by J. D. Weston
"It's weird, the boys I met last night haven't said a word about anyone called Tony, Les, or Jay, and the only talk of Albanians were the two that walked into the pub. I would have thought that a car bombing in the firm would have got around like wildfire. Maybe Bobby is keeping the news on the down low. But it does sound like the remnants of Thomson's old mob. Maybe Bobby Bones moved in when I took Thomson down a couple of years ago. Where's their manor?"
"All over. Stratford, East Ham, Bow. There's a few bars and pubs, most of the bookies. Anything cash with heavy foot traffic and they're involved by the looks of things."
"Bobby had a keen eye for an opportunity," said Harvey. "Most of those blokes were loyal to the letter. Thomson had been running Stratford for years, but not East Ham, that used to be John's."
"Your old man?"
"My foster father."
"So Bobby cleaned up," said Melody. "He did well."
"Yeah, but has he got the clout to keep these Albanians out? I doubt it. Most of these younger lot coming up are sloppy and into drugs. The Albanians are professionals, born into the life."
"We need to meet," said Melody. "We'll need a plan to put a stop to all this. We'll have to do something soon, the media are all over it. There's a crew here now. They love it; it's like Christmas for them."
"Stay away from the cameras, Melody. The last thing I need is for you to be recognised."
"What are you saying? What does that matter?"
"Well, I might need an angry girlfriend to get me out of the pub."
"Oh, right. What have you told them?"
"My girlfriend is a psycho. That's my excuse for staying in the pub."
"Right. So I may need to storm in and walk you out by the ear?"
Harvey laughed. "No, Gerry wouldn't stand for that. But I might need a bird, if you know what I mean."
"Class, Harvey," said Melody. "Who's Gerry?"
"He makes a special appearance every now and then, gets drunk with the guys, smashes them at arm wrestling and shows them how to deal with a pair of Albanian troublemakers."
"I'm not sure I could date a guy called Gerry," said Melody.
Harvey heard the smirk on Melody's face. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure I could date a psycho bird who drives me to drink."
"Touché."
"How's Frank?"
"Mad that you're not debriefing him."
"Good."
"What do you mean good?" said Melody. "Please call him after this call. He just moans at me when you don't give him a debrief."
Harvey laughed again. "Yeah that Gerry is a right bastard."
"Keep me posted," said Melody.
Harvey disconnected the call.
5
The Beast Within
It was early evening when Harvey stepped back into the Pied Piper. The pub was busier. The same old man stood at the end of the bar, the same kids sat in the booth, but there were a few additions. The TV was off, and the jukebox was on, loudly playing the type of music that Harvey heard, but wouldn't remember two minutes later. Two women and two men stood at the bar laughing and joking. It clearly wasn't their first or last glass of wine that night.
At the end of the bar stood Doug, Trev, Sid, and the three other men who had joined them for the lock-in the previous night.
"He's back for more. What d'ya say there, Gerry, can I get you a pint, mate?" said Trev.
"Yeah sure. Thanks, Trev," replied Harvey.
"We were just talking about those two Albanians. Sid reckons they'll be back with their mates. What do you think, Gerry?"
"Wasn't it Albanians that burnt down the pub up the road?" asked Harvey.
"Yeah, we think so," said Doug. "How do you know about that?"
"Just some bloke at work, lives nearby and doesn't shut up, likes the sound of his own voice, know what I mean?"
"Yeah, well, best to keep that kind of info under your hat, Gerry. That was the boss' favourite pub, and he's not happy about it. They've burned down two of his pubs and three of his bookies in the past two weeks."
Harvey acted surprised. "What the hell? Why? I mean, if can ask, I don't want to overstep."
"It's okay, Gerry. Keep it to yourself though, will you? It's going to kick off. The boss don't take this kind of stuff laying down."
"Yeah, no worries. We should get a bunch of blokes together and torch the bastards one by one."
Doug chuckled. "Well, that's not too far from the plan. Anyway, cheers." Doug raised his glass and Harvey chinked his own against the side of it.
Trev came back into the pub holding his phone. He walked directly to Doug. "Boss just called. He's on his way and said we need to clear this place. He's arranged something."
