Read Online The Night the Rich Men Burned by Malcolm Mackay - Free Book Online

So he lost jobs. Never his own fault, but shit happens. Had to find some way of making money. On a few occasions he helped out old friends he shouldn’t have been friends with.
    One of those old friends was Roy Bowles. Roy was always sneaky. The quiet guy. You never quite knew what he did for a living. You knew it was illegal, and you didn’t ask more than that. Arnie knew. It was guns. Always was. Bowles has been handling them for the best part of forty years now. Selling them to all kinds of scum. Doesn’t care about the consequences, because the consequences have nothing to do with him.
    Arnie didn’t sell them for Roy, he collected them. When someone was selling a gun to Bowles, Bowles wanted a layer of protection. An employee who could go and pick the gun up from the seller. Someone smart enough to handle a nervous seller and tough enough to handle a dishonest one. There was never rough stuff for Arnie. Willing seller, willing buyer. But Bowles was a wary soul. So Arnie worked for him a couple of times over the years. Never for longer than he had to. Always glad to leave. You don’t get a slap on the wrist for handling guns.
    Now he’s going back. Not for himself. He’s approaching Roy’s house to scrounge a job for someone else. Ringing the doorbell. Good lord, it’s late. Should not have stayed in the pub. Needed to steel himself for this. It’s going to be awkward. Begging. Never mind, one thing he learned about Roy is that Roy is not a fan of sleep.
    Door’s opening. A look of surprise from Roy.
    ‘Arnie.’ A pause. ‘Good to see you.’ Sounded almost like a question, the unconvincing way he said it.
    ‘Roy. Too late in the day to have a quick conversation?’
    They’re in Roy’s living room. He’s insisted on making a cup of tea for them. Not what Arnie’s bladder needed. They’re sitting, talking a little about old times. Small talk. Tiny, in fact. Neither one of them cares at all about the conversation.
    ‘So what brings you here in the dead of night?’ Roy’s asking.
    ‘I knew you’d be up,’ Arnie’s shrugging. ‘That never changes.’ Roy used to be up all night, even when he was married. Even when he was married with a kid. Arnie would get phone calls from him at two o’clock in the bloody morning. That was the nature of his business. Not many people want to buy or sell guns in the middle of the day. It was a night-time pursuit, and Roy lived accordingly. ‘I need to ask you a favour.’
    Roy’s frowning a little. Not easy to spot the frown on that lined face with the beady little eyes, but it’s there. That was how Arnie used to start the conversations when he was looking for work. Roy remembers those reluctant conversations. Arnie hating the job but needing the money. Roy uncomfortable at having such an unhappy employee. He has a good memory. Another part of what makes him good at his work.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ Arnie’s saying with a knowing smile, ‘it’s not for me.’ He remembers those conversations too. Arnie knows he’s too old and too long out of the business to work for Roy now. Things have changed since he last did a job for Roy. Must be close to twenty years. Close to ten since they had more than a passing word to say to each other. Now he turns up looking for a favour. Yeah, he knows how that looks. ‘It’s for my grandson.’
    Roy’s nodding a little. Non-committal. He doesn’t know anything about Arnie’s grandson. Didn’t know the boy was old enough to work. Better hear it out. You never know. Sometimes you end up unearthing a gem from these kinds of conversations. Rarely, but sometimes. ‘Go on.’
    ‘He’s nineteen. He’s a good kid. Sharp as they come. Needs to find some work though. You know how it is out there. There’s nothing at all. The boy’s living with me. It’s not where he wants to be. He’s desperate to get out into the world and do something, but . . .’
    That’s half the story. The half that Roy Bowles needs to know about. He