by Drew Black
"Yes, thanks Maggie." he replied heartily. "Thanks John, Keep the change." Jenkins said in the same cheery tone.
"Thanks very much Mr Jenkins." John replied, hardly able to believe that Dave Jenkins, a guy who he believed would willingly tear out his tongue, and use it as a book-mark, if he thought he could get away with it, had given him a tip, and a good one at that.
"Sorry Quilter, I got side-tracked." Jenkins said placing Quilter's pint in front of him before taking the top off his own.
Quilter shook his head again, " I want his passport Dave."
"You what?" Jenkins said frowning.
"I think he might be getting ready to do a runner."
"What, and leave all this behind, are you fucking mental?"
Quilter turned sharply on Jenkins.
"I'm only joking Quilter." Jenkins said holding his hands up.
"He could really drop us in it, if he had a mind to Dave."
"Yeah, but why would he do that?"
Quilter motioned towards Jenkins's mouth, "it's like going for a pint with a fuckin' pig." he said with a look of disgust etched on his face.
"Sorry." Jenkins said wiping the froth from his upper lip.
"Why do you think dummy? in case it's slipped your mind, we saw off half of his family - derr!"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know that." Jenkins protested.
"I know he doesn't know it, not for sure anyway, but what if he's guessed?" Quilter massaged his temples. "Oh, fuck me Dave. I don't know, maybe you're right; maybe I am going mental. Just humour me will you, and get that tart to get me his passport?”
"Sure." Jenkins replied. "Just wait until we're elected Quilter, we'll be able to run this town exactly how we like."
Quilter removed his hands from his head, "It'll be long overdue Dave. Well in three months, we'll know one way or the other, that's for sure."
"Think positive." Jenkins said clenching his fist.
9
Jack decided there'd be no talk of business that evening, Philippa needed a break from it all. If he could get her through these next few weeks, they would never have to worry about anything ever again. Jack sighed deeply. He realised that if he could just knuckle down for the next few weeks, they'd be in clover. The only thing they'd have to worry about then was getting a suntan.
"Jack is that you?" Philippa called out.
"Yeah, I'm home, how are you feeling?" Jack said walking through to the kitchen. Philippa was stood with her arms folded, she looked decidedly cold. Jack put his briefcase down and went over to her. He embraced her and she responded. He kissed her hair and then her lips. Then he pulled her to him tightly, she felt just as cold as she looked, "You're freezing." he said.
"I'm okay." she replied, "How have things gone today?
“No work tonight." Jack said, we both need a break from it. Let's start planning where we’re going to go after all this is over with."
10
By the weekend Jack had worked out the rest of his plan, and as he lay in bed on a Saturday morning he became immersed in his thoughts. Could he pull this off or was it better just to simply forget the whole thing. After all, Quilter was right on his tail, asking Philippa for his passport, and instructing her to alert him at the slightest indication that he may be thinking of leaving the country.
Philippa had covered for him well by saying he seemed to be obsessed with winning the election and teaching him and Jenkins a lesson. However, Jack could tell that Quilter's intuition had shaken Philippa, and wondered how long it would be before Quilter started to suspect her, that's if he didn't already. However, the alternative to his plan was far too risky because Jack had a strong feeling that, irrespective of the result of the election, Quilter intended to finish him off once and for all. Jack hadn't realised until lately just how much his support within the rank and file of the syndicate's members had dwindled since Tom's death, and now even Gerald was keeping him at arm’s length. He knew it was impossible to take Quilter and Jenkins out and stay. No, he had to kill them and then get out of here as quickly as possible. He'd decided the best way of nailing both of them was by first splitting them up, or at the very least finding a way to reduce Jenkins's loyalty towards Quilter. He'd also decided to prioritise getting rid of Jenkins first. He thought it was unwise, for a variety of reasons, to go for Quilter straight away. Besides, if Quilter did eventually get the better of him, at least he'd die with the satisfaction that he'd taken that gobshite Jenkins with him. Philippa stirred, Jack turned to look at her and smiled. God, he wished he looked as good as she did first thing in the morning. He prayed that she could hold out because it was virtually impossible for his plan to succeed without her.