"Clear the pub?" said Doug. "What for? Any idea?"
"No, mate. Get Lee to turn the jukebox off, and I'll get everyone out."
Doug leaned across the bar. "Lee?"
Lee looked along the bar. "What's up? I'm serving."
"Well stop serving and kill the music," said Doug.
The music was cut shortly after, and Trev shouted over the moans and complaints. "Listen, I've been asked to clear the pub. So drink up, you all need to be gone in five minutes."
More complaints, tuts and dirty looks were aimed at Trev as he rejoined the group of men.
"You always have that effect on people, Trev?" asked Harvey, falling further into the character of Gerry.
Trev chuckled. "Yeah, although at least this time I didn't get a pint glass lobbed at me." He turned back to the crowd. "Four minutes, people."
Harvey began to finish his pint. "Have I got time for a quick shot? I'll neck it and be gone."
"Mate, relax, you can stay. You're with us. Get a pint, get me one too while you're at it," said Doug.
Harvey raised two fingers at Lee the barman in a peace sign. People began to filter out, and soon only the men were left in the quiet bar.
"They really listened to you this time, Trev. Amazing," said Sid.
Doug leaned towards Harvey. "Last time he did it a couple of geezers refused to budge, so Trev had to get all Jackie Chang on them."
"I didn't get Jackie Chang on no-one, Doug. It was more Chuck Norris." Trev performed a poor impression of Chuck Norris preparing to fight.
"Oy," said Sid. He raised his finger at Trev and looked him square in the eye. "One does not impersonate Chuck Norris. The man is a legend."
Trev laughed. "Yeah, apparently, when Chuck Norris goes to Rome, they do what he does."
"Apparently Chuck Norris can lick both his elbows at the same time," said one of the men.
"I heard Chuck Norris doesn't cheat death, he wins fair and square," said Doug.
The group were in high spirits considering the boss was coming, who Harvey presumed to be Bobby 'Bones' Carnell. True to Harvey's thoughts, the laughter stopped when the lights of three cars pulled into the pub car park and shone through the opaque glass in the door.
Doug leaned into Harvey again. "Do yourself a favour and just keep quiet. He's a nice guy, but he won't like hearing from you before an introduction."
"Yeah, no worries. I can leave if you want," said Harvey.
"No mate, stay, drink." Doug smiled and winked.
The doors of the pub opened and two men stepped inside, nodded to the group of men and held the door for Bobby Carnell to enter the room. He looked the typical East End gangster with a long Kashmir coat, thick horn-rim glasses and immaculate shoes. He walked to the bar where a scotch and soda waited for him. The two men that accompanied him stood beside him talking. Harvey noticed the word bones spelt out on the back of his hand in faded tattoo ink.
More cars pulled into the car park, and more men entered the pub, who Doug seemed to know. He nodded at them. Then the man beside Bobby Bones caught Doug's attention and gestured to the doors. Doug tapped Trev with his foot. "Go and bolt the doors will you, Trev."
Trev nodded and disappeared into the throng.
"Quiet," somebody called. The room fell silent, and all eyes f
ell on Bobby 'Bones' Carnell.
"Thanks everyone for coming," began Bobby. "I know you're all busy. I know Christmas is coming, and most of you have families to look after, so I'll be straight to the point." He sipped at his scotch. "In case some of you don't know my story, when I was a little boy, three bigger boys tried to bully me." He left a pause for the image to take hold in the minds of his men. "I waited patiently." Bobby's voice was gravelly, rough and very cockney. "Until one day, a few weeks later, I found one of them boys on his own. I gave the kid a hiding, and then some, and then I cut his finger off and stamped on his head one last time for good measure. Over the following months, I caught up with all three of them kids. They all got the same treatment, no favours, no matter how hard the last one pleaded. They all got the same hiding. And they all lost a finger. I've still got them in a jar as a reminder never to let anyone fuck me over." He took another sip of his drink and put the glass down. There was a fresh one waiting for him.
"Right now, gentlemen, I see the need to remind a few people not to fuck me over again, and I'll be honest, I need your help to do it." He stared around at all the men. His eyes settled on Harvey's for longer than necessary. Harvey stared back. Bobby moved on.
