The Rules

by KERRY BARNES

  The outside sensor light suddenly came on, and she looked out of the kitchen window to see Davey and Shamus helping Neil out of the car. Behind their vehicle was another and Zara recognized the three other men who had been present at the meeting in her father’s house. She felt safe now she had her firm with her.

  Neil was the first through the door; he still looked a little weak, but his wide smile offset that. Instantly, he put his arms out to hug Zara. He was fond of her, and the years they had worked closely together had bonded them.

  As he hugged her tight, he whispered, ‘You look good, Zara. I missed you so much.’

  Davey watched his son kiss her cheek and grinned to himself. She would have made the perfect daughter-in-law. He always knew his son had a soft spot for Zara, and if she hadn’t promised to wait for Mike while he served his time, then she may well have ended up with Neil.

  ‘Right, now I’m back on my feet and have my sidekick with me’ – he put his arm around her shoulders – ‘we can get down to business.’

  Shamus coughed. ‘Neil, while you were making out with all those nurses, we already got down to business.’

  Neil sighed. ‘Yeah, I know, but I’ve been thinking. First, let me summarize what we agreed about this plan of yours, Zara. You want us to reopen, pretend nothing is wrong, and then wait for the bastards to show up. Once they arrive, we agreed we’d nab them and take them out of the picture and hope that things will go back to normal.’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘But, realistically, guys, that ain’t ever going to happen, is it?’ His voice turned from upbeat and jovial to severe and stern.

  For a moment, Zara was perplexed. It was a side to Neil that she’d never witnessed. Neil had been so full of vitality years ago, a bit of a risk-taker, like herself. But she was a pragmatist by default, and she accepted that the serious injury Neil had sustained was a warning shot across the bows to all of them that they needed to lance the Hadlow boil once and for all – and fast – if they were to re-establish their reputation as serious Faces in the manor.

  ‘I don’t want anyone looking in,’ said Davey, as he closed the curtains at the front of the restaurant.

  The others then took a seat and faced Neil, ready to discuss the plan and likely consequences again.

  ‘So, do you have a better plan than mine?’ she asked, with an air of antagonism.

  Neil didn’t answer right away; he pulled out a chair and sat dead opposite her. ‘It’s always going to be your call, Zara, but why don’t we cash in on their business, let them think they’ve taken over and then—’

  A sudden screeching of tyres and car doors slamming made the men jump from their seats. Like a well-planned defence army, defending their position, they unexpectedly darted in different directions. Shamus ran to the side of the window and pulled a gun from the back of his jeans. Davey did the same but went to the other window. Minty, the tallest man, built like a gorilla, charged towards the side door. Zara shook all over; she wasn’t prepared for this. Trapped inside her own restaurant with God knows who surrounding them, a pre-emptive strike on their business hadn’t been predicted at all.

  Neil pulled her over towards the toilets and pushed her through the door. ‘Wait inside. Leave this to us,’ he demanded.

  With so much happening at once, there was no time to think, so she allowed him to take control.

  The ladies’ toilets had only two cubicles and a frosted side window. She kept the light off, but luckily she knew her way around in the dark. Listening outside, she could hear men’s voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Slowly, she lifted the window latch, and carefully, she pushed the window open just enough to be able to hear. Next, she heard footsteps moving away from the window. She slid her hand down inside her boot and pulled out her gun. With a quick shove this time, she pushed the window fully open, so it was wide enough for her to climb out and land safely on the ground. She guessed the potential intruders had made their way to the side door, the only entrance that led straight into the kitchen; the other door led into the restaurant itself.

  Spotting two cars that were parked in the alleyway, she hurried over and felt the bonnets; they were warm. She guessed there were two carloads, maybe a maximum of eight to ten men in all. She only had six – seven, including herself. She had to think quickly.

  Aiming her gun at the dashboard of the first car, she fired one round. The bullet went through the glass and hit the steering wheel, setting off the alarm. She then did the same to the second car. Now both alarms were going off.

  Quickly, she climbed back through the window and closed it behind her. Her heart was beating so fast, and her mouth felt as though it was filled with chalk sticks. She could hear banging, crashing, and two guns being fired. However, she couldn’t make out who was shouting and who was shooting. As soon as she heard heavy footsteps run past towards the cars, she reopened the window and aimed her gun.

