The Blue Notes Read Online Free Page B

just thought you should know, that’s all.’
    ‘I see. So what would you do, Jonny? If you were in my place, like.’
    ‘I don’t know, boss. Tell him to get a guard dog, maybe. Or better security lights, some shit like that.’
     
    Dai Young got up, and moved fast to Adams’ side of the desk. He was a head shorter, and fully forty pounds lighter.
    ‘That’s what you’d do, is it? Improve their fucking security?’
    ‘Aye, well, like I say, he’s not complaining, and we’re not talking about much. Just a couple of hundred quid’s worth of derv, that’s all.’
     
    Young was right in his face now, and Adams couldn’t help himself, he took a step back.
    ‘So that’s it, is it? You’d just tell him to get a bloody dog? No way. We’re the fucking guard dogs, son. That’s what Watkins pays us for.’
    But Adams didn’t get a chance to reply, because the first punch came from nowhere. He started to raise his own fists as the second blow landed, but he knew better than to hit back. Young wouldn’t really hurt him. Not for this. But that was before the left to the face came in like a hammer, and he saw stars, then felt the floor.
     
    ‘Don’t go bleeding on the fucking carpet,’ said Young, helping him up and passing him his handkerchief. Then Young walked back round to his desk and sat down, as if absolutely nothing had happened.
    ‘Do you see the point I’m trying to make here, son? Do you understand why I had to hit you? We can’t let anyone take liberties with us, not ever. Not even tiny ones. Because that will give them confidence, make them think that we’ve taken our eye off the ball. And then we’d be fucked, totally fucked. It’s all about respect. You do see that, don’t you?’
    The young man nodded, and tried to smile. He expected it to hurt, and it did.
    ‘Good. We’ve got enough problems with the fucking cops, without having other villains looking to take from us too. So, Jonny, what are we going to do about this wanker who’s trying to make dicks of us?’
    ‘Find him, boss.’
    ‘And then what?’
    ‘Hurt him?’
    ‘And whose responsibility is that?’
    ‘Mine, boss.’
    ‘That’s it, good boy. It’s your responsibility. All yours. You earn from Watkins, so you protect him.’
    ‘But how do I find this bloke?’
    ‘That’s up to you. It’s why it’s called delegation. I tell you what needs doing, and you work out how to do it. I’m not a micro-manager, Jonny. That was mentioned at my last appraisal, actually. It’s a good thing, is that. Lets me take a more strategic approach, like. So you just get it done, and you bring me the person, or the people, responsible for nicking that diesel. Because I want a little chat with them, just like the one we’re having now, except not anything like as friendly.’
     
     
    Rex Copeland drove carefully over the unmade road to the big white caravan next to the show home on the edge of the new housing estate. Those raised manhole covers would ruin his rims, if he hit one. He parked, and sat and watched a young couple come out of the caravan holding brochures and chatting. He smiled, because they looked so happy. ‘Well, at least you can still afford to buy a house up here’ he said out loud, as he was turning off his music.
     
    The woman running the showroom was called Ruth, and she looked relieved when she saw his Warrant Card. It wasn’t an unusual reaction, and he’d almost stopped noticing, because this was probably the whitest place in the whole wide world. Ruth explained that when she’d come in to work she’d found that the patio doors to the show home had been forced, and that someone had been inside. Various items were missing, but before Copeland could ask any questions he heard the door open behind him, and his name being spoken. He turned, and was surprised to see Sandy Smith, carrying a blue SOCO case.
    ‘All right, Sandy? I’m surprised to see you turning out on this one. Isn’t this more a job for one of