"There is outside two vans and all the tools we need. We're leaving in two minutes. Drink up. We'll be back for supper."
"Tenant, where's Stone?" asked Frank as he walked down the headquarter's mezzanine stairs from his office. He stopped at Reg's command centre, which comprised of twelve twenty-four inch screens mounted on the wall in three rows of four, and a super-computer Reg had named LUCY. It monitored the whereabouts of any GPS enabled device, which was typically phones that belonged to suspects, victims and the team, and tracking chips, one of which was inserted under Harvey's skin. There were more in his phone, in his watch, in his jacket, and on his motorbike.
"He left the Pied Piper five minutes ago, sir. I'm watching him now." Reg pointed up at the left-hand screen in the centre row. He's not using his bike though, so I can only assume he's with a target."
"Mills," called Frank across the headquarter's open space.
"Sir?"
"Has Stone contacted you in the past hour?"
"Negative, sir. I sent him a message but no response as yet."
"You told him to call in as I asked?"
"Yes, sir. He said he would."
"Get yourself ready," said Frank. "Jackson?"
"Sir?" Jackson was laying under the team's VW Transporter van, which served as a mobile operations unit. "Get cleaned up, you're heading out. Tenant, you too."
"Remember," called Frank over the noise of Jackson's tools being wiped and put away and Melody's cabinets being slammed shut, "we're observing only. We're not taking anyone down. But we are keeping an eye on our own. If Stone doesn't want to report in, we'll have to find our own information."
Melody dropped three large peli-cases into the back of the van. One contained Steiner binoculars and a sighting scope. One contained night-vision goggles, and the other contained her prized Diemaco rifle. The Diemaco was Melody's favourite of the rifles they kept in the armoury and was her go-to weapon for long distance.
Reg fired up the two computers in the back of the van and took his place at his bench, which ran the full length of the van's cargo area. Two screens sat atop the bench, and the rear windows were fully blacked out.
"We set?" asked Melody.
"Good to go," confirmed Reg.
Jackson fired up the engine and closed the driver's door. The computers in the back of the van gave Reg access over SSL VPN to LUCY, which meant he could control the headquarter's doors, as well as the telephones, heating, and lighting. He hit the shortcut for the doors, and the motor above the concertina shutter jumped into life. The doors dragged across and Jackson reversed out.
"Where we heading, Reg?" asked Jackson.
"They're at Old Street now. You know the way?"
"Yeah, lived here all my life, Reg. Just keep me posted if their position changes."
"Where exactly are you from, Jackson?" asked Melody.
"Me? I moved around a bit. Grew up in Essex, moved to East London, then out to Kent when my old man died. Landed a job at the local track and started driving."
"So how did you wind up on the force?"
"My old man was a copper. Mum always pushed me towards it, but I wanted to drive. So I guess it's a bit of both. Decent pension and I would say the hours are great but anything deeper than the Met, and the hours are messed up. I did a bit for SO10, crazy hours. That's where I met Frank, and Denver too actually. He was a nice guy."
"You knew Denver?" asked Reg.
"Yeah, worked with him a few times on a few busts. Top bloke."
"Yeah, he was," said Melody.
"One thing I can't seem to work out though," said Jackson, "who do we work for? It's not SO10 as far as I can tell, and it's obviously not SO19."
"We're unofficial. We're supposed to get status soon, but for the time being, all credit goes to SO10. We're an unofficial arm."
"Expendable?"
"Yeah, in short. As long as we keep performing, we'll be made official. But it's slow going."
"Stone has joined the A1 towards Highbury," said Reg from behind.
"Highbury? Jesus. What's he mixed up in?"
"What's our ETA?"
"I'd say we're twenty-five minutes out," said Jackson. "What's he like?"
"Who? Harvey?"
"Yeah, bit wild from what I gather."
"Wild?" said Reg. "He's the nicest lunatic I know."
"Lunatic?"
"No, he's not," said Melody. "He's a nice guy. He just had a different upbringing, and has a particular skill set that compliments the rest of us."
"So, he's the one with dirty hands then?"
