East End Trouble

by Dani Oakley

  Martin stuck his head out of the window. “Do you really want us to let go? That’s not very nice.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying every moment of the entertainment.

  Thoroughly humiliated and scared out of his wits, Barney conceded. “All right, all right. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Please, just get me back inside.”

  Martin nodded, and Tim heaved Barney back inside, scraping his ribs all along the frame.

  Barney collapsed into a heap on the floor. He was a quivering wreck.

  “Get up,” Martin said with disgust. “Get your arse downstairs and get my money. This better not be a sign of things to come, Barney. The next time I visit, I don’t want all this fuss, do you understand me?”

  Barney had been rendered speechless with fright, but he managed to nod and scrambled to his feet and then hobbled down the stairs.

  After he had paid Martin Morton, they left, and Barney poured himself an extra-large brandy and flopped onto one of the chairs. This was not fair. He was a pub landlord, not a bloody gangster. He paid Dave Carter for protection, and he hadn’t bloody got it.

  Now he was going to be broke.

  His wife ran into the pub, her heels clacking on the wooden floor as she rushed up to him.

  “Oh, Barney. Thank God you’re all right.”

  But Barney was far from all right. He was slap bang in the middle of a gang war, through no fault of his own.

  Chapter 63

  Charlie Williams walked along to the prison visiting room with none of his usual swagger. Prison had sucked all the life out of him and all his hope for the future. His brief had told him that he was looking at least another five years inside.

  All the days seemed to blend into one in prison. It was one, long, monotonous grind. The only breaks in the tedious days were fights in the prison yard, or Alfie Harris trying to make Charlie’s life more of a misery than it already was.

  Since he’d been incarcerated, he’d had a couple of visits from a copper, promising him a reduced sentence if he ratted out his boss. But that wasn’t going to happen. Charlie would never grass on Dave Carter.

  As he walked further up the corridor, he saw a group of men loitering, clustered tightly around Alfie Harris. For some reason, Alfie had had it in for him from the start. He just didn’t like the look of Charlie’s mug.

  Charlie had managed to get his revenge in subtle ways, but he could do without any stupid fights now.

  He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not to antagonise Alfie. If a fight broke out now, he would be banned from visiting hours, and he knew Dave was coming in today. So he couldn’t risk a punch-up.

  Luckily, Alfie seemed to be preoccupied, arguing with a bald bloke, so Charlie made his way past without any problems.

  He was patted down at the entrance of the visiting room by a guard, and then when he walked inside, he saw Dave sitting at one of the centre tables.

  He did his best to smile, but he couldn’t help noticing Dave’s shocked reaction. Charlie knew he was looking gaunt. Prison food wasn’t exactly appetising. His old dear cried every time she’d visited him. He had dark circles under his eyes through lack of sleep. There was always someone shouting and making a fuss even in the early hours.

  “It’s good to see you, Dave,” Charlie said trying to muster up his old grin.

  Dave stood up, his face a mask of concern as he held out his hand to shake Charlie’s.

  “How’s life treating you in here, son?”

  “Well, it ain’t a Sunday picnic that’s for sure. But I’m taking it day by day. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Dave nodded slowly, and they both sat down. “Are you having any trouble with anyone in here? Anything I can help with?”

  Charlie thought for a moment. It was only Alfie Harris on his back, and really he was only a minor irritation. It could have been a lot worse. So Charlie shook his head.

  “No, I’m fine. So how’s life on the outside?”

  Dave took a deep breath and then said, “Gary has come back.”

  Charlie tried to minimise his reaction, but he couldn’t help clenching his teeth as he thought about Dave’s brother. It was all his bleeding fault Charlie was in here.

  “I know he let you down,” Dave said. “You’ve been a good worker, Charlie. And I’m not going to forget this in a hurry. I’ve been looking after your mother as I promised.”

  Charlie nodded. His mother had been very keen to sing Dave’s praises on her last visit. She’d been wearing a lovely new winter coat and had even been to get her hair done. She was better off money-wise now than she had been before Charlie got locked up.

