Blood Feud

by Anna Smith

  ‘Freddie,’ she said. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘All right, chuck, what’s happening? How you doing?’

  ‘I’m okay. Listen, I need to ask you a question.’

  ‘Anything. You know that.’

  ‘You know that Casey mob up in Glasgow?’

  ‘Course I do.’

  ‘Yeah, well you know it’s all change at the helm now – with Mickey being taken out.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. He was a fucking idiot, that one. Well rid, I’d say.’

  ‘You know the sister, this Kerry blade – she’s head of the family now.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. And by all accounts cracking the whip.’

  She paused for a moment.

  ‘Listen, Freddie. I want to talk to her. Totally, totally just between us. I mean nobody in the fucking world must ever know about it. But I want to talk to her – to meet her. Can you arrange it?’

  Silence for a long moment and Sharon could hear him breathing.

  ‘Sharon. Sweetheart. Are you all right? You know if I do this, and if you do it – I mean meet this girl – well, it’s the end of the line. You know that, don’t you?’

  Sharon swallowed. ‘It’s already the end of the line, Freddie.’

  ‘Christ, Sharon. I’m so sorry, darlin’.’

  ‘Freddie. Can you do it?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll sort it. Go and get yourself another mobile, call me with the number. Don’t use your normal mobile for the call. Understand?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He hung up. Sharon sank back in her seat. There was no going back now.

  *

  It was nearly nine in the evening, and Sharon got up from the sofa and went down the hall and into the office. The house was deadly quiet. Knuckles didn’t go out until after seven, so it would be unlikely that he’d be back before midnight – if he came home at all. She’d picked at her dinner which she’d eaten in front of the television, watching the screen, her mind a million miles away. She’d tried to push away the niggle of wondering where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. There was no point. She wouldn’t be able to change things anyway. She had to go about this business in an organised, planned way, devoid of emotion. She took the external hard drive and pushed it into the USB port on the computer. It pinged up on the screen. Then she took a deep breath and began. Sharon had been very meticulous in how she stored accounts and documents. All under names that only she or Knuckles would understand. She used to have to write them down for him, because she knew he wouldn’t remember, but she didn’t need that. She called up the secret folder marked ‘Out’, and began. In the first one, she downloaded accounts and bank statements from one of their businesses, then moved onto the next. She kept going until all twelve files were on the drive. Then she opened them and checked they were there. Everything she needed to ruin him, all account details and passwords, encrypted. She ejected it, stood up, clutched it in the palm of her hand and went into the kitchen and poured herself a generous glass of red wine. Then she went into the living room, sat on an armchair and took out her new phone. She keyed in the number that Freddie had given her. He’d told her that he’d passed her number on so that when it came up, Kerry would know the caller. Sharon took a gulp of her wine. Once she hit the call button there was no going back. She didn’t need to ask herself again. She was sure. She’d been sure for some time now. She pressed the call button. It answered after four rings, the voice soft.

  ‘Kerry Casey?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name is Sharon Potter. Freddie—’

  The woman cut in. ‘I was expecting your call.’

  The abrupt interruption threw Sharon a little, and she found herself on the back foot for a second. Then she recovered.

  ‘Thanks for taking my call. I’d like to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Knuckles Boyle. I have information you will want. A lot of information.’

  ‘His men murdered my brother. Killed my mother.’

  ‘I know. You want revenge.’

  ‘I’ll get my revenge.’

  ‘Kerry. I can help you ruin him. Can we meet?’

  Silence. It seemed to go on for an age.

  ‘I’ll meet you in Glasgow. Tomorrow night.’

  Sharon swallowed, surprised. Glasgow. Her mind already working out how she could pass this off. Maybe she’d tell Knuckles she was flying back to Marbs for a few days, meet up with some friends.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I’ll let you know the place and the time tomorrow.’

  The line went dead.

