The Men In The Shadows ( Part 29 )

Jake. pic

Gary Hamilton was a bully. At school, not only was he the best fighter in his year, but every year both above and below him. When he left school at sixteen he decided not to get a real job. He started selling drugs on the street. After a couple of years he moved up the ladder. Now he had over a dozen guys selling for him. He remembered Jake Roberts from school. He was nothing special. Just an ordinary kid. Then one day he went and shot some Russian millionaire and went away for ten years. He was obviously a psycho and one dangerous fucker, so Gary Hamilton decided to do what Jake had asked him. He knew a Rastafarian guy in Lewisham that would be able to supply him with what he wanted. It would take a few days and cost around a grand but he was certain that within a few days he would have a Glock 19 ready and waiting. He’d give it to Jake, collect his money and then start using another pub. He had a feeling that something REALLY bad was about to happen and he didn’t want to be around when the bullets started to fly!
Jake was standing in a quiet, posh, tree lined street. Either side of the road were large detached houses. Most had electric gates and security cameras placed in their driveways. He was certain that each house would be worth well in excess of a million pounds. He was walking slowly but not slow enough to attract attention. He was wearing clothes that he’d bought that morning from a local shop. Just track suit bottoms, tea shirt with a fleece over the top. The fleece had a hood that covered his head. He was sure that someone, somewhere would be looking at a screen and watching him walk along the road. Posh places like this probably had a private security firm to look after them.
146 Ridgepoint Road was coming up on his left hand side. As he approached it, big, impressive gates begun to open. Jake stopped. A sports car of some kind was coming along the gravel driveway towards him. Jake stood still to let the car pass. As it did so the driver nodded, thanking him for letting him through. It had been ten years but Jake recognised him straightaway. It was Paul Barrett and he was driving a brand new Aston Martin. Jake continued walking, his heart pounding. Karate Kid hadn’t changed at all in those ten years. He still looked smart with perhaps just a few more grey hairs.
Jake got a cab all the way back to East London. He gave the cabbie £50 and made his way to the pub. Stevie would still be at work so he had time to plan his next move.
He got his pint and took his usual seat in the corner of the lounge bar. He’d already made up his mind that Ridgepoint Road was far too risky to chance doing anything to Paul Barrett there. There had to be another way. He was deep in thought when suddenly he heard a phone ring. It was a ringtone that he didn’t recognise, but it was coming from his pocket! Fuck, it was his new pay as you go. Only one person had the number. He answered it, already knowing who was ringing.
“Yes mate.”
“It’s Paul Barrett. We spoke last week. I’m a friend of Lenny Taylor’s. Any news on the funeral yet?”
Jake composed himself.
“Hello Paul. No not yet. The Spanish police are being wankers. They’re looking into all possibilities about his death and won’t release the body until they’re satisfied that it was simply a mugging. But I’ve been told that it should all be sorted in about a week. Then I can get on with the funeral arrangements. So were looking at two weeks’ time.”
Paul sounded relieved.
“Okay. That’s good news. I’m away for a few days next week and didn’t want to miss out. Two weeks’ time is fine with me.”
Jake was anxious for more information.
“Going somewhere nice Paul. Somewhere hot and sunny?”
“No, far from it. Norfolk. Just a few days away on business.”
Jake jumped straight in.
“My Nan and Grandad used to have a holiday place up there near Cromer.”
He was hoping for a reaction. He got one.
“Yeh, I’m not far from there. Place called Hunstanton. Lovely part of the country.”
Bingo. Jake wanted to jump up and punch the air.
“Well you have a great time Paul. I’ll call and let you know when the funeral is.”
“Cheers Tone.”
Jake hung up. Norfolk was perfect for what he had in mind. A plan was beginning to evolve in his mind. Suddenly he was aware of someone standing in front of him. He looked up. It was Gary Hamilton. He was carrying a shoebox. He spoke quietly.
“Hello Jake. I’ve got something for you.”


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