Dangerous Games

by Gillian Godden

  ‘It stinks,’ said Tony. The air was stale and fetid, and the buzz of flies could be heard from further inside the building. The police had made their own mess, and there were also plenty of partially full pint glasses on the bar. Patches of mould bloomed on the surfaces.

  They looked around the club then turned and looked at each other. ‘It’s going to be one hell of a job to get this place up and running, mate, it’s more of a dump than ever,’ said Jake.

  Tony nodded; they’d have their work cut out, no doubt about it. ‘Come on, let’s see the full horror.’

  He walked to the back room that had been the bossman’s office, the room where he had shot Eddie. It looked exactly the same as the last time he had been there. He looked at the chair Eddie had been sitting in when he killed him and had a flashback to the sight: his shocked expression, the hole in his head. He swallowed; at least there was no blood to clean up. Everything else would be thrown out, with the rest of the trash.

  Tony felt better having faced his fears. He took off his jacket and hung it on the peg on the back of the door. ‘Right, Jake, let’s get to work,’ he said.

  He walked back into the main area of the club, taking in everything that needed doing to the place. There were areas he hadn’t been in before, and he went to explore those, next.

  ‘Is that the living quarters up there?’ said Jake. They were standing at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Tony. ‘Come on, let’s have a look.’

  They climbed up the painted wooden stairs, pushed open a door and found they were in a large apartment. It was filthy, which was no surprise, but it was spacious. There were three bedrooms, a big kitchen, a roomy lounge, and a bathroom, and it was all right in the middle of the West End.

  Jake let out a low whistle. ‘This has to be worth a fortune on the property market,’ he said.

  They opened wardrobes and drawers in the master bedroom and found some of the bossman’s clothes – half-decent suits, ruined by the smell of tobacco.

  ‘He must have stayed here when he couldn’t be arsed to go home,’ said Tony, remembering the bossman’s wife and the fling they’d had – and what it had cost him.

  ‘And when he was entertaining his tart,’ said Jake. A couple of plates sat on a bedside cabinet. They contained half-eaten sandwiches, and were surrounded by flies. Jake gagged. ‘Open the bloody windows before I throw up.’

  Tony threw the bedroom window open, and tried shooing the flies out. He opened the windows in the other bedrooms and the lounge, then they went into the kitchen, where French windows led onto a small balcony. Tony parted a dirty net curtain and opened them, then stepped outside. From where he stood on the small balcony he could see all of the theatres surrounding the area.

  ‘The place is a pig sty, it’s going to cost a fortune to make it liveable,’ said Jake.

  ‘Be worth it, though,’ said Tony. He could visualise the apartment as he would have it. As much as Jake was disgusted with the place – and he was right to be, at the moment – it would look stunning after a full refurbishment. How wasted it had been.

  ‘You’re making plans, aren’t you?’ said Jake. He knew the signs.

  ‘We’re going to make a fortune, Jake. Admittedly, not as quickly as I would like, but I’m going to sell my apartment and eventually move in here.’ Tony stepped back inside. ‘I’m going to need a bridging loan.’

  Jake coughed. He still had his hand over his mouth and nose to try to avoid the worst of the stench. He had an idea; he knew Tony wouldn’t be over the moon with it, but he reckoned it was worth suggesting.

  ‘It could take a while to sell your place, then to get the apartment ready. You can live with me and Sharon while you’re waiting, but instead of paying bank loan interest rates …’ he paused, then plunged on, ’why not ask Miriam to lend you the money until your place is sold? Then you can pay her straight back.’

  Tony shook his head, there was no way he was going to do that, he was going to do this on his own.

  ‘No, listen, Tony, I’m not saying ask her to just give you the money, what I’m saying is, ask Miriam for the bridging loan. The interest rates at the bank will be ridiculous and you might need the money for a while. Instead of forking over cash to the bank, you could be investing it in the club. Miriam will only want her capital back. So, you’re not going cap in hand, asking for charity, you’re going to do it on your own, just without interest.’