  Chapter Ten

  Kerry had been undecided whether or not to bring Marty into the meeting with Frankie. Over the years he’d been more aware of how Frankie operated than she could be. She’d also wanted to bring in Jack Reilly, because she’d been impressed by his honesty and loyalty when it came to giving her as much of the background to the saunas as he could. But she decided that to suddenly bring Jack in, as though he’d been given some elevated status, would put Frankie’s nose out of joint. She needed Frankie onside, for the moment anyway. No doubt he’d already been told through the grapevine about the scene at the Paradise Club, and he might already be resentful that it was Jack she had called on to accompany her and not him. He would be on the back foot as it was, and more so if she brought Marty into the meeting as well as Jack. So, in the end, she decided to go it alone. She wanted to look into the whites of Frankie’s eyes and ask him a few searching questions, but she had to be careful they weren’t wild or naive questions, because he was no mug. He wouldn’t go running off at the mouth. Kerry would put her corporate lawyer head on for this meeting. She would be cool, polite and friendly, and she was confident she could get the measure of him. But if Frankie thought they had a special bond because she’d had a crush on him as a hormonal teenager, then he would be wrong – even if he was more handsome now than he was back then.

  She immediately banished any of those thoughts from her mind as she ruffled her hair a bit in the mirror while she waited for him. Kerry had always been aware of her beauty, but she never saw it as something to be used to her advantage. In fact, she sometimes thought it was a hindrance. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d felt that, when she was talking to a client or a group of businessmen, they weren’t hanging on her every word the way she’d have wanted. Often she’d catch them eyeing up her long slender legs, or her cleavage, or just staring fixedly at her face. She wasn’t comfortable with her beauty, but she liked how she looked. Today, there were tiny dark smudges beneath her eyes from restless sleep and worry, and her eyes stung a little from crying so much over the past few days. The stitches where she’d been grazed by the bullet were less inflamed now, but on closer examination it looked like there would always be a scar there. That was the least of her worries. On top of everything else going on around her, she’d got an out-of-the-blue phone call from Freddie Pearson telling her that some Sharon Potter wanted to make contact. Freddie was a go-between, a negotiator for a lot of people, and he was well-respected and trusted, even among rivals who seldom spoke to each other. If he told you something, even if it was to inform you that someone in your circle was betraying you, it was always one hundred per cent true. Sharon was the long-time girlfriend of Knuckles Boyle, so the fact that she was getting in touch with her in the midst of all the turmoil around both their organisations intrigued her. But what if it was some kind of trap, yet another message being sent? That was for another day. She’d been confident and cool with this Sharon when she’d phoned, and agreed to meet her. But it niggled her just the same. Just as she mulled the ideas over, there was a knock on the door of the living room and then it was pushed open. Frankie Martin stood in the doorway, sharp as ever in a dark blue suit with a white shirt, collar open. In the frame of the doorway he looked like a matinee idol, and Kerry had to tear her eyes away from him as he looked right at her.

  ‘Kerry. All right? I’m not late, I hope. I was in the town seeing a couple
of people.’

  He strode confidently towards her as if he owned the room. She stood up. To her relief, he didn’t embrace her, because that would have set a different tone for the meeting. She was in charge here. She was head of the family. He put a hand out and touched her arm, affectionately.

  ‘I’m okay, Frankie.’ She pointed to the tray of roast beef sandwiches the housekeeper had made. ‘Rosa sorted some lunch for us, if you’re hungry. To be honest, I would have taken you out for lunch and a good chat, but I’m not really in the frame of mind to be going out for an afternoon.’ She gave him a slightly condescending look. ‘So don’t be offended.’

  Frankie fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. ‘Not at all, Kerry. I know what you mean. I’d love nothing better than to sit with you in a nice restaurant and spend the afternoon eating, drinking some good wine, and talking about the old days.’ He shook his head wistfully. ‘Jesus, ki—’

  Kerry shot him a glance as he almost said ‘kid’ then went on, ‘Jesus, Kerry. Where did all the years go? You know something, when I saw you arriving the other day, when you got in after Mickey, you know, for the funeral, I almost couldn’t believe it. The last few times you’ve been here, I haven’t seen you. I’ve only seen the pictures your ma showed me. But I don’t think I’ve seen you in about eight years.’

  ‘And I’m not getting any younger, Frankie. That’s for sure,’ Kerry said.

