Under a Mallorcan Sky by Neil Doloughan

Under a Mallorcan Sky by Neil Doloughan

Author:Neil Doloughan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781483121
Publisher: Grosvenor House Publishing
Published: 2014-06-16T00:00:00+00:00


7

GIVE US THIS DAY OUR ‘DALY’ BREAD

A vibration came from Kusemi’s front jeans pocket and he pulled out both mobile phones to find a text message from an associate called ‘Kingpin’. The message read: ‘Urgent – C U at Blue in 10’. This meant that he was to make his way, in heavy traffic, along Rotherhithe New Road to meet Kingpin in a pub they both frequented.

Kusemi made his way along Lower Road and turned into Southwark Park Road, trying to think what the urgency for the meeting was. Kingpin was involved in some of Kusemi’s larger drug deals. In fact, after Chas Daly, he was his most important ‘runner’. He parked his car and walked the few hundred yards towards the Lord Admiral public house. He walked in and Kingpin was already seated with drinks on the table.

“What’s so fuckin’ urgent then?” said Kusemi, sitting down at the table.

The bar was empty except for old Dave, the bar fly and an elderly couple of pensioners sipping half pints of ale in a corner.

“You ain’t gonna like this. You ain’t gonna fuckin’ believe this.”

“Spit it out!” shouted Kusemi, not known for his patience.

“Daly’s fucked off with the money from last night,” said Kingpin in a matter of fact way.

“Bollocks. I spoke to him with you last night and he’s stashed the cash and I’m seein’ him in about an hour,” said Kusemi aggressively, eyes bulging as he spoke.

“Look all I know is that Irish Mickey saw Daly leave his flat at about six this morning and he was carrying two suitcases, he drove off and he hasn’t come back to the flat yet. I just tried to ring him and his phones off.”

“I’ll ring him now. You’ve got it all wrong. Chas might be fuckin’ stupid but he ain’t that fuckin’ stupid.”

Kusemi pressed his speed-dial button and dialled Chas’ mobile. His phone was switched off.

“Right well his phone’s off, I’ll give you that, which is a bit fuckin’ strange.”

Kusemi then rang Daly’s back up mobile. This was also switched off. This had never happened before. Even when Daly got arrested he always rang Kusemi no matter what.

“He’s either been nicked or even worse, the fuckin’ Russians have got him. Either way, I’m not fuckin’ impressed. He’s running around with a serious fuckin’ bundle from last night and I’ve got to have it sorted by in a couple of weeks to give to Boris or I’m fucked, so leave the drinks and let’s get round to Daly’s flat.”

Both men drove round to the flat in a new part of Docklands that had seen regeneration on a large scale, with numerous new housing developments overlooking the River Thames. Daly had chosen his second floor flat as there was only one way in and it was not overlooked, giving the Police limited ability to ever conduct a drugs raid. Daly often joked he could always swim for it if he had to. Kusemi kept a key to Daly’s flat so gaining entry was not a problem.



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