Class of 88 by Wayne Anthony

Author:Wayne Anthony [Anthony, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crónica, Memorias
Publisher: ePubLibre
Published: 1998-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

gang wars

I pulled up outside my house early one Sunday morning after being out and on it all night. I was locking my car door when three geezers walked up to me. I recognised one of them as a nutter nicknamed Razor who wasn’t all the ticket and was known to stab or cut people at the drop of a hat. He put a big fuck-off knife to my stomach and told me that if I made the wrong move I’d get plunged. A car stopped next to mine and I was instructed to get in. I asked what I had done and where I was being taken. He whacked me on the head with the handle of the blade and then put its razor-sharp edge to my throat.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen you in my life. What have I done?”

“My name is Razor and I’ll tell you what, mate, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You’re gonna kill me anyway, so what difference does it make if I get into your motor?” I said.

“My boss wants a word with you. I won’t do anything to you if you get into the car. If you don’t, you’re gonna wish you were never fucking born. I’m gonna say it one more time. Now get into that fucking car or I’ll stab you in the eye.”

I reluctantly climbed in, flanked by the armed guards, and we drove for over an hour before stopping outside a pub. I was ushered into the saloon where I was confronted by a stocky fella with cropped hair.

“All right, son,” he said. “You don’t know me and my name is unimportant at this time. Let’s grab ourselves a table and sit down. I wanna have a chat with ya.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” I said.

“It’s OK, you ain’t got nothing to worry about. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. I’m sorry about Razor, he’s like a big kid under all that aggression. How old are you then?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two. Fuck me, that takes me back. OK, this is how it is. You’re using ex-soldier boys from out of town for your security. Did they force you into using their team?”

“Not at all, a friend of mine from the paratroopers introduced us. They’re all right, they do a good job. I’ve never really thought about where they come from.”

“Well, I’m gonna give you a way out. I want you to call your security team together and tell them to meet you here, within the hour,” he said.

“Have I done something wrong?” I asked.

“Course you ain’t. I promise you no one will touch ya. My name is Xuereb, my family is from Malta. Maybe you have heard of me?”

“Yeah, I have, but what is it you want from me or the security?”

“Make all the phone calls you have to and get the whole team down here. You’ll know why when you need to know. Get cracking, son, time’s running out.”

I rang Anderson and told him what was occurring. I said I’d been taken to this pub and some people wanted to see them.

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