Sex and Murder Magazine

By T.S. Nicholl


It was 3:30pm. They always met at this time, the 3:30 club. What could be more civilised than a few pints in the local pub with your brother on a Sunday afternoon? Usually they'd have seen each other 12 hours ago, but last night was different.

"I take it you tried that induction last night?” Scott spoke in a barely disguised angry tone, and sat down at a couple of seats away from the polished wooden bar. “I assume it didn’t go too well either, as you didn't turn up."

Joe’s face reddened, and he found it difficult to look Scott in the eyes. He put a couple of fresh beers on the ring stained table and replied, "I have to admit, you were right about this one. He was a complete no-goer."

Scott laughed, but it was a dry, humourless tone, and he had to force himself to keep his voice in check as he continued. "I told you not to say anything to him, but you wouldn’t listen. How many times do we have to go over this? You can’t keep spilling your guts, just because you think its ok. Now you've risked exposing us—again".

Joe waved a hand at Scott, as if dismissing his concerns.

"He doesn't remember anything. We took care of it."

"We?"

"Yeah, we," Joe continued. "Mike and Me. A little GHB in his drink and he loses the night. We must have mixed it a bit little strong though as he was sick everywhere, but it got the job done. One good thing did come of it, we know Mike's definitely in. It was him that noticed there was something up and got the shots out. Probably avoided a problem."

Scott only smiled at Joe, but he was thinking liability. Mike had been another one of Joe's random executive decisions. Fair enough, this one seemed to be working out, but it was still a big risk involving a step-son you don't really get on with. What if he ran to mummy, or the cops? Luckily Danny had taken a shine to Mike and nothing had come of it, but that was beside the point. Using drugs to cover your tracks was usual form in the rapist and kiddie fiddling circles. But using it when you’re recruiting for a sex club with a side line in trafficking was another. Scott had only mentioned that’s what he’d do to cover his arse if bringing people in, but Joe had put it into action. He should have got the all clear before starting a recruitment drive, and getting in over his head. This wasn't the sort of thing you could just drop and walk away from if things got a bit intense.

"What'd you say to him?"

"You know, the usual. Private club I know. Like a strip club, but you can get what you want, and these girls are more than willing to do it. Then I went into the—you don't have to do anything, have a beer, a look—the usual bull. Get them in and get their married dick in an import.”

"And how'd he react to that?"

"Not like a guy who's done his own socialising in Amsterdam. He was fine when I told him, seemed eager in fact, but that soon changed. I didn't think there was a problem, but Mike was on the ball as soon as the “I’m not sure” Stuff started.

Scott took another long drink of his pint before saying anything. It was more for effect than any other reason. He knew how this conversation should end, but he'd still been up all night chopping and changing decisions.

Scott had hoped it wouldn't get to this stage, but he supposed it had been inevitable when Joe got wind of what he was involved in. It had been this way ever since they were kids, little brother trying to copy big and fucking it up for everyone. Other people had disappeared long before this, for fewer offences than him. This time it was Joe's turn. It was just unfortunate it was Scott that had to drop him in it.

"Ah, it's alright bro,” Scott eventually replied. No matter what decision he eventually made, for the moment he had to act like there was nothing wrong. “At least nothing came of it. But this is the end of you bringing people in, and get rid of that GHB. I’d be in as much bother as you if Danny thought you were recruiting."

You could see Joe relax a little with this statement. "You got time for another?" he asked as he spotted Scott checking his watch.

"Yeah I got the time. It'll need to be a quick one though. I'll text Andrea to say I'll be a bit longer. I need to talk to you about a delivery next week anyway."

Joe went up for the drinks with an easier heart, while Scott used his phone to send a text.

We need a removal.

Scott's finger hovered over the send button, but in the end he couldn't do it. The text wasn’t to his girl, but had Danny’s name at the top. The last twelve hours had been spent coming to one conclusion or another about telling Danny. But when it came down to it no matter what Joe did Scott couldn't be the one to send him off with the sharks. Scott knew that he could put himself down as many bad things, but a family traitor wasn't one of them. He put the phone back in his pocket as Joe returned with the drinks.

