Police action. Vietnam? Police action. The Falklands?"
Goose paused, sucked his teeth. Then looked at the lad in front of him.
"Last ditch attempt to curry favour with the general public by sending us all out there to slaughter a bunch of fuckin ' shepherds. Don't get us wrong about it or nowt . I was over there, I did what I had to do. And I wasn't under any fuckin ' illusions about it, neither. I mean, I knew we was the better soldiers, we was the trained ones. Them lads, the only things they was supposed to be good at was shearing and dying. But them cunts managed to get lucky a couple times." He slapped his stump. "Including the time they took me leg off us, the bastards."
Goose fell silent. Looked like he was waiting for Richie to say something. Behind Goose's wheelchair, BBC News 24 rattled on.
Richie didn't want to get into it. Wasn't even fucking born when Goose was over there. Didn't know what to say.
So he said, "Right y'are ."
Goose's eyes dropped to slits, then he ducked to the tray in front of him, snorted a thick line of coke. When he came back, he thumbed one nostril. Pointed at Richie. "You just got out?"
"Aye."
"How long?"
"Give us eighteen month, like."
"A fuckin ' tickle," said Goose. "What for?"
Richie frowned. "You told us to go round and chin Hacky Curtis, remember?"
Goose started to shake his head until something fired in his brain. "Oh, aye. Right, I thought that was a kid I told to do that."
Richie looked at the carpet. "Aye."
"How old?"
"Sixteen, almost seventeen."
"And they got you on GBH, did they?"
"Nah, it was Actual," said Richie.
"Right, then you didn't do what I told you to do, did you?"
Richie looked up, his mouth open.
"I say chin someone," said Goose, " you get a GBH."
"He was in the hospital. And I was at Deerbolt ."
"That's for adults, son."
"I got in trouble at the remand."
Goose regarded the lad. "You know, you get caught again, that's it."
Richie nodded.
"That's you right back in the shit, back at the YOI."
"Aye," said Richie. "They explained it to us. But then I could go back to the shit just being here with you. Known criminal an' that." He wiped his nose, smiled. "Jumped the Metty to get here an' all."
"What d'you want , a fuckin ' badge?"
"Nah, I want a job."
Goose blinked at Richie. Then he burst out laughing. It was a low sound, cackling high in the middle. A coke laugh that tore right through Richie, tensed him up. Goose shook his head, waved one hand at him.
" Wex said you had jobs going, like," said Richie.
"Oh, Wex , is it?"
Goose's laugh wound down to a chuckle. He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth, then breathed out. Kept glancing at Richie with this weird smile on his face. A lot of thoughts running through Richie's head, the same old story about a lost leg on Goose Green when everyone knew what really happened – stupid bastard mainlined an artery. But you never said that to Goose. He might've been a fucking cripple and nose-deep in his own product, but Goose had a rep that stretched back since before the riots. And that rep was what brought Richie over today.
" Wex ," said Goose again, and there wasn't any laughter in his voice now. "That twat wants a fuckin ' seeing-to, he keeps sending people round here. I got dealers, son. And I got muscle. So unless you want to run errands –"
"Okay," said Richie.
Goose smiled. "You got a family to support?"
Richie thought about lying. Realised that Goose probably already knew about his girlfriend. Even if he didn't, it wasn't so hard to find out. "Aye."
Goose nodded, as if that was the answer he was hoping for. He shifted his arse in the wheelchair. "I got something, maybe. Not much, like. But it'll pay."
"Alright."
"You keep this to yourself."
"You can trust us."
"I know I can, else I wouldn't be telling you." His eyes narrowed. "I need protection."
Richie didn't say anything.
"You know what I'm talking about," said Goose.
"Aye. And I thought you had a gun."
Goose looked long and
Goose paused, sucked his teeth. Then looked at the lad in front of him.
"Last ditch attempt to curry favour with the general public by sending us all out there to slaughter a bunch of fuckin ' shepherds. Don't get us wrong about it or nowt . I was over there, I did what I had to do. And I wasn't under any fuckin ' illusions about it, neither. I mean, I knew we was the better soldiers, we was the trained ones. Them lads, the only things they was supposed to be good at was shearing and dying. But them cunts managed to get lucky a couple times." He slapped his stump. "Including the time they took me leg off us, the bastards."
Goose fell silent. Looked like he was waiting for Richie to say something. Behind Goose's wheelchair, BBC News 24 rattled on.
Richie didn't want to get into it. Wasn't even fucking born when Goose was over there. Didn't know what to say.
So he said, "Right y'are ."
Goose's eyes dropped to slits, then he ducked to the tray in front of him, snorted a thick line of coke. When he came back, he thumbed one nostril. Pointed at Richie. "You just got out?"
"Aye."
"How long?"
"Give us eighteen month, like."
"A fuckin ' tickle," said Goose. "What for?"
Richie frowned. "You told us to go round and chin Hacky Curtis, remember?"
Goose started to shake his head until something fired in his brain. "Oh, aye. Right, I thought that was a kid I told to do that."
Richie looked at the carpet. "Aye."
"How old?"
"Sixteen, almost seventeen."
"And they got you on GBH, did they?"
"Nah, it was Actual," said Richie.
"Right, then you didn't do what I told you to do, did you?"
Richie looked up, his mouth open.
"I say chin someone," said Goose, " you get a GBH."
"He was in the hospital. And I was at Deerbolt ."
"That's for adults, son."
"I got in trouble at the remand."
Goose regarded the lad. "You know, you get caught again, that's it."
Richie nodded.
"That's you right back in the shit, back at the YOI."
"Aye," said Richie. "They explained it to us. But then I could go back to the shit just being here with you. Known criminal an' that." He wiped his nose, smiled. "Jumped the Metty to get here an' all."
"What d'you want , a fuckin ' badge?"
"Nah, I want a job."
Goose blinked at Richie. Then he burst out laughing. It was a low sound, cackling high in the middle. A coke laugh that tore right through Richie, tensed him up. Goose shook his head, waved one hand at him.
" Wex said you had jobs going, like," said Richie.
"Oh, Wex , is it?"
Goose's laugh wound down to a chuckle. He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth, then breathed out. Kept glancing at Richie with this weird smile on his face. A lot of thoughts running through Richie's head, the same old story about a lost leg on Goose Green when everyone knew what really happened – stupid bastard mainlined an artery. But you never said that to Goose. He might've been a fucking cripple and nose-deep in his own product, but Goose had a rep that stretched back since before the riots. And that rep was what brought Richie over today.
" Wex ," said Goose again, and there wasn't any laughter in his voice now. "That twat wants a fuckin ' seeing-to, he keeps sending people round here. I got dealers, son. And I got muscle. So unless you want to run errands –"
"Okay," said Richie.
Goose smiled. "You got a family to support?"
Richie thought about lying. Realised that Goose probably already knew about his girlfriend. Even if he didn't, it wasn't so hard to find out. "Aye."
Goose nodded, as if that was the answer he was hoping for. He shifted his arse in the wheelchair. "I got something, maybe. Not much, like. But it'll pay."
"Alright."
"You keep this to yourself."
"You can trust us."
"I know I can, else I wouldn't be telling you." His eyes narrowed. "I need protection."
Richie didn't say anything.
"You know what I'm talking about," said Goose.
"Aye. And I thought you had a gun."
Goose looked long and
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