by KERRY BARNES
As the evening approached, Dan and Joe jumped into one car whilst Sam and Jack got in another, leaving Fred on his own. There was a whisper that the O’Connells had a Kent copper in their back pocket so they planned to send Fred along first. A vanload of heavies was to meet them there for back-up if need be. Strangely, the hideout where they were supposed to be lying low was a mile away from Francesca’s house, which they used for Christmas holidays, meaning they knew the area well.
The farmhouse was surrounded by fields. A country lane ran across the front, with a turning five hundred yards up ahead. The only means of escape was the back field. No nearby houses overlooked the hide-out so the coast was clear. Fred slowly pulled up outside with his lights off. Dan and the others held back.
Suddenly, a police car thrashed around the corner and skidded to a halt. The officers jumped out of their car, almost ripping the door off, dragging Fred out.
Dan drove slowly past and laughed.
The police didn’t catch who was in the other cars. They weren’t the Vincents’ famous red Mercedes with the private number plates.
One copper threw him heavily against the bonnet.
“What the fuck do you idiots think you’re doing?” scowled Fred, who was itching to punch the fat one in the face.
“Well, look who it ain’t. Freddie Vincent,” he said, holding Fred against the car.
Fred laughed, which irritated the copper. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at, mate, but I think I can find enough on you to have a field day.” He loosened his grip and allowed Fred to turn around. They stood face to face, both smirking.
“So what’ve you stopped me for then, officer?” asked Fred, raising his eyebrow.
“Oh, let me see, dodgy headlight, driving without due care and attention, drunk driving, wearing a bullet proof vest – take your fucking pick, son!”
“Bullet proof vest! I run a nightclub as security and it’s keeping me warm.” He laughed out loud. “You Kent police are all the same! Look at you, standing there in your flak jacket and combat jeans, thinking you’re straight out of fucking Iraq. But you aren’t though, are ya? No balls for the army, not even man enough for the fucking Met police – now, they take on real men, not fanny pieces like you!”
The burly copper smirked at the smaller copper and kicked Fred in the leg. The pain was sharp but he refused to make a sound. Instead, he smiled. “I wouldn’t push it too far, Officer Trench!”
Trench stood back and looked uneasy.
“Yeah, mate, I know who you are, you silly little wanker. Before you even think of touching me again, I best tell you, I fucking know who you are, and what you are, and you may be the O’Connells’ sidekicks, but, ya see, the Met police hate you weasel wankers, and would love to see the footage I have on you!”
The smaller policeman looked at the floor. Officer Trench frowned and Fred watched as the colour left his cheeks.
“You think we don’t smell a pig in our clubs? They’re rigged up with cameras, every bloody inch of the place. Shitting your fucking pants now, ain’t ya?”
“You have nothing on me, Vincent!”
Fred straightened himself up and laughed. “Oh no? We fucking marked your cunting card years ago. Don’t suppose your buddy over here knows ya like little boys!” He glanced at the other copper. “And you, ya scrawny bag of shit, Officer Rolland, we got enough on you – selling drugs to me punters! Ya see, us Vincents, we have this insurance – a library of footage, neatly lined up in our lawyer’s office, get my drift?”
The two coppers were shitting hot bricks. He knew too much to be bluffing. No way could they chance on a nick.
“Go on then, Vincent, on your way. I will let you go this time, just slow down on the bends,”
Fred laughed. “Who the hell are you to fucking talk to me like that?” He paused, looking at their feet, which stood them on uneasy ground. “If I see your face or hear that either of you two cokeheads have been near or by, that footage is going straight to where you know it hurts, got it? Have I made myself crystal cunting clear?” he screamed, lurching forward.
Officer Trench nodded, along with Rolland, knowing full well he held the power to take them down in a flash. They had been warned not to mess with the Vincents, and hiding behind a uniform gave them no favours. They crept away and drove off into the night, not bothering to call Levi to give him the heads up. What should happen tonight was none of their business. Their own reputation and liberty were on the line and Freddie Vincent was not fucking around.
