More thoughts from 03.00 am. Random thoughts on a future project. One of three under consideration. Useful? Maybe. Maybe not.
She thought back to yesterday’s conversation. Her question. She hadn’t expected confirmation of the answer so soon.
The copper had wanted to help. Point her in the right direction. ‘First question, who’s in charge? Who’s running the show? They’ll have the answers to your questions. Whether they’ll tell you or not; that’s another story. The top bloke, he’ll know everything. Has to if he wants to stay as top dog. Always someone after the job.’
She nodded. ‘Who gets to be top dog?’
The cop shrugged. ‘Depends. No set rules. The leader can have the IQ of an Oxford Don or he can be barely able to write his own name. I’ve seen both get to the top and stay there. What matters is wanting it enough.’
‘Wanting it?’ She asked, intrigued. She’d not given much thought to the command structure.
‘The top job, it’s not for everyone. Power, but with a lot of risk. Like a wolf pack, you know? There has to be a leader and the leader keeps the job by being the toughest nastiest bastard in the pack. The minute he shows weakness, he’s history. Same principle.’
She’d nodded, reckoning the analogy was a good one.
Now, a day later, it wasn’t so cut and dried. The man sitting opposite her held the power of life and death. It was evident in his every gesture. Part of the fabric of his being.
‘Looks like I found the boss,’ she said, ‘or he found me. That’s you, is it? The boss?’
He stood and looked at her. Possibly curious. Almost certainly intrigued. She could see in his bleak expression that she wasn’t a threat. Not even an inconvenience. Yet, here she was.
On his turf.
Mouthing off.
He was curious. More than she’d have imagined. A man like himself had no attachments. He’d never owned property in his own name, never had a meaningful relationship, never kept a pet animal, never had a photograph of himself on display anywhere.
He could pack a bag in 30 seconds, close the door behind him and move on, never to return.
It was the way he’d always lived.
Every identity checked out, but none of the men he claimed to be had any factual foundation. He’d lived his entire adult life on a diet of constant suspicion and acute paranoia and never regretted a moment of the life he’d chosen to lead.
He looked at her, evaluating. Her eyes twitched.
Nervous!
He smiled, inwardly. She was right to be nervous. On impulse, he decided to answer her question.
‘There’s two ways of doing this job. Being the boss. There’s the zero tolerance method. Don’t get too close. People who work for me are a work force, not mates. Come the day someone has to be let go, it’s a damn sight easier if they don’t see you as a mate. Or, you can be one of the boys. All friends together, work and play. All part of one big happy family, getting the job done together.’
‘Which one are you?’ She looked as if she already knew the answer.
‘I’ve got no fucking mates,’ he growled.