  Tony thought what Jake said made sense, but he still didn’t like the idea of it. He rummaged in a cupboard and found some bin bags. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get some of this stuff bagged up.’

  ‘If you don’t want to ask Miriam, you could use our house as collateral for a loan,’ Jake said, as he dropped stale food and maggoty plates into a bin bag.

  ‘Not a chance!’ said Tony. ‘That’s an even worse suggestion than asking Miriam. I bought that house for you, I’m not going to take it back.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be, you’d be leveraging an asset.’

  ‘Not my asset to leverage, mate.’

  ‘Okay, well what about Ralph Gold?’ The surfaces in the kitchen had been cleared, so they moved into the main bedroom.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it’s his club, why isn’t he paying for the refurb?’

  ‘It’s my club.’

  ‘Not yet. For now, you’re the manager.’ Jake started piling the bossman’s clothes into a bin bag.

  ‘They’re putting us to the test,’ said Tony, ‘and we, and I emphasize the word, “we”, are going to sort it all out. Any money he puts into the place will only add to the price, when I buy it.’

  ‘Well, then, ask Miriam.’ Jake looked at Tony. ‘It makes good business sense, and you know it.’ He opened another drawer and started to clear it out. ‘You and your damn pride.’

  Tony made his mind up and nodded at Jake. ‘Okay, I’ll ask Miriam.’

  By the time they’d cleared the detritus, both upstairs and down, and taken all the rubbish bags outside, they’d done as much as they could for the time being. They left the upstairs windows open, just a little, and then left. The place needed airing before they could do anything else to it, and they both decided they knew just the woman who would enjoy the task of turning this hovel into a home: Elle.

  ***

  When Tony eventually got home to his own apartment, the first thing he needed to do was clean up. He felt filthy after spending time in the club. As he showered, he was mentally trying to calculate how much he might get for his apartment. He’d decided to make the telephone call to Miriam straight away, and needed to work out what he would ask her for. He hated doing it, but it was worth a try. She could only say no.

  When Tony went to the phone, he saw his answerphone was flashing, indicating that he had been left a message. He pressed the button on the machine, and heard the voice of Mick, the landlord from the Crown. With his towel still wrapped around his waist, he put his hands on his hips and smiled smugly to himself, while listening to the message. This was what he had been waiting for.

  ‘Tony, lad, erm, sorry, Mr Lambrianu, would it be convenient for you to come to the Crown, around midday tomorrow? I and some of the other publicans and businessmen in the area would like a word with you, please.’

  ‘Mr Lambrianu’: Tony liked that. Things must have gone better than expected, suddenly Mick was calling him ‘Mr’ and had corrected himself after calling him ‘Tony’ and ‘lad’, which he had been happy to do just a few days before.

  Now, it was time to make the telephone call to Miriam. Jake was right, the interest they would pay on the loan would be wasted money.

  Miriam was pleased to hear from him, and asked all about him. Tony was happy about this, because it laid the way for what he wanted to ask her. He told her about the club and what his plans were, but avoided asking for money directly. Instead, he said he would have to ask the bank for a bridging loan until his apartment was sold. He winced inside as
he said it. He swept his hand through his hair, waiting for a response. He was just about to ask outright, when Miriam scolded him and told him not to be such a fool, when she could easily lend him the money.

  He realised she knew why he was ringing her and he felt embarrassed; he hardly knew the woman, and here he was asking her for money. He put on a surprised voice, and assured her that wasn’t why he had called her. The lie sounded hollow and he knew it.

  ‘Antonias, my boy. You have many friends and people who love you, but I am your family. You should always come to me. If I can be of any help to you, I will be. I will get some money transferred to you immediately.’

  Tony felt a lump in his throat, and a tear came to his eye. Yes, she was his family, and this wasn’t the first time she had helped him out. For the first time he felt compelled to say it.

  ‘Thank you, Grandmother.’ It was the first time he hadn’t called her ‘Miriam’, but accepted her for who she was. His family, the only real family he had. He put the telephone down and brushed the tears from his eyes. He was grateful no one had been there to see them.

