The Reluctant Gangster
Chapter 1
Robert (Hoot) Hooton looked down at the sawn-off shotgun that had been thrust into his hands. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ he asked.
‘Have a guess,’ replied Mickey Dunne bracing himself to avoid sliding around in the back of the van.
‘I’m not going to shoot anyone,’ said Hoot.
‘You’d have a job, it’s not loaded,’ replied Dunne.
Phil Dalton remained silent. He had been handed a pickaxe handle which he was now leaning on to anchor himself in the van. The other man in the back of the stolen Ford Transit was John Pearson. He was armed with a revolver that looked like it had last seen service at the Alamo.
‘Just point the metal end at the driver, and if he does anything to make you nervous smash his nose in with the other end,’ said Dunne to Hoot.
‘Driver? What driver? Driver of what?’
‘You’ll see,’ said Dunne.
The shotgun’s crude modification belied the fact that it had once been a high-end item. The stock had been sawed square and had a flat back end. No aesthetic design had been considered when making the alteration and the result was particularly rough. A burr on the inside edge of both barrels showed that the firearm had probably not been discharged since the hacksaw had shortened its length.
The transit was moving at speed now. The four occupants, sliding around in the rear, couldn’t see the driver due to a solid bulkhead between them. Balaclavas were dealt out from a canvas bag and Mickey told them all to put them on.
‘What are we doing?’ asked Hoot.
‘Springing someone from jail, you just concentrate on the driver. Pearcy, you know what you’re doing, don’t ya?’
Pearson nodded and rolled the cylinder of Davy Crockett’s gun.
‘And you...,’ said Dunne to Dalton ‘...just look hard.’
‘Shouldn’t I have some ammo?’ asked Hoot.
Dunne laughed. ‘Yeah, nice try pal,’ he said, as he removed an Uzi submachine gun from the bag.
A crunching metal against metal sound caused the van to stop, the driver banged on the back panel and shouted ‘Go, go.’ Dunne was first out, shouting incomprehensibly as he ran around to the front of the van. The light was blinding after being in the dark van for some time, and so it took Hoot a few seconds to get his bearings. He saw that a black Range Rover had collided with a Toyota Corolla private-hire car. Both vehicles were extensively damaged. The Toyota’s airbags had been deployed in the front seats and both driver and passenger were looking stunned. Hoot got to the driver’s door and smashed the window using the sawn-off. He pointed the weapon at the driver and shouted, ‘Get your fucking hands up.’ He surprised himself with this remark. He felt a rush of new-found power mixed with adrenalin. Three days ago, he’d never have considered getting involved in a situation like this, but here he was like a duck in a heated swimming pool. This thought terrified him.
The driver complied and held his hands in the air. The driver of the Range Rover, dressed in black with his face covered, remained behind his vehicle's wheel.
Dunne had opened the rear door and was trying to drag a prison officer out of the backseat by his shirt, his seatbelt was still attached which was making things difficult. To make matters worse, the guard's left hand was cuffed to the right hand of the prisoner he was escorting. Pearson was standing on the opposite side of the car to Hoot, his six-shooter aimed at the guard in the front passenger seat. Meanwhile, Dalton was being particularly useless at the back of the car; he had frozen with fear clutching the baseball bat.
Dunne shouted at him, ‘Open the fucking back door you dickhead, get him out.’ This garnered no response from Dalton.
Pearson, seeing that Dalton was being ineffective, made the decision to intervene. He grabbed Dalton, took him to the front of the car and told him to watch the guard. Pearson took hold of the back door, which was locked, and tried to smash the window. The prisoner in the back seat, Ben Webb, was busy undoing both his and his guard’s seatbelts with his free hand, then forced the guard to get out of the car.
Dunne pulled the guard and Webb towards the back of the transit. He pointed his weapon in the face of the guard and said, ‘Handcuff key, now!’