11
"Oh no Jack, please." Philippa said as they both sat down for breakfast.
"You have to go back to him Philippa, it's the only way I can reel him in. I mean Jenkins and I are hardly bosom buddies now, are we?
Philippa frowned, “it's alright for you Jack, you don't have to let him touch you, or have him stick his tongue down your throat."
"Urgh, please don't."
"Exactly!"
"I know it's not pleasant Philippa, but if it's any consolation, I don't want you to have to undergo any of that either, especially with that gobshite, but the truth of the matter is, if we are going to get through this, we are going to have to do worse things, far worse, and hopefully I can shield you from most of it, but what I am totally incapable of doing is sweet-talking someone like Jenkins."
Philippa nodded resigned to the fact, but what she found most upsetting of all, was that Jack failed to realise, that after the two of them had made love for the first time she had ceased being an escort. "Couldn't we just go away together?" she asked forlornly. "Just forget about Quilter, Jenkins, and the rest of them."
Jack shook his head doing his utmost to keep his temper in check. "You know I can't let them get away with it Philippa, not after what they did to my family."
Philippa nodded again and put her blue and white hooped coffee mug down on the table; "when do I go back?" she asked.
12
It was a terrible night at the onset of December nineteen-sixty-six, when Philippa arrived at Dave Jenkins's house. Fortunately, she wouldn't be staying the night, but whether she could avoid having sex with him was another matter. Come on Dave, for God's sake, I'm freezing out here, Philippa thought as snowflakes melted on her face. So much for him lecturing her that she had to make her movements to and from his house as inconspicuous has possible. She knocked again this time harder.
"Ay-ah gorgeous, you look freezing." Jenkins said upon opening his front door.
Philippa smiled wanly.
"Come in," he said, "I've just made us both a coffee. “Go through, the fire's on."
Philippa removed her coat and hung it over the bannister. She went through to the lounge where she tried to resuscitate her hands by warming them by the fire, but the heat only served in making them tingle. So, she rubbed them together instead. Outside she could hear cars slushing through the snow. Z-Cars was on the telly, she hated that crap, and was surprised that a man of Jenkins's dubious reputation liked it either. She felt a little warmer, so she took a seat on the sofa. If he came on to her tonight, she'd die. Having sex with anyone but Jack was bad enough, but having to do it, with someone like Jenkins, when it was this cold was just unthinkable. Her eyes scoured the room looking for new additions, things of interest, but she couldn’t see any.
"There you are Philippa, that'll warm you up." Jenkins said passing her, her cup of coffee.
"Thanks." she said taking hold of it with both hands. The heat made her fingers tingle again, so she quickly put it down.
"You got the passport?" Jenkins asked looking over the rim of his coffee cup.
Philippa smiled.
"Yes! Where did you find it?"
"I'm not exaggerating Dave, I had to turn the place upside down. Like I told you the other day, it wasn't in the safe where any normal person would keep it.
No, I eventually found it in his wardrobe, under a pile of clothes. It was such a relief."
"Good girl, Quilter, I mean David was beginning to panic when I told him you couldn't find it. In fact, he owes me a tenner." Jenkins said grinning to himself as he examined the passport.
"Because you said I would?" Philippa asked.
Jenkins nodded.
"It's nice to know he's got such faith in me." Philippa said almost to herself.
Jenkins waved a dismissive hand, "Don't worry about Quilter," he said, "this election's making him paranoid, that's all. He's just been in one of those moods lately."
"One of what moods?" Philippa asked trying to make her tone sound as casual as possible.
Jenkins stood up and put the passport on the mantlepiece.
"Don't worry about it Philippa, I can handle Quilter. He's just that type of person that's all."
"What type Dave?"
"The type who'd suspect the Pope of thieving off him - that type."
