Arabian Monkfish (Part Two)

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Ah’m oan ma fifth can ay Red Stripe, smokin the umpteenth fag since Damo telt me ah’d ootstaiyed ma welcome, gien some serious thoat tae when ah’m gonae go back tae his flat an get ma gear, an mare importantly, where exactly ah’m gonae crash the night, when ah hear his voice, ‘Awright shagger. Whit’s happenin?’

‘Scanlon! Whit you dain here!’

‘Thoat ah’d bite the bullet an come doon here tae keep you oot ay trouble.’

Ah’ll be honest, ah didnae think ah’d see him again. No fur a long time anywaiy. Efter everythin that’d happened an the waiy he’d stuck by me; dug right doon in the trenches wae me tae get us oot ay the world ay shite ah’d landed masel in, ah never even dared ask him tae come. He’d be guilty by association. Every cunt knows we’re best mates. It wis better fur me tae just disappear, efter aw it wisnae the first time ah’d done it.

‘So, where’s aw the fuckin rockers an rollers? Thoat ye’d be up tae yer neck in groupies by noo. Where’s the band?’

‘The band?’ ah sais, sheepishly.

The first thing ah enquired aboot when ah tracked doon Damo wis the whereaboots ay the boays, telt him ah wis doon tae potentially get the band back the gither. Efter aw that hud happened, an comin oot the other end, ah thoat another crack at it wisnae oot the question. The idea wis sharply kiboshed when he telt us that Al Simons, the singer, an his brother, the lead guitarist, Andy, were away backpackin roon the world. Last known whereaboots, some island aff Indonesia. The drummer, Freddy Ditorio spent six month in rehab fur substance abuse (paiyed fur by his hugely wealthy faimily back hame in Italy, nae less. [He kept the quiet, the cunt]) an is noo a fully signed up member ay an order ay Benedictine monks in the South ay France, ‘ . . . Eh, the band’s no gonae be reconvenin fur the foreseeable, mate.’

‘Naw? That’s pish. Wis lookin forward tae seein whit aw that craic wis aboot.’

‘Never mind aw that, whit the fuck’s happenin up the road? Dae they know who done McNulty in? Whit aboot Ged an Monty, huv the polis goat any leads?’

‘It wis in the Evenin Times, kin ye no get it doon here? EAST-END DRUG DEALER KILLED IN GANGLAND-STYLE EXECUTION or some pish like that, it sais.’

‘Whit aboot Monty, they never kilt him, did they? Whit if he recovers an talks tae the polis, or comes efter me?’

‘Ah widnae worry aboot that mate. He’s fucked. Vegetable they’re sayin.’ he sais, an rolls his eyes tae the back his heid, stickin his tongue oot, in case ah don’t know whit he means.

‘Poor cunt, ah mean he wis a colossal prick an he’d huv done me in as soon as looked at me, but still. Ye dae know ah didnae know it wis gonae go that far, daint ye? Ah just hud tae get oot, man. Settin them up, it wis the only waiy ah could see.’

‘Better them than you – than us! A hud a fuckin haun in it as well, mind.’ he sais, an when ye get doon tae it, that’s aboot the size ay it, whitever waiy ye want tae look at it.

‘Ah know, mate, an ah’ll never furget it. Whit aboot McNulty, did it say anythin aboot who done him?’

‘Ah wis gonae ask you the same question. Fuckin barbequed, the cunt. Didnae know if ye were just keepin it oan the doon-low. Widnae blame ye if ye did.’

‘No me, mate. Ah don’t mind tellin ye, that cunt put the shitters right up me. Thoat he wis gonae do me in at the boattom ay that close afore Coln an Finn came chargin doon the stair. Then ah wis off, like a two-bob rocket, never looked back.’

‘Probably Coln an his brothers then. Nae point in lettin wan get away tae come back at ye further doon the line, eh? Anywaiy, enough ay that pish, ye gonae sit there aw day or get aff yer arse an get me a fuckin drink?’

Enough ay that pish, right enough. Ye live by the sword, ye die by the fuckin sword. Fuck McNulty, an Monty an meatbaw heid. Listen, ah know whit yer thinkin. Yer thinkin how could ah just move oan; up sticks an sit here, livin ma life, huvin a swally an aw the rest ay it. How? Cos there’s nothin else fur it, right? Whit’s done is done. Ye make yer bed, ye better fuckin lie in it.

Up at the bar, ah order us another two Joe Kinnears an while the barman’s gettin them, walk oer tae the wee newspaper rack at the waw, pullin oot a Financial Times. Leafin through it, ah stoap at an article oan page seven, dumbfounded.

 

SCOTTISH SOFTWARE COMPANY, ESRACOM TECHNOLOGIES LTD’s SHARE PRICE SOARS BY 400% ON ITS IPO

The Worldwide Tech Dot-com Bubble Has a New Success Story

 

The boay behind the bar places the drinks doon, directin another wan ay they looks he seems tae huv perfected at me, the scruffy cunt staunin afore him agog, porin oer an article in the FT.

