HACKNEY NIGHTS
by Michael Keenaghan
Ryder slammed the door behind him and took the lift down to the street, his mum’s voice still ringing in his head… Place was a fucking madhouse, serious. His mum, his sisters, crazy the lot of them.
He walked through the estate up towards the shops on Well Street. The sky was darkening, lights coming on in the blocks. He’d lived on Gascoyne for ten years, most of his life. Now there was talk of demolition. One part of him hated the idea. Times like this, though, he didn’t give a fuck. He saw Skilla’s lot kicking a ball by the garages. He nodded over, kept going.
Then there was a car cruising next to him; a Red Audi, windows blacked… Fuck, Shanx’s crew. He kept walking, fiddling with his phone, pretending not to know.
The front passenger window came down, the instant smell of skunk. – Just the man I’m lookin for, Shanx nodding, What’s up?
- I’m just phoning my girl.
-Your girl? Shanx said loudly. Who is she, man, I might have fucked her innit… Laughs from the other two.
Ryder ignored it, kept walking.
- Yo! – Shanx turning serious now – You gonna stop when I’m talkin to you or what?
Ryder stopped; so did the car. – What do you want?
Shanx looked him up and down; his fat sidekick Tubz next to him at the wheel. He nodded to the back, – Get in.
- Look, if it’s about that package, I paid you back, remember, we sorted that… Ryder had been trying to avoid the guy for weeks. Ever since those deliveries he’d made him do. He’d put one through the wrong door and as well as getting a serious slapping, had to pay it all back triple.
Shanx turned away, shook his head, smiling. Then his eyes hit him head-on, – You listenin a me? I said get da fuck in, I need you tonight man!
Ryder didn’t argue. Shanx was three years older and had recently been on remand for the death of a shopkeeper in Leyton – the guy stabbed twenty eight times, place left like a bloodbath. In the end somebody else got pulled for it, but Shanx was still riding on the publicity.
Climbing in the back, a guy called Jesta was holding his fist out, all jovial, – Long time no see blud… Ryder tapped it. They were the same age, had been to primary together, but these days Jesta lived up Stamford Hill and Ryde rarely saw him.
They headed out onto the main road, Ryder watching his block slip away.
- Where we going? he asked
- Stratford, Shanx said.
- Why?
- Collectin a strap.
- What are we collecting a strap for?
- Did I say anything about we? Shanx turned to face him. We ain’t doin shit. You are.
Everyone looked at him and laughed…
Ryder shook his head, stared out the window. They were passing Hackney Wick, curving onto the A12.
- Hey Ryde, Jesta said excitedly. You missed some bloodshed earlier, man, serious – his eyes straying up front for any sign of disapproval, but both elders remaining silent. – We done one of the Pembury Boys, man! Done him on the street innit. Seen a few of them strutting along then, screech, we pull over. All of them runnin lak pussies but one. Tubz beat him down with a bat and Shanx slashed him up on the floor man, nuff action…
- That’s right, Tubz added from the wheel, And you just stood dere watching innit.
- No way man!… You seen me put da boot in, I was hammerin dat guy!
- Yeah, givin him a dig only once all the action was over. Didn’t see you round at the beginning. Standing dere posin I reckon…
- No way blad… Tsss… You told me to keep watch innit… Jesta turning to the window in a sulk.
- Anyway – Shanx taking the reins – Far as I see it, that was just a bit of fun ‘n’ games back dere. Playground shit. Pembury fuck wid us again and it’ll be guns drawn, all out war, I ain’t jokin.
- We’ll send the Jesta first out as cannon fodder innit, Tubz jibed. Teach him some shit bout road life.
- I know plenty bout life on road, man, Jesta tutted. I’m out there causin nuff mayhem…
- Lak what?
- Lak… the other day down London Fields!… Yeah, you shoulda seen me. Two yuppies yeah, picknickin an shit… I pull out a shank but they’re so fucking scared I think, what do I need this for? So I put it away an start kickin the guy in the head an dat, and the woman’s all screamin, so I’m lak: Shut up you bitch or I fuckin rape you innit! Then I go mad, kicking all their food an stuff to shit, layin into the botha dem. Peeled the fuckers clean. Two cards, straight to the cash machine. Two fifty from each… Yeah, that’s me man! – flicking his fingers – Out there stirrin’ it up…
Both up front were laughing. Tubz saying, -What, you made five hundred quid just the other day? That why you couldn’t even afford credits for your phone earlier?
