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“Apparently, my love handles saved my life.” Nicks was speaking to Simon on his mobile as he walked to the railway station later that day. “Well, that and my big ‘fuck off’ padded jacket, of course.”
“Wonderful, Nicks. Naturally, I’m thrilled for you, but your antics have thrown everything out of sync somewhat.” Simon sounded tetchy.
Nicks ignored the seeming lack of sympathy. “It’s not as if I planned it, Si.”
“I know, but they’re not exactly overjoyed with the unscheduled body count. Anyway, you’re off the plot for the next ten days at least, so the Newcastle job’s been reallocated to another Leveller. One less thing for us to think about, but don’t leave the country because there are things in the pipeline. May happen, may not.”
“Does Wales count?” Nicks smirked to himself. He felt a strange urge to wind Simon up, which he could only put down to the ‘joy of life’.
“Wales? Count as what?” Simon was bemused, then the penny dropped. “Fucking hell, Nicks! You know Wales is fine, just don’t leave the mainland. I’m under pressure here, mate.”
“Sorry, Si,” He reined himself back in. “I think I’m just happy to be alive.”
“Yeah, well, so was I until this morning. First, you frighten the shit out of me and then the bollockings started via Don from some fuckers I can only describe as the Y Department.” Nicks heard his exhalation of breath. “Why didn’t you drop him off at the Hotel? Why did he still have the weapon? Why haven’t you got more control over him? Why didn’t you tell someone earlier he couldn’t do the Newcastle job? Jeez, I’m not a fucking psychic. And if you dare tell me to fucking chillax I’ll find you, so help me God.”
“Furthest thought from my head,” Nicks interrupted, lying. “Look, Si, if you need me I’m going down to Llangrannog, the Pentre Arms for a few days. Why don’t you come down there when you get the time? We could do a little fishing.”
Simon tried, but couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “You don’t know how to fish! Apart from tinned mackerel in sauce, you hate fish!”
Nicks laughed. “Well, they’ve got those little fishing nets on sticks. We could look the part. I’ll buy you a bucket and spade. What do you say?”
“Fuck you, Nicks, you’re incredible mate!” The tension in Simon’s voice had lifted. “Ok, give me a couple of days and I’ll see you down there. And don’t forget you’re buying the first five rounds! You deserve to after what you’ve put me through.”
“It’s a deal. And if you’re really lucky I might let you see my fluff collection. See you then.” He pocketed the phone and entered the Station shop to buy a ticket.
He’d book the Pentre Arms on the journey into the city, buy the usual materials from the minimarket near his hotel and spend the evening on the ritual cleaning of his room before a good night’s sleep.