It’s safe to say at this juncture, that things have not gone according to plan.  I for one did not plan to be in the boot of a car heading to a piggery, where I will no doubt become today’s meal for tomorrow’s bacon butty.  What I had planned on was going straight, but to do that I needed a suitcase of blue flake cocaine.  I should probably rewind and explain.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have done this down at the chippy, instead of … what is this place?”

“It’s a synagogue, Rory,” I replied, sliding down a little more comfortably on the bench we were sitting upon.

Rory leaned forward, taking it all in with fresh eyes.  “Perverted bastards,” he breathed in amazement.

I could see his mind ticking over as it worked through a number of debaucheries.  “It’s a church,” I clarified, before he got too far down that line of thought.

Rory sat back against the bench, looking a little disappointed.  “Well, why here then?”

“Well, I’d guess, it’s because he’s got a quantity of drugs to sell, and could have chosen to meet at the top of Nelson’s Column if he wanted.”

Rory was unconvinced.  “The chippy would have been easier.”

I let it go.  There were some battles that life was too short to fight.  I’d known Rory since the army and we’d kind of stuck together afterwards.  He wasn’t what you’d call a deep thinker, but he was one of those solid blokes you could depend on.  We’d jobbed around, doing whatever graft we could get our hands on, but this was something new.  We were here because of Mycroft and the opportunity to make a lot of money he’d presented us with.

Of course, hindsight being 20/20, I’d have told him just what he could have done with his opportunity.


~ by Electro-mechanical Man on May 21, 2011.

One Response to “Speck”

  1. Oh, I like this already.

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