Against the Clock by John Carson (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕

‘Still on for tonight, pal?’ Lenny said, nodding to the closed restaurant.

‘Aye. Try and stop me. I’ve been in every night this week, listening to Cathy rumble on and watching Netflix. Time for a wee swally.’

There was a brief respite from the wind at this point, the building giving them shelter.

‘You been along to the Wee Green Van this week?’ Sam asked.

This was a little classic Citroen van, painted bright green, that served food and drinks down on the promenade.

‘Aye. I had a coffee and a baguette. Before lunch. I made Jimmy, the owner, promise he wouldn’t mention me being there if he saw me and the wife out having a stroll.’

Now they turned onto the promenade itself. The sea looked a wee bit choppy. Their pace wasn’t a full-on jog but at least it was faster than a walk. Lenny made sure he had his wee screwdriver in his pocket. He didn’t know if he could actually stab somebody with it, but he could ram it into a hand if he was grabbed. While Sam got wired into them with his walking stick.

He had never thought in a million years they would be accosted down here in the morning, but it had happened one day, when a guy with a funny accent stood there smiling at them and told them they knew what was coming next and pulled out a small knife.

Well, he didn’t know what was coming as Sam swung his cane across the guy’s wrist, then brought it back round to his shins.

The man had dropped his knife and run away screaming. Sam had kept the knife in his pocket as a trophy, promising Lenny that the guy would get it back if they ever saw the bastard again.

Lenny could feel the sweat starting already. He stopped, putting two fingers on his wrist to see if he still had a pulse. He puffed out a breath into the cool morning. Already spring, but was it getting warmer? Was it fuck. He looked back up at Coillesdene House. He knew Mary wouldn’t be watching; she’d be curled up under the duvet, where he should be right now.

‘Hold on, pal,’ Sam said. ‘My shoelace is out. These bloody trainers are trying to kill me. The damn laces come out all the time.’

Sam had a look around, worried that somebody from the social might be gawking at them from the comfort of a wee white van, and leaned against a lamppost with one foot on the sea wall.

‘Keep a shotie, pal,’ he said, exaggerating his movements.

Lenny sat down on the wall and looked back along the way they had come, at the beach and the cold sea dissipating on the sand. At the litter some ignorant bastard had left behind –

‘The fuck is that?’ Lenny said, getting up quickly, while not quite moving like his arse was on fire.

‘What?’ Sammy looked around as if expecting to see some bawbag from the social with a camera pointing towards them.

‘There, down on the beach. Somebody’s dumped something.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Lenny. You know what you can have engraved on my headstone? “Sammy died because some bastard left some shite on the beach and Lenny caused him to have a heart attack.”’

Lenny was leaning over the wall more now, trying not to take a heider onto the sand. ‘Hold my hand.’

‘Will I fuck.’

‘There’s something big down there.’ He straightened up, looking at his friend. ‘Something wrapped in plastic. Like a big haul o’ drugs or something.’

‘Jesus. What if it is? I’m not touching it. There might be some cartel hovering about here. Naw, pal, if it’s anything like that, you can have it. I’d rather keep my wullie attached. Those cartels are mad bastards. Almost as mad as those Niddrie gangs.’

‘Christ, if it’s drugs, we could become millionaires.’ Lenny smiled at Sam.

‘Doesn’t matter how many millions you have in the bank, you can’t spend it if you’re deid.’

‘I’m hardly likely to deposit millions in the bank. I’ll keep it under the bed.’ Lenny looked at his friend. ‘Come on, let’s have a look. It’s more likely to be some shite than drugs, but I’m curious.’

‘Tell you what, though, if some guy pops out and says, “Hi, amigo”, I’m fucking off.’

‘What if it’s some kind of treasure?’ Lenny was moving back along the way they had come.

‘Hang fire there, pal,’ Sam said, following his friend but not at such a fast pace, although Lenny’s walking speed wouldn’t win him any gold medals.

Lenny stood at the end of the promenade waiting for his friend. ‘Looks like something wrapped in shrink film, but not the kind you’ve got in your kitchen. Like the stuff that pallets of boxes are wrapped with.’

‘I can see that,’ Sam said, looking down onto the beach, sweat lining his forehead.

‘Why are you sweating? You’ve got “benefits cheat” written all over you.’

‘Bollocks. Although I thought I saw somebody with a suspicious bag walk by.’ He looked at Lenny. ‘Like he had a camera peeping through a hole.’

‘You’re the only one who peeps through fucking holes.’

‘Are we going to have a closer look?’

‘Aye. Come on.’

They walked down the ramp towards the sand and the sea, although the water was nowhere near this package that may or may not be about to change their lives.

‘Christ, what do you think it is?’ Lenny said.

It was cylindrical in shape, about six feet long, bulging in places.

‘Poke it with your stick,’ Lenny told his friend, giving him a gentle shove on the back.

‘I’ll fucking poke you in a minute.’ Sam wiped the sweat from his upper lip.

‘Jesus. Roll it over. Maybe it’ll have a label on it. It might have fallen off a ship. Something that’s valuable, other than drugs.’

‘You and your bloody drugs. You wouldn’t know what to do with them.’

‘Aye, that’s true. Just help me roll it over.’

‘No chance. Somebody could be watching.’

‘Sake. Let me get it.’ Lenny got a foot under it and managed to lift it