Hoot returned to the van, while Pearson was dragging Dalton into the back. Dunne was now screaming at the prison guard to get into the van. He remained handcuffed to Webb. With all six in the back, Dunne banged on the panel for the driver to go, the van’s wheels spinning as it set off.
Hoot looked around, how had he managed to find himself in a stolen van, with gangsters, an escaped prisoner and a kidnapped prison guard? Not for the first time, he began to wonder about his recent life choices.
Chapter 2
Two weeks before the prison van break, school friends Hoot and Dalton met in the Peveril of the Peak pub on Great Bridgewater Street, Manchester. They were discussing the upcoming Euro 96 tournament when “Three Lions on a Shirt” started to blast out of the jukebox.
‘What do you reckon? Is it coming home or what?’ said Dalton.
‘I dunno,’ said Hoot. ‘There’s a good chance we can get goals if we can get the ball to Shearer. I worry about the midfield.’
‘Who’s in our group again?’ asked Dalton.
‘Erm, Switzerland, Netherlands and Scotland. Netherlands could be tricky,’ replied Hoot.
‘Yeah, Bergkamp, Overmars, Davids and Kluivert. Top class team there. You got tickets for any games?’
‘Nah, I’m skint aren’t I,’ said Hoot.
‘Hey, I can put a bit of money your way.’
‘I ain’t interested in anything dodgy, I know what you’re like,’ said Hoot.
‘Dodgy? Me? You can be hurtful sometimes,’ replied Dalton with mock indignation. ‘No, it’s not dodgy, just need you to be my wingman on a little deal that’s all. It’s all planned out, dead easy, five hundred in it for you?’
‘What do you mean by wingman?’ asked Hoot.
‘Just stand with me is all. Just a bit of support in case anything goes wrong. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Five hundred quid?’
‘Five hundred.’
And that was how it started. Hoot was tempted by the cash and didn’t ask enough questions to fully understand what he was getting himself into.
Three days later Hoot found himself with Dalton in an unused industrial unit under the arches at Piccadilly. The door to the unit was opened by a large scary looking man with a shaved head. He looked at the pair then opened the door fully for them to enter. Inside was a low futon up against the wall and on the opposite side, sitting behind a desk was a smaller man, Mickey Dunne. Hoot knew neither of these men, but Dalton appeared to know Mickey, so any fears he had were assuaged a little.
‘Alright fellas,’ said Dunne ‘You got something for me, have you?’
‘Yeah, Alright Mickey?’ said Dalton, as he took a large transparent bag from a holdall. He put the bag, containing thousands of white pills, down on the desk that Mickey was sitting at.
‘How much you after?’ asked Dunne.
‘Five grand,’ replied Dalton.
‘Five grand? Okay fellas park your arses on the sofa while we sort this out.’
Dalton and Hoot sat on the futon; being much lower than the desk they were unable to see what was happening. Hoot gave Dalton a stare. He knew he shouldn’t get involved in Dalton’s deals. Everything about Dalton was as dodgy as hell, but Hoot, stupidly always gave him another chance. Hopefully this would soon be sorted out and then he could go on his way, five hundred pounds richer.
Dunne stood, and picking up a Motorola mobile phone, he walked out of the unit. The large scary looking man remained with Dalton and Hoot. Hoot again gave Dalton a stare to say, What the hell is going on? Dalton shrugged his shoulders. If he was concerned, he didn’t show any sign of it. Hoot’s senses were telling him that this was going downhill quickly and his only means of escape was through the door guarded by the large man. He didn’t fancy his chances.
A few minutes later Dunne walked back into the unit and Dalton stood up to speak to him. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘Problem?’ said Dunne. ‘Who said anything about a problem? Have you got a problem? Is that why you are trying to rip us off with this baking powder?’
Hoot’s heart sank. The five hundred pounds was forgotten about now, he knew he’d be lucky to get out of this situation alive.
Dalton stuttered, ‘Baking powder? What the fff-fucking hell you on about?’ He took a step towards Dunne.
Dunne took a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at Dalton’s head. ‘Sit down lad ‘fore I pop ya. That’s baking powder compacted into tablets.’