‘Ere, Gordon Gekko. You want these drinks or what?’

‘Aye, sorry pal. Here, just keep the chainge.’ ah sais, clutchin the two beers between ma fingers, no takin ma eyes aff the page as ah shuffle back tae the table.

‘Ere, mate. That’s a twenty!’ the boay protests.

‘Tell me ye acted oan that information ah goat aff Derek. Mind aboot the company he works fur?’

‘Whit, shares? The stockmarket an aw that gubbins? Gies peace ya crank. Whit the fuck dae ah know aboot aw that shite?’

 

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‘Hello Allen and Davidson?

‘Hullo, ah’d <cough> I’d like to speak to someone about investing some liquid capital I have on the stock market.’

‘Very good sir. Do you have an account with us?’

‘Eh, naw. Ah mean, no, I don’t currently, but I’d like to open one with you at the earliest opportunity, if I may?’

‘Certainly sir, if you give us your address I can pop a brochure, complete with an application form in the post for you to –’

‘I was thinkin, mibbe ah could just come doon there, the day. Ah mean, no time like the present, eh? Why put off till tomorrow what you can do the day? That’s whit ah always say.’

‘Well, we don’t usually –’

‘See, the thing is, time is a commodity ah don’t have at my disposal currently. This investment . . . <cough> Ye see, my sources assure me that this particular investment has to be acted upon, forthwith.’

‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Do you know where we are?’

‘No, but you tell me and I’ll be there.’

 

Sittin oan the tube wae a holdall containin ten grand in used notes oan ma lap, ah haud oan tae it like ma life depends oan it. Every cunt that catches ma gaze seems like a potential robbin bastart. Ye hear aboot the tube doon here daint ye? Cunts gettin mugged an that, but ah dae ma best tae act casual, ah’m just a cunt wae a bag oan the tube, same as any number ay other cunts dain the exact same thing. The only wan that knows its contents is me. Breathe, Stevie. Breathe.

It hud went right oot ma heid tae be honest, wae everythin that went oan back hame. Ah’d been so consumed wae fear an dread aboot whit wis gonae happen wae Coln an his brothers — if they were oan tae me, an if ah wis walkin intae a trap — then by whit would happen when we went tae McNulty’s, that it hud barely even registered.

The night afore, ah’d drove oot tae meet Derek Campbell-Jones, the executive wae the computer technology company who every time ah meet, insists oan us huvin a patsy wae him while he prattles oan aboot whitever deal he’s negotiatin at the time. Ah reciprocate wae regalin him wae ma stories aboot life as a reluctant coke dealer. He always seems captivated by it, askin me aw sorts ay questions, an while ah’m no exactly enthralled wae his patter, ah’m always kind ay in awe ay him; the waiy he makes his money an that. Callin the shots oan multi-million poun deals that could potentially make or break other cunt’s years – lives, even.

It’s like a kind ay charlie enhanced, two waiy therapy session which oer the last six months, although ah convinced masel otherwise, ah actually grew tae look forward tae an enjoy.

Oan that night, afore the fuckin massacre ay the foallien day, he telt us that the company he represents, Esracom Technologies Ltd — huvin secured a partner that would be able tae make some vital component part ay a new product they hud in development, in South Korea, at a much lower cost than they could here in the UK, an aff the back ay that, hud secured another contract tae sell said product tae some blue chip, Silicon Valley corporation in America — were gonae be floated oan the stock exchange.

Ah remember, much like every other work related anecdote he ever telt me, bein bored tae tears an wishin he’d shut the fuck up an put another line oot, but it wis the waiy he kept gien us a wee nudge an a wink, like he wis tellin us somethin ay the utmost importance that resonated wae me.

It’s only the day as ah mulled oer whit the fuck tae dae wae the readies it occurred tae me.

 

Ah get aff the tube at Liverpool Street Station an walk tae the address in Finsbury the cunt gied us. The security boay in the foyer gies us the eyeball, stickin oot like a sore thumb as ah dae in among aw the suits cuttin aboot like ants, frantically scramblin tae the next morsel, so ah walk oer, chist oot, full ay business an forthright.

‘Mr. Steven McShane, here tae see Mr.David Allen of Allen and Davidson.’

He picks up the phone an a look ay dejection comes oer his dish as ah’m okayed fae the other end ay the line.

‘Just take the lift over there, sir. Fifth floor.’

At the reception the lassie looks us up an doon, starin at the holdall in ma haun, then back at me like ah’m some vile stain she’s just noticed oan her mink coat.

‘You here to mend the copier? It’s just through there.’

‘Naw, actually, ah’m here –’

‘Mr. McShane, I presume? That’s an accent you don’t forget. It’s okay Mary, I can take it from here.’ he sais tae the burd, ‘ . . . if you’d like to follow me, Mr. McShane.’

