Free Little Criminals by Gene Kerrigan Page B

brothers had provided finance for occasional heroin and cocaine imports, they decided early on to avoid the hassle of direct involvement in drug distribution. Wholesale was safer, leave the retailing to the hobbits. Three small, legitimate building companies, unconnected and working in different parts of the city, were used for laundering money.
    ‘Your mother’s looking well, Jo-Jo.’
    ‘She’s terrific. New hip, had the veins done. She’s off the smokes and her blood pressure’s like a teenager’s. Doc says she’s so healthy we’ll have to shoot her.’
    ‘Old trouper.’
    ‘That she is. Sit down, Frankie.’ He gestured to a chair. ‘Might as well get a bit of sun while it’s still here. Poxy summer.’ Crowe sat down and waited while Jo-Jo took a sip of wine.
    ‘See the missus at all?’ Jo-Jo said.
    ‘When I see the kid, once, twice a week. Otherwise, that whole thing’s dead.’
    ‘Fine-looking woman. Shame the way that went.’ He picked up the wine glass and took another sip. The obligatory personal chit-chat was over. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
    ‘Thanks for seeing me like this. I mean, I know it’s short notice, but I’ve been setting up a major piece of action. So, I thought I’d better run it past you. Out of respect.’
    ‘That’s decent of you.’
    Fuck you, too, Jo-Jo. You could make it easy, wave it through, instead of which I have to make like I’m asking for a favour .
    ‘You know I’ve been marking time since I split with Waters and Cox? Little jobs, nothing special.’
    ‘You and Martin Paxton.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘We’ve been working on something a bit more ambitious.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘It’s a kidnap. Guy’s got a private bank.’
    ‘A snatch?’
    ‘I know exactly what—’
    ‘Frankie, no one does kidnaps any more. Too fucking—’
    The edge of a cliff. Please, Jo-Jo, don’t bring me here .
    ‘Jo-Jo, the kind of money there’s around these days—’
    ‘Jesus, Frankie.’ Jo-Jo began ticking things off on his fingers. ‘One – you can’t make a thing like that pay unless you take someone who’s really loaded. Two – this country, anyone loaded the chances are they’re connected. Three – someone gets snatched, and all the things the cops don’t have the time to do, they suddenly have the time to do. Four – every tout in the country goes on a premium rate. You know what that means for people like me.’
    Don’t do this, Jo-Jo .
    ‘I’ve earned the right, Jo-Jo, you know that.’
    Jo-Jo stood up. He walked a few steps, turned and pointed a finger at Frankie.
    ‘You do a post office or a credit union,’ the finger jabbing, ‘a bank job if you can handle it, fair enough, you’re taking care of your overheads.’ Frankie had seen this done to others – the swagger, the finger, the casual and unconscious display of contempt – but he’d never felt it. ‘Something as big as this – and a banker, Jesus – it brings the cops down on top of everyone. If they nick you, they’ll connect it to me.’
    ‘They know I haven’t been working for you since I got out, Jo-Jo, they know that.’
    ‘Maybe they do. And maybe they make a connection anyway, or invent one. Very tempting for the bluebottles, to connect me to something like that. So, I end up being dragged into something I don’t control. And that’s not on.’
    Crowe just sat there, resisting the urge to look away from Jo-Jo’s unwavering stare. There was saliva in his mouth and he wanted to swallow, but Jo-Jo would see that and read it as a sign of weakness.
    Play it cool, take it easy. Whatever happens, leave on good terms. This job is going ahead, even if we have to take whatever shit Jo-Jo hands out afterwards .
    ‘It would never come to that, Jo-Jo. I’ve a right to step up.’
    ‘We all find our own level, Frankie.’
    Jo-Jo sat down. He took another sip of wine.
    ‘Look,’ he said, ‘people do what they have to do to live the life they want to live. I