- Nah, I spent it… On threads an shit… Got rid of it fast. That’s the way to do it lak. Make it fast, spend it fast.
- Yeah, right…
They were skirting the half-finished Olympic site, the whole area cordoned off. Once upon a time you could drive right through there. Not any more. Shanx looked over at the cranes with disdain. – Shit’s gonna get blown man, you watch. Next 9/11 innit.
- You reckon? Tubz said.
- I don’t reckon, I know. Up to me I’d blow it myself. Ain’t gonna bring no wealth round dese parts. Just more cream for the fatcats innit. Gimme old factories and wastelands an dat anyday… Then he started reminiscing… – I used to bring bitches out there and fuck em man. Right out in de open innit… Yo Tubz, remember dat line-up we had out there?.. Some Pembury bitch fuckin beggin for it bwai. You remember dat? Parked in, lak, a whole convoy, twenty five niggas atleast. Party time man…
Tubz smiled, nodded his head. Then he remembered how the bitch had gone back and screamed rape. Spread the word left and right, trying to shame them. Why did bitches always do that, man? One minute giving it to any fucker going, then next minute: I didn’t want it, they forced me… He kissed his lips: Tsss…
- What’s up, blad? Shanx asked.
- Ho started chattin shit after innit.
Shanx smirked. – Not once I sent Terra’s lot round. Didn’t you hear? They took bats round dere, smashed the place up and fucked her mum innit.
- Rah, man, dat’s sick! Jesta whooped.
- Dat what happened? Tubz said.
- For real… less he was just sayin shit. But he musta done, cos after that the bitch got the fuck outta Hackney innit.
Tubz nodded; he liked that.
- Hey, talkin of bangin, Shanx smiled: Yo, Rydes, you still wanna phone your girl? We might be needin some company after dis shit… sniggers from the three of them.
They turned at the interchange and shot along to Stratford, new high-rise developments lining the way.
- Endz up here are changin innit blud, Tubz pointed out… Look at dat. Every time I come here there’s a snazzy new block or su’in.
- Yeah, Shanx said. Homes for yuppies innit. Tryin to change the hood, push all the niggas out… Olympics my fuckin arse man… Tsss… Dey wanna play it dat way tho then peeps gonna get taxed, you get me… Come up here on money missions man. Nuff collections gonna go down… nodding as he flicked his spliff out the window.
They were almost there.
…TWO…
- What, you sayin you don’t know what the road’s called? Tubz tutted, driving up and down the terraced backstreets.
- You were dere when I planted da shit so you should remember yourself man.
- Been a quite a while tho innit…
Then Shanx said, -Hang on blud, we’re getting warm… Next road, last house, right at de end…
- Okay Ryde, he said, turning to him, Here’s the lowdown. You climb over into the garden. it’s all overgrown an shit, some old guy about a hundred an three lives there. Now you’ll find a little case wedged under the side of the shed, right at da back… he smiled: Dat’s da ting see, you keep em in unlikely places… Then nearing the end of the road: -Whoa man, pull in here, not too close…
- Now, Rydes, I’m trustin you on this. Just hop over the side-fence, grab the hardware and get the fuck back here… cos tonight we’ll be needin dat ting, you get me… He turned to Jesta: Yo, prickface, you go wid im.
- Me? It won’t take two.
- Tss, you chickenshit or su’in?
- No.
- Well get your arse out there den!…
- Whoa, wait up, Tubz staring out the windscreen… You ain’t gonna like this, Shanx.
- What you chattin bout?
- Take a look.
Shanx squinted ahead into the dark. Something wasn’t right… The last few houses. Where the fuck were they?
He got out of the car, walked closer. Towards the end of the terrace: an empty space. He hurried towards it, the others following on behind.
- What’s going on? Ryder tapping Jest.
- Don’t ask me man.
Shanx stood at the corner, a fence surrounding the dug-up earth where the old houses had been. A placard advertised forthcoming flats. – What da fuck..?
All four of them stood there; Tubz shaking his head…
- I don’t believe dis! Shanx raged. That was a five hundred quid piece man!… He spun around, kicked the nearest car, alarm bells raging.
