***
The next morning, Jake lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Tony’s crazy scheme. Tony had never let him down before, but Jake felt he was being a little blind and overconfident with regard to the protection racket. In the scheme of things, they were outnumbered.
He glanced across at Sharon, who was sleeping soundly, her long blonde hair draped over the pillow. Jake reached out and stroked it; he hadn’t meant to wake her, but she opened her eyes.
Jake had always felt that he had been very lucky to have Sharon as his wife. He had always felt he was punching above his weight. She was a beautiful, sexy woman, who had chosen him, for whatever reason.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, love, go back to sleep.’ Jake withdrew his hand.
‘Don’t stop, it’s nice.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Come here, and show me you love me some more.’
Sharon reached out and pulled him towards her; she kissed him gently, and put her arms around him.
***
In the meantime, Tony had hardly slept. He had been awake for most of the night, working out how he was going to make his plan work. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it could be worthwhile in the end. First things first; he had to find out who, if anyone, had taken over the collections from the pubs.
Tony met up with Jake later that day, having purposely waited until Sharon had gone to work before he put in an appearance. He knew he had taken up a lot of Jake’s time recently, and felt guilty about that. Sharon was his wife, and of course she should always come first, but just now, Tony needed him. If everything worked out as he hoped, they could all earn a lot of money.
They went to pub after pub, and then eventually to the Crown. This seemed one of the most popular, and the most profitable. Everyone seemed to meet there.
Again, as had happened in the previous pubs, the landlord recognized them from when they’d been collecting for the bossman.
Mick, the landlord of the Crown, was a friendly, bubbly man. He was taking glasses out of the washer and wiping them with a tea towel, before placing them on the shelves.
Mick liked Jake, but his blood ran cold when he saw Tony. He knew they were always together, like some crime-fighting duo, but Jake seemed to see reason, whereas all Tony saw was red.
‘I know why you’re here, lads,’ he said, ‘but someone has already beaten you to it.’
Tony leaned on the bar, his arms folded. He looked at Jake, and then back at Mick.
‘What do you know we’re here for, Mick? Just making a friendly visit, that’s all.’
‘I’m guessing you want something, though.’
‘Well, you’re right about there being something I want. I want to know who has taken over the protection in this area. Mick, who are you paying?’
Protection in the area was normal practice. The streets were rough and the clientele was even worse. There was always some upset drug dealer turned out for causing trouble, who just happened to have friends in high places.
The pub landlords and owners of the snooker halls felt it was better to pay someone to take all of the trouble out of their hands. They were happy to let someone else handle it. Survival on these streets was the key. They all felt it was easier to pay, than wish you had when your pub had been burnt to the ground over some vendetta.
Having that protection at the end of the telephone line could be worth its weight in gold at times.
‘I’m not going to lie to you, lads, everyone probably knows anyway. It’s the South London mob. They don’t usually come to this side of the river, but I guess they knew we had no one else here, and they would have started a lot of trouble if any of us had refused.’ Mick continued polishing glasses, more for something to do, than anything else.
Tony looked at the usually bubbly landlord; he had always been in good spirits. He’d been happily married for many years, and had a family he adored, but Tony sensed that things had changed – or rather, Mick had changed.
Mick didn’t seem as carefree as normal, and didn’t bore them to death about his family and what they had been up to. No, Tony thought to himself, Mick isn’t paying protection to keep the troublemakers out – the troublemakers are firmly in and have him bent over a barrel.
The only protection he had been offered was from threats to his livelihood and his family, threats made by the very people that were swindling him, to keep them safe, not his business. No wonder Mick had lost his sparkle.
Tony held out his hand to shake Mick’s. ‘If you don’t ask, Mick, you don’t get, am I right?’ Tony smiled at Mick, he felt he had enough to cope with, the poor man was drowning and he had no way out.
Mick looked at Jake and then at Tony; he was a little wary of refusing Tony and holding out his hand to shake it. He wasn’t sure if this was one of Tony’s tricks. He would probably break it, but still, better to be on the right side of the devil. After all, Mick didn’t know if Tony was working with the South London mob.