Dalton sat down.
Dunne continued, ‘What we are going to do now is sit here and wait for Jackie, then we will decide what we do about this’
“I swear down, I know nothing about no baking powder. I got it off a geezer in a pub, he told me it was ecstasy,’ Dalton pleaded.
‘Shut your face now, save it for Jackie,’ replied Dunne.
‘Jackie Moore?’ asked Dalton.
‘Yeah Jackie Moore, who do you think runs this thing?’ replied Dunne.
‘Oh fuck,’ said Dalton.
Dalton looked worried, Hoot wanted to smash his face in right now.
Ten minutes later the unit door opened, and an unassuming man wearing a suit and national health spectacles walked in. Dunne stood up and greeted him as Jackie.
Jackie Moore looked at Dalton and Hoot. ‘I know you,’ he said pointing at Dalton, ‘but who the fuck are you?’
Dalton said, ‘This is Hoot, Jackie, a mate of mine from school.’
‘Did I ask you?’ replied Jackie, ‘He can speak for himself can’t he. Who are you?’
“Hoot, Robert Hooton.’ replied Hoot.
Jackie pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the pair. ‘Hooton? Hooton? Not George Hooton’s son, are you?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ replied Hoot.
‘Ah, how is your old man? Not seen him for about fifteen years.’
‘No, well he’s in HMP Frankland, Durham, isn’t he. I don’t get up there much myself.’
‘Shame what happened to him, you must have been a nipper back then?’ said Jackie.
‘Yeah, I was only six,’ replied Hoot.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, six years old. That’s a modern-day tragedy that is, you hear that, Mickey? His dad got life in prison when he was six, shocking that is.’ Jackie took a deep breath and changed tone. ‘Right, enough of the pleasantries. I’m not here for all our yesterdays. What about this bit of business you two have brought me then eh? I hear you two cheeky bastards are trying to rip me off?’ He pointed at Dalton. ‘You talk now.’
‘I’m sorry Jackie, I didn’t know. Bought it from a bloke in the pub. Thought it was ecstasy, really I did,’ said Dalton.
‘Oh yeah?’ said Jackie. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve known about you for a long time. You’ve always been a chancer. Do you honestly think I could believe that a druggie scrote like you would buy five thousand ecstasy tabs and not try a few for himself? Eh? What was the effect then? Get you high, did they?’
‘Well, not really, I just thought they were a bit weak,’ replied Dalton.
‘Bit weak eh? Bit weak? I suppose you thought I was a bit weak too did you? Thought you could get one over on me by bringing me this shit and taking my money?’
‘No, it’s not like that Jackie, I didn’t even know you were involved in this, I swear I thought they were legit.’
‘What do you have to say about all this?’ said Jackie to Hoot.
‘I don’t know anything about it, I’m here cos of hhhim,’ stuttered Hoot while pointing at Dalton.
‘Is that right?’ said Jackie, he pointed at Dalton. ‘I don’t believe a fucking word that comes out of your mouth, and by rights I should take you up the moors and have you dig your own graves. But young Robert here has saved you both for now, just because I remember his dad. That doesn’t mean there is no retribution, oh no. The way I see it is that you brought me a deal that I was expecting to make about twenty five grand off of, and now I’m not making that. So, you two, owe me twenty five grand, each.’
Jackie stood up. ‘That’s my ruling, I’ll have that money off you in seven days, or else it’s a trip up Saddleworth for the both of you. You understand?’
Hoot and Dalton nodded.
‘Now, because I'm a nice guy, I'm going to give you a chance to pay off the debt by working. I’ve got a few jobs lined up that I need a couple of bodies for. Mickey here will fill you in on the details. Don’t fuck me about fellas, yeah. Remember, there are a lot of missing people up on that moor, and I’ve put a fair few of them up there myself. I have no problem with adding a few more.’
Jackie walked out of the door, leaving Hoot staring at Dalton like he was about to commit a murder of his own.