  There, dressed in dark, heavy coats were two lean but muscular men. One wore a scruffy bandanna, holding his long light-brown dreadlocks in place. He reminded her of an actor in the film Pirates of the Caribbean. The other guy was younger, possibly eighteen years old, and darker skinned, wearing a beanie.

  Their bodies rotated around, anxious and desperate to see who had shot at their cars, while Zara quietly climbed out of the window again. As soon as her feet were planted on the ground, she called out, ‘Move, and I’ll fucking blast you away.’

  Both Jamaicans heard a woman’s voice, and so instead of freezing to the spot, their instant reaction was to turn around and face the person behind the threat.

  ‘I said move and I’ll fucking shoot you.’

  The man with the bandanna was the livelier of the two; his feet danced around although his hands were in the air.

  ‘Hey, sister, seriously! You wanna watch you don’t hurt yaself with that thing,’ he called out to her mockingly.

  Her copper eyes snapped with fury.

  The man with the beanie didn’t move. Standing to attention, he was taking her threat seriously. After all, even if she couldn’t aim straight, there was still a possibility someone could get shot.

  ‘Please, don’t underestimate me, or you’ll be sorry. You see, cunt, this is my restaurant, my dealers, and my punters. And you’ve really pissed me off.’ She took a step closer. ‘Get on your knees. Now! Place your hands in front of you, flat on the ground. And you, Captain Jack Sparrow, I hate people like you, so trust me when I say it won’t take a lot to make me pull this trigger.’

  Defiantly, she managed to hold the gun perfectly still.

  ‘You know you’re gonna get murdered, don’t you, lady?’ said the guy with the bandanna. ‘There are six men inside, and when they’re done with your little crew, they’re gonna come gunning for you.’

  She remained silent and stared, with pure loathing in her eyes.

  ‘Didn’t you fucking hear me, ya silly little tart? Holding a gun means you can only shoot one of us at once.’

  Her top lip curled as her eyes narrowed. ‘And I bet you hope it ain’t you I shoot first, eh?’

  The cocky one of the two sucked his teeth. ‘Go fuck yaself!’

  ‘So, six inside, yeah, and two out here? Well, I should by rights even things up a bit!’

  The younger guy drew a startled breath. ‘Please, lady.’

  ‘Shut up, Gage!’ spat the bandanna man.

  ‘Peto, I’m sorry, but look. That gun ain’t a toy. She’ll shoot ya.’

  ‘Tell me who’s your boss because with a cocky, foolish mouth like yours, I know it ain’t you.’

  Gage was now breathing heavily; beads of sweat on his forehead glistened in the moonlight, and his eyes remained transfixed on the gun.

  She waited for an answer, but there was none. ‘Too afraid of him, are you? Well, he seems to me to be a right coward. I mean, using pathetic foot soldiers to do his dirty work because he’s too fucking chicken to meet me face-to-face. What’s that all about?’

  In a high-pit
ched, animated tone, Peto lifted his chin. ‘Youse have no clue. Ya think you’re hard with a weapon, but you watch. He ain’t chicken. No way! He’ll run you out of town, hunt you down, and bury you! All of you!’

  Zara stepped forward and pointed the gun directly at Gage, who was sweating profusely.

  ‘You, Gage, stand up against that wall and don’t fucking even think of running because I won’t threaten you, I’ll fucking blow your head off!’

  He didn’t need to be told twice: he was flat against the wall in a second.

  She paused and listened. Two shots, both fired from inside. She went another step closer. ‘You, Peto, have ten seconds to give me the name of your boss. One, two, three . . . ’ She cocked the gun. ‘Four, five . . . ’

  ‘Wait! All right, I don’t know his real name. They call him the Governor. I’ve never met him.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? So, how the fucking hell do you get paid, then?’

  ‘Jaguar pays me,’ he replied, now shitting a brick.

  ‘Where’s this Jaguar?’

  Peto flicked his head, indicating that the gang leader called Jaguar was inside the restaurant.

