Summoned to the office.

 

The sound of a klaxon horn in an empty swimming bath, combined with the flashing red lights assaulting my eyelids, made me reach out and hit the snooze button. Within seconds I drifted back. Kim Bassinger was just snuggling with me. She was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, when, she suddenly started shouting at 2000 dB " For Mrs. Crud after her hernia operation, here is Cilla Black with Any One Who Had A Heart." Before Cilla could launch a screech. I hit the right button. I turned to Kim, who now resembled a pillow and said " Sorry babe, next time. I have places to see , people to do." She looked so hurt. I looked at the offending alarm trying to decide if it was 8.00 or 9.00. Half the segments of the digital readout didn't work. I had bought it from 2 reps who had one left over from a consignment. What a load of Japanese rubbish. Within an hour I was ready to go. Monday morning, into my cab and hit the streets of Bristol. Getting out is always a struggle for me, I'm not a morning person. But once I am in the city and start the old spiel, I'm on a high, greeting new people to the place or chatting with old customers. Driving is just a small part of being a taxi driver. It's how you treat the people you meet, that's the important thing for me. You can be having a bad day, then pick up an old lady with a story to tell. And the whole day feels better.

The Call.

I had been out for a couple of hours, when a message came over my radio. "40" (that's my radio number) " Go to the office in 1 hr ". Now call me a awkward cuss if you like , but when someone tells me to do something instead of asking me to do something, I usually do the opposite. But on this occasion I thought I had better do as I was told. I had heard things about the people who controlled the big S radio circuit and I've kind of got used to my face the way it is I'm an owner driver and have been on the streets of Bristol for over 30 years, seen a lot of things in that time, met a lot of people, had a lot of fun. For most of my time as a hackney driver I have been a member of the big S radio circuit. When it started, it was a cooperative of drivers who wanted to make a living and provide a good taxi service, but over the years it has come under the control of different, shall we call them ,families. With the passing of time the whole ethos has changed from esprit de corps to do as you are bloody well told. Hence the manure that is about to hit the fan for me. 1 hour. Too long to wait, if I go now. Too short for me to do a job that might take me to the other side of the city. I went to a newsagent near the rank. Behind the counter was a young Asian guy. I said "How much are your Mars bars?", "37p" he replied, " OK thanks ,I have a few more to see. I'll let you know.". He didn't get it. Do I have a weird sense of humour, or is it because I'm English?. OK don't answer. So I bought myself a bag of sweets and a paper and parked on the back of the bus station rank. Just then a car pulled up by the side of my cab. Inside were 2 men, white shirts , no jackets. One of them called across to me. "Are you interested in photography". Now, I have seen all the Monty Python sketches, so I wonder what is coming next. "Yes" I reply. Why not, I had an hour to spare. He goes on to explain that he and his colleague were reps for a camera company, they had just brought a load of cameras from London to a shop , but had 1 left over, would I like to buy this £100 camera for £25, so that they would not have to take it back to the base. I thought , I've heard this story before, but , let's have some fun, kill some time. " Let me see it", I asked. He hands across a big box, but this box was very light for its size. I open it, and sure enough there is a camera. Very flashy but absolute crap. I start getting all the bits out of the box. The two men look agitated. I then see why. A policeman is strolling up the road. He has spotted their car and is on his radio getting excited. The salesmen panic, the driver puts his foot down but stalls the engine. The policeman draws his truncheon and in an attempt to stop them, throws it at the windscreen of the car. It hits the windscreen but bounces off , spinning at an alarming rate. It hit a beggar who did not look well before the assault but was now flat out, spread-eagled on the ground. The salesmen get their car started and make a second attempt at a getaway. In their rush ,they mount the pavement, hit an old ladies shopping trolley and a lamp post. The old lady is furious, she mounts an attack on the car and its occupants , screaming like a banshee and smashing into the car with her walking stick. The salesmen are too afraid to get out and run because of the mad old bat trying to kill them, they can't back up because a crowd has gathered behind them, around the beggar. Radios and mobile phones are in action, the police for backup and an ambulance for the beggar. Well, it must have been a slow day for the emergency crews, because they were there in seconds. A paramedic on a motor bike, then an ambulance, then a squad car, a dog patrol, then the riot squad for crowd control and, not to miss out on the action, the police helicopter. I started my engine and just managed to slip away from the scene of mayhem before it got any worse. The camera was crap. I later sold it to a guy I didn't like for £20.

