6 - A Puff of Smoke and Leather Brogues

This and incidentally the first post about Paul Dubois are extracts from a book I am writing “The Recreational Bandits”. If this stimulates you enough to want to read the book then leave a note in the comments and if sufficient people respond I will post it either on this site in episodes or on a new post with the address posted here.

6 – A Puff of Smoke and Leather Brogues

Detective sergeant Micky Jones forty and a tall, well built rough diamond capable of real damage if pushed to it. One of those well used faces. A rough chin. Short dark hair and eyes that drill right through. Nose that had seen the wrong side of a fist a few to many times. Had a too much booze and not enough sleep look that was deceptive. He was all there, always. Right on the ball. One of the best right hand men in the business.

Micky is out and about poking in all the corners, touching nerves, applying pressure. It is his job, he is good at it and he likes it. The street work. Mixing it with the villains and the scum that follow them about. He is upsetting people, turning the screw, renewing enemies animosity. Making sure they know he’s on the prowl.

He turns the corner of a dirty backstreet around the back of Soho and slips into a seedy building advertising girls with all the comforts. Down some steps through a door into the basement and is stopped in front of an inner entrance by a tall bruiser with front teeth missing.
“Tell him I’m here Sid.”
“He’s at the bar. Go on through.” Sid opens the door.

Mick Martin is sat at the bar watching a nearly naked girl going in and out of all sorts of erotic positions as she negotiates a dodgy routine. Is forty five but looks every day of fifty five with one of those faces usually associated with a baker who has just shut the oven door after peering in. Red and suffering very much from an abusive life. Hair already white grey that looked surreal against his coloured face. A glass of something stiff in his hand even though it is only just past eleven. Cigarette burning in the other. Each side of him are two what used to be called tough guys but now politely referred to as minders. The intent the same though. Micky always refers to them as Bill and Ben, Mick’s hard men.

“Micky Jones you’ve been making all sorts of mischief on my patch. Not at all happy. Asking too many people questions about things that make them nervous. Things that will lead to breakages if words are inadvertently slipped. You on your own. Very brave. Where’s that gorgeous boss of yours? If she ever needs a job.”

“Don’t need anyone Mick they just get in my way. You might be curious about a crew that is anonymous. Might be taking your glory. Are you missing some big opportunities that aren’t coming your way. If you found them and wanted them gone you could give the word and hey presto.”
“If I found them I have my own magicians. They would be gone and no puff of smoke to be seen.”
“Are you protecting them Mick. What about your boy. He is up for a spot of skulduggery. Maybe I should have words. Work him over a bit.”
“You threatening my family you piece of copper filth? That would be a very, very stupid move. This conversation is over. See the bastard out there’s good lads.”

Bill on the left gets up and grabs Micky’s arm. Micky slaps it off and shoves him up against the bar.
“Don’t touch me when I'm wearing my best jacket.”
Ben is up and grabs Micky’s other arm. Micky twists lose and stands his ground. Ben straight at him swinging a solid punch. Micky leans back the punch missing. With Ben off balance slams the heel of his hand into his face instantly breaking his nose. Hits him hard in the stomach. Brings his knee onto the end of his chin as he doubles over in pain his head snapping back. Ben goes down. Can safely be ignored. Bill has now recovered and pulls out a cosh. A sock filled with coins. Micky is quicker and lands a solid kick onto his shin. Micky always wears his best leather brogues not to look smart but because of the quarter inch solid leather flange that runs round the toe. It delivers a wicked blow. That shin kick saving him many a time and sends Bill onto one knee low enough for another kick to the side of the head that sends him to sleep.

“You need better quality help Mick.” He turns and walks towards the door. Sid has come in protecting the exit. He looks at Mick still sitting at the bar who shakes his head. Standing aside Sid lets Micky past. On the street and walking west Micky is very pleased, the exact outcome he wanted. It would shake things up a lot. In fact quite a lot.


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