Sleaford Noir 1

by Morris Kenyon

CHAPTER 11.

  Back at McTeague's farm, I found my Audi which had been collected from Sleaford after I drove away from the little town in Mulhearn's Jeep Cherokee. It had been resprayed, valeted and looked good as new. I collected my keys from McTeague.

  Claire McTeague came out of the farmhouse. She wore comfortable jeggings and a cerise cashmere sweater that clung tight to her slender frame making the woman look like she was smuggling out a couple of peanuts under her top. One of McTeague's men followed carrying several suitcases and bags which he loaded into the Audi A5's trunk.

  I glanced over at McTeague.

  "Take her away," he said. He looked sad. Defeated. I didn't think his low mood would last for ever as, of course, McTeague could have his pick of almost any woman in the life and, being a man with both needs and money, he wouldn't sleep alone for long. All the same, I know Claire had been someone special to him, at least at first.

  I slid behind the wheel and Claire got in beside me. She didn't look at me. I don't think she was happy about the way I snatched her away from Wheelan several months ago. Or about the way that, ultimately, Wheelan showed he valued his daughter more than her. But what did Claire expect? Not that I'd know personally but I guess a man's love for his daughter is something very special.

  I drove away from McTeague's farmhouse. The last I saw was McTeague standing all forlorn outside, his hand raised in a half wave. Claire didn't respond but stared ahead through the windscreen. She didn't speak to me, which was fine as far as I was concerned, so I switched on Radio 4 and listened to Eddie Mair on the PM show before the News at Six.

  A couple of hours later I was pulling into Wheelan's mock Tudor mansion on Old Place. Even before I'd stopped, Wheelan's men were piling out of the house. Mulhearn, Riordan and couple of others. Standing tall behind them was Wheelan himself.

  Mulhearn wrenched open the driver's door and looked like he was going to haul me out and give me a pasting. Riordan looked like he would join in. I felt a little like that chap in the Bible – the one who got thrown into a lion's den or something. Except these lions didn't look like they wanted to make friends.

  Wheelan pushed his way through his men and held out his hand. We shook and his men stepped back but, like a pack of wild beasts, they circled around us until Wheelan ordered Riordan to fetch Claire's bags from out of the trunk. Wheelan escorted Claire and we all walked into his house.

  "I'm gonna mess you up," Riordan whispered as he passed me with the bags. Riordan hadn't before so I took no notice. That annoyed him more than anything else I could have said or done. There was no music blaring out from upstairs so I guessed Alexa was either not at home or hiding in her room. Another one who wasn't so keen to meet me. I can't say I was surprised.

  Wheelan showed us into his front living room and crossed to his drinks cabinet.

  "I'm driving. Coke for me, please," I said.

  Wheelan pretended to misunderstand. "Pepsi or china white?"

  I wasn't in the mood to play along. "Diet Pepsi if you've got it." Everyone knows I don't do drugs. Never have and never will. I keep my body clean – why pollute it?

  Wheelan uncapped the bottle and handed it to me together with a tumbler filled with ice. The atmosphere was heavy and the conversation limped along until it died. I'd hurt Wheelan's men and both McTeague and Wheelan had damaged each other's empires. Not long after, Wheelan stood and showed his men the door, leaving me alone with the gang boss.

  I put to Wheelan what McTeague had authorised. Claire he already knew about as the woman was under his roof. I explained the division of territories that the London capos had agreed. It was more than McTeague wanted to lose and Wheelan couldn't hide the pleasure on his face. He grinned like the Cheshire cat. Ultimately, it was a climb-down, a humiliation for McTeague. However I dressed up the deal. And Wheelan knew it.

  "I'll need to confirm that with your boss, Hennessy," Wheelan said. "Make sure he's cool with that, Make sure there's no comebacks."

  I nodded and keyed in McTeague's latest number into my BlackBerry. I handed the phone over. Wheelan spoke and walked into his conservatory out of earshot. I sat back and sipped my drink, watching Wheelan pace to and fro as he spoke with my boss. Eventually, Wheelan pressed the end call button on my phone and came back into the lounge. A big grin covered his face.

  "Looks like I've won, Hennessy. McTeague says he's given up. He can't – won't keep Claire. He even says he's no objections to us getting married."

  "That's good, Wheelan. I'm pleased for you. Best news I've heard all year," I said.

  "Don't be like that, Hennessy. You should be pleased. All the fighting's over. And I've won – I've got all Lincolnshire, the Fens, even part of east Nottinghamshire..."

  "As well as Claire, of course."

  Wheelan smiled again. Surprisingly gentle. "Yes, and Claire."

  A thought came to me. "Until McTeague takes it all back again."

  But nothing I could say dented Wheelan's good humour. He'd won and he knew it.

  He laughed. "No way, Hennessy. McTeague's yesterday's man. He's losing it – whilst you were running around Holland, I've taken control of the supply routes from Bostongrad and Kings Lynn now. You know, maybe I'll move into the West Midlands at some point. That's more than McTeague ever managed. Hey, like I said, you should think about throwing in your lot with me. I could use someone like you, Hennessy, in spite of what you've done."

  "Thanks for the offer, Wheelan, but I'll pass. I'll stick with McTeague's outfit."

  Wheelan stood and offered me his hand. We shook. I wasn't to see him again until the wedding.