Mick shook Tony’s hand, and watched him as he gave his most charming smile, his face full of concern. That wasn’t the Tony he knew. Everyone knew Tony was a loose cannon, a man who some would describe as being a bit of a psychopath.
He had seen Tony enjoy his work, and hadn’t liked very much what he had seen. There was something dark behind that smooth exterior and charming smile.
Tony gave Jake the nod to leave and waved goodbye to Mick, then they went back to the car and got in.
‘What the hell was all that about, Tony? Is that all we’ve trailed around London for, to shake hands and have a chat?’ Jake was surprised at Tony’s reaction; he had never known him to walk away from anything and now he was shaking hands and smiling about the South London mob stepping in.
‘Respect breeds respect, Jake, and that’s exactly what we want, if we’re going to do this right. We’re no cheap and cheerful bossman, nor are we an addicted gambler, like Eddie. We’re businessmen who offer a service for a price. You have to look at the long term. The South London mob are going to end up cutting their noses off to spite their faces.’
As he drove along the London streets towards the West End, Tony passed the bossman’s old club. Soon, he thought to himself, soon you are going to be mine. He stopped in Chinatown, the heart of the West End. He left Jake in the car and went into one of the side shops near one of the many restaurants there.
Jake waited patiently in the car. He had no idea what Tony was scheming, but whatever it was, he knew it was going to be a rough ride.
He saw Tony come back. He threw a large plastic carrier bag in the boot of the car, then opened the driver’s door and got in.
‘What’s in the bag?’ said Jake
‘Our trump card, Jake. Believe me, one more journey and all will be revealed.’ Tony was laughing to himself.
‘Bloody hell, Tony, you sound like some madman off the television. Where are we going?’ Jake was shouting, now. His feet hurt, it was evening, and he was no wiser than he had been that morning.
‘Okay, okay, Jake. I didn’t tell you earlier, because I knew you would hate the idea. Now, I’m going to arrange a meeting with the South London mob boss. I thought it might be him that had muscled in on this, and I was right. And look at Mick and the others. Not one of them is happy that this mob boss, whoever he is, has taken over their protection.’
Tony’s temper was rising, his face was flushed and he, too, was tired; it had been a long, stressful day, but he had needed to do the groundwork first. He needed to know if all of the landlords were content with the takeover, and it was more than obvious they weren’t. That was half of his plan sorted.
He wanted to see this mob boss, in all of his glory, and to inform him that he intended taking the East End protection over, and more. They could either speak like two businessmen who each owned their own turf, or they could fight like two dogs over a bone.
Tony knew he had to go through with this; if he didn’t, not only would he look weak, but he, too, would end up having to pay these people
when he had the club. As much as he wanted to clean it up, that would mean it was open to any drug dealer and pimp that the mob boss commanded Tony let in the place. No way was that happening!
They drove over to the south of London. Jake looked around as they passed the Elephant and Castle Tube station.
‘Who are you going to see? Do you know someone who can arrange a meeting with this mob boss?’ said Jake.
‘I might know someone,’ said Tony.
‘Might? For God’s sake, Tony, you’re not in charge yet, we’re nobodies and he’s someone, with a bloody lot of back-up. How are we going to get a meeting with him? We’re dead meat!’
Jake now realised that Tony was going to face this boss head on. There was no way they could just walk into his place of residence, which was above a local pub, and demand to see him.
Jake couldn’t get through to Tony, no matter how he tried. He had never met this mob boss, but he had heard of him and they’d had dealings with his henchmen before. He decided to go along with it; after all, it was in for a penny, in for a pound, wasn’t it?
As Jake and Tony walked into a pub, the first thing Jake noticed was a mouse running along the stone floor. The place was dimly lit, and the walls were brown from the nicotine. Customers and anyone else were still allowed to smoke in this pub – to smoke something, at least.
‘Over there, just as I thought,’ said Tony. He strode over to the far side of the bar. He had hold of Jake’s jacket sleeve and pulled him along with him.