  He composed himself, got dressed, and then rang Jake and told him all about the meeting at the pub tomorrow. He had saved the message on his answerphone for Jake to hear when he came around. Then he told him, that ‘Grandma’ was going to send him some money to sort the club out.

  Jake immediately picked up on the word ‘Grandma’, but didn’t say anything. He was glad that Tony was accepting her at last. Whatever had gone on before with Tony’s mother hadn’t stopped Miriam searching for her grandson. It warmed him to think maybe, somewhere inside, Tony was finding peace.

  The next thing they had to do was speak to Elle. Tony and Jake both went to visit her and, as always, it was like the prodigal sons returning home. Elle fed them and fed them until they were fit to burst, while listening to all their plans.

  ‘The thing is, Elle, we’re not so good at organizing cleaning and stuff. We wondered if maybe you and some friends or someone could help,’ said Jake. He was giving her his boyish grin, and had his arm around her waist.

  ‘I knew you two wanted something.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Of course I’ll help you, although from what you say, it’s going to need an army. Minnie used to do some cleaning for an agency, so maybe she could get some others to help, as well.’

  Elle stood in between her ‘boys’. They each had an arm around her waist and kissed her on each cheek. ‘Thanks, Elle,’ they said, in unison.

  ***

  The next day, Tony took his time getting ready for the midday meeting at the Crown; he wanted to look the part. If you were going to be the boss, then you had to look like one – unlike the bossman, with his cheap suits covered with cigarette ash.

  He checked his tie and then his watch for the hundredth time. He didn’t want to appear too eager; he needed to be cool and calm, with an air of authority. He felt like a stiff drink, but apart from the fact that he would be driving, he remembered Don Carlos’s words about not drinking when discussing business.

  After he had picked up Jake, he began to feel better. He parked up and they both sat in the car, around the corner from the pub, and waited until a quarter past twelve. Again, Tony didn’t want to appear to be too eager. When it was time, they both straightened their ties, cleared their throats and gave each other a high five.

  When they got closer to the pub, they were surprised to see that a couple of the windows were boarded up. Tony pushed the door, but it was locked. They shared a look; had they walked into an ambush? Who was behind that closed door waiting for them?

  ‘Let’s go, Tony, I don’t like it,’ said Jake. ‘This whole set up doesn’t feel right.’

  Tony had to agree; something was definitely wrong for the pub to be shut at that time of day. They were about to walk away when they heard the bolts on the other side of the door being moved across and then Mick opened the door.

  ’I’ve been looking out for you both,’ said Mick, ‘I forgot to mention the pub was closed.’ He opened the door wide and waited for them both to walk in.

  The devastation that greeted them was shocking. The pub was a bombsite. There were bullet holes in the walls and patches of plaster had come off. Another part of the pub looked like there had been a fire: the ceiling was blackened and the walls were smoke-damaged. The boarded-up windows cast a dim light over the place, making it eerie to stand in.

  They could see Mick and his family had been cleaning up. Despite the devastation, the floor was swept and the wooden chairs were, as per usual, stacked on the tables. Mick walked through the pub and to the stairs to the family home.

  ‘Sorry about all the mess. I’ve got to leave it as it is until the coppers are finished and the insurance investigators have been and had a look,’ he said. ‘Obviously, I can’t open up when it’s in this state.’

  Tony and Jake glanced at each other, but said nothing. They followed Mick upstairs to a bright and airy flat. It was a typical family home, with children’s shoes scattered on the landing and coats on the bannister. Mick walked them through to the large kitchen. Seated around a table, mugs of tea and coffee in hand, was a group of people, mainly publicans they knew from around the area. Mick’s wife, Shirley, was also there.

  When they saw Mick enter the room with Tony and Jake, the conversation stopped and the men stood up. Again, Jake and Tony cast a furtive glance at each other; this situation was getting stranger and stranger. They were given chairs and invited to sit down at the table. Everyone sat, but no one spoke. The atmosphere was tense and strained.

  Tony decided to take the lead. ‘So, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘what can we do for you?’

