Paul Malik the handsome Arab, inherited the laundry business from his father who came to live in England in 1948 and started life in Liverpool, He buys his first shop with six old washing machines when he moves to the Arab and Jewish community in Benwell in Newcastle. He notices how the community struggle to wash clothes by hand and sets about opening a laundrette. Des Baldwin, the racial bigot does not like Paul or any other black man or woman for that matter. He works in a garage on waterville road and does fiddle work on the side. There is a knock on his door one evening and a bony faced man in a suit asks if he will repair a friends car. the 1968 Jaguar belongs to Darren Ingles a notorious gangster from the West End of Newcastle. The car has been used in a robbery and has been damaged. Read how Des' gets involved with the mob. The story is set in 1971 and will take you to Manchester, and Tenerife and the Canary islands. This is a story of drug trafficking, Dealing and murder.


80. 80

Darren Ingles spent the day in his cell reading Blue Water white Death by Peter Gibel

He had been in formed that he would be moving into solitary confinement and away from the general prison population.

He was on his tenth chapter when the call came to get his lunch. He emptied the sachets of sugar, coffee, and dried milk into his mug and stood outside his cell with all the other prisoners waiting for the order to be given to move to the left. The whistle was blown when all the officers were in position down on D Wing and the line of men moved towards the iron stairs.

He walked slowly down the stairs then onto the highly polished floor that the prisoners cleaned three times a day. He was only feet away from the portable feeding station and the table with the urn with boiling hot water to make his coffee when the voice that he had heard yesterday whispered behind him.’

“Have you thought about my offer Ingles.’ spat the man behind him and he wiped the back of his neck before answering?”

“Yes; I have and I’m sorry but I have to decline I’m afraid.’ Darren knew once he was in solitary no one could get to him and the chances of him being sent to jail were very thin as they had nothing on him apart from some drugs which he knew had been planted.’

“You do realise that I cannot protect you now man.’

“I’ll take my chances.’

“It’s your funeral then.’

“Darren grinned then filled up his coffee cup then went to pick up a bowl of soup a piece of steak pie, peas and carrots, mashed potatoes and gravy. For pudding there was jam sponge and custard.

He walked back carefully to his cell and placed his meal at the small table. He pulled up the chair and took the plastic spoon and began to eat his soup.

He never heard the two men enter his cell; by the time he did it was too late. Someone threw something hot into his face and immediately pain registered in his brain he reached for a towel and screamed in agony his left eye was closed and blurred. He came out of his cell and ran to the sluice only to be stopped by the screws. “My face someone threw something in my face, he screamed as the officer let him go into the sluice to swill his face with water. All down one side of his face and neck there was a huge red mark his eye was completely shut and swollen.’ and there was a massive blister forming on his face by the second.

The officer led the prisoner to the hospital wing where they treated his wounds.


Kevin Foreman and Jim Daley made their way to Ingles cell the pan the carried had boiling sugared water in it the thick syrup bubbled away as they walked calmly into Ingles cell. Jim Daley stood in the doorway as Kevin Foreman threw the contents of the boiling liquid into the face of Ingles then calmly left; they walked back to their own cell and sat eating their dinner as the screams echoed around the prison.

The black man a few doors down grinned as Darren Ingles was rushed to the hospital wing.’ The Black man knew that syrup stayed hotter than boiled water and would cling to the skin causing horrific burns. Darren Ingles would be scarred for life.

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