Read Online R.I.P Robbie Silva by Tony Black - Free Book Online

fucking old Jambo-coloured one, Jesus, what was that all about? I waited for it to hoy up close to the stop and then I got on and paid the Ted driver whose greasy-old quiff looked like it was about to drip on the wheel. The road out to Porty was chokka with cars and Joe Baxis, horns blowing all over the place. The days of going on the rob in this type of traffic were long gone. Not even with a fucking Suzuki.
    At Abbeyhill the roads eased a bit and I watched the punters legging it down Easter Road, duckwalking to beat the rain that was starting up. Felt my stomach churning; had a lot on my mind of late but there was a chance that could all change.
    You get a group of cons together and they like a good yak. They'll drive you round the fucking bend with tales of the one that got away. The Big Payer. I'd heard several versions of this story, the job that lets you retire on the proceeds and get the fuck right away from this rain ... Mexico, Costa. Doesn't matter. That kind of moolah and you're laughing.
    I'd never had a story to rival the cons' tales of woe. Never been part of a big enough firm. When you do a post office or a building society, you're only clearing the take from the cashiers. If you're lucky, you'll net five grand. Splitting that more than two ways and you're going to need to pull a job a week. But I'm no different to anyone else at this racket – I fancy a slice of the big take. I wasn't scared of doing another stretch, and the thought of earning a nice Big Payer had me tempted.
    The bus pulled round the roundabout in Porty, hit the main drag. I never much liked this end of the city – always reminded me of some skanky little Scottish town, one of those shit-holes in the west coast where all those fucking bluenosed soap-dodgers come from. Ones that looked like cast members from Zombieland, but with more scars.
    Silva had picked out a drinker, The Arms. I spotted it through the bus window and got off at the next stop. When I got out it had started to spit down; there was a waft of effluent blowing in from the sewage outflows in the sea and I felt my stomach tighten again.
    All I could think of as I walked down to The Arms was this better be fucking worth my time and effort – I'd vowed to hear Silva out – but sure as shooting the signs weren't looking good.
    I rumbled through the door, had my who-the-fuck-you-looking-at-cuntybaws face on. An old soak at the bar turned round and eyed me, thought again, turned away. The barmaid was in her bad fifties, bat-wings and a corned-beef complexion. Her over-dyed black hair was scraped back in a tight scrunchie and showed at least an inch of grey roots; when she smiled at me I wanted to heave.
    'What can I get you, love?' she said.
    I was about to say something about looking for Silva when I felt my arse grabbed, both cheeks in cusped hands.
    'I'll get his!' It was Gail.
    'What you doing here?' I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
    'Come on, you know ...'
    'No, I fucking don't.' I didn't even want to contemplate the fact that she might be on this job; after our last outing the possibility seemed insane. Beyond insane.
    Gail stretched round my waist, made an order at the bar. She had the hot-pants on again and was pointing her arse at me. She turned quickly, caught me checking her out and giggled. 'Get him a pint and I'll have a Bacardi Breezer.'
    As the order went in, the door to the snug behind me screeched open. Inside sat Silva and the gimp with the mullet. I was ushered in with a tipping of Silva's head. As I stared at the pair of them, still conscious of Gail's hyperactive antics behind me, I felt like walking straight out the door. Figured I had about three seconds of standing there like a spare prick before I had to make a move, one way or the other.

    * * * *

    You must've heard that phrase, hear it all the time, my heart was in my mouth ... That's where I was with these muppets. I knew the right thing to do was turn tail. Walk. I'd had first-hand experience of