Merry Christmas, Here's A Present (3/4) By Nick Quantrill

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4),

'Right.' Razor and Stevie exchanged glances; Jurgen was hard as nails. 'What's he doing?' 'He must be setting up or something' said Mad Dog. Jurgen was stood next to the stall, rummaging about in a couple of large sports bags. 'He has staff to serve the customers, you see. He's probably setting up a banner for the stall.' Razor rubbed his hands together. It was freezing. 'The most important thing though, lads,' continued Mad Dog, 'is that you don't approach him without my permission. He won't take risks. He'll only talk to me.

Put yourselves in his position. You just can't take the risk, can you? Besides, he don't speak much English, so you'd be wasting your time anyway.' 'Aye. Fair enough.'

'Right. So, the two grand, then. By five o'clock today, yeah? When you've got it, send me a text message. Then we'll discuss how you pass the money over. 'Can't we just give you the money, like?' 'Afraid not. You'll have to speak to Jurgen at that point. He likes to know who he's dealing with, face-to-face. If you do the business, he might want to put more work your way.' Razor felt a pang of terror at the thought of having to deal directly with Jurgen, but if he wanted to make serious money, he knew what he had to do. Mad Dog gave them his mobile number and left.

'No problem' Razor said. They watched Jurgen for a short while before pushing their way towards the end of the market. They had work to do.

Being top dog in the gang meant that Razor had an image to maintain. To start with, he needed a car. He drove around Hull in a beat up old Ford Fiesta XR2, but seeing as neither he nor any of the gang was legally old enough to be driving, it was still a babe magnet. The other drain on his resources was his girlfriend, Chelsea. Chelsea was 16 and all the boys wanted her. The price to pay was indulging her taste for designer clothes and handbags.

Razor had briefly returned home to count the stash of money he kept hidden under his mattress and called in all his debts, but he was still short of the stake money. He needed this plan to work. Razor revved the engine of his car; he wouldn't have to wait long. He checked his mobile for new messages and texts, but nothing was happening. The door of his car flew open and Stevie jumped back in. Razor hit the accelerator as Stevie removed his mask. 'How much?' asked Razor. 'Give us a chance. I'll count it in a minute.' Razor hammered the car out of the forecourt and back onto the main road. 'Easy?' 'Too easy. She handed the money over straight away.' Stevie started counting the notes in the carrier bag he had ordered the sales assistant to empty the till into. 'We've easy got what we need.' Razor laughed, as they drove away to safety. He threw his mobile to Stevie and told him to send Mad Dog a message. They'd got the stake money. The boys walked back into the pub they'd left earlier in the day, tired but happy with their work. The pub was jumping as more and more office workers crammed in to celebrate their last day of work before Christmas. Some of them even looked as if they were enjoying themselves. They scanned the room for Mad Dog and found him tucked away in a corner, holding court with some of his associates. As they approached, Mad Dog loudly dismissed his audience, explaining that he needed a word with his boys. 'Now then, lads. You've done great today, I'm really proud of the pair of you.' Razor hoped that he managed to hide the pride he felt. It wouldn't do any good to appear in awe of Mad Dog. He opened the carrier bag and showed him the money. 'Right. What you need to do is this.' He beckoned them in closer. 'You need to go and see Jurgen and hand him the money over in a rucksack. Have you got a rucksack?'

Continued... Next Page (4/4)

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