The Office

I approached the door of the big S taxis. It was a seedy little door in a seedy little alley. As I got to the door a light came on, and a CCTV camera moved to point at me. I pressed the button on the intercom. " What do you want ? " the box asked. " I have an appointment, car 40 " I answered the box, not wanting to put my mouth too close to it. The smell near the door was awful. " Up the stairs " the box barked. I could hear an electronic bolt slide from the door and it swung open. I climbed the stair. At the top were two doors. Which one?. I tried my taxi driver's intuition and opened one. Inside was a whole wall of TV monitors, with pictures of taxi meters on them. I often wondered how they knew exactly how much you had taken that day, now I know. Before my eyes could adjust to the dark room someone shouted , "Who the hell are you?" " Get out of here". I closed the door as I left the room. So much for taxi driver's gut feeling. I opened the other door This was a very different room, beach wood panelled walls, stainless steel desk with glass top, a bright minimalist feel to the whole room. There was only one chair in the room. That was occupied by a long limbed lady who was busy painting her nails. "Sit" she snapped, without looking up. I looked around wondering if I had missed something. No I hadn't. Not wanting to break the silence that was obviously so important to the lady's work environment, I stood. ( Told you I don't like being told what to do. ) One of the beech wood panels opened to reveal a doorway. A man who must have been 6 ft 13 and built like a brick out house, filled the opening. This mountain beckoned to me. I followed him like a little puppy, into another room. This room was dimly lit. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to this light. To the right of the door was another big man with a German Shepherd dog. In front of me was a long highly polished dark wood table. Around the table were 7 well padded middle aged men, all wearing suits. Some of them were smoking big cigars. The smoke gave the room a warm hazy look. But it was not a welcoming room. Iit said " you are an outsider. " At the end of the table nearest me was an old straight back wooden chair. The mountain man took me to it and sat me down. The men around the table ignored me and I thought they may not know I'm here. A couple of minutes went by. They were chatting in low tones, I could not hear what they were saying. Then one voice came over the others. It came from the far end of the table " Well 40, you've been a naughty boy" "No sir ". But before I could get the "sir "out. I was sent crashing to the floor by a blow to the side of the head from a leather bound copy of Kelly's Directory. Still stunned, I was dragged back into the chair by the mountain man who had delivered the assault. "Don't speak until you are asked to speak. " He spat the words into my face. My head was spinning, my ear deaf from the blow , but I understood. The voice again " You were told to carry the company's insignia on the car at all times. My informants tell me you did not comply with our orders." There was a long pause, but I did not utter a sound. I didn't want my other ear split. " We cannot have our cars without the company name on it. Drivers will start thinking that they own their cars, and we can't have that . Can we 40.?" There was another long pause. This time the silence was broken by a soft cough. It came from a man I had not noticed before. He sat apart from the others positioned in a darkened alcove. Seated in a high backed leather chair it was hard to see him at all. The cough had a strange effect on the others in the room. They stiffened and became very attentive to the man in the alcove. " Hello Michael, its been a long time". I did not dare answer. The tone was soft , low and menacing. I knew this voice but it couldn't be who I thought it was. A voice from the past. A long time ago when we were colleagues, drivers on the streets at night. S&M ?. But it couldn't be him, he was dead. A few years ago, the company was ruled by a different group " the Coniponi family ". S&M had organised and brought about a coup d'etat, in which many people disappeared. Many promises were made , allies were promised positions of power and the deed was soon done. The word thugs meant little to us drivers then , but by the time we found out it was the thuggees from the Hindu sect. It was already too late for the opponents of the new order.They had met their fate. A body that had been too badly mutilated for positive identification had been dragged out of the river Avon. It was wearing S&M's driver's badge and had a ticket to a spank party in a pocket. So we all assumed it was him. I now know he had gone to Germany, with a false name and forged passport . He waited for the dust to settle before he could return to claim his prize. Living under his new identity he had become a prime mover in the new Nazi party. He soon became the master of interrogation, but things went wrong when he went too far with his methods and he was asked to leave. So back to Bristol to take up the crown of the company he had gained. The big S.