  ‘Right, fucking move!’ She pointed to the side door of the restaurant. ‘You’re gonna point him out to me.’

  She watched as he nervously walked. She could sense his legs had turned to jelly, but that was just how she wanted him – a nervous, dithering wreck. As he reached the side door, it flew open and out came Shamus, his face bloodied down one side and holding a gun. He wiped off the blood with the back of his hand and took a deep lungful of air. As soon as he saw Zara with a firearm pressed against the small of Peto’s back, he stepped aside. ‘All yours, Gov. Neil’s just cleaning up.’

  ‘Good. There’s one up against the wall. His name’s Gage. He’s no trouble, but just make sure he doesn’t run.’

  Zara pushed Peto inside the restaurant.

  To his horror, his so-called heavy crew were a mess. He thought they were invincible, six-strong and tooled up. The biggest of them all, a six-foot-seven giant of a man, was now totally fucked up. One of Neil’s men, an older guy, was breathing heavily and still holding a fire extinguisher that he’d used to smash the giant’s face in.

  Peto’s eyes scanned the kitchen in horror. His own brother lay in a pool of blood, barely conscious; even with a gun in his hand, he was out of action, now severely wounded.

  Neil was seated and rubbing his sore knuckles, and two of the other men were covering the front entrance, wielding their guns, ready for a further ambush.

  Zara prodded Peto in the back. ‘Well, which is the one called Jaguar?’

  Peto’s hands trembled with shock. He had to find a way out of this mess or no doubt he would end up like the battered men.

  She gave him another dig with her gun. ‘Hurry up! Which one is he?’

  He looked around, and there, unconscious, lay a new recruit. ‘That man there!’ He slyly pointed.

  Zara removed the gun from his back and handed it to Davey. With her new hand, she gave Peto a quick backhanded swipe and cut his face. ‘Fucking liar! Who is he?’

  Peto screamed in pain and stumbled back, clutching his face.

  Even Davey was shocked at the fierceness behind the clump, yet he shouldn’t really have been surprised. Nothing fazed this woman, he thought.

  Neil looked at each of the attackers and then clocked the one in the corner, his eyes wide as he turned to hide his face. Launching himself from his seat, Neil bent down and gripped the man’s collar, lifting him up. ‘You’re this Jaguar guy, aren’t yer?’ he yelled, before pain shot through his chest, causing him to double over.

  Davey caught him before he hit the deck. ‘Easy, Son,’ he said, as he supported him back to the chair.

  The guy weighed up his chances of escape; he really didn’t want to be left with a bunch of lunatics and this feisty mare who thought she was Catwoman. ‘No, not me, mate,’ he responded boldly, poker-faced.

  ‘Frisk him!’ demanded Zara.

  Davey stepped forward and trained his gun on the man’s head. ‘Empty yer pockets.’

  Still as bold as brass, Jaguar flipped his jean pockets inside out. They were empty. Then, as he felt inside his jacket pocket, the hard plastic of the phone case brushed across his hand. His heart in his mouth, he tried to recall what was on that phone. It was like grabbing at smoke rings. He should have left the damn thing behind.

  A tingling sensation ripped through him. The numbers he had to keep secret would be exposed. If the Governor got wind that he was responsible for leaking any information, then his house would be burned to the ground with his wife and kids inside. Without thinking things through, he pulled out the phone and threw it hard onto the floor in the hope that it would smash to smithereens, so no one would be able to retrieve any information. It turned out to be a bad move.

  As soon as the phone made contact with the stone floor, the screen cracked, but otherwise, it remained intact.

  Davey shook his head. ‘Nice try, so this means . . . ’ he said, as he bent down and retrieved the phone, ‘there is information on this piece of equipment that you really don’t want us to see. Oh dear, dear me. Too bad.’

  Suddenly, the man’s cocky persona changed, and he dropped to his knees. ‘Please, I’m begging you. He’ll kill my family . . . ’ The man’s face was ashen and his pupils like pins. ‘He’s so fucking dangerous. Please . . . ’ He was now blubbering like a baby.

  Zara stared at the man now on his knees. Apart from Jaguar whining, the room was quiet as they all watched her.

