Gross Domestic Product: 23

Chapter 23

Although the Morton Crew’s reach was international and they had offices in Hong Kong, London, Amsterdam and many other places, their headquarters was a dilapidated pub, next to Grimy North Train Station which had been out of use since the early 1980’s. The pub, named The White Feathers but known locally as The Red Feathers because of it’s bloody history, had been their first purchase when they rose from being straightforward street thugs to men of means. It was an ugly place that looked shut down, but for Morton and his boys it had always been the heart of their organisation and they met their most nights. On that particular February night of 1990 it was business as usual.

“So how much did we make from the clubs last month?” Alec asked.

“About sixty grand, give or take.” Donny shrugged.

“Sixty?” Alec said incredulously. “The fuckin’ places are heavin’. Somethin’s no’ right there. Some cunt’s screwin’ us.”

“Naw.” Donny said. “See whit yer no’ takin’ intae account is that the kids are no’ gaun there tae get pished. They’re awe takin’ ecstasy.”

“Aye, so?”

“Well since we’re wan o’ the major shippers of it, it only stands tae reason it wid cut intae the profits fae the clubs.” Donny explained.

“Right, so how much are we makin’ fae that?”

“Last month? Four hunner and sixty eight thousand.” Donny answered, with a smile, he knew that would please Alec.

“Fuck me!” Alec laughed.

“That’s just fae the eccies, mind. If you tally that up wae aw the coke, speed, hash and acid, it’s nearly a million. The smack’s a different beast, but we’re still makin’ a tidy sum.”

“Acid?” Willie Boyle asked, surprised. “That shite never made much money.”

“Aye I know, but it’s made a big comeback the last couple of years. Microdots, Willie, the kids are gaun daft fur them.” Donny explained.

Neil Bailey piped up. “Those are proper mental, really strong.”

“Here he goes.” Alec chuckled.

“Seriously,” Neil persisted, “I drapped wan at New Year, it wis like bein’ in a fuckin’ Tom an’ Jerry cartoon aw night. Took me ages tae come doon. We should double the price of them while the goin’ is good.”

“You’re far too auld tae be droppin’ acid.” Jimmy O’Hara cackled.

“Aye, never again.” Neil agreed.

“So, whit aboot the whores, how’s that doin’?” Alec asked, turning to look at Jimmy.

“Well, to be fair, no good,” Jimmy answered. “That’s two of them been bumped aff in the last three months. We’ve managed tae keep it oot the papers so far but, well, I think we might have a nutcase oot there. So the tarts are skittish. We made thirty grand.” Jimmy said.

“Hardly worth the fuckin’ bother.” Alec replied. As he did the doors to the pub swung open and all of them turned and looked. It was an unusual event for someone to turn up uninvited.

At the door stood a tall man with black hair. He was far too well-dressed for this area. Beside him, stood Gordon Skinner.

“The fuck you wantin’?” Willie Boyle barked.

Skinner said nothing, just had a look on his face which was half guilt, half glee. The other man spoke. “I wanted to speak to you lot. Connor Yeardley, Department 23.”

There was a unified groan. “Is this aboot that demon?” Alec asked.

“Indeed it is.” Connor replied. “Why did you let it go?”

“If it’s oot of ma city, it’s oot of ma hair.” Alec shrugged.

“Pretty irresponsible.” Connor answered, dismissively. “It’s a big deal.”

“Aye?” Alec said, pretending to be uninterested. “Well, you’d better get lookin’ for it, eh?”

“That’s why I’m here Morton, you lot are going to help me. Young Mister Skinner here told me you set a car after it, to follow him.”

“Aye well Mister Skinner’s got a big fuckin’ mooth.” Jimmy O’Hara added.

“Fuck you Jimmy, you all know this should have been dealt with when we had the chance.” Skinner retorted.

“You’ve got some balls just swannin’ in here giein’ us orders, I’ll grant ye that but whit makes you think either of you are gettin’ oot of here alive, let alone us helpin’ you?” Alec asked.

“Do I need to apply some pressure? I thought you might be smarter than that. Very well, if one of you would like to look outside, you’ll see we brought company.”

“Threatenin’ us noo, is that it?” Willie Boyle snorted. He got up and walked over to the two of them and pushed open the door. Outside there were several black vans, half a dozen police cars and to top it all a clutch of armed officers behind the bonnets of the cars. One of the laser sites flashed into Willie’s eyes, almost as if to make the point. “Fuck. You brought the heavy squad, eh?” He added.