We get intae his oaffice an he invites me tae take a seat, ‘I have to say, you’re tremendously lucky that you got me on the phone. Once in a blue moon, I pick up external calls. Yes, most lucky indeed. Anyway, your exuberance on the phone – intrigued me. I told you to come down as much to see if you actually would than anything else. And here you are. Tell me, Mr. McShane, what is this investment you have to make that simply can’t wait?’

I tell him aw aboot Derek an Esracom, includin the confidential details aboot the South Korean outsourced labour an the tie-in wae the Yanks, but makin sure tae exclude the nature, an purpose ay ma consultations an transactions wae him, an he listens intently, jottin doon notes in his filofax.

‘And how is it you say you know Mr. Campbell-Jones, again, Mr. McShane?’

‘Brother-in-law. Ma sister is merrit, eh, ah mean, married to him an he, well – us Scots, matters ay financial gain, we like tae keep it in the faimily, know?’ ah sais, gien him a wink.

‘Well, Mr. McShane. With all you’ve told me here, and um, all things considered, I should say we at Allen and Davidson would be only to happy to act as your broker, subject to some expedited due-diligence. Nothing to worry about, you understand. All part of the process. How is it you’d like to get the funds to your new account with us?’

Ah lift the bag oantae his desk, parkin it in front ay his Newton’s cradle desk toay, zippin it open, ‘Cash awright, Dave?’

 

*                           *                           *

 

Scanlon takes a drink ay his Red Stripe an looks at me, face contorted wae ignorance, ‘Ye done whit? Ye gave some fuckin suit ten grand tae play roulette wae on the fuckin stock exchange, ye aff yer nut?’

‘You listenin tae me? Ye don’t fuckin need tae listen tae me, look! It’s there in black an white. The share price’s increased by 400 per cent! Ah bought ten grand’s worth at just under a fiver a share, right? That means ah’ve goat aboot –’

‘Whit? Ye’ve goat whit?’ he sais, derisively.

‘TWO HUNNER AN FIFTY GRAND!’

‘Fuck off, ye huv.’

‘Ah’m tellin ye, ya daft cunt. READ IT!’ ah slam the paper intae his face.

Leavin the stupit cunt tae read it an conceptualise whit ah’m sayin, ah run oer tae the bar, bargin in next tae some knob who’s waitin tae be served, the pub fillin up cos the England gemme’s comin oan shortly, ‘Gies a boatle ay Moet, John!’

‘Old your faackin orses, Jock. I’m first.’ the cunt sais.

‘Get him whitever he wants an aw. Them an aw.’ ah sais, lookin at the rest ay them alang the bar. THE MILKY BARS UR OAN ME!’

At the table, the suddenly attentive barman’s oer pourin the champers intae a couple ay flutes, an Scanlon, huvin accepted ma unexpected turn ay fortune laments his previously dismissive outlook.

‘Whit ah want tae know is how come you turn up at this high-flyin stockbroker's oaffice wae nuttin mare than ten grand in used notes an some story aboot huvin the inside track oan the dealins ay a computer company, an manage tae get him tae invest it fur ye? Is there no rules aboot that sort ay thing?’

‘Lets just say, ah’ve a sneaky suspicion ah’m no the only wan that turnt a coin courtesy ay Derek’s information. It’s the internet an aw that shite! Anythin tae dae wae computers an that, these cunts ur flingin money at the noo. An as fur the money – morality, ye kiddin? Stockbrokers? Alang wae the bankers an the politicians, they’re the biggest crooks ay the lot, man.’

‘How did ye no make me dae it though, eh? Ye should’ve demanded that ah did it. Fuckin insisted!’

‘Don’t blame me, Ah kin lead the horse tae watter, but ah canae make it drink. Look, there wis this wan other thing he kept gaun oan aboot. Sais aw the smart money’s bein invested in some yank company. Mare internet pish; gooble or doodle or somethin. GOOGLE, that’s it!’

‘Whit is it?’

‘Somethin tae dae wae the internet – a search engine.’

‘A whit engine? It’s no the same fuckin thing though, is it? Is he involved, this Derek cunt, like the other wan?’

‘Naw, but –’

‘Naw but, fuck all! That info he gied you wis a wan in a million. Ye sais it yersel, insider fuckin knowledge. He works fur the company, fuck sake. Ah missed the boat! Ah know you’ll see me awright fur money though?’ he sais, hopefully, an he’s right. Course ah will.

‘You better believe it brother. Yer probably right, anywaiy. Lightnin only strikes wance, besides, ah wis thinkin, Damo knows a guy fae Tottenham that’s goat gear comin in through that big container port at Felixstowe, all sorts come through there, man, know whit ah’m sayin? Ah’ll see if he’ll put us oan tae him, could take some at source an shift a bit. Make some serious money.’

‘You kiddin, efter everythin that’s happened?’

‘That wis different. Different circumstances aw the gither. It’s aw in oor hauns noo. Nothin kin go wrang. Whit um ah always tellin ye, eh? Carpe Diem, man. Seize the fuckin day!’