The Drop Part II

Scene 1

Bathing in the evening twilight, just outside the city of Manchester centre stands a few rows of tall flats. In one we find Francis Daggot, sat in room 206 waiting for a call. Daggot is a man whose personality is scared deep on his face, a man who has seen terrible things, a man who has done terrible things and has the appearance to show it. He can’t go to sleep at night without wishing he could just turn out the light in his mind that keeps showing the faces of all the people he’s killed, like a broken record going over and over in his twisted soul. Booze is the only thing that blocks out a portion of the pain.

Daggot works as a petty middle man for a seedy underground organization, he deals in drugs, weapons, money, prostitution, you name he’s seen it and probably dabbled in it to. Tonight he’s waiting for a call from a man he only knows by the name of ‘Mask’. Tonight he will meet this man and be handed a bag of money stolen from somewhere he can only guess. This is an easy job by his standards but time is taking its toll, he no longer feels safe with his own judgment, he wants out of this life that he so happily created many years ago when all he wanted to do was get stoned and steal enough money the women he wanted fuck would forget about what he looked like for an hour or two.

He takes a small glass of whisky to his mouth, inhales the sweet aroma and necks it in one. Slams the glass down on the desk and refills. The lights are all out in his flat, he sits alone only with his thoughts, quietly preparing himself for a job he’s done a thousand times before. A hum from his mobile that is placed at his side startles him somewhat. He takes a look at the txt he’s just received. A photo of man wearing a gas mask is placed above an address. Daggot feels uneasy with the sight of the mask; he doesn’t like to deal with mad men even though Mask was hired with a superb reputation to his name. Daggot places the phone down and goes to get another drink; suddenly an unexpected hum comes from his phone. This time the txt is from the organization, a short txt reads ‘Kill Mask once you have the money’. Daggot knows this was not part of the original agreement. Even though this kind of thing has happened many times before, maybe it’s the booze or the sight of the mask, Daggot can’t shake the bad feeling that’s lingering over this deal.  He stands up and shakes his aching body, collects his coat and leaves the flat.    
   
Scene 2

Outside the air is damp and cool; the breeze has that typical northern sting to it. Daggot buttons up his coat a little higher to keep out the draft as he waits in the car park. Donny, a guy Daggot has known for quite a while is about to pick him up and take him to the meet. Donny is best described as a hot head, a Daggot 20 years younger, maybe a little better looking but Daggot doesn’t like to say so, even with all the madness inside of him he still likes to think he has a bit of pride. After a short wait, about 5 minutes, Donny pulls up alongside the curb and brings down the driver’s window. Daggot approaches. Donny is a black man, shaved head, muscular build and a stylized beard, cut nice and trim. The guy could be a model. Every time Daggot sees him he wonders more and more what the fuck he’s doing in such a shady business, it doesn’t even pay that well to say they break the law on a daily basis.

Donny – ‘You ready?’

Daggot nods his head and walks round to the passenger seat and climbs aboard. He relaxes slightly as the air is much warmer inside the car.

Donny – ‘So, who’s this guy we’re meeting?’
Daggot sniggers.

Daggot – ‘Wait until you see this’

Daggot slips his phone out his pocket and shows Donny the photo of Mask. Donny snatches the phone and takes a closer look, he laughs.

Donny – ‘What the fuck man. This guys a real clown. Hope he’s got the money, every last bit.’

Daggot – ‘I wouldn’t worry too much; he’s come with a fucking good rep.’

Donny hands over the phone, still unsure what to make of it all.

Donny – ‘We’ll soon find out.’

He revs up the car and they drive off into the city.

Scene 3

If the centre of a city can be called a concrete jungle then the outskirts must be called a wasteland. Donny and Daggot pull into an area hidden from the sky, a shadowy corner of the world where shadowy people can do shadowy business. Places such as this exists for shadowy purposes and in the night the two men wait, sit tight and relax.

Daggot – ‘This is it, we’re a little early. I’m sure he’ll signal us when he’s here.’

Donny – ‘This is all I ever see, the backstreets and alleyways. Why couldn’t he meet us somewhere a little more up town? You’d think we were criminals.’

Daggot laughs.

Daggot – ‘Donny my boy, these streets made you.’

Donny smiles wickedly. They both sit in silence for a while, Donny flicks on the radio and turns it down to shallow whisper.

Daggot – ‘So, how’s the wife? Still got you by the balls with that iron fist of hers?’

Donny – ‘Getting tighter every day. Where the hell does she think she’ll be if I pack in this gig? She don’t work, she won’t work.’

Daggot – ‘Well, she’s got Michael to look after now, maybe she wants you to settle down. Get an honest job. Your young, you a’int been caught yet, you haven’t got much blood on your hands.’

Donny looks aggravated.

Donny – ‘You know I couldn’t keep an honest job, who the fuck would take me? I only need to be looked at the wrong way and I wanna smash the fucker.’

Daggot – ‘Don’t give me that shit, you’re smarter than that. There’s plenty of jobs for a big guy like you, honest jobs. Jobs that don’t drag you out at night when you’ve got a kid and wife to care for.’

Donny – ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re getting sentimental in your old age? Look at you you’ve been in this since you were 16, you a’int doing so bad.’

Daggot laughs, then goes to light a cigarette. He takes a long puff, inhaling that warm taste that would sooth even a dying man.

Daggot – ‘Not doing so bad? Do I look like a guy who’s going ok? I’ve a dodgy ticker, a string of failed marriages, sons and daughters in every fucking corner of the country, a pair of lungs most likely black with tar and a penis that’s so shrivelled I’m expecting it to drop off every time I try to take a piss. Does that sound like someone who’s doing ok?!’

