The Graft

by Martina Cole

  Nick was intrigued.

  ‘What, Gary slapped the lad? Why?’

  Stevie shook his head furiously.

  ‘He didn’t slap him, Nick, he kicked the shit out of him. That boy is looking at three months in hospital. This ain’t just about a slap. Proctor tried to sexually assault him. Tried to get him on his knees. Do you get my drift now?’

  ‘He did what?’

  Stevie could hear the disbelief in his friend’s voice.

  ‘I got it all out of Jerome eventually. I thought he had got a kicking off his mates or something, you know. But I finally got it out of him what had really happened. The boy is in a right state as I said. Apparently Proctor took him to a new warehouse you are buying and told him he would get him a gig if Jerome blew him off.’

  ‘Gary did that?’

  Nick’s voice was getting higher and higher with disbelief.

  Stevie nodded then, utter disgust written all over his face.

  ‘Jerome said no and Proctor attacked him. Tried to force him. Jerome wouldn’t have none of it, and fair play to him, who fucking would? He cunted him off, and I tell you now, Nick . . .’ Stevie pointed at his friend with a shaking finger, his anger spiralling out of control ‘. . . that boy is not a spinner. If he said it happened like that then it happened. The funny thing is, Jerome didn’t say he was related to me because he wanted to get the gigs off his own back. So that he knew it was because he could really do it, and not because of his family connections. If Gary had known who he was I expect he would have left him alone, but you have to accept that you have a fucking pervert in your circle of associates and it has to be sorted out. And on another note, Nick, me and you will both want this kept quiet for obvious reasons. That is why I am here with you, face to face.’

  ‘Fucking hell!’

  Nick shook his head once more.

  ‘I don’t believe it. Gary Proctor? Are you sure he had the right geezer?’

  Stevie was losing patience now.

  ‘Of course I fucking am! This is too serious to make a fuck up, ain’t it? It was him all right. Imagine how I felt hearing it all. One of me oldest mates is a fucking shit stabber, and to crown it all a fucking rapist to boot.’

  Stevie threw the last of his drink back in one movement and Nick watched him, aware of the menace now emanating from him.

  ‘I could cope with them in the stir - and, believe me, for some of them it was like a fucking busman’s holiday. Even on the unit. But that was consenting adults. I ain’t having my nephew trumped by that cunt. You want to see the boy. Messed him right up Proctor has, the piece of fucking scum! I mean, who else has he done it to, eh? How many other little boys has he done it to and got away with it, that’s what I want to know. Because it ain’t something the lads would report to anyone, is it? You got two boys, ain’t you, and that cunt is around them, and you didn’t know he was a secret fucking lemonade drinker!’

  He nodded at the logic of his friend’s words.

  ‘Where do you want to take him out?’

  Nick wasn’t putting up any sort of fight on his man’s behalf. This was inexcusable.

  ’Anywhere, but he is going to pay for this, Nick. That poor little fucker is in a right state, and me sister, well, she thinks he got a kicking from a gang of blokes out on the drink and the hag. I couldn’t let on about this to anyone, could I?’

  ‘ ’Course not. I’ll ring Gary now. He has a little Boxter in Bow. It’s quiet and no one knows about it. I’ll get him there and we’ll be waiting for him together, OK?’

  Stevie nodded.

  ‘Thanks, Nick, I knew you would understand, but I can do him on me own.’

  Nick shook his head once more and the die was cast.

  ‘Nah, I want to be there by your side to hear what he has to say for himself.’

  Stevie grinned.

  ‘Well, it won’t be much, will it? Mainly screaming then groaning.’ He took out a set of knuckle dusters from his pocket.

  Nick laughed along with his friend, but his world that had seemed so safe before the death of Sonny Hatcher now felt as if it had turned upside down.

  Tyrell was inside his new home and rolling himself a joint. He actually owned this flat, but like many of his assets Sally knew nothing about it. He had bought many such properties over the years and now had quite a nest egg for his old age. He pulled on the joint and realised he had missed this, missed the freedom of having a puff and a beer when he wanted to.

  If he even had a Marlboro Light at home Sally flipped out, fearing it would lead to every other addiction she could think of.

  If only she knew.

  He hoped she was OK. He had talked to the boys and they didn’t seem any the worse for wear. He sometimes thought they understood him better than his wife. At school they had encountered the real world, unlike Sally who shut it out as much as she could. She was more like Jude than she realised, he saw that now. Both of them escaped in different ways. Jude with her skag and poor Sally with her decorating and her needlework and her cooking.

  He forced them both from his mind and concentrated on the job in hand. It was a kinger, a six-cigarette-paper dream of a joint, and he was going to smoke it all by himself and then he was going to sleep the sleep of the dead. He had not slept properly for days and it was beginning to show on him. Even his dreads looked defeated.