The farmhouse was rundown and barely inhabitable, but tucked neatly in a field. No one should have known their whereabouts as they had kept it a tight secret. Levi had made a deal with the coppers to keep an eye on the place. They had Noah with them, a tough traveller who no sane man messed with. Farley had taken a kicking when he’d refused entry to Noah that night at the club, but he was spared his life and got away with a broken nose, jaw and a cracked rib. However, that was a few years ago and now he was on side again with him. The O’Connells had lost a fair few friends and needed the backing of their fellow travellers. Many refused to get involved, as the Vincents were too big a fish to fry.
Noah was sitting on the old worn and torn leather armchair, and listening to the wind whistling through the cracks in the windows. The frames had rotted away and what was left barely held together. Billy was nodding off on the sofa – his fat head held upright by his wide neck. The cold didn’t bother him; he was carrying so much blubber. His stomach spilled over his trousers and he walked around most of the time with his shoe laces untied. The rattle at the back of his throat when he snored was annoying Levi. He jumped up and headed for the run-down kitchen, which they had managed to half clean up to cook and eat in. The fridge was filled with beer cans, the sides had packets of biscuits and crisps, and the empty takeaway cartons were piled up.
They planned to keep their heads down for a few days and work out how they were going to turn this nightmare of a situation around. Ocean sat next to the fire, sharpening his knife. It made him cringe, knowing this was the only weapon he had, and he was unsure if he had the guts to use it.
Noah’s phone pinged and Levi jumped. “Who was that, Noah?”
“My Rose, just saying goodnight.” A half-cocked smile spread across his face.
“Right, boys, I’m starving, I’m gonna order a pizza,” announced Noah. There was silence. Farley poured himself a beer and tried to stop his hands shaking. The looming threat had left him feeling uneasy and sick. Levi lined up a gram of cocaine along the kitchen surface. His nose was a real mess now and the only way to cope with his ugly face was to keep snorting the Charlie.
Noah dialled the number. “Hello, I want to order a pizza.”
There was silence at the end of the phone and then a voice said, “For how many people?”
“Um, let’s see… Levi, want a pizza?” asked Noah.
Levi shouted from the kitchen, “No!”
“Ocean, want pizza?”
He shook his head.
“Farley, what about you?”
Farley was feeling very sick and hollered back, “No way, I’d heave it back up!”
“And you, fat boy, I bet you want some?”
Billy laughed. “Yeah, too large meat feasts!”
Noah still had a grin on his face when he returned to the call. “Yes, three large meat feasts.”
Fred joined his brothers further up the lane and clambered into the back of Sam’s car with Joe. Dan stood having a fag, listening to Jack.
“Who was you talking to, boy?” asked Fred.
Jack smiled. “Are we ready to deliver pizzas?”
Sam ruffled his son’s hair. “You little fucker, Jack. Who have you got in that farmhouse?”
“Noah. He wants the O’Connells fucked up. Said he will keep them there until I give him the okay. See, Dad, I ain’t a little boy anymore. Ocean, Farley, Levi and Billy are inside with no guns and just a couple of knives.”
“Are you sure yo
u can trust him? He’s another pikey,” said Joe.
Jack laughed. “Well, we’ve got insurance just in case, but Noah has a burning grudge to bear, and it ain’t with us.”
Dan reached through the car window and playfully slapped his face.
“Give it fifteen minutes or they will smell a rat,” said Jack.
“But are you sure about Noah?” repeated Joe.
“Noah said he will put the boot in, out of respect. He has his reasons for ensuring they never see the light of day, so he is going to open the door and let us in, but there is a backdoor. He has made sure it’s unlocked, so we can go through the back as well… But Ocean’s mine, all right? I want him!” said Jack.
Sam and Dan exchanged glances and then nodded. Jack had never seen his uncles or father in action. He had seen them fight at the gym, and admired them, especially Fred. Fast and furious, he called him.
Adam and Jason stood towering above the Vincents. They agreed to go in the back door just in case Noah had a change of heart. He was such a big lump. Dan tapped on the door.
“Go and get the pizzas, mush,” directed Noah to Ocean.
“How do you know it’s the pizza delivery?” Ocean was a nervous wreck.
