'Did you know them? Do you know where they drink? Anything that might tell us who was the brains behind it.'
Trevor nodded. 'The big one I recognised. It took me a while to suss it out but I've seen him with young Dave Williams. He's been in the casino a few times. I think he was nervous of me because I kept staring at him; he was getting right shirty.'
'Dave Williams?'
Patrick just stopped himself from saying, 'My Dave.'
Trevor nodded. 'I'm sure, Pat.'
Pat stood up and looked at Trevor for long moments, his eyes darkening with his growing anger. Then he suddenly said, 'The fucking two-faced cunt.'
Patrick's answer and the way it was delivered was the single most shocking thing that Trevor had ever heard. Patrick Brodie was known as a hard case but no one knew what he was really capable of.
Pat was sensible enough to keep the real villainy out of the mouths of locals. He knew that gossip was what put most people behind bars. Gossip usually had a grain of truth in it and it always amazed him when men discussed their skulduggery in public; it was like asking for a tug from the filth. Being well known was a very good reason to keep your trap shut because everything about you was discussed, exaggerated and believed by everyone around you. It was human nature and the only way to keep safe was to keep quiet.
Patrick had done some bastard things over the years and very few people knew about them. If they were ever discussed and the story made its way back to him, he would be able to pinpoint the culprit in seconds. The only way you could keep on top of the game was to fucking keep stum.
Dave was probably only the fall guy, it was obvious who the big man was. It was Dennis he should be going after. And not before time either. He had warned Dave what would happen if he stepped on his toes again and now it was time to dole out some retribution. He had swallowed because of Dave and the fact that he had always had time for him. Even after the last debacle he had tried not to go over the top.
Well, he was done with being nice and trying to honour a friendship that was well past its sell-by date. He was just about ready to cause serious damage and the recipient was going to be Dennis Williams. He was actually looking forward to it.
Jimmy Brick was a big lad and, like most big lads, he was used to people either trying to fight him or being convinced that he was going to hurt them. Although Jimmy could have a row when necessary, he much preferred not to, if he could avoid one.
Jimmy had a large head that was overlong, his chin was thick and angular and, coupled with his wide-spaced eyes, his protruding, thick eyebrows and his buzz cut, he was often called Frankenstein. Even his mum had mentioned the likeness on more than one occasion. The family joke was that when he had finally emerged from his poor mother, the size of his head, which had caused her such torment, was commented on by all the women helping with the delivery. His granny had apparently taken one look at the boy who had taken nearly forty-eight hours to come into the world and shrieked.
'For Christ's sake, shove the ugly bastard back in!'
The laughter this had always received was not so much hurtful any more, as it was expected. Jimmy was past caring; looks were never going to be his strong point, he had soon sussed that much out. And as he had seen his baby pictures, he was the first to admit that his granny had got a point.
He had been a very ugly child and adolescence had not made him any better. He had appalling acne and, coupled with his protruding brows and his loose bottom lip, he had settled down to a life of tranquillity. Jimmy had been his granny's favourite in the end and she had helped him come to terms with his looks by telling him that he had two choices: to hide away or to learn to accept the stares he got from people and remind himself that they couldn't help it. He was an ugly fucker and nothing was ever going to change that. Harsh as that was, he was glad of her and her common sense; he had learned to live with himself and he was more than aware that many so-called beauties would never achieve that. Good looks, his granny had always told him, were a curse. He had the chance to be loved for himself. No one had loved him yet, but he was confident that once he had cracked it and had a few quid, that would come.
Women were willing to overlook a lot for a nice house and an easy life. He just hoped the kids did not get his big head and cause whoever he married the same pain he had caused his poor mother. She was still going on about it now, all these years later.
Jimmy smiled at the thought. He had a nice easy temperament that stood him in good stead with the people who finally bothered to get to know him properly; his features made him look ferocious and stopped most overtures of friendship in their tracks.
Jimmy Brick was a really nice guy and he knew that better than anyone else. He was happy enough in his way and he enjoyed his life and enjoyed his job. As he often wondered, how many people could say that?
As Jimmy walked into Patrick Brodie's office, he was smiling. Pat grinned at the guy he genuinely liked and who he also felt so very sorry for. He was one ugly bastard and that was being honest.
'All right, mate?'
Patrick nodded and said nonchalantly, 'Sit down, mate. I have a proposition to put to you, Jimmy, me boy, and I want an answer soon as. OK?'
Jimmy nodded and, as he sat down, Patrick saw the way he hitched his trouser legs up so as not to crease them too much; he was so fastidious in his dress that it was almost sad to watch him. As Lil had once pointed out, Jimmy looked like the Missing Link. At the time, Pat had laughed, but the more he looked at the lad, the more he saw what she meant. Jimmy Brick was like a huge ape stuffed into an expensive suit. He was a lovely bloke, a decent bloke, but he was disturbing to look at for any length of time.
'What can I do for you, Mr Brodie?' The voice was rich and deep, the only asset Jimmy possessed.
Patrick loved the way Jimmy always addressed him by his full title when work was being discussed. It was another of the things he liked about Jimmy Brick. He knew that Jimmy separated his work from his real life, which was something he did as well. It was a necessity in their game.
'Jimmy, mate, I want to offer you an in, a real in. Good money and a lot of hard work. What do you say?'
Patrick was pleased to see the boy blush with pleasure and he was more certain than ever that he had chosen the right candidate for the job.
Jimmy held open his arms but he was having difficulty in finding the words he needed to accept the position. His face, though, spoke volumes.
Patrick poured them both large Scotches and, placing the cut-glass tumbler in Jimmy's hand, he said happily, 'To many years, mate.'
Jimmy clinked his glass with gusto, nearly shattering them both, and reminding them of his extraordinary strength. He said shyly, 'I am absolutely over the moon, Mr Brodie. It is an honour to be allowed to work with a person such as yourself.'
It was flowery, it was cheesy, but it was from the heart. Patrick Brodie shook his head and, laughing, he said sotto voce, 'Enough of that poof talk. Anyone hears us and they might think we're a couple of shit-stabbers!'
Jimmy Brick laughed out loud then; his head was thrown back and the laugh was loud and expressive. Patrick decided he liked the sound of it. Jimmy was going to be an asset, he was sure of that.
'We have our first assignment tonight, mate. We are going to give Dennis Williams the fright of his fucking life.'