Payback Time 15 ( Clarity)

“Cuuuuuuuuuuunts!”

Paul Fletcher was screaming the word over and over again at the top of his voice. His voice had become a shriek and the more he said it the higher pitched his voice became. Tony almost jumped out of his seat at the front of the Range Rover. He pulled over, switched the engine off and turned to see Paul still saying the same word over and over again. Paul had tears streaming down his face, a face that was now a strange shade of purple; his eyes were bulging and staring at nothing. Still the words kept coming, over and over again, until suddenly he was just mouthing them, no sound came from his mouth.

“Boss, boss, calm down, what’s the matter, what’s happened?”

Paul said nothing, just slumped back in his seat.

Tony could see something was wrong, he’d seen Paul in many moods before but this was different, he was worried.

“Right I’m getting you home, I’ll call Ross, he’ll know what to do, he’ll sort out whatever’s wrong Boss, don’t you worry.”

Paul didn’t move, he simply stared into space.

Tony started up the Range Rover and sped away. He dialled Ross; it rang for ages but no answer. He then called John who was at the house. John answered after one ring.

“Yes mate?”

Tony whispered into the phone.

“Look, I’ve got the Boss in the car, he’s acting fucking weird mate, I’m bringing him home, I think you should clear the place, get rid of the workmen, no one should see him in this state.”

“Have you called Ross?”

“I’ve tried but no answer, can you try for me, I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

John did as he was told, the workmen were given their orders to fuck off for the rest of the day and by the time that Tony and Paul arrived at the house the place was deserted apart from John sitting outside as usual. Tony flashed his lights and John flashed back, all was as it should be.

Tony parked the car in the drive at the front of the house. Paul hadn’t moved or said anything all the way back. John got out of his car and walked over to Tony.

“What’s going on?”

“Did you get hold of Ross?”

“No, his phone just rings and rings.”

“Fuck, look the Boss has had some kind of attack or something, not sure what the fuck it is really but he’s completely out of it, we need to get him into the house.”

“Okay.”

Tony opened the back door of the Range Rover expecting to see Paul still slumped in his seat. Instead Paul was sitting upright, still flushed in the face but looking as mad as hell.

“Who the fuck you looking at? Wanker.”

“Err no one Boss, just helping you out of the car.”

“What am I some sort of cripple or something, get out of the fucking way”

He barged his way passed Tony and headed to the back of the house towards the garden. He turned the key in the large glass double doors and went into the snooker room. He walked over to the drinks cabinet, took out a bottle of malt and poured until the glass was full. He downed it in one, he shook his head, he needed to think, get things clear in his mind. He paced up and down the room talking aloud.

“Okay, Murphy has been out less than 72 hours, Danny is dead, Ross is dead, and Kathy is dead. How the fuck can he be responsible for all of that, he’s been away for six fucking years, yet somehow he comes out and starts to destroy my firm, impossible, he needs help, powerful help, he has to be teamed up with someone.”

He poured himself another glass full of scotch; again he drank it straight down.

“It has to be the Irish, has to be, they were the ones he ran to when he came out, they were the ones that have looked after him, it has to be them, but why now, why would Frank McGinley want to take over now, he’d done nothing years ago when I got rid of Tony Conlan, he knew it was me but did nothing, why now and where the fuck IS Terry Murphy?”

He stopped talking and stared straight ahead; it was as though someone had suddenly turned a light bulb on in his head.

“Fuck!”

He dialled a number on his phone. A voice answered.

“Yeh?”

“I’ve dealt with you for a long time, yeh?”

“Yeh?”

“I’ve always been true to my word, always given you what you’ve asked for, yeh?”

“Yeh?”

“So why you treating me like a cunt?”

“Woooah, no way, we’ve always have a good business relationship.”

“So when I asked you to do a job for me and at first you said you would, then later you tell me that you couldn’t because of the Irish, that was true, yeh?”

“Err Yeh.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you couldn’t do the same job FOR the Irish, it just meant you couldn’t do the job for me, right?”

There was a silence. Paul continued.

“I’ll make it easy for you, okay, for ten grand, just say yes or no, the job that you couldn’t do for me involving a certain person who has just returned after helping out her Majesty’s Government in the mailbag sowing department, you COULD have done for the Irish a few hours ago?”

There was a long pause.

“Yes.”

“You’ll have the money by noon tomorrow, but on the understanding that we’ve never had this conversation, okay?”

“Yeh.”

Paul hung up. At long last things began to make sense.

While Paul Fletcher was on the phone, a Black Range Rover with the same licence plates as Ross’s was flashing its lights once to John and Tony. Tony sighed in relief.

“Thank fuck, Ross is here.”

They flashed their lights back and opened the large electronic gates. The Range Rover pulled into the driveway; a large man got out and headed for the back garden.

Paul Fletcher put down the phone, he had a clear picture in his mind, he sat in his large Chesterfield armchair and took another large gulp of his malt whiskey. Nothing to eat and half a bottle of Malt was making him feel light headed; he hadn’t noticed that there was now a Black Range Rover on his driveway along with his other cars. He closed his eyes and tried to put everything in order. He started to talk it through aloud.

“So Murphy comes out from prison early, McGinley decides that this will be the perfect time to make his move, he starts taking people out and I of course think that it’s Murphy, but I can’t find Murphy because he’s already been taken care of by McGinley, I’ll give him one thing, he’s a slippery cunt.”

He took a deep breath, he needed to act quickly, get to McGinley as fast as possible, difficult without Ross, but he still had a number of good boys who could handle the situation.

He never saw his killer. He felt an impact on the back of his head, it pushed him down hard into the chair, he tried to stand but his legs wouldn’t move, his vision became blurred, he tried to speak but the words seemed to jumble in his head. He was aware of being dragged by his arms through the double doors, it felt cold, all he could see was the clear blue sky. Then he was falling, he was aware of landing but felt nothing. It was quiet, tranquil, slowly his eyes closed and the dark took over.

Two minutes later the Black Range Rover pulled out of the driveway.