me so's I'll put you in.”
“I'm not grassing you. How am I doing that? I just want to get out of this karsi, just like you. Do you think I want to spend the next twenty stretch listening to those cunts?”
“But you're grassing me, Wally, you're digging a hole that's got to get tumbled, and they'll rip the place apart, and you know it.”
The sound of despair was creeping into my anger.
“Look, Billy, what are we arguing for? This is fucking silly. All I want is a chance, just like you. We can blot that other mug out. Just put me in.”
Watch with Mother
was still blasting out and Walter's wheedling was getting me dead choked.
“Listen, you cunt, you've had something on the boil for you since God knows when and you'd never put me in that, would you? And that one won't involve digging through walls, will it? Just the best plan your money'll buy you.”
“I don't know what you're on about.”
“No, that's right, Walter.”
“You're out of your skull.”
“I won't let you do it to me, Walter. I've told you, I'll put it on you first.”
“For Christ's sake, do it, then.”
I pushed him with my left forearm. He pushed back at me with his chest. He was strong, even though he was small.
“Go on then. Do it, Billy.”
Walter was pretty sure I wasn't going to hit him, but he wasn't too fond of the tension while he waited to see if he was right or not. I pushed him again and shifted my weight as if I was going to throw one just so as he'd suffer a bit more. Walter was one of those people who defend against fear by going rigid. He made no move to protect himself. The only things about Wally's person that were moving were his nostrils due to his heavy breathing.
Suddenly I got sick of the whole bleeding scene.
“I'm not going to hit you, you ponce,” I said. “And you fucking know it.”
I opened the door and walked out. The screw was leaning over the opposite railing, staring avidly at the door. I went straight down on to the Twos and into my cell and sat down on my bed. Fucking Walter. He'd won this one. I should have put it on him. Sod going behind my door. At least I would have got some satisfaction out of it.
A few minutes later Tommy came in.
“What happened?” he said.
“The bastard's got us by the cods. There was nothing I could do.”
“So what happens?”
“We've got no choice but to put him in.”
“Gearing as well?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking bloody hell.”
“Yes, Tommy, but neither of them are going.”
“How do you mean?”
“We'll fuck Walter at his own game.”
“But how?”
“I don't know. But the dirty slag isn't going to ruin this one. We'll think of something.”
I'm sitting in the Bl
ack
Boy talking to Harry Fleming about this job we're on in a couple of days' time when Walter Colman and the people who walk behind him sweep in, trying their collective hardest to look like characters out of New York Confidential. Everybody in the pub starts the arse-licking bit because Walter and his cousins are the men around town. I carry on talking about the job to Harry but Harry isn't listening. He's sitting there trying to catch Walter's eye so he can give Walter a big friendly smile.
When Walter's finally sat down and his minions have arranged the drinks and themselves round him, Harry manages it. Walter, in return, gives him an old-pals-in-the-know nod because it's as important for Walter to have everybody like him as it is for everybody to be liked by Walter. Everybody, that is, except me.
Walter's eyes flick to me and instead of a nod I get a bit of reflection, a bit of mind-ticking, and a couple of minutes later Walter gets up and wanders over to where we're sit-ting. Two of the overcoats come with him. Walter sits down but the overcoats remain standing.
“Hello, Billy, Harry,” he says. “How's things? Keeping ahead, are you?”
“Yeah, fine thanks, Walter,” Harry says. “And you?”
“Not bad. Not too bad.” Walter offers Harry and me a cigarette. Harry takes one. “What are you drinking?” asks Walter.
“Vodka tonic, thanks very much, ta,” Harry says.
“Nothing for me,” I say.
“Come on, let me top it up for you.”
“No thanks,”
“Suit yourself.” Walter addresses one of the overcoats. “Vodka tonic and I'll have a glass of red wine.” Then to me: “Anyway, why I wanted a word, really, is because I've got this little tickle on, and I think it's something right up your street, Billy.”
“Oh yes.”
“Yeah. Little garage tickle. Four-hander. Only my feller that usually rallies for me's on a three-stretch right now. So I thought, Billy Cracken. The very man. Nice to put a bit of business his way. Nice for me too, knowing how sweet the job'll come off with Billy sorting it.”
I smile and shake my head. Walter all over, this is. He couldn't care less whether or not he put a bit of business my way. And there were a dozen sports he could level at this garage job. And Walter needs the rake-off on six thousand quid like he needed a hole in the head. He just wants to place me, to have me jumping through hoops at the chance of working for Walter Colman. And most important of all he wants to demonstrate to the world at large that Billy Cracken is a Walter-lover, that Walter has drawn Billy Cracken into his camp.
I shake my head again.
“No, not me, Walter,” I say. “I'm strictly freelance.”
Walter masks up.
“So's the job,” he says. “Nothing else. I'm not offering PAYE.”
I smile.
“Course not, Walter,” I say. “But thanks, anyway.”
Walter stands up. The overcoats are giving me hard glances. At this moment Walter doesn't like anything at all.
“Pity, though,” he says. “I would have thought you'd have fancied the big league for a change.”
“I do, Walter,” I say. “If the big league makes me an offer, I'll accept. Until then, I'll stay freelance.”
Walter looks at me for a while, then goes back to his table. He isn't quite frothing at the mouth. The overcoats look at me a little longer, then they too move away.
The next day I had a word with Ray.
“I suppose you heard about Wally tumbling our business,” I said.
“What business would that be, Billy?”
I grinned.
“Leave it out, Ray,” I said. “I know what's stirring you up.”
“And so now you're wondering if I put Wally on to it?”
I didn't say anything.
“Listen,” Ray said, “everybody knows what Wally's promised me because of what I did at the trial. But what I did wasn't because of Wally. It was because of Old Bill. I didn't ask Wally for any fucking favours.”
“I didn't say you did, Ray.”
“Just so long as you don't.”
“I just wondered if you knew when he tumbled?”
“Why?”
I shrugged.
“It was well before you wanted the paint, if that's what you mean.”
“Yes?”
“Wally's no fucking mug, you know. He sniffed it all himself.”
“And he told you he sniffed it?”
“That's right.”
“But you didn't bother to tell Tommy and me.”
“Why the fuck should I?”
“Well now you know why we didn't put you in.”
“If you had have done you'd have known about Wally three weeks ago.”
“All right,” I said. “So I was wrong. So it's all blown now, what's the difference? Tommy and I were going to pull you eventually, anyway.”
“After you'd made sure I wasn't Walter's man.”
“No,” I said. “Once we got started. To many at the beginning was unnecessary. Why take the chance of the screws wondering why there's always a gang of us in the shower. Now we've
got to
take a chance. There's too much stuff to get rid of just on our own.”
“And now you need me.”