  He looked at her, his steely blue eyes more piercing against his lush dark hair, and it was a look that would have seduced most women. And if Kerry wasn’t his boss, it might have seduced her too.

  ‘You look . . . unbelievable, if I can say that to my boss. Seriously, I don’t know how life has been treating you over the years, but you really look . . . well, like a film star.’

  Kerry waved away the compliment with her hand. Bloody Christ. Frankie Martin, still the charmer who broke hearts all over the city. But not here. Not today. Or any other day, where she was concerned.

  ‘Enough of your charm, sir. Sit down. Let’s have some grub. I’m starving.’

  She sat on the leather armchair and relaxed into it for a moment, the fire flickering in the hearth, watching as Frankie sat down and leaned forward. He lifted the teapot.

  ‘Will I pour?’

  ‘In the absence of the servants,’ Kerry joked.

  She picked up a couple of brown bread sandwiches and put them on a tea plate. Frankie did the same, and they ate for a moment in silence.

  ‘So,’ Kerry began, placing her teacup on the table. ‘I wanted a longer chat with you, Frankie. I need you to give me the lowdown on a few things.’ She paused as he watched her. ‘I know at the meeting the other day, you told me the way you see things, but—’

  Frankie put his hand up. ‘Kerry. Look, I need to say this. I’m sorry about the other day. I think I spoke out of turn. I was wrong. I . . . I was just trying to point out to you that this business is a very different life from the one you’ve led.’

  Kerry tried to keep her patience.

  ‘I take your point, Frankie. That’s why I didn’t say anything to you at the time. In front of everyone else.’ She paused. ‘But I need to be clear here.’ She fixed him, her eyes cold. ‘Don’t ever question me like that again around a table with our closest associates. Not ever.’

  Frankie went a little red in his neck.

  ‘Understood,’ he said, nodding.

  But Kerry saw the muscle in his jaw tighten, and the moment or so it took for him to recover and regain his charm.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, making sure she looked him in the eye. ‘Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about the whole situation. The Boyles. How did it come to this? I know we’ve talked about it before. But I need to know from you. Mickey and you were at the helm, at the centre of everything that goes on here. So I need to know the score. I particularly want the lowdown on the Paradise Club – and the other saunas. Tell me about that.’

  Frankie opened his suit jacket, sat back, his legs open, confident, macho. He ran a hand across his chin as he looked straight at Kerry.

  ‘Mickey was some guy,’ he said. ‘You know what he was like from years ago. He had to be the top man in everything he did. Even fighting in the playground, he had to take the biggest hard-man in the school on to prove a point. And he did. He beat the shit out of Tommy Mason in front of three of his mates, and none of them even moved a muscle to help him. That was Mickey. And that’s the way he was in business. Nothing was ever enough for him. He wanted a bigger slice of everything.’

  Kerry gave him an understanding look.

  ‘Hence the reason he got us involved in drugs.’ She waited a moment before going on. ‘Despite my father’s wishes. Despite the fact that Dad had always said he would never go down that road. Even when he could see, years ago, how lucrative it was. Dad didn’t want that, Frankie – that’s what gets me with our Mickey. He had no right to go against my father’s wishes and his hopes for this family and everything connected with it.’

  Frankie nodded slowly, spreading his hands. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Kerry. Honest. I really do. But the world has changed – even in the sixteen years since your dad died. Everything out there is very different. It’s all drugs now. It’s all about cocaine, heroin, cannabis. If you don’t operate in the market, then you’re out of it. You’re weak. What are you left with? A few businesses, saunas, bars and stuff? Then somebody like Mickey comes along from another area and tells you he’s taking over your business. These bastards would just trample all over us if we weren’t as powerful as them. Drugs are part of the business. It’s money, it’s power. Nowadays we’ve got the Russians, the Albanians to contend with, as well as our own. We have to show our muscle. We have to stand up and show that we can work with anyone, in any company, in any stuff they do. Otherwise, we’re like the wee corner shop, and nothing. It’s all about money and power.’

