Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читаем книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗

Terry instantly knew that there was more to this container than he first thought and he decided not to mention anything to Frank about the ?20 note stuck in the shrink wrapping. His instincts told him to play along with his boss until he had a better idea of what the call was about.

‘Not yet boss, is there a problem?’

Terry could almost feel his boss’s sigh of relief.

‘No, no problem, well, just a small one. It’s my fault Terry; I made a cock up with the paperwork back here at the office. The last three numbers on the container should have been five five three, but I didn’t have my specs on when I sorted out the paperwork and I wrote five three three instead so when you went looking for the container in the yard, you hooked up to the wrong box. Not your fault mate, entirely mine.’

Terry was now definitely suspicious of something. Frank West never apologised for anything. On many occasions in the past there had been errors in paperwork, wrong dates on the gate passes, wrong registration numbers etc. Even though Frank had made some of those errors, he never accepted it was his fault. He was the Transport Manager and he never took responsibility for errors.

‘You should all know by now gentlemen, as the transport manager, and the person responsible for hiring and firing, I do not make mistakes with the paperwork do I?’

Terry had heard that little speech for many years, in fact he wished he’d had a pound for every time he’d heard that little retort. He would be a rich man by now. There was a silence in which Terry was certain he could hear Frank snuffling at the other end of the line.

‘You okay boss?’

‘Yeah, no problem Terry. Do me a favour, stick another seal on the back and get your arse back here ASAP. Don’t stop off anywhere, and park your wagon right outside the office and come and see me. Okay mate?’

It was definitely not okay. Terry knew he would be able to exert a little pressure now as his boss was asking him to drive without any stops or breaks for five or six hours and they both knew that this was a serious motoring offence when it came to drivers hours and tachographs. There had been a number of serious and fatal traffic accidents concerning Lorries. The most serious about six months ago involved the death of a family of four. A mother and father and their two little children had been returning from holiday when their car was completely destroyed in a horrific crash on the M1 in Leicestershire caused by a lorry driver who fell asleep at the wheel of his forty ton bomb on wheels.

Anything involving young kids always tugs at the heartstrings and there had been a flurry of altered regulations in the aftermath of the crash. It resulted in the Directive that every driver of a Large Goods Vehicle was required to stop after driving for no more than 3 hours and was to have a rest break for at least 30 minutes before continuing on the journey. No ifs, no buts. 3 hours driving and then a rest break. There had been a lot of enforcement of the new legislation by the Traffic Commissioners and they had made an example of two drivers who flouted the rules. Each was given a six month ban and had their licence revoked. No licence obviously meant no job and even though this was a first offence, they were dealt with very severely as a message to other drivers who might consider ignoring the rules.

The image of the Government ‘Minister for Transport’ flashed into his mind when he recalled watching the high profile television campaign and the arrogant posturing from the Minister and usual condescending platitudes of,

‘The safety of the public on our roads is of paramount importance to our Government and we will take whatever measures we deem necessary to ensure that the drivers of these very large vehicles comply fully with their responsibilities. I must state the satisfaction of the Prime Minister and I in the manner in which the Courts have responded to our legislative changes and the recent driving licence suspensions of the drivers involved sends out a clear message to others who may be tempted to flout the regulations.’

What a load of bollocks, thought Terry. The two drivers had been made scapegoats for the killer driver in that he’d been driving continuously for 12 hours and was trying to keep himself awake by popping pills. It was bound to catch up with him eventually. Unfortunately when it did, the circumstances were absolutely tragic. If the driver had just run off the road and killed himself and no one else had been involved, there wouldn’t have been all the changes to the drivers’ hours. Those two poor sods had only gone over the 3 hour limit by 20 minutes, mused Terry, and had only done that because they were sat in another bleedin traffic jam for an hour before. They were just trying to get to the next decent truck stop for a bite to eat when they got pulled over by the traffic cops.

‘Come on boss, you know the score, I can’t drive without a break for five or more hours. If I get tagged by the Ministry lads or the police, that’s my licence and my job out of the window. Who’s gonna pay the bleedin mortgage then eh boss?’ Terry could hear the strain in Frank’s voice.

‘Please Terry; I need you to do this for me. I can’t tell you why, but I need that box back in the yard as soon as possible.’

‘Look boss, just give the customer a ring and tell him that his box has been delayed. Tell him the wagons broke down or something. These things happen. I’m not going to put my licence on the line for one poxey box. You shouldn’t be asking me to do this boss.’

There was silence on the line for what seemed like several minutes and Terry thought that he might get a decent little bonus if he held out a bit longer. He’d taken a chance before now and like many of his mates who earned their livelihoods in the same way, if the price was right, he’d have no problem driving straight back to the depot.

‘Terry, are you still there?’ came the voice cracking with emotion from the other end of the phone.

‘Of course I’m still fuckin here, where’d you think I’ve gone, fuckin Blackpool?’ Terry was enjoying having the upper hand and making his boss squirm a bit. Makes up for all the shit you’ve dished out over the years mate, thought Terry.

‘Listen, I’m going to tell you why it’s so important for you to get that box back here, quick as possible, okay?’

‘Go on then, I’m listening’ said Terry, hoping that he sounded completely pissed off, but by now very interested indeed as to what had got his boss so worried.

‘Inside that box, are 24 pallets that are heavily shrink wrapped.’

Come on sunshine said Terry to himself, that much I do know but I’m not telling you.

‘Why would anyone want to shrink wrap a load of old engine parts, he said, keeping up the pretence that he hadn’t opened the container. ‘What’s the point of that? Only makes it more difficult for the lads in the yard here having to rip off a load of plastic before they can crush the stuff. Seems a bit bleedin stupid if you ask me boss.’

Frank paused, ‘yes, but inside of that shrink wrapping isn’t old engines and gearboxes, its money.’

‘What do you mean money, what kind of money, whose is it? Am I in the shit here boss, is this a bent fucking job that you’ve got me mixed up in?’ Again there was a pause at the other end. ‘Come on boss, for fucks sake; tell me what’s going on. Tell me now or the wagon gets left here and I’m on the fuckin train home.’

‘Okay, okay’ came the exasperated tone from the other end of the office phone.

‘Terry, you must promise to keep what I’m going to tell you absolutely secret. You can’t tell a living soul anything of what I’m about to tell you, do you understand?’

‘Oh fuck off Frank, why all the drama?’

Franks tone changed instantly, it flashed back to the anger and aggression that Terry was all too familiar with as he shouted down the phone.