  “I know,” Charlie said. “I appreciate it.”

  “I look after my own, Charlie, which brings me to my reason for visiting you.”

  Charlie leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear whatever bit of news Dave had brought with him.

  “I’ve got a plan to get you out of here.”

  Charlie felt his heart leap in his chest but then quickly pushed down the bubble of hope that rose up inside him.

  When he first got sent down, he had been expecting to get out within a few days, and it was soul destroying to slowly come to terms with the fact he was here for the duration. It was better if he didn’t get his hopes up because then he didn’t have to deal with the crushing disappointment at a later date.

  “Now, I’m well aware from my contacts that you’ve had a visit from a copper, asking you to provide information on your boss in exchange for your freedom.”

  Charlie’s gaze flew up to meet Dave’s. “I would never rat you out, boss. Never. I can’t believe you’d even think it.”

  Dave shook his head. “I know that, son. But I have a plan.”

  Dave talked Charlie through his thought process. He explained all the aspects of his plan and how he expected it all to work. When he had finished, Charlie looked up and frowned.

  “But I’m no grass, boss.”

  “I know that, son, but this is different. I’m giving you permission. Do you trust me?”

  Charlie bit down on his lower lip and then nodded his head. “Yes, of course, I do.”

  “Then believe me when I tell you I will get you out of here soon.”

  * * *

  Later that day, Barney Newell trudged up Blocksy Road towards the warehouse where he knew Dave Carter had an office. He never usually dealt directly with Dave. Barney usually handed over the money to one of his underlings every week. Dave hadn't collected the money himself for years.

  He’d never had a problem before, and never needed to talk to Dave about an issue like this. He was still trembling from his ordeal earlier, and he’d left his wife in charge of the pub to go and try and get this matter sorted as soon as possible.

  As he approached the entrance to the doorway, the short, stocky figure of Brian Moore stepped out of the shadows.

  “Barney? What are you doing here?”

  Barney ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair. “I need to speak to Dave. It’s urgent.”

  Brian frowned for a moment then pressed the button on the side of the wall, which made the big metal door roll upwards. “What’s it about?” Brian asked over the noise of the rattling door.

  “I had a visit from Martin Morton earlier. He reckons the pub is under his protection now, and he made me pay. I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve always paid Dave before.”

  Brian snarled. “Martin Morton, that piece of trash. What on earth did you give him money for?”

  Barney was getting close to the end of his tether. “I didn’t really have much choice, did I? He hung me out the window by my blooming ankles. It was either pay up or get splattered on the pavement.”

  “Come in,” Brian said. “I’ll check if Dave’s got a moment to see you now.”

  Barney followed Brian into the huge warehouse, and as they wound their way through the piles of boxes, he grew more and more nervous. He really hoped Dave Carter had a solution because the last thing he want
ed was to be caught up in a war of territory between Martin Morton and Dave Carter.

  It was just his bleeding luck to be piggy-in-the-middle.

  Brian disappeared into the side office for a moment then he came out and gestured for Barney to follow him.

  When Barney walked inside the office, he saw Dave sitting behind a large, wooden desk.

  “I hear you’ve had a visit from Martin Morton this morning, Barney?”

  As he looked at Dave’s kind face and friendly expression, Barney suddenly felt guilty. Somehow he felt this was all his fault, and he’d betrayed Dave by giving Martin the money. “He demanded protection money, and I had to pay up,” Barney said. “The trouble is, Dave, I don’t have any money to pay you now. Otherwise I’ll have nothing left to give the brewery for me rent.”

  Dave nodded slowly. “I certainly wouldn’t expect you to pay this week, Barney. We’ve let you down. You’re paying me money to make sure you don’t get hassled like this. Now, Martin Morton is a nasty piece of work, and he needs to be put in his place. I’m very sorry that you’ve been caught up in this, but I need to ask you a favour.”

