Merry Christmas, Here's A Present (1/4) By Nick Quantrill

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

Brett 'Razor' Rawcliffe; 'Razor' to his friends because they thought he was sharp as a tack. He was 16 years old but he'd already built a rapidly expanding drugs empire specialising in supplying his schoolmates and friends. It was one day away from being Christmas Eve and he was sat in a city centre pub with his trusted side-kick, Stevie. The Christmas CD compilation was just starting its third straight play through and office parties were starting to trickle into the pub, even though it had just turned two o'clock. Stevie knew no fear, but he averted his eyes when he saw local hard-man, John 'Mad Dog' Maddison making his way across the pub. 'Now then, lads' said Mad Dog, taking a seat. 'Alright' Razor mumbled.

'I hear you two are doing well for yourselves. I mean, just look at those trackies you're wearing. Top gear.' Mad Dog burst out laughing and leaned over the table to squeeze their shoulders. 'I hear you're doing very well.' They weren't sure how they were supposed to respond, but Mad Dog's reputation preceded him, so they decided the best course of action was to play it safe and just nod their agreement. 'But we can always do a bit better, can't we lads?' They nodded. 'Oh aye. Do a bit better.'

'That's good to hear. I like ambition. I like to help out the up and coming local talent. There's more than enough work to go round in this city, isn't there?' 'Oh aye, Mr. Maddison.' 'Lads, please, there's no need for such formality. Call me Dog, ok.' 'Aye, ok...Dog.' 'In that case, I've got something for you. You know this continental market they've got happening at the moment?'

They nodded. The continental market was in Hull for the Christmas season and stretched half way down King Edward Street, with its festive fare bringing a taste of Europe to the city. 'I have a contact, on the continent like, called Jurgen. He's a baker; bakes all those fancy bread sticks that they sell.' Razor was confused. A baker? He didn't want to know about Mad Dog's friends. It was safer that way. 'He's not just a baker though, is he lads?' They both shook their heads; as if they understood what he was telling them. 'No. He uses these continental markets as a front.

He's really bringing in a load of drugs hidden amongst the ingredients. It's dead clever, you see. He's a major player abroad, but he's bringing in more than I can use, so I need some reliable partners to help me out. I need to buy a minimum amount from him, or he won't sell anything to me. I've been keeping an eye on your gang and I reckon I could cut you in on this. If you're interested, that is?' They looked at each other. 'Oh aye, we're interested' said Razor. Mad Dog rubbed his hands together. 'Excellent, lads. I knew you'd see the potential of this rare business opportunity. After all, you're budding entrepreneurs, aren't you?'

Continued... Next Page (2/4)

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