  ‘If you think he’s dangerous, you haven’t seen dangerous. The Governor, eh? What’s his real name?’

  ‘Please, love, I don’t know. I swear on my baby’s life, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you’d better tell me everything you do know about this man because otherwise I’ll go through every one of those phone numbers until I find his, and then I’ll tell him his fucking panther soldier gave me his number.’

  Jaguar’s eyes grew wide, and his face shrank to the bones, like a skeleton. ‘Jesus, he’ll kill my family!’

  ‘I know, so you’d better start talking then.’

  Before he’d a chance to say another word, Shamus pushed the man with the short dreadlocks through the door and into the middle of the room. Gage’s whole body was shaking, the whites of his eyes prominent.

  ‘You!’ Zara pointed in Gage’s direction. ‘Who is the Governor?’

  He shook his head. ‘I dunno. I just work for him.’ He looked across at Jaguar.

  ‘You won’t get away with this!’ hollered Peto.

  ‘If you’re not happy with a scar down ya face, you can have a bullet to match?’

  Gripping his face, Peto looked to the floor, completely defeated.

  ‘Right, let’s start from the beginning. This Governor. Where does he come from? What colour is he?’

  Jaguar knew he’d been outsmarted. ‘He’s white, a big man. I’ve no idea where he comes from, though.’

  ‘So how did he recruit you lot of inbreds?’

  Jaguar got up from his knees, holding his hands up in abject defeat. ‘He runs South-East London. He has a huge firm. He pays well, and he’s ruthless. Once you’re on the firm, you have to do whatever he says because he knows everything about you. I’ve known him to do some bad shit.’ His eyes filled with water and his face crumpled.

  ‘Like what?’ she demanded.

  ‘He’ll send in men to rape ya sister or ya mother, and he’s burned down a house with someone’s granny in it before. He doesn’t give a fuck.’ His voice changed as if he might be having a regular conversation. ‘He supplies Flakka to everyone, only it’s not really even Flakka. He’s mixed it with some other shit that makes people angry but also addicted. Once you’re hooked you’re fucked, because there’s only one source and that’s him.’

  He looked around the room at the carnage. ‘These are my men. I had me firm only supplying weed. I’d a good little business going, as my
boys supplied Peckham, Lewisham, and Bromley. Then, he got wind of it and offered me a deal to supply this new drug. He said it was like ecstasy but better. I had my punters in the clubs and so I took it on. Of course, I tried the gear meself and so did my crew. Fucking hell . . . ’ He sighed heavily. ‘I wish now I’d never agreed to it. I got addicted right away, and the more I had from the man, the more he wanted from me until I ended up in his firm.’

  Zara was taking it all in. ‘How did you know we were gonna be here tonight?’

  ‘He told us you would be. He told us to go in eight-men-handed and take you lot out. He said there was twenty grand apiece in it for us, but it wasn’t about the money. He said if we refused or fucked up, then he would see to it that our families were hurt.’

  ‘Set up a meeting with him!’

  Jaguar shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that. He came and found us. The man has people everywhere. He knows everything that goes down. His junkies are his spies.’ He paused and breathed in deeply, before his frightened eyes glared back at Zara. ‘He’s like the Devil.’

  ‘There’s only one man who can claim to have had the real Devil on speed-dial and that was my father. This Governor geezer is a nobody in my eyes. So, he wants me fucked up, does he?’ She clenched her jaw in a temper.

  Jaguar looked at her in despair. ‘No. Actually, his very words were, “Take out the Irish mob but don’t harm the woman.”’

  Zara stopped herself from gasping. She questioningly inclined her head. ‘Why not me?’

  Jaguar shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’s not the type of man you challenge. He gives the orders and that’s it.’

  ‘How do we know he’s telling the truth?’ asked Neil, who was now sitting up straight.

  ‘You don’t, but what he says is more feasible than not.’

  Zara turned back to face Jaguar. ‘How will this Governor know that you have taken my men out?’

  He shuffled uncomfortably. ‘He wants photos.’

  Zara laughed. ‘Fucking photos?’ She took the phone from Davey and scrolled down. ‘What’s his number?’