Tubz quickly held him, -Nuthin we can do, blud, allow it, it’s gone!… Then he noticed a curtain twitching across the way… Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here before someone calls five-o…
…THREE…
Back on the road Shanx’s mood was lethal. Tubz had tried to ease things but to no avail. Stuck by some traffic lights Shanx opened the window for some air, shocked to notice a cop car stalled right next to them, man cop, woman cop staring straight in. He turned away.
- You seein this? he seethed. Racist fucks eyeballin’ me outright man.
Tubz looked over, quickly turned away, – Shit man, chill, we got tools in the car.
Shanx again caught the female cop’s eye… – Rah, I’d tear the uniform right off dat bitch, fuck her where it hurts man…
- Take it easy, Shanx. They pull us over, we’re fucked, I ain’t jokin.
The lights changed and the cops tore ahead. Tubz whistled with relief. – Close call.
- Tsss, Shanx gloated. Pricks know not to fuck wid me tonight.
Then again he was thinking about the gun… He shook his head, slammed the dashboard. -This ain’t good enough man… What about that job tonight? That’s fucked now innit.
Tubz thought about it. The job was a house in Ilford. Asians. A Merc and two Beemers in the driveway, untold riches. They’d planned to raid the place, tie them up, the works… But without a piece though.. – I don’t know, he said, maybe there’s other shit we can do…
- This was meant to be the big one, blud. Down the drain, just like dat.
- What do you think happened to the gun then? Jesta piped up.
- What the fuck you talkin about?
- The strap, lak. Who do you think found it?
- You fuckin stupid or su’in? You see dat place back dere? Strap’s gone, man. Probably lying in a fuckin landfill somewhere… tsss, no good to me…
Tubz was ruminating. In total they had a machete, a shank and a baseball bat. Also, they were a four-man crew now… -Maybe we could still do it, he mused.
- What, fend off twenty mad Pakis widout a frightener? Shanx said
- Twenty of em?
- You know what I mean. They appear out of da woodwork innit. One minute there’s two, next minute ten. You need a strap wid dese pricks. Even out the numbers. You forgettin last time?
- The cash ‘n carry place?
- Yeah. Four fucking generations chasing us down the street… Not on, man… You stick a strap in some fuck’s face tho and they ain’t gonna be shouting for no fucker… Then he kissed his teeth, Tsss… Asians though, I don’t know… probably a bad idea anyway…
- Hit somewhere Turkish then, Grill suggested.
- What, tonight? do a shop?
- Yeah. No shortage of Turk places about.
Shanx pouted his lips, mulled on it. – Same ting tho. People got their back. You know any white or nigger places?
- Dere’s some Polish place up Wood Green we could try. Usually just one guy there… But hang on, last time I was there I thought I could hear barking or some shit round the back…
- I don’t play wid dogs man, no way, Shanx shaking his head… What about somewhere black, no?
- There is some place as it goes. An off-licence up Tottenham run by an old nigga. An ancient. He’s been done quite a few times I heard, so now he keeps an old machete under the desk. Thinks he’s still choppin bananas off trees man – Tubz chuckling – Could chance it, but I don’t know…
- I ain’t frightened of no granddad… Problem is though, if he’s willin to play then shit could get messy, you get me, and the old fuck could wind up dead… and you know what that means. Means the site is too hot so you can’t go back next time to do the same ting again.
- For real, Tubz chuckled… But ideally you gotta do your research on this shit. Need intel an dat. I mean, you wanna hit somewhere loaded. No point playin for pennies, you get me.
- Tell you the truth, right now I ain’t too fussy – Shanx grinding his jaws, frustrated – I just want some action after all dis shit.
For a while they cruised…
Then Jesta had an idea, – I say we don’t worry about it and just go get some bitches tonight man… I know this place yeah, rah, bitch fuckin heaven…
- Only bitch round here man is you.
- All I know is I’m fucking hungry… Tubz said.
Then noticing a fried chicken shop, Shanx had a brainwave… – Pull over, man, here!…
Tubz pulled in across the road. He was just about to step out when Shanx put his hand out, – Wait up… He was staring over at the shop… no customers, the street near-deserted… – What’s up man? Tubz asked, Ain’t we goin in?
- We’ll send Jesta over for the food. I want dat place checked out…
- You wanna hit it? Tubz said.