“This has become a matter of national security. I’m sure you can appreciate how refusing to help could have dire consequences for all of you.”

Alec sighed. “Fine. We’re no’ gonny get any piece until this shite’s sorted. Last I heard they were headin’ doon south, I’m guessin’ London.”

Connor smirked and shoved his hands in his coat. “Right, well let’s go.”

“Whit?” Alec said

“No time like the present.” Connor said.

“This is a pile of shite.” Jimmy Boyle complained.

Alec stood up. “Right, let’s get this done. I’ll be wantin’ some serious compensation for this,” he demanded.

“I’d consider not being gunned down or spending the rest of your life in jail after having all your assets seized adequate compensation, wouldn’t you?” Connor asked.

“You fuckin’ intelligence guys, you aw think you’re so shit hot, eh?” Alec replied.

“I’m just doing my job,” Connor said.

It didn’t take long to get them into the vehicles and Alec marvelled at the amount of technology they had inside the van he Skinner and Connor were in. Telephones, computers, the whole place was like a state of the art office.

Alec gave them the registrations of the cars he’d sent after Bryce as well as the make, model and registration of Bryce’s own car. Apparently they had a helicopter waiting to scour the motorways. The information also went out to a network of motorway police, and several forces.

Alec sighed and sat down, the scale of the operation had surprised him, taken the wind out of his sails. Skinner noticed this and handed the old man a plastic cup filled with coffee. “This is mental, eh?”

Alec nodded. “Aye, you know, you were right, we should huv dealt wae this when we hid the chance.”

“Nah, I was out of order, I don’t think either of us had any idea what we were dealing with.”

“I still don’t Skinny, I still don’t.” Alec admitted.

Overhearing them Connor walked over. “We’re dealing with what we call an intrusion event. These are very rare and always dangerous.”

“Intrusion by whit though?” Alec asked.

“Well you called it a demon earlier, so let’s just call it that. However you need to broaden your understanding of what these things are. There are many different kinds of what are known as the supernatural. Ghosts, poltergeists, even the Fae folk, technically these are all part of nature, just a complex part we don’t fully understand. Then there’s the things that come from outside our world.” Connor explained.

“Aliens?” Skinner suggested.

“I suppose you could consider them that, but these aren’t little green men from other worlds travelling here in chrome saucers. They’re not physical, they don’t really exist in the universe in the same way matter and energy do, they’re outside it, separate from it and we can only really measure them by the effect they have on reality. Most of the time this is extremely negative.” Connor responded.

“An’ how d’ye stop something like that?” Alec asked.

“They cannot exist here without hosts, a bullet through the head normally works.” Connor answered

“That simple, eh?” Alec joked.

“If we can find it, yes.”

Skinner was fascinated. “So how does something like that just happen to end up inside a wee junkie whore in a semi in Craigton?”

“I’m guessing the Ghost Light had something to do with it. We’re not sure what they actually are or who made them. The light changes colour in the presence of ghosts and the like, they’re like instruments that can pick up strange changes in the physical world. Perhaps they also act like transmitters or something, I don’t know. The better question is how did that end up in the possession of a wee junkie whore in a semi in Craigton,” Connor explained.

Skinner and Alec both nodded at that. It was a good question. “Don’t suppose we’ll find an answer tae that.” Skinner surmised.

There was a shout from one of the intelligence agents who called on Connor, offering a headset. “Sir, we’ve found something…”

Connor grabbed it and said “Speak.”

He listened for a few moments, his face became an image of disgust and then he shook his head. “Any sign of the target?”

Again a pause before he said, “Okay, good job, let me know if you find anything.”

He looked over to see both Skinner and Alec looking at him expectantly. Connor took a deep breath and sighed. “It hit a motorway services, I’m afraid your boys are dead, Morton, along with three truckers, the staff and a group of nuns. Apparently it was a bloodbath.”

“I could believe it, after seein’ what it did in Prince’s bookies.” Morton said.

“It’s becoming more powerful. We need to catch this thing quickly, or we are in serious trouble.”

“You mean you’re in serious trouble.” Morton corrected him.

“No Morton, I mean humanity.” Connor stated.