  It seemed Mick had been nominated as spokesman. ‘I don’t know where to start, really,’ he said. He took his wife’s hand. She was not only the tea-maker, she was sitting in on the meeting in her own right, as the landlady of the Crown.

  ‘As you both can see, by the state of the pub, I’ve had a bit of trouble.’ Mick put his hands to his face and they heard him stifle a sob. ‘My bloody kids were up here in bed, while that madman was waving a gun around downstairs, shooting the walls and the ceiling,’ he said, his voice anguished. He rubbed his face and tried to compose himself.

  Jake could see he was distressed and tried to comfort him the best way he could. ‘Okay, Mick, take a breath and tell us what happened.’ Nothing was said for a long moment, so he looked at the rest of them gathered around the table. ‘Are any of you going to help Mick out?’

  One by one, all the publicans spoke up, then talked over each other. Once they were in their stride, the story started to unravel and Jake and Tony learned about the gruesome goings on in the pub.

  As Jake and Tony already knew, a few of the South London mob had gone into the busy pub. They had ordered many double whiskies, and Mick had given them, not knowing what else to do, although he could see they had already had more than their fair share. They were loud and they were threatening some of the regular customers. It was pretty obvious they had gone there for a fight. They had each, in turn, pushed customers out of the way and tipped up tables, as they searched the pub, including the toilets.

  Then, to the horror of Mick and his wife, two of the men had run upstairs, shouting and screaming, and had pushed open the doors of the kids’ bedrooms. One had grabbed Mick’s wife, Shirley. ‘Where’s that blonde bastard?’ he had screamed at her, his face so close and his anger so intense that when he shouted, he was spitting in her face. Crying and struggling to free herself of the hand that gripped her throat, she had sworn she didn’t know who he was talking about. The man had pushed her aside and immediately she had run to her children’s aid, gathering them to her while the men searched their flat.

  Downstairs, Lee, the man intent on killing Tony, had laid out a line of cocaine on the bar and, ignorant of customers watching him, started snorting it up his nostrils. Suddenly, there had been a loud bang and a lot of smoke, followed by more loud bangs and flashes of light. Some young hooliga
ns from the neighbourhood, known troublemakers, had set off a load of fireworks. Some, including a large rocket, were thrown into the pub. The noise had been deafening, causing panic amongst the customers. The smoke from the fireworks seemed to form a large curtain of smoke, almost a fog.

  Lee still sat at the bar, sniffing cocaine. He heard the bangs and saw the smoke and instantly took his gun from his jacket pocket and randomly started shooting. In his drunken, drugged up state he had thought the bangs were gunshots.

  Jake looked at Tony; he was listening, but found the story hard to stomach, knowing they had both caused this mayhem.

  There had been a few casualties. People had fallen and got trodden on while people were rushing towards the doors. A couple of them been shot; they had escaped death, but had flesh wounds. The fireworks that had gone off and seemed to be going on forever continued to cause an even thicker smokescreen; people were coughing and choking, trying to escape.

  One of the men that had been upstairs ran down to see what was going on. He pointed his own gun towards the noise of the gunshots in the pub and fired several shots. The shooting stopped and he went over to see who he’d hit. He was shocked to see that he had killed his own brother. Lee was lying lifeless on the floor with a single bullet through his chest, and the floor was covered in blood.

  Someone had obviously heard the gunshots and seen the mayhem, and called the police. They arrived in their droves. Having heard there had been gunshots, they had called in the armed police as backup.

  When they finally stopped talking, Mick let out a huge sigh. ‘Basically, that’s it; well, the short version, anyway. You can imagine the rest … police interviews and so on. The gang were all arrested, but being totally off their heads on drugs they were fighting with the coppers, right up until they were handcuffed and thrown into the back of a van. Lee’s brother put his gun in his mouth and shot himself.’

  As Tony and Jake listened, the blood drained from their faces. They could see everyone else in the room was badly shaken up. It had been worse than even Tony had imagined it might be. It had been some kind of massacre. Thank God, he thought to himself, I wasn’t here, I would have been dead by now if I had been. Trying hard to remain composed, Tony looked around the room at the people there.