“’Cos I fucking ordered it, cranky cunt!”
Ocean gripped his knife and turned the handle slowly, edging it open. Then Dan, with brute force, kicked the door in, sending Ocean on his arse. Billy was wide awake and struggling to get to his feet. Levi and Farley ran towards the back exit, to be rudely stopped by Jason and Adam.
Levi had the other knife and pulled it from his pocket, wielding it in front of Adam. “Come on then, fucker!” High on cocaine and cocky as fuck, Levi got a shock when Fred bashed him on the shoulder and he heard the jangle as his blade hit the stone floor. Fred seized him by the throat and dragged him back into the living room, throwing him on the floor.
All the men were now in the same room. The O’Connells looked from one to the other, knowing there was no escape, and praying it would be over quickly.
The Vincents stood staring, menacingly, in silence and Jack glared at Ocean with a sadistic grin on his face.
Noah got up. He hadn’t moved from his seat until now. He was a huge bulk of a man, with scars across his face, thick sideburns and a thick, gold loop dangling from his ear. His hands were the size of concrete slabs. It stood to reason that the O’Connells thought they were safe in his protection. “Thank you, boys, now this is my fight!”
“What?” said Dan, totally bewildered.
“Yeah, Vincent, I am glad you came just to herd these cats, but I have a little issue of me own, see.” His voice was deep and gruff and Dan grinned. He was going to watch this giant slaughter the O’Connells, pleased he didn’t have to get his clothes dirty.
Ocean was cowering in the corner, covering his face, terrified, but Jack wasn’t having it. He needed to let go of his built-up anger. Ignoring Noah, he reached down, pulled Ocean to his feet and punched him full force in the side of the head. Ocean wobbled but didn’t go down. Jack snatched him by the collar and thumped him again, not letting him fall. Again and again, he hammered into his face until, finally, he couldn’t hold the weight and let Ocean crash to the floor. All eyes were on him. Even the Vincents were shocked at his brute, relentless force. The O’Connells were cringing at the sound of broken bones and the sight of the pretty boy’s face caving in. Jack wasn’t even breathless. It was nothing to him. He had the power of ten men and stepped back, calm and collected, as if brutalising a man near to death was normal. Even Sam shuddered.
Noah didn’t flinch. A cruel smirk spread across his face. He stared at Levi. “He got off lightly. You though, you perverted mush, ain’t!”
Levi struggled to his feet and tried to back away. “Noah, what the fuck have I done to you?” His voice was cracking, ready to cry, as the coke had worn off.
“You know what you did. My dear little sister, gawd rest her soul.”
Levi knew what he meant and prayed he could take the beating and live. No point in denying it. He did get her hooked. He had wanted her for himself, and the only way he could have a piece of her was by giving her freebies, but she had to give out for it.
Billy wasn’t so cocky now. He was totally immersed in dread, his breathing tightened and pains shot down his arm as an odd, whining sound left his mouth. As Sam went to lunge at him, Joe stopped him. “No! Look, the cunt’s having a heart attack!”
Noah looked away from Levi to watch Billy gripping his chest as his lips turned blue. Within seconds he slumped on the sofa. Sam spat on his face, the phlegm dripping from the end of his nose, but Billy didn’t flinch. He was dead.
“Go on, boys, you can leave these two dead-beat mushes to me. I think it only fair I take ‘em out the old-fashioned way, true Romany style.”
Dan was not sure if he was being up front. “How do I…?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll hear the screams.” With that, he pulled from his pocket two chunky gold knuckle dusters, diamond encrusted, with his sister’s name on. He’d had them made and kept them for this special occasion.
There was a deep, thoughtful silence on the way home, until Sam said, “See, son, I told you this would bother you, haunt ya!”
Jack wanted to laugh. His father couldn't have been more wrong. “I only hope I’ve killed the cunt!”
*
There was no news or gossip until three days later when Detective Inspector James knocked at the door. Sam was nervous this time but not just for himself. He was very worried for his son, Jack. He had tossed and turned for two nights, worrying that Jack was now caught up in a war he was too young to handle.
“’Ello, Detective, what can I do you for?” He tried to make a joke.