‘Bennie, how great to see you, after all this time.’ Tony shouted a friendly greeting along the bar as he walked over to a middle-aged black man wearing a trilby hat. The sides of his shortly cut afro hair were grey, now, but Tony still recognized him.
Bennie looked up. He stared at Tony and realised he was at a disadvantage. This man obviously knew him, but he was at a loss.
He waved back. ‘Hi,’ he said. The clean-cut blonde man in the suit didn’t look like the police, but he definitely didn’t look like one of the regulars, either.
‘It’s me, Antony, Annette’s son. Don’t you remember me?’ Tony smiled innocently at the man. He had known Bennie for many years, especially in his childhood. He had been his mother’s dealer. There had been times when Tony had dropped off ‘parcels’ for Bennie, when he was younger.
Bennie’s face broke into a broad smile, showing a top row of gold teeth. He held out his arms to Tony.
‘Antony, my man, how are you doing?’ He held Tony by the shoulders and pushed him back to take a better look at him. ‘You’re looking good and fancy.’
‘You’re looking good, yourself, Bennie. I thought you might still drink in here. Can I buy you a drink?’
Tony looked at Jake to order some drinks, and to make sure Bennie got a very large rum, which he figured would help ease the way.
With one large gulp, Bennie swallowed the rum, and Tony gestured to Jake to order him another.
‘Why you here, Antony? Tell me everything you been doing.’ His strong Jamaican accent, especially now he was starting to slur slightly, made it hard for Jake to understand, but Tony seemed to understand him perfectly.
‘I sorry to hear about your mother, Antony, my boy. I did pass on all of your messages, I swear.’ Bennie made the sign of the cross on his chest.
Tony winced inside; he knew Bennie would have passed on some kind of message to his mother, but she had obviously ignored it. It still hurt when he thought about it, which is why he had put it into a little box at the back of his brain and left it there.
‘Everything’s great, Bennie. This is Jake.’ Jake shook hands with Bennie, and also got a hug from the drunken Jamaican. There was yet another large rum on the bar in front of him.
‘I hear you’re friends with the South London mob boss, Bennie. I don’t suppose you could arrange some kind of meeting for me, could you?’ This was make or break time. Tony was aware that Bennie knew this boss well; he had been his pusher for many years, and made the man a lot of money.
‘Shush, Antony.’ Bennie put his finger to his lips and looked around the bar, to see who was listening. ‘You got business in the south? Why you want to meet with him?’
Bennie had always boasted how well he knew this guy, and that they were friends. Tony just hoped there was some truth in it, because that was how he was going to get to meet him.
‘Bit of business,’ Tony said.
Bennie nodded. ‘Give me five minutes.’ He walked away.
Tony swept his hands through his hair, then picked up his orange juice and turned to face Jake.
‘Who the bloody hell is Jaws with the golden smile?’ Jake said. ‘And you owe me forty pounds for bloody rum, by the way!’
‘Well, firstly, Bennie is our passport in, and secondly, you’ll get your money back.’ Tony glanced over to where Bennie was standing. Bennie was beckoning to him, trying to attract his attention without being noticed. ‘Shut up,’ he said, ‘here we go.’
Tony took a hold of Jake’s elbow and the two of them followed Bennie towards a small wooden door marked ‘staff only’.
‘You got five minutes, Antony, boy,’ Bennie said. ‘He’s a very busy man, but as you’re a friend of mine he’s willing to see you.’
They passed through the door then walked up a long musty staircase, with a worn carpet and chipped bannister. Tony looked around at his surroundings carefully; if the stunt he was pulling went wrong, this was the only exit.
The staircase took them into the living quarters of the pub. There were many rooms, but Bennie steered them towards a doorway where a multi-coloured beaded curtain hung.
Bennie put his hand in the curtain and parted it, then nodded to Tony and Jake to enter first.
An obese black man sat at a desk, counting out money and putting it into piles of different denominations.