  Tyrell had experienced a terrible shock to his system, he knew that, but he also knew that what was really burning him up was not grief.

  He was burning up with the need for revenge.

  Gary Proctor was lying in bed watching a video when his wife told him that Nick had called and wanted to meet him at Bow. It was early, but he liked to go to bed and watch a bit of telly when he had experienced a stressful day.

  Gary had sore, bruised knuckles from that kid, but he had to give the boy his due, for a skinny little fucker he had put up a fight.

  Still, Gary had taught him a lesson about the survival of the fittest he wouldn’t forget. He got up and admired himself in the bedroom mirror, then shouted down the stairs, ‘Maureen, get me a drink, love.’

  He was half-erect from thinking about the boy and what he had nearly got from him. Gary pulled on his penis, enjoying the sensation, and closed his eyes imagining what might have been.

  Maureen came in with the drink. Placing it on the dressing table, she said archly, ‘Do you mind? The kids could come in and that would be a lovely sight for them, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, fuck off, you miserable old bat.’

  Maureen, though, was well able for him and answered sarcastically, ‘Pot, kettle and black spring to mind, Gal.’

  Then she sneered at him.

  ‘Who’d fucking want you these days? Hardly the answer to a maiden’s prayer, are you? I’d rather shag the dog.’

  He was laughing at her now.

  ‘Every time I see meself in the mirror I get a hard on, Maureen.’

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she said nastily, ‘That, Gary, is because you have a face like a cunt.’

  She walked from the room and he knew she was laughing at him. Even he had to admit, it was funny. He would store it away for future reference. She was a crack, his Maureen, and in fairness had needed to be considering some of the stunts he had pulled on her over the years.

  Gary took time over his hair as he always did. It was his only real vanity. He didn’t wonder what was going on with Nick, he would find out soon enough. He assumed it was a bit of skulduggery and he hoped it was a good little earner.

  He popped his head round his youngest daughter’s door and she waved at him happily. She was eight and safely ensconced in her bed, watching Law and Order.

  ‘ ’Bye, Daddy. See you in the morning.’

  ‘You can bet on it, princess. I’ll make you your brekker, eh?’

  She grinned, her face adorable with its gap-toothed smile. He banged on his elder boy’s room and got a grunt in reply, but that was par for the course these days. After pecking Maur
een on the cheek, Gary left the house wondering what the night would bring.

  As he unlocked his car he was whistling happily through his teeth.

  Chapter Ten

  Nick opened the lock-up garage and walked inside. In the corner was a Calor gas fire which he lit with difficulty. The light here was dim but good enough if you had decent eyesight. It was freezing, though, and they needed some warmth, more than the fire would radiate, so he took out a small hip flask from his coat pocket and two metal shot tumblers. He poured them both a drink and they sipped it as they waited for Gary Proctor’s car to arrive. The place was empty except for a few black bin bags.

  ‘Nice and quiet here, Nick, it was a blinding choice of venue.’

  ‘We won’t be disturbed, don’t worry. Round here even if they heard screams they’d just turn the telly up.’

  Nick refilled the glasses.

  ‘I still can’t believe it, Stevie. I remember now how he was always giving lifts to those young fellas we worked with. But then I’ve done it meself, you know, with the raves and that. They’re our employees. You just don’t think, do you?’ Nick sipped at his drink again before continuing. ‘Do you think he has done something like this before? Did Jerome say anything about anyone else it might have happened to?’

  Stevie shook his head.

  ‘Not a dicky-bird, but then he really don’t want to talk about it much. What a fucking perverted viper to have in your nest, Nick! Can you imagine, if this got out, how it would reflect on you? You know what people are like. He’s your right-hand man, ain’t he?’

  Nick knew his friend was trying to warn him and at the same time justify his having to maim someone he had been friends with for years. But Nick was as up for it as Stevie at the moment, in shock that Gary had been found out this way.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Not any more he fucking ain’t.’

  Stevie was quiet for a few seconds before saying, ‘Everyone who was mates with him would be suspect if this got out, and that includes me. I had a beer with him when I was released, and that is what I can’t fucking understand. How he thought he would get away with it.’

  They looked askance at one another.

  ‘He’s got kids, he’s married. It just shows you what you don’t know, don’t it? You think you are on the ball, that you’ve seen it all, that you are a good judge of character, know who you can fucking trust . . . and then something like this happens and you are left wondering about everyone around you.’

  ‘Do you want me to give him a hammering with you?’

  Nick said it matter-of-factly.

  Stevie shrugged.

  ‘Up to you, mate, but I’m warning you now, Nick, I am going for blood and guts here. Proctor will be as good as dead.’

  He was sorry about his choice of words but knew Nick understood what he was trying to say.