Old Friends.

"We meet again. " The wiry figure stood up from the leather chair and moved forward. It was him. The man at the head of the table immediately jumped to his feet, vacating the chair for his superior. S&M moved closer to me and touched the blood trickling from my ear. "You are bleeding Michael, had an accident?." . I could not see his face clearly but I could hear the smirk in his voice. I didn't know whether to answer or not. Taking a glance at mountain man , I decided not. He wiped my blood from his finger in my jacket, then moved to the vacant chair at the head of the table. All eyes were on him. "Do you know what happens to people who don't follow orders?." A cuff in the back of the head from my prompter, letting me know that an answer was expected. "No sir." I mumbled. I had heard stories about what happened but I did not want to put ideas into their heads at this stage. " Well perhaps we can enlighten you with a demonstration and teach you obedience at the same time. Killing two birds with one iron, you might say," he said with a smile. The other men thought this was funny and a chuckle went around the room. I couldn't see the joke myself, but there you go. The mountain man moved from behind me. to what I thought was a drinks trolley. I could hear a clicking then a whoosh . I could then see that it was a gas bar-b-que. That is nice I thought, a couple of burgers and a bun. Talk over old times. But I couldn't see any burgers. The only thing on the flames was some tools. One of them had a funny end to it, like the shape of an S. It then dawned on me that we were not going to have a bar-b. If anything was on the menu it was me. My situation was not good. I then realised that I was not tied up in any way. Mountain man was away at the range getting his cooking utensils ready. All I had to do was get past the man with the dog. Then I had a great idea. In my pocket I had sweets, not just any sweets but aniseed balls. Dogs love aniseed. I reached into my pocket took out the bag of aniseed balls and threw them on the floor towards the dog. He saw and smelled them immediately. Like a greyhound out of the trap he lunges towards the sweets. Taking his handler off guard he drags the man at the end of the lead, the handler performing all kinds of contortions just to stay upright. I saw my opportunity and got up quickly. The mountain man saw me move and made a dash for me. He was almost on me as I dropped to the floor. His 18 stone bulk could not stop, so he went right over the top of me, tripping on my body as he went by. He fell head long into the man with the dog, who was looking quite proud of himself at regaining his footing and knocking him to the floor. The dog, seeing his master being attacked, started to bite the mountain. He was back on his feet with the dog hanging off the seat of his trousers, trying once again to stop me getting to the door. The man, the size of a freight train, with a dog hanging off his bum was now bearing down on me at a rate of knots. This time I would try a side step. As he went passed me I shouted "ole". Straight into the bar-b, with a crash. He saw where he was heading and tried to stop himself putting his hands in front of him. Unfortunately for him the grill plates were now very hot. After the initial impact, the screaming started.( No not me! .) The whole thing was a mess. The branding iron went flying through the air and hit S&M in the head. The rubber tube from the gas canister had become dislodged and was now alight thrashing about like a wounded snake with flames gushing out of the end. S&M 's leather chair was well alight and a rush for the door was about to start. I glanced over my shoulder as I left the room. Through the smoke, I could see S&M standing on the table with the flames licking around his ankles. He was shouting at the top of his voice " You're a marked man Maddock ". I thought that was good from someone with a S on his forehead. Down the stairs and into the street. What a day. Its nice to get a warm send off from a company you have worked for for 30 years. So I'm back on the cobbles, working off the ranks, my phone and my regular punters. An every day story in the life of taxi folk. Still , I did get a camera.     ©M.W. Maddock.2001