Shanx nodded… – I did that place two years ago on my own… Jumped over the counter waving a knife… Guys couldn’t wait to get rid of me… He turned round to Jesta: -Right, get in there and order up. Four boxes. And check how many guys are workin there… He tossed him a twenty.
Jesta hesitated…
- What you hangin around for? Get over dere man! …tsss, pussy’s fucking me off tonight no end.
Jesta headed over. Ordered up. Came back five minutes later, face shadowed under his hood… – There’s only one guy. He took my money, prepared the food, everything.
- One guy? You fuckin sure?… Shanx looked over. Then he ripped a quick bite from his chicken, wiped his hands. – Okay, in that case we ain’t stallin on this. Come on. Let’s fuckin bomb da yard.. He reached under the seat for his machete.
- We doing it right now? Jesta said.
Tubz was reaching under for his bat, – Tss. Start feelin’ it man…
Shanx turned to them, – Yo, either of you carryin?
Both shook their heads. – Well just follow us in and look threatening then.
- Those two threatening? Tubz said. I don’t think so.
- Don’t matter, Shanx smirked, tucking the weapon under his jacket, Leave the performin to da masters innit.
They headed over – Shanx first in, charging up to the counter with his tool, – THIS IS A FUCKIN RAID! GIMME THE MONEY MAN NOW!!! – Tubz swinging his bat into the mirrors to show they weren’t fuckin… Shanx jumped the counter, the guy grabbing a cricket bat trying to fend him off.
Shanx was loving it, prowling after him, – You wanna play it like that, nigga, I’ll fuckin carve you in two man!… Suddenly he rushed for him, slashing wildly, blood flying and the guy dropping to the floor… Shanx kicked him a few times for good measure, – Fuckin’ prick…
He strutted to the till, pressed it open (as a figure slowly emerged in the backdrop)…
Tubz still going to town smashing the place up; Ryde and Jest by the door keeping an eye on the street… when suddenly there was a horrific scream.
Everyone stopped. Shanx was staggering on his feet, a new guy standing by the fryer having just thrown a bucketful of hot oil at him – AAAHH!!! AAAHH!!!…
Tubz sprang – two kicks at the staff door and it burst open. The man had refilled his bucket, – You want some too!! You fucking want some, hah!!… Tubz swallowed as he took in the scene: Shanx doubled-up clutching his face; the other staff guy bleeding on the floor, and this here crazy wanting to fry him alive… He put up his hands, – No, man, no… grabbed hold of Shanx and fled the fuck out of there.
- Aaahh!!.. My skin man!.. My eyes!!… Tugz pulling him across the road and into the car – the others already in. He hit the pedal. They were gone.
…FOUR…
Minutes later parked outside Homerton Hospital…
Shanx was desperately sucking on a rock pipe, trying to ease his pain… – No way man, he gasped, I ain’t goin in there… there’ll be feds everywhere… we’ll get done for this…
- But your skin, Tugz urged, It’s peelin off you, look!
Shanx looked into rear-view, tried to focus, the image blurring in and out at him…
- You been sizzled, blud, serious. You gotta get help.
Shanx’s mind was racing… – Take me to Dreadman’s yard… His bitch is a nurse… She’ll fix me up…
Tubz started the engine, – Where dey at?
-Fucking Clapton… off Kenninghall… move!
…FIVE…
Spyda, one of the Pembury Boys, was sitting in his car a few doors up from the house. Calmly he flipped open his mobile. – Found ‘em boss. They’re round Dreadman’s. Just headed in…
Spyda had spotted and trailed them from the hospital where he’d just been to visit Merka. Thanks to Shanx and Tubz their soldier was in intensive care. Earlier they’d jumped out of their car, worked him over good, shanking an artery in the process. Guy would be lucky to pull through.
- Good work breddah, replied T-Bone, who at that moment was stretched out with the lights down low, enjoying expert oral sex from Spyda’s 14-year-old sister… – Stay where you are. We’ll do da job ourselves. Be dere in five… Clicking off, he pushed the bitch’s head deeper onto his wood. Checked his Rolex.
Spyda clicked off with a grin. This was looking to be a fine evening. Shanx and his batty-boy had been runnin round like they owned the yard for too long. No more. The Spydaman was going to enjoy this.
