Dead Centre - Andy McNab [46]
We got to the Stannah lift. Refusing my help, Crazy Dave swung out of the wheelchair onto the hanging frame, then manoeuvred his arse into position.
‘BB’s problem is, he doesn’t understand that the main reason these guys have got so much of the stuff he’d like to dip into is that they’re smart.’
Crazy Dave pressed a button. The motor took him upstairs with a gentle whine. I followed.
‘So then what happened?’
‘He found himself out in the cold. He had no money, and he had no mates because he’d been such a cunt to everyone. That lad can’t seem to keep any distance between his cock and his head.’
We reached the landing. The stair-lift stopped and he grabbed another climbing frame. Bars hung at intervals from the ceiling all the way to the bathroom. He started swinging arm over arm, legs dangling, towards the far end of the landing. From time to time his feet scuffed along the carpet.
Crazy Dave didn’t need to know the whole story. ‘Mate, I have to know if he’s still effective. When the shit hits the fan, has he got a brain? The principal has asked me to check him out. He’s very concerned about the boy’s protection. He wants the best available – and if that’s BB, so be it. What do you reckon?’
The last of the hanging bars was his turning point above the toilet itself. He lowered himself onto his throne, complete with arm supports and a nice padded PVC seat.
‘That’s not a problem. He’s good – he’s a twat, but he’s good. If he wasn’t, I’d have gone out of business long ago.’
Crazy Dave was pulling down his grey tracksuit bottoms a lot quicker than should normally be required. He tried to rip off the Velcro fastening on his big boy’s nappy with the other hand. ‘Fucking things. Why don’t they make the tabs bigger, for fuck’s sake?’
The nappy finally came off, and he gave a sigh of relief.
‘You know, everyone gives him a hard time because he was TA. Nothing to do with the shagging. I was TA, for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t do too bad, did I? Because he’s a dickhead, no one takes him seriously as a player. But they’re wrong. If the shit ever hits the fan, he’ll look after the wife and kid big-time. He’s more than capable.’
He looked up before letting rip. ‘Now fuck off out of here.’
I closed the door but stayed close enough to know that his arse still worked, even if his feet and legs didn’t. ‘Hey, Dave, why’s the council still saying no to a bog downstairs?’
He’d spent two years making application after application. He’d even shown up at the council offices in his wheelchair, but the same twat kept knocking him back. It looked like he still was.
He laughed. ‘I got consent about three years ago, but fuck them. I’ve got used to coming upstairs. Besides, it’s the only exercise I get.’
‘You really binning it?’
‘Yep, fuck it. You know what? I go for a drive every afternoon these days. And sometimes late at night. I just want a little freedom, like I used to have on the bike. I always wanted to do Europe on one, you know. Go banzai on them autobahns. So about a month ago I thought, Fuck it, that wagon out there is going to take me all over, from this evening, and then I’m getting a fucked-legs wagon in Canada. Not exactly a bike, but so what? I’ve got to get it done before I die in that fucking chair. It’s sixteen hundred hours and I’m off to Dover, so now you can really fuck off.’
I had to hand it to him. ‘Good luck, Monkey Boy.’ I headed downstairs.
9
20.30 hrs
I’D BEEN HITTING the bars in town, doing my best not to bump into anybody I knew apart from Jan. I didn’t need the ‘Oi, what’re you doing here?’ and ‘What you been up to?’ and all that sort of shit. I needed to keep moving. Only if push came to shove would I actively seek out familiar faces to try and track her down. Failing that I’d go back to her flat and sit and wait – and hope that she still lived