DI James smiled. “May I come in? I need a chat with you and your boy.”
Sam felt his throat tighten. This was it, they were going to get nicked. He knew the fight had been messy. Had all the loose ends been tied up? Shit, they shouldn’t have trusted Noah. “Yeah, course, mate. Can I get you a drink?”
James saw Sam was nervous, too friendly, not his usual steel trait. “Yeah, why not? Let’s make it a double. I fucking need a drink. Those Kent coppers are doing my nut in!”
Sam poured two large whiskies and sat opposite the DI.
“What’s this all about then, guv?” he asked, perched on the edge of his seat.
James loosened his tie and sipped the drink. “I don’t know, mate. There was an incident down in Kent. Levi, Farley and Billy O’Connell were found dead. A travelling man, called Noah, claims they set him up and took him there to murder him over a dodgy deal. Well, as it happens, two of them laid into him. Farley O’Connell stabbed him in the arm but, in fear of his life, he fought back.” He took another mouthful of the neat whisky as he allowed it to burn the back of his throat.
“So, what’s that got to do with us?”
“Well, apparently, a gypsy by the name of Ocean…” Sam nodded, waiting for the DI to get to the crunch line, “is claiming it was your boy who attacked him, and not Noah. Says you were all there.”
Sam sniffed the air and smiled. “I won’t lie. I do know of this Ocean and, yeah, I wanted the cunt dead but, if this Noah is putting his hands up to it then what are you doing ‘ere?”
“It’s those fucking Kent coppers. They ain’t old school. They got two murders, one death by natural causes, and the other by a brutal beating. They can’t nick Noah. He has a good enough case for self-defence. Both the two knives had Levi’s, Farley’s and Ocean’s prints on ‘em. There is a nasty wound in the back of Noah’s arm which he couldn’t have done himself, but they are bored shitless down there and want a nicking. With Ocean singing like a canary, they are after your boy.”
Sam gulped back his whisky. “So, what now then?”
The DI smiled. “They called me in because you’re on my patch. I told them if you have an alibi then I’m closing the case, and the chief agreed. They know the Crown Prosecution Service wouldn�
�t have a leg to stand on.”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, what day did you say?”
“Give me a list of names. I will get the statements, and then the Kent lot can go fuck ‘emselves.”
Jack strolled in, unaware that it was the DI sitting there. He stopped in his tracks. James looked him up and down, noticing the bruises on his knuckles. “Take my advice, lad, make sure you wear those boxing gloves before you go pummelling the punch bag. It’ll do you no good to ruin your career. Ya gonna be a reigning champion one day.”
Jack’s face lit up. “I hope so. Train every day and most nights, unless I’m working.”
“Right then, I’ll be off. Don’t you worry about a thing, Sam. You phone your alibis, and let them know I’m coming to take a statement and, after this case is closed, I’m gonna call it a day. Listening to those fuckwits in Kent has finished me off. Time to get out and fuck off to Spain.”
As he heaved himself off the seat, Sam stopped him. “Hold up a sec, I’ve got something for you.”
James frowned and watched as he opened a drawer and removed a bunch of keys and a piece of paper. “Here you go, it’s yours!”
The DI stared at the keys, baffled. “What’s this?”
Sam patted him on the back. “We all know, me and me brothers, that you have always seen us right. Behind the scenes, you sorted out our shit, one way or another. Ya have been good to us. We only wish we could have found out who hurt your girl…”
James jumped back, a lump wedged in his throat. “You knew?”
Sam gave him a sympathetic nod. “Yeah, we always kept our ears to the ground to find anything that could help you but never came up with a single clue.”
He sniffed back a tear. “I always believed it was Charlie McManners. So, son, you perhaps helped out more than you realised!”
DI James gripped the set of keys and, through watery eyes, read the note. New owner – four bedroomed villa in Marbella.
He glanced up at Sam as the tears tumbled down his face. “If I had a son, I’d have wanted him to be like you.” This was the first time ever, as a grown man, he had shown emotion in public, but he had been there over the years to see and hear of the ups and downs the Vincents had faced, especially Sam.
