The Catalyst - Chapter Three - A Bad Day at the Office

He rested the phone on his stomach, held the wheel with his knees and dialled as he drove, the dial tones bleeping in his headphones.
‘Alright mate, Billy here, Billy Furlong, how’s business?’

‘Hey John, it’s Fat Bill on the phone, what a surprise Fat Bill, well, well. After last time I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you.’

‘It’s not Fat Bill, dickhead, it’s Billy.’

‘Alright Fat Bill, don’t be defensive you can’t help being a pig. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘Listen mate, can’t talk long, driving, picking up the man, know what I mean! I’ve got a bit of an itch and I’m wondering if you’ve a need I can scratch?’

‘Bill, what the hell are you talking about?’

‘Oh come on, merchandise, stuff, you know.’

‘Bill, I haven’t heard from you in months and now you’re on the phone trying to sell me drugs. I’ve never touched drugs, never will, they’re destroying the fabric of our society!’

Billy Furlong looked at his phone in surprise.
‘Well bugger me,’ he said softly to himself, ‘that’s a turn up.’
He got his eyes back on the road just in time to make the turning for the station. Five minutes and he’d be there, in plenty of time for the boss. Billy Furlong jammed on his brakes as an old guy with a stick, stepped out in front of him. The tyres screeched. The phone shot off his stomach and swung at the end of his earphones.

‘Hang on mate,’ he said grappling for the swinging phone.
The old guy was coming round to the driver’s door. Billy was shouting before the window was down.
‘Look where you’re going you stupid old bast..’
The blade at the end of the man’s walking stick was at Billy’s throat.

‘Now we don’t want to cause a scene,’ he said, in an accent Billy would describe later as “like Prince bloody Charles”,‘just smile, shake my hand, and drive on. Nod if you agree.’

Billy felt the point of the blade pressed a little harder into his neck. He found himself nodding, and smiling he shook the man’s hand. The blade disappeared without a sound, ‘swordstick, my friend, swordstick,’ he said, and Billy watched stunned as the man turned on his heel and was gone, twirling his stick.
Yes, thanks, old guy,sixties, thought Billy. A horn sounded from behind him. Quietly he pulled away, and closed the window. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened.

‘Bill... Fat Bill are you still there? Did you shake his hand Bill?’

He had forgotten the phone was still on and he could hear the laughter at the other end.
‘You tell anyone about this and I’ll bloody have you!’ he yelled into the phone.

‘Now Fat Bill don’t be so touchy, tell you what, call into to see me tonight and we’ll have a drink.’ The phone went dead.

Billy pulled his taxi onto the station rank with a minute to spare, the snow falling heavily. He was relieved, it didn’t do to keep the boss waiting. Let’s try one more, he thought.
He pressed speed dial, the phone was answered.

‘Hey good evening Woody’s Pizzas how can I help?’

The back door of the car opened and a case came in followed by the boss. Billy pulled away and carried on the call.
‘Who’s that?’

‘Pardon? It’s Woody Pizza’s, takeaway, delivery, we can...’

‘No you muppet, it’s Billy Furlong, get Tony right now.’

‘I’m afraid he’s at his tea-break sir.’

‘I don’t fucking care where he is, don’t you know who I am? Tell him I’ll be down there with the boss within the hour and he’d better be ready. He’ll know what I mean.’
Billy punched the off button on the phone with a meaty thumb. He pulled the car out into the traffic.

‘Streuth the idiots I have to deal with,’ he said.

He concentrated on negotiating the car through the heavy traffic. The snow was settling quickly.

‘All right boss? I’ll tell you what it’s been a strange old day. Plenty of weird stuff happening. Woody’s Pizzas first and we’re calling in at the Late Cut on the way back. Do you know Asif just told me drugs were the bane of society or some shit like that! What do you think of that?’

The boss was quiet and this made Billy nervous. He stole a look in the rear view mirror. The face looking back at him was a stranger. He slammed the brakes on for the second time that day.

‘Hey steady,’ the man said.

Billy turned in his seat with some difficulty, the anger rising, this was not a good day. ‘Steady my arse, who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my taxi?’
He took in the man in the back seat. Mid thirties, big guy, scar on his left cheek, sun tanned, hair going grey, silly smile on his face.

‘Now no need to talk like that. A strange question from a taxi driver. You were there and I got in.’

‘Well now you can get the fuck right out again! This is a private cab and I’m booked, and you’ve royally screwed that up you wanker.’

‘Talk to me like that I’m not inclined to go anywhere, you were on the rank and I need to go to Fifteen Belvedere Avenue, so stop spitting everywhere and drive.’

‘You don’t listen good mate, do you? Get the fuck out of this cab or you’ll be sorry you ever got in. Have you any idea who you’re dealing with?’

Billy Furlong never saw it coming. The punch snapped his head back. He felt the bone break in his nose. A hand closed around his windpipe. He could feel the man’s breath on his face.

‘Oh, I know who you are Billy,’ Scarface said in a cold quiet voice. ‘I remember you, I remember a lot about you. Bald and fat now but not changed much, still a nasty piece of work.’ The man’s hand squeezed and Billy struggled for breath.

‘Don’t want to spend another second with a bullying, waste of space like you. Don’t think I’d like you driving me anywhere.’

Billy’s head was shoved back and he cracked it against the steering wheel. ‘Oh, fucks sake!’ he yelled, not knowing whether to grab his bleeding nose or the back of his head. He heard the door slam. His head swam, he held the bridge of his nose between his fingers trying to stem the flow of blood. His vision began to clear.

Who the hell was that? How the hell do I explain this, he thought. She’ll go mad, I’ve left her at the station and now I’m coming back bleeding. He peered out into the gloom there was nothing to see against the oncoming headlights and the swirling snow. Scarface had gone.