Lonely, disgraced ex-Royal Marine, Guy Haslam, never expected to end up as a night watchman in a Manchester freight terminal. But that’s exactly where he finds himself, chasing off youngsters paid to sneak on site and retrieve drugs hidden inside shipping containers.
One day, Guy bumps into one of the collectors in a local shop. Jayden Tucker lives in a tower block and is just trying to take care of his little sister. To his surprise, Guy strikes up an unlikely friendship with the streetwise youngster.
But when a drug shipment goes missing, Jayden’s boss accuses him of stealing it. With some of the city’s most ruthless criminals hunting Jayden down, Guy knows he must use all his skills to save him.
Guy’s way was blocked. He glanced over his shoulder to see another man, also somewhere in his early twenties. He was bigger, heavier and with a straggling mass of unkempt hair. UnderArmour sweat top and baggy jeans. Guy took an immediate dislike to his slightly open mouth and piggy-eyes. His face had the suggestion of cruelty. Next to him was a much younger lad. Sixteen? That scowl of someone trying their best to look tough. So, Guy thought, the three I spotted earlier on. Wonder if they’re the same ones who tried to bust into Martyna’s bakery? Guy turned back to the man in front of him.
‘Nice morning, hey?’
‘It is,’ Guy replied cautiously. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing, bruv. Nothing. Just after a little chat.’
Guy stepped to the side and turned so his back was against the Perspex barrier. Now all three were in his eyeline. Better. He waited for someone to say something.
The one who’d overtaken him brushed a hand across his chin. A cluster of gold rings on his fingers. ‘How’s it going working at the freight terminal? Enjoying it?’
Guy gave a questioning tilt of his head.
The man grinned. ‘We seen you coming out! Plenty of times now.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Come on,’ the man said. ‘Look at you: safety shoes, cargo trousers. Under that fleece, you’re wearing a polo top. It’ll have the Freight Master logo right here.’ He lifted a hand and tapped a finger against his own chest. ‘Am I right?’
No point denying it, Guy thought. He nodded.
‘You work nights, right? You just done a Saturday – Tuesday. Now you’re off until Sunday.’
Fair enough figuring out where I work, thought Guy. But knowing my shift pattern, too… ‘What’s this all about?’
‘It’s about this, bruv.’ He slid a wedge of twenty-pound notes from the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms. ‘Four hundred, cash. It’s yours.’
‘It’s mine?’ He gave an uncertain smile. ‘Don’t remember dropping it.’
The man’s eyes cut to the other two. ‘Likes a joke, this one!’
The younger one immediately grinned. On seeing no one else was, he quickly looked down. When his chin lifted, the sour look was back. Guy studied him for a second longer. You’re too young for this type of crap. Just like I was.
‘Four hundred,’ the man repeated. ‘For a twenty-four-hour loan of your security pass. This time tomorrow, you’ll have it back.’
‘Four hundred in cash? For my security pass?’
The man nodded. ‘Easy money.’
What I love about Manchester is how the city keeps surprising me. It has so many different sides. Some are new, shiny and welcoming. Generally, those parts of the city are quite central. They’re well signposted and close to tram stops. Where the big shops are located. The museums and galleries. The clubs and bars.
Other parts aren’t so well-known. Back street boozers. Independent restaurants. Little outlets plying their trade. Locals know about them.
Then there are entire areas hiding in plain sight. The setting for The Night Watchman is on one of those. It’s a freight terminal tucked away near Old Trafford football ground. The roads leading to it aren’t obvious. Little spurs branching off a main route through that part of town. Turn down one, follow the barbed wire fencing, cross a canal, and suddenly it’s in front of you. Thousands of shipping containers stacked up. Lorries idling as they drop off or pick up. Industrial cranes winching loads about. Strange vehicles with immense grabbing arms. The clangs and crashes.
How many people who’ve watched United playing at home were aware that, beside it, is a site which could accommodate the entire stadium six times over?
For me, it’s a great setting for a novel. One involving the drugs trade and desolate lives. The need for cash and the lengths people will go to get it. Including extreme violence. That’s where Guy Haslam finds himself as a lonely, washed-up ex-Royal Marine. It’s a life he might have quietly endured – until he realises the fate of a far younger, more vulnerable, person is hanging in the balance. And now Guy has to decide if he’ll sit passively by or use his combat skills to save him.
Outside the White LinesDon’t drive at night. Don’t drive alone. And if you do break down, don’t open the door to anyone even if you believe they’re there to help you.
Pecking OrderRubble lives in a caravan and works on a battery farm. Totally oblivious to the outside world, he spends his days disposing of the sick and injured hens.
Midnight RamblerRyan Lamb captures the raw side of city life through the lens of his camera. But when someone starts sending him tip-offs about incidents involving the emergency services, he is lured into a deadly game.