SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 2

Anthony was more than a bit excited as the train pulled in. He had studied the briefing material for hours and hours night after night, mostly after Rachel fell asleep. He'd crept down into the kitchen, careful not to disturb her in case his secret mission was over before it started. He had decided to pick one of the gang members and tail him - using that as a way to get to know where the rest of the gang were and what sort of operations they were involved in.

The gangmember he'd picked out to follow was seemingly a mid-ranking individual called Samuel Nesbitt - Nisbo was what he was known as in the gang. Apparently it was his job to lure young lads at football matches or from pedestrian precincts into the troop. Nisbo's favourite spotting ground was a record shop in a backstreet near the town's only shopping centre. It was near there that Anthony thought he'd start his search - just go there, and see what happens, he thought.

Once Anthony had showered and freshened up at his hotel, he set about getting ready for his first surveillance stint. He kept worrying to himself how conspicuous he was and had to take several reassuring looks in the mirror to satisfy himself that he looked (as the Super had said) ordinary enough not to get noticed. His reflection bore this out - pair of ordinary white cheapo training shoes (Rachel didn't see the sense in paying out loads of money for Adidas or Nike), regular loose fit jeans, white teeshirt under dark blue nondescript off-the-shelf rugby-type shirt and Rachel's birthday present to him last year - a nice fashionable leather blouson jacket. All this combined with his nondescript unfashionable haircut and unassuming innocent face meant that Anthony looked pretty much just like the next guy. Yeah, he looked ordinary, OK, and that's how he wanted to appear. Actually, that's how he always wanted to appear - and did. One last look at the briefing material (he wasn't going to be dumb enough to take it with him) and off he went in search of the record shop.

Luckily enough, although the street was small, it was full of life and Anthony was able to blend in with all the other passers by. After about twenty minutes or so wondering round the block and slowing up near the record shop, he spotted his target. Nisbo was just like he was in the pictures Anthony had in the hotel room - about 5'11", strong featured, and wearing his trademark four heavy earrings in his left ear. Nisbo had obviously dressed down to do his luring - probably didn't want to seem to extreme to his potential victims - 14 hole oxblood Doc Martens, turned up jeans, black braces and a black and white checked Ben Sherman. He was holding his olive green MA-1 over his shoulder. Nisbo wouldn't have noticed Anthony if he was within breath-smelling distance, he was so engrossed in conversation with a young lad of about seventeen. Anthony thought it better to get too close at this early stage but as he observed the conversation from afar, a plan hatched in his head.

"Oh, sorry, mate, really sorry...," stuttered Anthony as he bumped round the corner into the young lad who'd just left Nisbo going in the other direction. Helping the lad off the ground he gasped out, "Really sorry mate, didn't mean to trip you up, I'm trying to get hold of Nisbo, a skinhead from round here, he's a cousin of mine and I need to get hold of him, that's why I'm in such a rush, sorry, mate - he usually hangs out near that record store down there."

"Wait a minute," said the lad, "I was just talkin' to him two minutes ago, he gave me a card with his name on it."

"Can I just take a look at that mate?"

"Sure, there you go." The young lad handed over the card to Anthony, who couldn't believe his luck.

"I haven't seen our Nisbo in a while - his phone number's changed, I'd better note it down."

"So he's your cousin, is he?" asked the lad.

"Yeah, haven't seen him in ages and wasn't able to get hold of him, I need to chat to him."

"Well, lucky you bumped into me then mate. You don't look much like a cousin of his, though."

"Nah, 'spose I don't," said Anthony, giving nothing away. "Do you know our Nisbo then?"

"No, not really, have chatted to him a few times at the record store - we're into the same music. In fact, he's takin' me later this evening to meet a few mates of his. Do you want me to tell him to phone you?" Anthony felt himself go red in the face, "Eh, no, no, it's really OK. I'll sort of surprise him. Where you guys meeting anyway?"

"At the Stag and Horses on Ellisbury Road, 9 o'clock."

"Do me a favour then, and don't tell him I saw you. I'll surprise him, OK?"

"Yeah, OK then, whatever." Anthony thanked the lad, and hurriedly left apologising again for bumping him to the ground. What Anthony didn't see was that the lad hurried back on himself towards the record shop.

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