My step into the big time was not an easy one and I could fill the remaining time we have together with stories of woe and times that were hard. Of how I had to struggle to rise above the mob and sacrifice my every want and desire as I strove for a brighter future. I could but I won’t. I’ll keep to the real juice.
It was late August and the Scottish summer had been the usual mix of pish and rotten. I was recovering from a late one at the Griffin — my new pub of choice and witness to a quiet night out to celebrate a nice haul from a job in Edinburgh.
The next morning I was sitting nursing my head thinking that the share from the London job would put a nice dent in my mortgage when the doorbell rang. I rose expecting to find the postman trying to force fit an unwanted catalogue into my letterbox. Instead I found two men, neither of whom I had laid eyes on before, standing on my doorstep.
They were polite and well dressed and I guessed them for Jehovah’s Witnesses. I told them I was Buddhist but they politely smiled and asked if they could come in. I refused and the smaller of the two reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun.
I let them in.
They asked for a cup of tea and I felt it would be a wise move to acquiesce and returned ten minutes latter with two brews and a plate of digestives. They sat and sipped the tea without a word.
I waited, assuming there was a point to the visit. I wasn’t unduly worried about the gun. If they had intended to kill me the job would have been done by now.
‘Do you enjoy working for Mr Read?’
The man with the gun’s accent was laced with a southern lilt.
I didn’t answer.
‘Smart kid,’ said the other. ‘Nice tea as well.’
The man with the gun leant forward.
‘We have a proposition but there’s no going back once you’ve heard it.’
Cryptic. My interest was piqued.
‘Do you want us to go on?’ said the gunman
‘Depends?’
‘It is in your interest,’ said the other.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yip,’ said the gunman.
‘Then proceed.’
‘Good,’ said the other.
A right Laurel and Hardy double act.
‘You’ll be aware of the little incident that took place recently in relation to some unwarranted activity in London by your Mr Read. Well we represent a business that is looking to expand into Scotland. We foresee a small opportunity in this neck of the woods and our clients feel that the recent unpleasantness could have been easily avoided. We are looking for bright capable people who could help us.’
It didn’t take Einstein to figure out what kind of business they represented.
‘We are aware of the standing of Mr Read, and his activities represent a bit of a barrier to our expansion plans. We know you are a loyal employee of Mr Read and…’
He looked around the room.
‘… you seem to be doing ok.’
He made the words ‘doing ok’ sound like ‘doing shite’.
‘Our client,’ he continued, ‘has given us permission to make an offer for you to join our firm. You would become our number two in Scotland and report to the new head of Scottish affairs. In return we will cut you in for a share of the total Scottish pie. Five percent to be exact. With a following wind we expect to clear one million in our first year.’
I did the maths as the gunman sat back to let me take this in. I had just been offered fifty thousand pounds a year as if it were a packet of soor plums from the corner store. I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut. For all I knew this was some bizarre loyalty test by Mr Read.
‘We don’t expect an answer right away but it may help your decision to know that Mr Read will be heading for some choppy waters. He would have been well advised to stay clear of the capital. Our offer is valid for twenty four hours and you can get me on this number.’
He threw a card across the table. It was blank save for a Glasgow phone number.
‘We would also look upon any conversation with Mr Read or his associates about this meeting as an unwise act on your part.’
With that they got up and left. I stared at the card wondering what the hell that was all about.