  The relief that Barney had felt when Dave told him he didn’t need to pay this week’s protection money faded instantly when Dave asked for a favour. That didn't sound good. Barney was just a landlord. He wasn't cut out for all this gangster stuff. He should have moved out of London while he still had the chance and gotten away from all this.

  But there was no way he could refuse Dave Carter a favour, so Barney reluctantly nodded. “What do you need?”

  “I know you don’t want to get caught in the middle,” Dave said as if he was reading Barney’s mind. “All I need from you is the use of your pub for an hour tomorrow morning, at eleven o’clock.”

  Barney nodded eagerly, glad Dave hadn’t asked more of him. “Of course, no problem.”

  Dave got up from his seat and walked around the desk, holding out his hand to shake Barney’s. “In a couple weeks’ time, I promise you’ll never have to worry about Martin Morton again.”

  * * *

  After Barney had thanked Dave profusely and left them, Brian shut the office door.

  “What’s the plan, boss?”

  Dave smiled. Brian was a good worker but one thing Dave had learned over the years was not to reveal his full hand to anyone.

  Instead of disclosing his plan, he said, “We need to get word to Martin Morton. Tell him to meet me in The Lamb tomorrow, at eleven AM.”

  Brian’s face creased up in a frown as he looked at Dave in shock. “You’re going to meet him yourself?”

  Dave nodded.

  “But shouldn’t we get Gary in on this and have some backup? What if Martin Morton brings the rest of his crew?”

  “We ask him to come alone, and hope that he is honourable.”

  “Pah,” Brian snorted. “I think we both know that Martin Morton is not honourable.”

  Dave tilted his head to the side and gave a little shrug.

  “So you really want to do this on your own, boss? You’re going to meet up with him on your tod?”

  Dave nodded and smiled at Brian before saying, “Yes, it’s time we sorted this once and for all.”

  Chapter 64

  The following morning, Martin Morton made his way to The Lamb. He’d been shocked at first when Red-haired Freddie had passed on the message that Dave Carter wanted to meet, but then he’d thought it actually might be a good sign. His visit to Barney Newell at The Lamb yesterday had certainly shaken things up, and that was his intention. He wanted to make Dave Carter aware that he was a force to be reckoned with and that Martin was going to be top dog in the area.

  He thought the message from Dave was a sign of desperation on his part. Dave was bound to try to persuade him to be reasonable. Dave Carter was an old-fashioned sort of man. He believed that there was honour between gangsters. But as far as Martin was concerned, honour was just another sign of weakness.

  Although the message had requested that Martin come alone, he wasn’t stupid and had brought Red-haired Freddie with him.

  When they reached the outside of The Lamb pub, Martin turned to him and said, “You stay here.”

  Red-haired Freddie tried to peer in the pub windows. “Are you sure, boss? It could be a trap.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Dave Carter hasn't got the balls. You keep watch out here, and if you hear me shout, come running. Shoot first, ask questions later, all right?”

  Red-haired Freddie nodded nervously.

  Martin plastered a confident smile on his face and pushed open the doors, striding into The Lamb. To his surprise, the pub was completely empty. He hadn’t been expecting that.

  It was all mind games. Dave Carter was trying to mess with his head. He thought he was very intelligent, but at the end of the day, Martin was the better man, and he wasn't going to fall for any of Dave’s cheap tricks.

  As if he wasn’t bothered at all, Martin strolled around the bar. He noticed on one table there was a half-drunk cup of tea and a pile of papers. He did a double-take as his eyes focused on an object on top of the newspapers. It was a gun.

  Martin frowned. What kind of a joke was this? Had Dave just left the gun lying around?

  Martin looked around the bar, but it was still empty. He reached out and touched the cold metal of the gun before picking it up and testing its weight in his hands. At that moment, there was noise from behind him and Martin, still holding the gun, turned around quickly.

  Dave Carter stepped out from behind the bar. He was alone as far as Martin could see, and despite the fact that Martin was holding a gun in his hand, Dave looked remarkably relaxed as he walked over.