"You could put it like that."
"Is it me, or has he just got this stare going on? Like you ask him a question, he doesn't reply, but he doesn't need to. It's crazy."
"Powerful, isn't it?" said Melody.
"What about Frank?"
"Best boss I've had," said Melody.
"Yeah, he's okay, he's fair. He's good at letting us do what we need to do. I like that," said Reg. "Okay, friendly chat is over. Harvey has stopped in a side street in Highbury. He’s moving towards what looks to be a pub. Is this whole case going to revolve around pubs?"
"Whereabouts?" asked Jackson.
"Off Highbury Road, the Jumping Jack."
Jackson put his foot down and overtook the car in front. "ETA, ten minutes."
Melody checked her Sig and unboxed the binos. "Reg, find us somewhere to hole up. I've got an idea he isn't visiting old friends, and I need to get the suspects on camera." She held on as Jackson slid the van around a long corner.
"I've got it, there's a supermarket opposite. We can park up in the car park and get a decent view," said Reg. "What do you think is going to happen, Melody?"
"Well, he's with some pretty bad men, who just had their pub burned down, so I'd say it's not a housewarming party."
Fifteen men sat quietly in the two vans outside the Jumping Jack, each of them armed with a mixture of bats, short poles, machetes and knives. Harvey was in the first van. Nobody spoke. Each man was psyching himself up for what was about to happen. The man in the passenger seat, who had been stood next to Bobby Bones in the pub, turned in his seat and spoke quietly but firmly. "Trev, Doug, go in and make sure they're there. Order a pint and send me a text."
The remaining men waited a long two minutes before the text came through. He read the message aloud. "There's about thirty of them, but we'll catch them off guard. Turn right through the doors." The man looked around at the men sat in the back of the van. Most were staring at the floor or the ceiling, breathing hard, tensing up. Harvey stared back at the man, "In and out boys, the van is leaving in two minutes." He paused grinning. "Ready? Go, go, go."
The rear doors of the van opened, and the men filed out. Harvey stood fourth in line. The only two blokes he knew
were already in there. Harvey had taken a bat from the pile of tools on the floor of the van. He carried his Sig and always had his knife on him. But he didn't want to stand out, so he chose the bat.
The first two men walked through the doors and held them open, leaving Harvey in number two position. He stepped through onto the typical worn, red pub carpet. His eyes hit the mirror above the bar, and he saw a group of big men behind the door to his right.
Harvey stepped around the door and swung at the first man. The table erupted as the Albanians stood up, and more of Bobby's firm appeared from behind Harvey in a chaos of swinging bats and blades. Harvey turned his attention to the far corner where more Albanians had risen and were making their way through the crowd, edging away from the fracas. A woman screamed and ran for the far doors, but a surge of large Albanian men forced her backwards.
Leaving the first fight, Harvey met the oncoming group head on. He took the first down with a downward swing of the bat, then jabbed the second one with the butt of the handle. He heard a bottle being smashed and caught the movement in the corner of his eye; he ducked back, and the broken glass shot past his face. Harvey dropped down and shattered the man's knees. Another man kicked the bat from his hands, so Harvey instinctively drew his knife, stood up close to the man and drove the blade into his neck. A headbutt finished him off, and the man fell to the floor.
Harvey span and saw the doors opening; Bobby's men were leaving. The two minutes were up. But two more Albanians stood in Harvey's way. They were the last two remaining. Doug held the door open. "Gerry, go, now."
Harvey stepped forward, blocked a wild punch and drove his knife into the first guy's throat. He pulled it out with a sucking sound as the second man swung for Harvey's face. Harvey dodged back quickly then lunged forwards, sinking the blade into the man's chest. He walked past the dying man and ripped the knife out, letting the Albanian drop to the floor behind him.
Another wounded Albanian rolled around on the carpet beside the front door. His arm was broken, and his nose had burst across his face. Harvey picked up the man's foot and dragged him outside.
"Cheers, Doug," said Harvey as he stepped outside, letting the man's head bounce on the hard pavement. He dragged him to the van, ignoring his moans and outbursts in a language Harvey didn't understand.