…SIX…
They all sat in the front room, Big Lucy applying emollient to Shanx’s face, the guy painkillered to the max, in his own world now. Loud beats pumped from a party across the street, Dreadman smiling by the mantelpiece, telling Tubz how earlier he’d been over there supplying the place, all white kids an shit, made a packet…
Tubz was only half listening. All the night’s adrenaline had left him on edge. He’d made a few phonecalls and word on road was that the police were hunting left and right taking this one serious. Apparently the shop guy Shanx had cut was critical. They could be looking at murder.
- We get snitched, Tubz cut in, and we might have to sort out some kinda alibi or shit. Like maybe say we were here or su’in?
- No problem man, Dread smiled, pulling on a king-size zoot. You cats have been wid me innit… been nowhere but here all night… Ain’t dat right, Luce?
- All evening, she nodded, working on the bandages.
- Who dese two soulja’s then? Dreadman grinned, pointing to Ryder and Jest who so far hadn’t said a word. Dey your little proteges den?
- I wish, man, I wish… Tubz looking at them and shaking his head. Tsss… Fuckin hot oil being thrown around tonight, and where were dey? Standing round playin with their dicks!
Both dropped their eyes. Dreadman, older and wiser, knew not to get involved. He turned away, reached for his Dragon Stout; Tubz sitting giving them the evil eye…
Suddenly a knock sounded at the door. Everyone panicked – Shanx, face bandaged like a mummy, jumping up out of his stupor, wide eyed and alert.
- Everyone cool it! Lucy said. It’s most likely not police. We would have heard the sirens. Now sit still, I’ll get it.
- Take it easy guys, she’s right, Dreadman said. It’s probably just kids from the party needin more supplies… Everyone settled back down, listening carefully…
Lucy opened the door. – OUTTA DA WAY BITCH! – a pistol smashing hard into her face, knocking her clean out on the floor. They stormed over her, fired a shot into the air and flew into the room. Everyone dived for cover…
Shanx slowly rose his face from the floor… two of Pembury’s finest standing guns trained.
- Rah, what’s with da mummy look, Shanky bwai? T-Bone smiled. Had yourself a little injury or su-in?
He walked up to him, and with his foot pressed his face into the floor. Shanx’s shrieks filled the room… Then T-Bone stepped back, staring down at him, – This is for Merka… He shot him three times in the head.
- Okay, he said, nodding to Spyda. Take care of fatty boy dere.
The Spydaman came forward, aiming his 9 mil. – No, man, please, Tubz begged. I ain’t done nuthin…
- Merka’s in da hospital, beat and shanked to shit thanks to you two… now you’re fuckin gonna die innit… He pumped off several shots, Tubz’s body jigging on the floor…
- Raah… stepping back in awe. That felt fuckin good man…
T-Bone walked up to Dreadman, who like the others was face down playing dead. He shook him with his foot, – Get da fuck up… on your knees, now!
Dreadman slowly rose, hands up, trembling. – Spare me man, please, I ain’t a part of this, you know that… I just do my own ting… tears welling.
- You brought these two in, when I’ve fuckin warned you not to have no dealins wid dem… You betray me, blud…
- But Shanx got his face all fucked up! Dread begged. Lucy was nursin him. It had nuthin to do with me…
T-Bone lowered the gun slightly and stepped back, an idea tickling him… – You got babies an shit with dat Lucy innit?
- They ain’t here, Dread stammered, face taking on a new dimension of fear, They’re round at her mum’s…
- I don’t give a fuck about dem, T-Bone sniggered, mouthing to Spyda: Bring dat fat bitch in here.
- I think she’s out cold boss, Spy reminded him.
- Don’t care. Drag her in. I’m gonna fuck dat ho in front of this piece of shit. Teach dis Judas a lesson…
Spyda chuckled, then tucking his gun into his waist, headed out to the hallway. He dragged her in across the floor, one side of her face blown up from the whipping…
- Right, T-Bone smiled, Spread her over da sofa, man. Strip her down. I’m gonna slam dis ho good… wake her right up innit…
Spyda heaved her up. Suddenly she came alive, grabbed the gun from his waist and started popping off shots towards his chest…
Spyda stood there shocked – but unharmed – as the gun made clicking sounds. Lucy’s face contorted in fear as both men began to laugh…
- Can you believe this ho? Spyda thumbed.
T-Bone shook his head and laughed. Then he shot her straight between the eyes. She toppled backwards onto Dreadman who yelped in shock.