The black man had a shaved head and multiple gold chains around his neck and wrists, and there wasn’t a finger without a gold sovereign on it. He didn’t look up when they entered, he ignored them and carried on counting his money.
Behind him stood two bodyguards. Tony recognised them as members of the South London mob. Their boss had obviously called them away from whatever they’d been doing to be in on this meeting that Bennie had so hastily arranged. They looked down their noses at Tony and Jake.
Tony ignored them. He walked up to the man at the desk and held out his hand.
‘Thank you for giving me a few moments of your time, it’s much appreciated,’ he said.
From where he was standing, all he could see was the top of the man’s head. The man still ignored them. Tony withdrew his hand.
‘I just came to let you know,’ said Tony, in a calm voice, ‘that I’ll be taking over the protection racket in the East End, leading all the way to the West End. I inherited the territory from the bossman and Eddie. As always, the south of London is yours, for as far as you want to go. I won’t tread on your toes. Thanks for your time; goodbye.’
Bennie’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t expected to witness this. He looked at Jake, then at Tony, and felt himself sober up a little. He knew he was going to take the full blame for this; after all, he had introduced Tony to the boss.
Tony turned his back on the man and indicated to Jake they were leaving. He made his way to the door slowly, knowing full well he would be called back.
‘Wait!’ said the man at the desk. His voice was loud and commanding. ‘Turn around, boy, I want to see your face.’ He had stopped counting his money now. He was eyeing Tony, scrutinising him carefully. He continued looking at Tony, as Tony gave him a charming smile and an enquiring look, as if to ask why he had been stopped from leaving.
The two bodyguards stepped forwards from behind the boss’s chair and started to walk towards Tony. The man at the desk raised his hand to stop them and turned towards Bennie.
‘What the hell are you doing, Bennie, bringing this clown up here to waste my time? You said it was business.’
Bennie was physically
shaking. He knew he was in trouble; he was trying to coax his alcohol-soaked brain to think and come up with an answer to the boss’s questions.
‘I swear, boss, he said it was business. I thought he might need a little something from you.’ Bennie turned and looked at Tony. ‘What the hell you doing, Antony boy, coming in here and tricking me like this, and paying no respect to the boss, here?’ Bennie’s eyes looked pleadingly at Tony.
Tony glanced at Bennie, and then at the boss at the desk; he was now staring straight into his face. ‘I just came to tell you my plans.’ He looked very casual and nonchalant about it all.
‘Get out, boy, while you can still walk,’ said the boss. ‘Take your little friend and get out.’
Although he was doing his best to appear calm, it was obvious to Tony this man was angry. He thought back to Don Carlos’s words: ‘Never show your feelings.’ This South London mob boss was furious, you could see the whites of his eyes, they were open so wide, and his nostrils were flared.
Tony again looked at Jake. They walked back out through the beaded curtain and towards the staircase. When he was halfway down it, Tony shouted, ‘I’ll be at the Crown, tonight, if you want to discuss terms.’ Then he pushed Jake through the doorway, walked quickly through the pub, stepped outside and filled his lungs with air. That had been a tense meeting, and it had taken all his courage to see it through; after all, he had been trapped in an upstairs room, surrounded by danger.
He grinned at Jake; despite all that, he’d got away with it, again.
***
Jake sat in the passenger seat of the car and put his head in his hands. He was sweating slightly, he couldn’t believe the situation Tony had just put him in. He knew they had been lucky to escape.
It was Jake’s turn to be angry. ‘Are you deliberately trying to get us killed? You have just seriously pissed that guy off. You do realise, no one knew we were in there apart from a drunken drug dealer, a mob boss and two armed guys ready to cave our heads in.’ He gulped. ‘We could have vanished without a trace. Sharon would never have known …’
‘Calm down, Jake, for God’s sake,’ said Tony. He was driving away from the pub, heading for more familiar territory. ‘While you were cuddling up to your wife last night, I was thinking. Apart from the odd hiccup, I know what I’m doing, believe me.’
Dangerous Games Page 23