  ‘Look, you shoot off if you want, Nick. I appreciate this but if it all goes tits up I don’t want you having anything to do with it.’

  He was trying to keep his friend out of a violent situation, warning him how bad this was going to get, and Nick appreciated that.

  ‘I know, mate. What we’ll say to everyone is he was a grass. I will confirm the story for you, all right? That way the boy is kept out of it and Gary will be vilified and considered untrustworthy for the rest of his days.’

  He shook his head once more.

  ‘I cannot believe I am even having this conversation, can you?’

  Stevie sighed theatrically.

  ‘Fucking scary though, eh? I was banged up for fifteen long years with only me right hand for company. It never crossed me mind once to turn elsewhere, and you’d be surprised what some of them in there would do for a Kit Kat or a couple of smokes. I mean, a fucking rapist is bad enough, but a bloke raping another bloke? I mean, what the fuck is that all about?’

  Nick was saved from answering by the sound of Gary’s car pulling up outside. He knew one thing. He had to see this through to the bitter end. It would not be good for business to do anything else.

  This was a scandal they could all live without.

  Gino went into the flat with trepidation, he hated scoring here. It was in a dilapidated block and thanks to the number of robberies locally all the flats had metal covers on the doors. This was perfect for Lenny Bagshot’s business. It saved on shotguns anyway.

  Once inside the flat the door was bolted loudly behind him and a young baby about nine months old came scooting down the hallway in a baby walker. The child was wearing designer clothes and three gold chains. Her ears were already pierced and she wore three sets of keeper earrings.

  She smiled widely at Gino and Lenny, who chucked her under the chin. She crowed with happiness.

  ‘She’s her daddy’s little darling.’

  Gino followed the tall young man into the sitting room. The place was like something from a magazine, it was beautiful, and this was what made Gino nervous. This was a room from the TV screen, not the council estate he had grown up on. He was always frightened he would dirty the carpet or break wind. It was impossibly clean in here and that did not sit well in his world. His mum was clean but this place was clinical, like a hospital waiting room.

  Lenny’s girlfriend was a tall blonde called Harriet, Harry for short, and she was very middle-class and very good-looking. She looked like a film star, or at least Gino thought she did.

  Lenny was tall, thin and had blond hair shaved in a number one crop. He dressed well and he chain smoked. Unlike most of the dealers round about he never touched his own stuff. Didn’t take drugs period. For him this was just a stepping stone to a better life, and he ran his business with an eye to maximum security and profit.

  Lenny was considered a diamond geezer and played up to that. He had a thick rasping cockney accent and joked constantly. Unfortunately the jokes often held a barb. He could get you anything you wanted for money up front. He could also get you killed if you tried to tuck him up.

  At least that was what was said on the estate.

  ‘How much tonight?’

  ‘Half an ounce.’

  ‘You are pushing the boat out, ain’t you? What, you having a party?’

  Lenny laughed at his own wit.

  ’Are you on it, Gino? Tell me the truth.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘ ’Course not; it’s a mug’s game.’

  Lenny laughed once more.

  ‘Glad to hear it. Keep away from heroin. It steals your soul, boy, and you never really get it back. You dealing this on then?’

  Gino shook his head violently in denial.

  ‘Nah . . . no. It’s for Jude Hatcher.’

  Lenny was gratified by the boy’s discomfort. He liked to frighten them young and then they kept the feeling for the rest of their lives. If this boy didn’t dabble Lenny would take him on full-time, but he was sure Gino was on the periphery of H and if that was the case Lenny wanted nothing to do with him. He could wait, he was patient, he had to be. In his game you watched and waited for your opportunities to arrive. You never went looking for them. But this kid had the makings of a half-decent dealer, so if he didn’t succumb Lenny would give him a trial.

  ‘Tell her to be careful, Gino. This is good gear and after the shit she’s been jacking up it’s liable to kill her.’

  Lenny laughed once more.

  ‘Still, if it does, she can visit her scumbag son in hell, can’t she?’

  Sonny had had a run in with Lenny just before he had been killed. Gino had no idea what it was over but he did know that Sonny had taken it very personally. He stared at the dealer warily. Gino knew that if he was selling on he would be given the hard word from Lenny who would want to cultivate his customers for himself. No one dealt on this estate without Lenny’s express say-so.

  ‘Forewarned is forearmed, Gino, my little son. Remember that, won’t you?’

  He nodded and handed over the money.

  Two minutes later he was outside once more and breathing i
n huge lungfuls of cold night air.

  He rushed back to Jude’s. She would be eagerly awaiting him and tonight he too wanted to try the brown.

  It was time to experience life. As Jude said, you never knew when your time would be up so you might as well enjoy it while it lasted. And he was only going to try it the once anyway, just to see what all the shouting was about.

  ‘Come on, Tyrell, you can’t sit in here on your own again.’