- What a shame, T-Bone smirked, looking down at her bulk. Plenty meat dere too… But I ain’t fucking no dead bitch, that’s for sure – laughing as he turned to Spyda.
Dreadman sprang for him. He knocked the gun out of his hand – the two of them wrestling against the wall. For a few moments it looked like the Dreadman was getting his way. Then a shot rang out…
Spyda stood holding T-Bone’s gun. Dreadman swayed, eyes wide, clutching a burst-open neck. He staggered then toppled to the floor.
T-Bone rolled his shoulders, – Cheers, he said… -No probs, Spyda replied, handing him his gun. T-Bone put it away, then stopped at the sound of approaching sirens… They looked at each other. – Let’s get the fuck out of here.
- Whoa, hang on, Spyda pointing out Ryde and Jesta, Those two are still alive man.
- You sure? T-Bone retrieving his nine; but click-click-click, the chamber was empty, – Fuck em. Job’s done, let’s move.
They ran out to the back garden and over into the alley. Gone. Sirens getting louder. Ryder jumped up, pulled at Jest, – Come on, we gotta go!
Jesta stood up shell-shocked at the carnage all around him… He let out an involuntary wail…
Ryder shook him by the shoulders, -Snap out of it man! The cops are here! We got to get our story straight!.. We were kidnapped yeah. They took us here, we know nothing. Are you listening!
He nodded. Then Ryder peeked through the curtains, a squad car pulling up outside, siren ceasing. – Okay, here goes… and remember what I said.
Ryde watched the two cops get out of the car, adjust their belts, then casually walk across the road towards the party… -What the fuck?… Then it all became clear…
He let go of the curtain. – Now Jesta, listen… when those cops go, we calmly walk the fuck out of here.
- What you talking about? – Jesta frozen to the spot.
- They’ve just come to turn the music down. They’re not here cause of the shots atall. Two minutes and we walk… Ryder looked around him…. – Have you touched anything?
- Don’t think so, why?
- Fingerprints… we could go down for this… We haven’t been here, you got that!
- But they check DNA and shit now, don’t they?
- Fuck DNA. That’s only when you leave shit behind like your hair or blood or summin, I don’t know… Now come on, let’s go!
They stepped over the bodies and headed for the garden. Then Jesta patted himself down , – Shit, I ain’t got my mobile…
- Well get in there and get it then!… fucking hell…
Jesta stopped. – It ain’t in there. It’s in the car… and think about it, so are thousands of our fingerprints…
Ryde tutted, but the guy was right. He went back in, took Tubz’s keys.
They headed out to the street, got into the car. Jesta pocketed his phone, – Shall we start wiping down?
- No point, Ryder said, turning the ignition. We’re burning this thing.
- What, can you drive?
- Kind of… The car pulled out, shakily at first, then smoothly… Finally headed out of sight.
…SEVEN…
Somewhere behind them, the Audi was on fire. Just another burnt-out wreck in a patch of wasteland off Lea Bridge Road. They were heading northwards along the towpath of the Lea. The night was quiet down here, the water still. Occasionally the moon crept out from the clouds. Mostly, though, it hid. They kept walking.
- I used to come down here years ago, Jesta said. With my old man. Do fishin an that. Before he disappeared.
- Where’d he go?
- I don’t know… just, like, left innit.
Ryder didn’t really know what to say. He had never even known his own dad.
Then Jesta started fretting, – All that killing tonight, man… it’s too much, too fuckin much…
- It’s over. It’s all in the past. Don’t even think about it – Ryde trying to believe it himself.
They came out by Springfield Park. Headed up through the empty streets. They stopped by Jesta’s estate.
- See you later then, Ryder said.
Jesta hesitated, – What do we do now?
- You go home, I go home. We tell no-one.
Jesta looked at the floor, tears beginning to well…
-Stop that shit man, Ryder said… Look, bruv, just do what I said and we’ll be fine… He held his fist out. Jesta slowly tapped it. Then he nodded, and walked in towards the flats.
- One thing.
Jesta turned around. – What?
- Let’s never see each other again yeah. Ever.
Jesta nodded. Then he turned and walked away. So did Ryde
January 20th, 2010 at 5:24 pm
Another thrilling, one hundred mile an hour read. Fantastic.
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