Philippa nodded; she felt the onset of stomach cramps. Oh great, she thought, feeling perplexed. Jenkins, Icelandic conditions, now stomach cramps. Have you got anything else in store for me this evening God, like he's got herpes or something? Shit, she'd almost forgotten the main reason she'd come around, she must be careful not to just blurt it out though. Although Jenkins was no Quilter, he was no fool either. She needn't've worried though because right on cue Jenkins asked; "Anything else to report, about Davies I mean?"
Philippa nodded and smiled, she paused for effect.
Jenkins's eyes lit up like a pin-ball machine issuing credits. "Go on then!" he said. "What else have you found out?"
"Well, don't hold me to this Dave because I know next to nothing about your business--"
"Go on Philippa, just spit it out, what is it?"
"I think it's important."
"What is?"
"I've overheard a couple of telephone conversations, and I've also heard him talking about it to Gerald, plus Harry and a couple of others who've been at the house. Apparently, a big developer is proposing to build a new leisure complex on the site of an old factory on the outskirts of Manchester. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I overheard him say to Harry, that it could be bigger than anything we've got."
Quilter massaged his mouth with his forefinger and thumb.
I'm not sure he's convinced Philippa thought, "Maybe, it's not such a big deal, but I thought with him getting so excited about it, that you'd want to know."
"Do you know whereabouts on the outskirts of Manchester this place is, Manchester's a fuckin' big place?" Jenkins said impatiently.
Philippa recoiled, "I've told you all I know Dave, I thought you'd be pleased.”
Jenkins looked at her, but his eyes seemed distant. "Sorry Philippa," he said finally, "I am pleased, and you are right this could be important. In fact, it could be just the thing we need to make absolutely sure. Quilter will be delirious, but we need more information before we tell him about it because the last thing I want is for it to backfire on us."
Philippa nodded. Here goes nothing, she thought, "Why does ...?" she let the sentence trail off. Jenkins looked up at her and for a second, she thought that he hadn't heard her properly.
"Why does what?" he asked finally though.
Philippa shook her head, "It doesn't matter, you'll only go mad at me, anyway."
"No, I won't." he snapped. "Sorry," he continued with a laugh, "I promise I won't get mad, what is it you were going to say?"
"Okay," Philippa ventured, "why does David have to know, full stop ..."
Jenkins raised his eyebrows.
"It seems to me, that we are the ones doing all the work and taking all the risks, and Quilter's the one taking all the credit. Like with the Spanish thingy."
Jenkins nodded.
"When all this is over, I'd like to think that there might be a place in this organisation of yours for me, is that a possibility?
Jenkins nodded again, "I'm sure once Davies is out of the picture, something can be arranged."
"Well, I've just got a feeling, and I must stress it is just a feeling, that once this is all over, Quilter is going to cut us, or me at least out of the equation. I don't know Dave, maybe I'm the one who's getting paranoid. Besides, maybe we couldn't pull this off without him. I just thought it would be nice for you to get some of the credit for a change."
"We'll see how things go." Jenkins said. "I'm not going to inform Quilter about it yet anyway because there's no way I'm going to tell him about something that we can't deliver. We need more information about it, that's a priority. If and when we get it, we'll decide how best to proceed with it."
"I'll do my best for you Dave, that's all I can promise."
"I know you will Philippa. Anyway, that's enough business for one night, have we got time for a quickie?" Jenkins said smiling inanely and getting to his feet.
"I thought you'd never ask." Philippa replied standing up and putting her arms around Jenkins's neck.
13
The working party left for Spain with Matt on board because one of the other nominees had pulled out due to illness. Rightly or wrongly Jack took this as a good omen that his plan was going to succeed. Furthermore, Jenkins appeared to be going with the idea of heading up the deal for the new complex on the old dyeworks site. However, Jack knew only too well that everything hinged on Quilter being kept sufficiently in the dark about it.
