The Job: Part Thirteen

~ beetleypete

This is the thirteenth part of a fiction serial, in 792 words. It may contain some swear-words.

Carl becomes number two.

The kitchen was going to be too small for three of them with a bloke that size, so Alan showed the two men into Gloria’s living room. He didn’t ask them to sit down, and there was no offer of any booze. “Who’s this then Teddy? And why have you brought him here?” Teddy knew he should never have brought the big man to Gloria’s place, and sounded sheepish.

“Sorry, Alan, but he insisted on meeting you in person. His name is Carl, and he’s very experienced”. Alan took the extended hand the size of a gorilla’s paw and shook it briefly. “You’re here now, so you better sit down and tell me your story”. Teddy did the talking.

“Carl has been on some good jobs, Al. Never been nicked for any of them either. He is ex-army, did some mercenary work in Iraq, and he knows some blokes who might be right for your project”. Alan smiled at hearing the word project. He had definitely been away too long. “Let Carl speak for himself then”. The man seemed too big for the sofa, and leaned forward awkwardly. Obviously some sort of body builder, with his cropped black hair a little bit too neat. There was a nasty scar puckered above his right eyebrow that looked like he was lucky to have kept the eye.

“Mister Henderson tells me you need men used to guns, and disciplined enough to follow orders, Mister Gill. I can be one of those, and I know two others I can vouch for one hundred percent”. His voice was surprisingy quiet, and a bit squeaky, more like a girl’s. Trying not to smile about that, Alan nodded. “You do everything through Teddy. You never come here again, and tell nobody about this flat, or use my name, got that? And no phones. They can trace those things too easily. You meet Teddy in person somewhere, and he will tell you what the plan is. Okay? And no names used on the job. From now on I am One, you will be Two, and so on. remember that”.

Teddy was nodding and smiling, and so was Carl. Alan didn’t care for too much nodding and smiling. “I asked if you got that”. Carl swallowed before replying. “Yes, got it all”.

He stood up to let them know it was time to go. Gloria would be back soon, and he didn’t want them seeing her. “I will be in touch, Teddy. No more uninvited guests though, yeah?” The men left the flat, both still nodding and smiling. Alan lit a cigarette, wondering when nodding and smiling had replaced conversation. If Teddy spoke for him, then that Carl must be alright. But having three ex-mercenaries on the job was a bit worrying. That type was known for being a bit gun-happy, to say the least. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and he didn’t know many villains who were still around.

Even with Carl and his mates, he would still need two more. But a thought had occurred.

Tony Allison had been the go-to man for motors. He could nick any car to order, make it run faster or quieter, and get rid of it when it had been used. Good with bigger things too, like heavy lorries, or the massive dump-truck Alan had once used to ram a security van. He was known to everyone as Lugs, because he had big ears that stuck out like wing-nuts. When Gloria got home from work, Alan made her a cup of tea, and asked the question.

“Glor, is Lugs still around? He must be seventy-odd now I suppose”. She took the mug, and sat at the table. “Yeah, I saw him a few days ago, coming out of the Londis shop. I reckon he will be in The Alwyne Castle later, he seems to live in that pub. I have got us some lamb chops for dinner, if that’s okay”.

Even early on a Sunday night, the pub was busy. Alan shook his head at all the telly screens around. Why did people go to pubs then sit and watch sport on telly? He would never get used to that. It was the same in Spain, in the bars that catered for the Brits. Lugs was sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, holding a fresh pint of Guinness. His ears were even bigger now, and age had given him droopy jowls that made him look like a rather sad old dog. He didn’t recognise the tanned man in the smart suit walking up to him, but grinned when Alan spoke.

“You want a chaser with that Irish engine oil, Lugs?”

31 thoughts on “The Job: Part Thirteen”

  4. You paint such a charming picture, “his ears were even bigger now, and age had given him droopy jowls that made him look like a rather sad old dog,” and the “Irish engine oil.” I’m so enjoying this series! C

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  5. (1) Carl’s voice was surprisingly quiet, and a bit squeaky, more like a girl’s. In spite of that, Alan did not suspect that his name had once been Carla, and that she had opted for sex reassignment surgery after being ridiculed by the boys for her size.
    (2) Overheard:
    ̶A̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶ ̶P̶o̶w̶e̶r̶s̶ Alan Gill: “Who does Number Two work for? Who does Number Two work for?”
    ̶C̶o̶w̶b̶o̶y̶ Teddy Henderson: “Yeah, that’s it! You show that turd who’s boss!”
    (3) Teddy and Carl were both nodding and smiling. Alan didn’t care much for happy bobbleheads.
    (4) Alan didn’t know many villains who were still around. Lord Farquaad had stuck around a very short time. Felonious Gru had taken his minions to a lab in the Arctic. Cruella de Vil had left for Paris. Yosemite Sam was chasing a Playboy bunny around the American Southwest. And Oogie Boogie had moved to Las Vegas to indulge his gambling habit.
    (5) According to Motor Trend magazine:
    —Tony Allison was known to everyone as Lugs, because he had big ears that stuck out like wing-nuts. —Wascally Wabbit was known to everyone as Bugs, because he had big ears that stuck out like
    the wings of a VW Beetle.
    (6) According to Lugs, a “mug shot” is a photo of a beer stein.
    (7) Q&A:
    Q: Why do people go to pubs then sit and watch sport on telly?
    A: Because sitting is more comfortable than standing.
    (8) Overheard at the Mos Eisley Cantina: “A pint of Guinness, Alec?”

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  6. If I decide to try my luck with a life of crime, I’m having you organize it for me. For starteres, I have no fingerprints. I like your choice for the part of Allan. That’s just how I picture him!

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        1. Bean would be ‘rougher’, but he has a Yorkshire accent. Fiennes is too ‘posh’. I was thinking of this guy, who can do a London accent and is 56, just a little older than Alan. Vincent Regan.

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