Leon got up from his chair and strolled over to Jackie. He stared at her gaping mouth, and then, slowly, his eyes descended to her breasts. He grinned to himself, thinking they must be fake; no one her age had tits that pert. He could easily help himself, but then he wondered if he could even be bothered.
The bang as the door pushed open pulled him out of his thoughts. Standing there, at six foot five, with a face like thunder and eyes like saucers, stood the Governor.
‘Are you some kind of cunt?’ he bellowed, gripping a heavy-looking metal bar.
Leon stepped back in shock, his mind working overtime, trying to think why the Governor was in his cottage, and, more worryingly, why he was holding a weapon. The Governor only ever made phone calls. He worked from his car; no one ever really got to meet him face-to-face. Yet the firm knew that if you crossed him you would be dead within two days. There was no bartering or begging. The man was ruthless and took no prisoners. His punishments went far beyond what any rational person would dish out.
Leon locked eyes with him and felt his bowels move. Those grey eyes that stared back were the Devil’s – he was convinced of it. And there was no way he would argue with him because death would knock at his door – that was a dead cert. ‘What’s up, mate?’ he asked, as his hands began to shake and his legs felt heavy.
‘Mate? I ain’t your mate. You fucking call me the Governor.’ The Governor’s face was tightened by his bottom jaw protruding. He shot a glance over at Jackie who was slumped on the sofa. ‘What’s up? You prick. How the fucking hell does some random slapper’ – he pointed to Jackie – ‘know where you work from, and, more to the fucking point, how does she know you supply drugs?’
‘She’s as safe as houses, Governor, I swear. She took some gear into the nick for Dez.’ The confidence in him plummeted as his voice cracked in panic. ‘Look, Governor, I wouldn’t take stupid chances, I swear to ya. She’s straight up.’ Leon could only guess that one of the men had grassed him up for having a tart turn up. Probably Stephan.
The Governor looked over at Jackie again and turned his head as if he recognized her. ‘Straight up, yeah? Look at the fucking state of the skanky bitch.’
‘Nah, she ain’t like that. I made her sample the gear.’
The Governor shook his head in disgust. ‘Where’s my money? You were supposed to fetch it to the drop-off point.’
Leon hurried over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a white cotton bag, ‘It’s all there.’
With a quick movement, the Governor grabbed the corner of the bag and tipped out the notes. ‘I want you to fucking count them in front of me. Now!’
Leon gathered up the money and began counting it. Each hundred bundle was carefully separated and put into piles until it totalled a thousand. Then, he placed every one in the bag. ‘Fifteen grand.’
‘Right, tomorrow, I want the next fifty grand dropped off at the Swan and Mitre, at noon. Not a fucking minute later. And if I ever have to come here in person again, I swear to God, you won’t have a fucking hand to count out the money.’
‘Look, I was gonna drop it off today. I swear to ya.’
With his fingers turning and tapping the metal bar, the Governor’s anger reached a pitch. ‘You’re a fucking idiot. Those drop-off points are timed, you mug. When I say a place and a time, then you get your skinny fucking arse there on the dot. Do I make myself clear?’
Leon nodded furiously. ‘No worries, Governor. It’ll be there, no question.’
‘It’d better be. Oh, and one more thing. The Daylight Inn is getting a bit hot. You make sure that drippy bog attendant has a lookout, even if it means it’s you. That’s a good earner, and I don’t want it fucked up, or . . . well, I don’t need to tell you, do I?’
With that, the Governor snatched the bag and left.
As soon as he was out of sight, Leon let out a large lungful of air; small beads of sweat gathered on his brow, and he felt his heart beating wildly. He thought for a moment about jacking it all in, but the money was too good; besides, fixing cars at ten pounds an hour was a distant memory.
Jackie stirred, and his annoyance caused him to kick her leg harder than was necessary to wake her up. ‘Get up!’
Her eyes flicked open, and a huge smile spread across her face, showing the chipped and blackened back teeth.
‘Come on! Get up and get out!’
Jackie’s euphoria was slowly descending. For a moment, she wanted to be back in that place of comfort where nothing else mattered. Getting to her feet, her eyes were heavy, and her muscles felt relaxed. ‘Wow, that’s good shit.’ She laughed, totally unaware of the scowl on Leon’s face.
‘Yeah, and ya fat gob nearly got me killed!’
Jackie, still detached from the real world, waved her hand. ‘Aw, don’t be like that, babe. I’ll tell ya what. You sort me out with that stuff and I’ll make you a fortune.’ She giggled like a child. ‘And, of course, meself.’
Leon nodded, not in the least interested. Ensuring he could come up with the fifty grand and in time for the drop-off tomorrow weighed heavily on his mind. He robotically walked back to his desk and retrieved ten packets of the powder. ‘’Ere, take this lot, and by Friday, I want five hundred quid on my desk. If ya fuck up, I know where ya live, and trust me, woman, you won’t have a caravan left. Got it?’
Jackie looked down at the carefully wrapped parcels. ‘That’s cheap for cocaine, ain’t it?’
With a caustic tone, Leon snapped, ‘You thick prat, it ain’t cocaine.’
Oblivious to his evident annoyance, Jackie looked up with her silly grin. ‘What is it, then?’
‘Flakka.’
‘What’s that? Some kinda heroin?’
He gave her a dismissive blink and let out a jaded sigh. ‘No, it’s a new drug . . . Never mind. Five hundred quid on my desk by Friday, and if you do well, then I’ll up the amount.’
‘How much do I sell it for?’ she asked naively.
‘Whatever the fuck you like. Now fuck off!’
By the time Jackie reached home, narrowly missing three parked cars and an old dear crossing the pedestrian lights, she was still high. The soft pillows on her bed were so inviting that she lay spreadeagled and soaked up the fuzzy, warm comfortable feeling. With serenity carved on her face, she drifted back into that other heavenly world, far removed from reality.
Three hours later, she was wide awake and feeling like shit – worse, in fact, than a significant hangover. Her body ached as if she’d been in a fight and her head was a mess. She struggled to fight off her inner demons, the two voices battling each other – one telling her to pull herself together and the other pressuring her to give in. Through blurry eyes, she stared at the packets on the bedside cabinet, knowing that she had to sell the gear or face the consequences. Her addictive personality had her by the throat, and she had to bite her nails to stop herself from touching any of it. It was as though the powder was calling her.
She jumped up from the bed to distract her weak thoughts but almost fell over. The dizziness knocked her sideways. As she steadied herself, waves of the sweats engulfed her body and violent hot rushes made her feel sick. A second later, in contrast, she started to shiver, and her mind begged for relief in the form of euphoria – the escape to another dimension. With a bathrobe around her shoulders, she rushed from the bedroom to escape the calling packet. Switching the small electric fire on, she huddled up to keep