  “Morton. It’s been a long time,” Dave said.

  Martin said nothing but raised the gun.

  “It’s not loaded. I was just cleaning it. It relaxes me. Now, let’s have our talk and clear the air, shall we?”

  Martin put the gun down, not paying attention to the fact there were no cleaning materials anywhere near the gun. He pushed it to one side and squared off against Dave. He didn’t like the way Dave was taking charge of this meeting.

  “What do you want?” Martin said.

  Dave reached down for his half-drunk cup of tea. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Martin scowled. He hadn’t come here for a bloody tea party.

  He was getting really irritated now. He shook his head.

  Dave took a sip of his tea and then said, “I was hoping we could come to an agreement. I respect how you’ve made a name for yourself, and I’m not out to take anything away from you. I think maybe we should think about boundaries. You could stick to your patch, and I’d stick to mine, and never the twain shall meet, and all that.”

  Martin gave a tight smile. “Of course,” he lied smoothly. “The last thing I want is any more trouble.”

  “That’s right. There’s no point in us getting caught up in a petty squabble when it’s just losing us both money. We’re businessmen, and as such we need to focus on business.”

  Martin nodded casually and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. “I want The Lamb, though.”

  Martin knew that this would be a sticking point for Dave Carter. There was no way Dave could back down from The Lamb without looking weak.

  Martin grinned as he saw Dave flinch.

  “That’s quite some request,” Dave said. “But I’m prepared to compromise for the sake of an agreement.”

  Martin’s eyebrows shot up. He was so surprised. He most definitely hadn’t expected that. Dave Carter must be more worried than he’d thought. He would be able to annihilate him. Martin couldn’t wait.

  Once he had The Lamb, all of Dave’s other properties would start to fall like dominoes and land in Martin’s lap.

  “We could come to an arrangement,” Dave said. “I’ll give you The Lamb if you give me access to all the warehouses you control on Victoria Docks.

  Martin shrugged. He didn’t give a shit about Victoria
Docks. Those places were all abandoned. Dave Carter really had lost his touch. “Yes, you can have those.”

  Dave nodded slowly. “Well, I’m glad we had this little talk and got things straightened out. There was one question I had for you, though.”

  Martin narrowed his eyes. “Go on?”

  “Do you know what happened to Frank the Face?”

  Martin shrugged. “Frank the Face? One of your lads, wasn’t he?”

  Dave nodded.

  “No idea.”

  Dave Carter’s eyes never left Martin’s face, and for the first time, Martin felt a slight sense of unease as if Dave knew far more than he was letting on.

  “So you didn’t kill him?”

  Martin shook his head. “No.”

  “And you swear that on your mother’s life?” Dave asked, his tone cold.

  Martin exploded. “What the hell is this? I didn’t bloody kill him. I swear it on my mother’s life, good enough for you, Carter?”

  Martin was seething, and Dave looked as cool and collected as could be.

  Dave nodded. “Thank you for being so honest.”

  Martin clenched his teeth, annoyed that he’d let Dave rattle him. “Are we done here?

  Dave drained his cup of tea and then smiled at Martin Morton.

  “Oh, Yes. We are done,” Dave said.

  * * *

  Outside The Lamb, Martin met up with Red-haired Freddie.

  “How did it go boss?” Red-haired Freddie asked, rushing over to Martin’s side.

  “I’ve got him stitched up like a kipper.” Martin grinned, feeling very satisfied with the morning’s work. “He’s handing over The Lamb in exchange for a couple of warehouses on Victoria Docks. Bloody idiot. They’re derelict. We’ve got him on the back foot now, Freddie. It won’t be long until all this is ours.”

  “So what exactly did he say?”

  Martin gave Freddie an irritated look. He didn’t like the fact that Freddie obviously thought Carter wouldn't roll over that easily because it reminded Martin of that niggling worry at the back of his mind. It had been almost too easy.