"A delivery sounds good. Anything I'd be interested in?"

Scott changed his story on the fly. There was little point in Joe going to a non-existent meet now that he couldn’t set him up, but Scott still didn't want to tell him outright.

"Yeah the Russians are punting a few girls in our direction next week. We might need someone to cover the delivery."

Scott saw Joe puff himself up straight away. He wouldn't have had to sell the story if he had sent the text. A fleeting chance to get the girls before anyone else bruised the product was all the motivation he needed.

"Might?"

"Yeah might. It all depends. One of the others may have it sorted already."

Scott could read the questions and complaints in Joe's face before he even knew them himself. “Why can't I? Can you not say something to so and so?” He knew this would be the start of another moaning session, and finally he lost his temper and threw his phone at Joe.

"You see that message?"

Joe read the text, and as soon as he saw who it was for you could see the colour drain from his face. He started to speak, but Scott cut him off again.

"Yeah that's right, there’s no collection. You’re a button press from ending up in an eastern European landfill, and I might send it yet if you don't shut-up and listen."

"But you didn't send it?"

Scott could see the fear in Joe's face, and though part of him wanted to say he had, Scott let him off the hook.

"Do you think I'd have shown you if I did? I'm just telling you because that's where you're going to put both of us. It's not just you that'll get it. If I wasn't your sponsor you’d be long gone. So shut up, put your screwed up face away, and think about how lucky you are."

For a moment Joe looked like he was going to say something else, but in the end thought better of it and sat quietly. Scott hoped that maybe this time the message would sink in, and though he was still angry he could never stay that way with him for long.

"Look mate," Scott went on, "you have to calm it down. I told you about the others disappearing, and they didn't do half the stuff you've got away with. They didn't just bugger off to Spain or something. Those Bloc guys export problems as well as import the girls. You can only imagine what happens to those poor fuckers."

Joe could do nothing but nod his head. They sat in silence as they finished their drinks, Scott looking at Joe's still drained face to see if he was going to respond. But he only sat there, finally accepting he was out of the loop.

"Well?"

"I know, I know. You're right. I need to step back and leave it. Won't Danny be wondering why I'm not about though?"

"Let me worry about Danny, you just keep your head down."

Scott checked his watch, and drained the remainder of his pint.

"Look, I have to go. Ring me later, and we'll talk."

"Yeah, think I'll go as well. Lost my appetite for a drink now."

The brothers finished up, and headed out the door to go their separate ways. Scott left first, with Joe close behind. As they got outside Scott turned to say goodbye, and even though he felt something strike him, he only realised something was wrong when his legs gave way below him. His head reeled from the blow, and he couldn’t coordinate himself to get up. Nausea and fear swept over him as he tried to get control, but even that struggle left him and a paralysing terror took over as a cover pulled over his head. Then he heard a voice he recognised.

"Told you they'd be here. Fucking 3:30 club. They're going to screw it up for everyone. Not so much the big man now Step-Da eh?"

Scott couldn't hear any response bar muffled cries as thuds rained into what he supposed to be Joe. There was an almost hysterical edge to Mike's voice, and he kept repeating "Not so tough now" as the beating continued.

"Leave him Mike." Scott finally heard Danny's voice. "He's got plenty worse than that to come."

There was a short silence, and then Scott could feel a presence close to his face. It was Danny.

"Sorry mate, but you know the rules. You’re his sponsor, and we can't have loose ends like you coming back on us."

Scott tried to speak, but he could only give a muffled yell. He felt himself being lifted from the ground, and dumped in what he supposed to be the back of a van that reeked of diesel. He started to struggle, but again something hard slammed into his head and he began to lose consciousness.

Scott heard a voice in a thick eastern European accent, "Export?"

"Yes."

Danny and Mike both replied at the same time, and laughed at tripping over each others words in their eagerness to be done. Scott heard the back doors slam shut, and he stopped fighting unconsciousness to let the blackness rush up and greet him. He could only hope he wouldn’t come around again, as he knew what was before him.