“It not your fault,” Juve commented bitterly before Frank could open his mouth.
“I’m still sorry for bungling your rep…”
“Don’t worry…Rapi in bad mood today. Lost a gang war yesterday…lost nearly three soldiers…So you got a plan?” Juve looked expectantly at Frank.
“What? No-‘course I don’t!”
Juve swore loudly in Irish. “If five minutes is our time that means we have half it to get the meat…meaning…ah, bloody A. Can you count?” Juve asked bluntly.
“Yeh, that’d be about…ah bollix, that means we had two minutes and thirty seconds.”
Juve cursed again. “Righto, we not gettin’ paid today, nor are we likely to stay in gang unless…unless…” Juve closed his eyes, contemplating. “Unless we get something to change the odds. We got to get our own money, but still give a whopping ‘mount to ‘em. Keep those fat bollixes happy fer today.”
“Thought you liked the gang.”
“I don’t like The Street today.” Juve replied bitterly, looking at the sky.
“So what’ve you in mind, Juve?”