  ‘You forgot to mention greed, Frankie.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not greed, Kerry. Not really. We’re a big organisation. We’re top dog up here. But we have to stay there. So we do what we have to do. Sure, it makes the firm a shedload of money. But it’s also about survival.’ He seemed a little exasperated. ‘I know it’s hard for you at this stage, just coming in, and I totally respect how you see it. I do. But we’d be out of the game in months if we weren’t prepared to do what the rest of the families from Glasgow to Dublin to London do.’

  Kerry listened to him, her face impassive. Money and power. She knew he was right in some of what he said, and that he totally believed it. But no matter what he said, he wouldn’t convince her it was the best way. Naive or not, she wanted to fulfil her father’s wishes of building an empire, of hotels, restaurants, property. But she wasn’t going to win that battle here, so right now she just had to find out a bit more about how things got so out of hand.

  ‘Okay. Right. Leaving that for the moment. Tell me a bit about Knuckles Boyle and his mob. Fill me in on that first. And what our deal was with him. And I want to know about Durkin’s and Hill’s mobs too. Sure, I can see the big attraction – the money, the drugs, etc. But I need to know more of how you dealt with them. Who do we use to pick up stuff? Give me the actual details. Everything you can.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll break it down for you. No problem. And if there’s anything I don’t tell you today, then we can do it another day, tomorrow or whatever, because it’s a lot to take in.’ He paused, looked her in the eye. ‘But look, believe me, I’m on your side. I really am.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Kerry awoke with the same sinking feeling she’d had all the past week. Every morning, the same crushing heaviness in her chest as soon as she opened her eyes and realised none of this was a nightmare. Her mother was really gone. She’d never see her again, never again feel the softness of her cheek against hers, or enjoy her laughter as much as her indignation when she disagreed with anyone. Today she would say goodbye to her for ever at the funeral. In front of ever
yone, Kerry knew she was expected to be sorrowful, heartbroken – that was a given, she had lost her mother – but she would also have to be seen to be in control. All she really wanted to do was to bury herself deep under the duvet and weep until she could somehow learn to live with the pain. But there was no time for that. She could never again be the person she had been. All that had changed now. She kicked the duvet back and sat at the edge of the bed, picked up her watch and saw the time. It was seven and still dark outside. The house was a blanket of silence. She pulled on her robe and stood at the window watching the rain drumming on the glass, and the gusts of wind rustling in the trees. Across the driveway in the small gatehouse where the housekeeper and two of the security staff lived, a light was on, and she knew that somewhere out there, the bodyguards would be patrolling the perimeter fence the way they did these days, twenty-four seven. If she dwelt on the security and the lockdown, she’d feel like a prisoner. In reality, she knew that she could walk away any time. Go as far as possible, never come back. She’d allowed herself the thought as she lay in her bath the other night, wondering where she would go. She’d had another life for such a long time. She could go back to London, go to Europe, where she still had friends. But that’s not where she wanted to be. She wanted to be here, and over the past days, as she’d scrutinised the business and what they had, the people who surrounded her, she was beginning to feel that she had come home at last. Despite all the times she’d been home for school holidays and visits to her family – even when her mum came to Spain and spent time with her – over the years she had gradually felt that she wasn’t who they were. She loved her mother with every fibre of her being, but she didn’t want to be in Glasgow, among the people who were part of their lives. But that was changing. And she was changing. She opened her wardrobe and looked at the black clothes she’d worn to Mickey’s funeral – little did she know then that she’d be wearing them again so soon. Last night, with the rosary and then the chapel afterwards where her mother’s body now lay, she’d seen so many people from her past. Older men, faces she’d vaguely remembered who must have known her family, women she recalled from growing up in the old neighbourhood when they had nothing. All of them now feeling like family. The place was still on lockdown though, and even in the quietness and sorrow at the chapel, the security and the suited-and-booted bodyguards milling around was there for all to see. It would be the same at the funeral. Kerry took a deep breath and let out a sigh. It was going to be a long, tough day. And by the time it was over, if everything went according to plan, she would know what it felt like to have her first taste of revenge. Then she would know if she really belonged here.