‘Bit of a fucking mess you’re in there Terry.’

He recognised the voice instantly as that of Luke Johnson and the sudden chill down his spine had more to do with hearing his voice than the crushing pressure on his chest.

‘Good job me and our Tony were here to put a wedge under the back wheel of the wagon eh? Otherwise you’d be flattened by now.’

Terry knew it wasn’t the time to speak. He also knew that he had in fact put the handbrake on and that the pain he was in was not of his own doing. He couldn’t see Johnson as he was stood on the other side of the wagon and he couldn’t turn his head towards him. A few seconds later, Luke Johnson was stood alongside Terry looking into his eyes. It just seemed so unreal, he was stood no more than two feet away from him, hands in pockets, leaning with his shoulder on the same gate that was crushing him to death, yet he was smiling in that evil way of his and breathing easily.

‘What are we going to do with you now eh, Terry. Shall I get Tony to drive the wagon forward a few inches and let you get your breath back?’

‘Please help me Luke, I can’t breath. My legs have already gone, it’s only the wagon crushing me chest against the gate that’s keeping me up.’ His words were said in short bursts, one or two at a time, as the effort of speaking caused him further pain.

‘Course we’ll help you Terry. But, before we do, just a little bit of information that you might be able to help me and me little brother with eh? When’s the next box due to go? And don’t fuck me about because you will die if you do. You know what box I’m talking about.’

‘Friday morning Luke. I’m due out of the yard at 6 o’clock Friday. Please help me, I can’t breathe.’

‘Just one more question Terry, then we’ll help you. One more little bit of info and this will all be over. No more pain. How will we know which box it is?’

‘It will be an ACL box, they only ever use their boxes and the last four numbers will be 6538. They always use the same containers and that’s the next one on the list. Pleas Luke, for the love of God, help me, I can’t breathe properly any more, my eyes are starting to blur.’

‘Thank you Terry, you’ve been most helpful. I told our Tony. I said to him before that you were a good bloke. I told him you’d tell us without any messing about.’

Terry’s breathing was becoming shallower, his lungs compressing as he pleaded with his eyes.

‘Come here our Tony’ said Luke without taking his eyes off Terry.

Tony had always done what his older brother ‘requested’ him to do. He had learned many years ago that brother or not, it was not a wise thing to ignore Luke. He had the memories and the scars to testify to his older siblings’ willingness to inflict pain. Terry saw the face of Tony appear over the shoulder of his brother.

‘Ever seen a man dying before your eyes before?’

Tony had been in many fights and was not averse to inflicting pain when he wanted. His glassing of the punter in the Bramley pub previously was evidence of his violent nature but even he did not share his brothers enthusiasm and pleasure for what could only be described as torture.

‘No Luke, he looks in a bad way. D’ya think I should move the wagon forward a bit and get him out?’

‘Well, that would cause us a bit of a problem Tony, how will Terry here be able to explain to anyone in the morning how he got out from behind the wagon when it was crushing him eh? The only way that could be explained was if someone was here to help him. Now, thickhead, if someone was here, why didn’t they call an ambulance? No young Tony, I’m afraid if we help the old man here, that would look very suspicious indeed. The other, and from our point of view, the much more pressing issue is that Terry might well still be alive when they find him, that being the case, how would anybody be able to explain the wedge here behind the wheel? Couldn’t exactly put it there himself now, could he?’

Tony didn’t have the brains or cunning of his older brother, but even so, the evil in Luke’s words began to dawn on him.

‘Luke we can’t’ began Tony, only to be grabbed forcibly round the throat by Luke’s powerful right hand as the back of his head was pushed hard up to the palings of the gate.

‘We don’t have much choice in the fucking matter you arsehole. It’s got to look like a tragic fucking accident. If it looks like something different, we’ve got no chance of improving our fucking lifestyle have we eh?’

Deep down, Tony knew that his brother was right.

‘Please don’t do this Luke.’ The words were almost too quiet to hear but Tony heard them as though they were being relayed through a loudspeaker. He could see Terry’s lips moving, about to say something else. Luke banged Tony’s head against the metal.

‘Listen, it won’t take more than a few minutes, he’s almost gone now, just kick the fucking wedge out.’

Tony knew that he was aggressive and vicious; he couldn’t really be anything else having grown up alongside Luke. But, there was one very important difference between them. His anger was always heat of the moment stuff where he would react to an incident or sudden confrontation. Luke’s, for the most part, was quite the opposite. He revelled in the violence. Sure, he reacted violently a lot of the time but, more often, his anger and viciousness was controlled and intended from the outset. He was at his most cruel when he had time to think about his actions and intentions. This was one of those times.

He loosened his grip on his young brother and pulled him roughly to the back wheel of the lorry. The wooden wedge was no more than a foot or so from Tony’s steel toe capped boot. Luke twisted his young brothers face toward his own and their eyes were just a few inches from each other.

‘Don’t think about it. Just fucking do it. One little kick and the wedge will be in the fucking dock and no one will be any the wiser. When they find him in the morning with the engine running and the door open it will just be the result of a tragic accident. He was a bit late getting away and in his hurry to close the gates behind him, forgot to put the brake on and the wagon rolled back and crushed him, end of story. Simple.’

‘I can’t do it Luke. I’ll fight anyone with you, you know that, but he’s just an old man. An old man with a fucking family. This isn’t right Luke, this is cold. I can’t do it.’

‘If you don’t, I’ll fucking do you. We’re in this together and it’s survival for both of us. If he lives, it’s all fucking over for us. When he’s questioned, he won’t be able to stop himself. You know that what I’m telling you makes sense. Just close your eyes, bring your foot back and swing. Easy. Don’t think about it just do it.’

Tony, as he knew he would, like countless times in the past, did what his brother ordered. The wedge bounced and skittered across the granite cobbles, slid over the edge of the quay and bobbed in the waters of the dock a few yards away from the trailer.

Tony turned away towards the front of the wagon. He knew what he’d done but the sickness in the pit of his stomach was rising. Suddenly, he was grabbed roughly by the back of his collar and pulled violently backwards and he began to stumble.

‘You’re going nowhere just yet little brother. We’ve got to make sure.’

Luke pulled him back towards the rear of the trailer. It wasn’t enough that Terry would die within the next few minutes as the weight of the wagon very slowly continued moving back towards the gate. He wanted to experience the elation. For him, it wasn’t sickening, it was exciting. This was pure undiluted pleasure.

‘This is what it’s like to see a man die before your eyes Tony.’

Luke, being much stronger than his brother, forced him to the back edge of the container. He was just two feet away from Terry’s bulging eyes. He couldn’t speak any more; his spine being compressed ever more towards his chest.