When the chips were down, would Jenkins really have the bottle to go it alone? Jack thought gazing out of his office window. Maybe they should just hit the road, after all, because whatever he did to Jenkins and Quilter wasn't going to bring his family back, was it? However, after a moments consideration he concluded that he just couldn't live the rest of his life in peace knowing that they'd got away with what they'd done.
14
Jenkins lay with his feet up on his settee, Philippa had come through for him again. Apparently, plans were afoot for the construction of a massive leisure complex on the old Limefield Dyeworks Site in Miles Platting which was situated on the outskirts of Manchester. He had made his own discreet checks and planning permission was due to be decided within the next couple of weeks. Davies was scheduled to meet a guy called Mike Armstrong of Fisher Developments, one of Tom Ford's old contacts, next Friday at ten am. The guy had wanted to see him on Thursday morning, his first official day on site, but Davies had a prior engagement he couldn't break.
Jenkins had met Armstrong a couple of times previously and had known immediately that he was as bent as a nine-bob note. However, he'd never been able to get close to him before because Ford had always kept him at arm’s length. Yeah, this was all starting to make sense. The guy was obviously missing his old business pal, well his old pal's kickbacks anyway. Kids were probably now in college, presumably the guy had a hefty mortgage to repay. For all he knew, he might just have an expensive bit on the side to provide for as well. Yeah, he'd be missing all that extra cash, there was no doubt about it. So, this new complex comes along, and he thinks; hmm, who'd be interested in making money out of this little baby? I know; how about that four-eyed sidekick of my old buddy Tom? If nothing else, it’s got to be worth the price of a phone call.
Jenkins knew he could do this deal in his sleep. In fact, by rights, Davies should've handed it over to him in the first place, but he was hardly surprised that the greedy four-eyed fucker had tried to steal all the glory for himself. Anyway, he couldn't give two fucks about Davies, what worried him was keeping the deal from Quilter. He drummed his fingers on the wooden trim of his settee’s armrest. He would've never have admitted it to her, but Philippa was right, Quilter was a credit taker. He hadn't even got a scrap of recognition for his work on uncovering the Spanish Venture; 'it was my idea after all.' he could hear Quilter remonstrate. Furthermore, official running partners didn't have to be announced until the end of the year, what if Quilter turned around and appointed someone like John Sergeant instead? He did seem to be much frien
dlier with him of late. Everyone just assumed that he would be Quilter's deputy, but that counted for nothing, the same could have been said for Gerald and look what happened to him; put out to grass in Spain. If he could make inroads into this deal before Davies got his sticky paws on it, then Quilter would be forced into accepting him as his deputy. It may even make him a credible leadership candidate in his own right. Not that, that was what he wanted mind, but he definitely deserved the deputy spot, he'd more than earned it. However, he had to consider what would happen if it all went wrong? He could quite easily find himself up shit creek without a paddle. How would Quilter approach this? He thought. He'd plan back from the worst-case scenario. Which is? Well, he supposed they could queer their patch with Armstrong, and he offers the deal to someone like Briggs. Hmm, he thought that Quilter would live with that. He wouldn't be ecstatic about it, but he felt pretty sure Quilter would much prefer to have the deal scuppered as opposed to Davies grabbing all the credit for it. Besides, why the hell was he getting so uptight about all of this? At the end of the day, this was his jurisdiction, he, not Quilter or Davies, was the Operations Officer.
'Philippa only found out the day before they were due to meet.' he could hear himself relaying to Quilter. 'I tried to contact you, but I couldn't get hold of you. What was I supposed to do, sit there on my ass and let that bastard clinch the deal?'
Perhaps Quilter would always have his suspicions, but Quilter couldn't deny that he owed him a piece of the action. No, as far as The Boys were concerned; Davies would be the one perceived to be sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong. Afterall, what the fuck did he know about operations? His mind was made up. Nothing ventured nothing gained, besides he'd taken much bigger risks than this in the past for less reward. So, why did this particular deal bother him so much then? His mind didn't have the answer.