Anger is building inside of Daggot, anger directed at Donny. Daggot wants nothing more than to slap the stupid boy he sits next to until sense is someone knocked into him. Daggot knows this will be his last deal, his last spit in the face of honesty and truth. He knows now what tomorrow may bring and he welcomes it. The tension evaporates as a small flash from a small torch tells them the deal is on and Mask is here as promised.  

Scene 4

Daggot climbs out of the car a little stiffly, the heat of his last words still burning in his gut.

Daggot – ‘I got this, you watch my back.’

Donny – ‘Always man.’

They give each other a stare, a stare that only friends can give in circumstances such as this. Each one acknowledging that the other could die, here, tonight, in this dark alley. The words aren’t needed but both Donny and Daggot know what to do if trouble calls and know that they won’t be leaving each other behind.

Daggot slams the car door shut and pulls up his collar on his coat. The wind has picked up somewhat fierce. He strolls over to Mask, Daggot watching in every direction he can see, he does this instinctively. Mask seems to be alone; the knot in Daggot’s stomach gets a little slacker. Mask holds the bag of money out in front of him, dangling it like a carrot in front of a horse, teasingly.

Daggot – ‘That the money?’

Mask remains silent, but rescinds the bag to suggest he does not like Daggot’s tone.

Daggot – ‘All of it?’

Daggot is unfazed by any mind games, his head may be a little cloudy from the drink but his wits are a razor sharp, or at least he thinks they are. Mask tosses the bag into Daggot’s arms.

Mask – ‘Count it.’

Daggot pauses for a second, then smiles and unzips the bag. He checks over the money, it’s all there. He pulls out a note and tries to hold it in some light but the street lights all too far away nonetheless the money feels real. Daggot pauses again as he’s about to slip the note back in the bag.

Daggot – ‘Will you do us a favour and take off that fucking mask, it’s freaking me out.’

He says this with a hint of playfulness. Daggot puts the money back in the bag and swings it over his shoulder. Business done on his part. Mask just stands there, waiting for Daggot to part.

Daggot – ‘Gone on then fuck off. It’s a cold night, get home you’ve played your part. Your share will be in your account the moment this money reaches my boss. You have my word.’

Daggot feels a little uneasy with Mask’s silence and senses that maybe Mask has his own agenda but he laughs it off with another glimpse of the mask and turns back to the car, strides over to the passenger seat and climbs aboard.

Daggot – ‘Go and take this clown out. He’s small fry.’

Donny nods and climbs out of the car but before the door shuts.

Daggot – ‘Be careful.’

Donny slams the door and conceals his gun in his pocket and makes to follow Mask who has disappeared into the night.

Scene 5

The silvery moon is the only light illuminating Donny’s pathway as he treads softly behind Mask, who is walking quickly about 20 yards in front of him. Donny grips his gun a little tighter and walks that bit quicker. His senses are heightened as he prepares himself for the kill, but before he can jump into a sprint Mask darts around a corner and out of sight. Did he see Donny? Donny doesn’t think so, he’s been to quiet, he wouldn’t have noticed that he’s being followed. Donny jogs to the spot where Mask disappeared and in each direction there is nothing but perpetual blackness. Donny loses his bearings somewhat and decides to turn left, as good a direction as any. His pulse quickens as the kill continues to elude him, getting further and further away. He whips out his gun and holds it in front of him as if the metal tool will somehow show him the way. He hugs the side of wall, he can’t see what it is, maybe a warehouse or factory.

Back at the car Daggot is relaxing, enjoying a cigarette, almost feeling like a new man. This one last job and tomorrow he might be on board a plane to god knows where. He doesn’t care, anywhere away from the organization will do. They won’t bother tracking him down. Donny will cover him; say that he’s dead... or worse. Daggot reaches into the bag of money and suddenly realizes how easy it would be for him to drive away and take the money for himself. Donny might get chewed out but he’s a loyal guy they won’t kill him for giving him the slip. Then in the light of the car something catches Daggot’s eye. The bottom of his stomach collapses and his heart lands somewhere at the bottom of his seat. The money is fake.

Mask is nowhere to be seen, Donny is about to call Daggot and call in that he needs help tracking down this phantom in a mask then suddenly someone grabs him from behind, Donny shakes him off with ease, whips around and points a gun squarely at Mask’s face, he too as gun pointed at Donny.

Daggot climbs out the car in frenzy and just as he’s about to shout for Donny a gunshot cracks open the silence that’s been lingering in the air.

Daggot – ‘Donny!’

He dashes off in the direction of the shot, around corners of buildings and along slippery alleys until he finds a body. He can’t see clearly because of the darkness but as he gets closer a sigh of relief leaves him. The man on the floor is Mask. Daggot laughs a little.

Daggot – ‘Donny! Don! Come here, you got this son of a bitch.’

He can’t help but lay a kick in the side of the body, the body of a man who tried to cheat him out the money he himself was going to rob. He crouches down and grabs the bottom of the mask.

Daggot – ‘Let’s see who’s under this thing.’

Daggot rips off the mask then falls back in horror as the man behind it is Donny, shot dead. Daggot screams with rage and throws the mask with the furry of a lion, then sinks, squatting over his friend. Tears build up in eyes, he knows now that he cannot ever leave this business. Donny’s wife and kid will need him and the money he earns.

Somewhere away from Daggot a man climbs behind some rubbish bins and retrieves a bag containing the real money. He strolls away whistling to himself, tosses the smoking gun to one side then breaths in the air of a free man.