Maura's Game

by Cole, Martina

  ‘All right? What brings you here?’

  He was determined to act as normally as possible.

  Maura shrugged.

  ‘We were in the neighbourhood.’

  Jack laughed and ushered them all inside.

  ‘I was just on me way out actually, but I can give you twenty minutes.’

  Maura looked into his eyes.

  ‘You, Jack, will give us the rest of your life if we ask you to, OK?’

  Her tone told him all he needed to know.

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  He was trying to sound businesslike but his nerves were showing through. He felt sick with apprehension.

  ‘Who said there was a problem?’

  Benny’s voice was ice cold and Jack was reminded of what a mad bastard he was. He tried to laugh it off.

  ‘Everyone who comes here has a problem.’

  ‘Really?’

  Benny’s voice was insolent and Jack wondered how far he was willing to go and how far he himself was willing to let him. He devoutly hoped it did not come to that.

  ‘Kenny is meeting us here, we’ll wait for him, eh? Then we can start. Stupid to tell the same story twice, ain’t it?’

  ‘Can I get you a coffee, some tea, a drink?’

  They all shook their heads as one.

  Jack was more nervous than ever now. This was definitely not a friendly social call, this was trouble, and he hoped to Christ he could talk his way out of whatever corner he had talked himself into.

  Leonie waltzed into the room after a sojourn on the sunbed. All she had on was a small towel and a big smile that encompassed everyone. Only Garry smiled back. She was just his cup of tea even at his advanced age; he had always liked the dark ones. As Jack watched him watching her the atmosphere in the room chilled even further.

  ‘Go and put some fucking clothes on.’

  Maura felt sorry for the girl; his words were harsh and spoke of complete ownership. She knew how lucky she had been to be part of her own family. That would never have happened to her. But then she would not have pretended to like a man old enough to be her father to make a few quid, whoever her family was.

  As Leonie walked from the room, embarrassed and angry, Garry said: ‘I don’t know, Jack, the kids of today have no idea, have they?’

  He didn’t answer.

  They sat in silence once more. It was twenty minutes before Kenny Smith turned up but to Jack Stern it seemed like a lifetime.

  Three miles down the road a big white transit van was sitting outside Jack Stern’s derelict barn. Three men, all large and with seriously ugly faces, were loading the blocks of coke on to the van. There was no conversation while they worked. Parked down the road a little way off were two plain-clothes policemen in an unmarked Sierra. They watched the proceedings carefully. One was counting the blocks as they were brought from the barn.

  ‘Fucking few quid there, Sarge.’

  He was completely awed by the sight of so much coke.

  The other man nodded. He carried on smoking a cigarette and observing the men at work.

  ‘So let’s get down to business, shall we?’

  Maura was very much in control. Kenny and Jack looked uncomfortable and tried not to glance at one another. She watched them and felt like laughing. Two grown men. Were they all kids in disguise really? Only that was how it seemed to her a lot of the time.

  ‘What do you know about Vic Joliff, and more importantly his current whereabouts?’

  Jack sat down on one arm of a distressed leather sofa and shook his head sadly.

  ‘Is this a joke or what? We can’t divulge information, no one would ever trust us again. Right, Kenny?’

  Kenny was silent. He knew how to play the game.

  ‘This is our fucking livelihood we’re talking about.’

  ‘My heart is bleeding for you. What about the other livelihood you have going, Jack? The coke and crack dealing? The puff you pick up from a small airstrip in Kent? Shall I carry on cataloguing your fucking livelihoods, eh?’

  Garry was looking straight at Jack now.

  ‘You know, there are people here who might think you are stepping on their toes. I could name a dozen others who would not be pleased to know that you are buying their contacts at Harwich, Gatwick and Heathrow. Customs and Excise are expensive friends, aren’t they? I was talking to an old mate of mine, one of the big cheeses, and your name kept coming up in conversation. Funny that, ain’t it, Jack?’

  Benny started laughing.

  ‘Can I tell him, Gal?’

  Garry grinned and nodded.

  ‘You see, the thing is, Jack, we have some friendly filth rummaging around your old barn even as we speak. Now I believe in the old adage ‘‘finders fucking keepers’’, see. And if we just happen to find three hundred kilos of coke then that is a bonus for us, wouldn’t you say?’

  Jack knew when he was beaten.

  ‘I also heard on the grapevine that you and Vic are now tighter than a nun’s arse. So it only seems logical that, being a friend of ours, you should share the information.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  Jack’s voice was low and troubled. The Ryans knew they had him.

  Garry laughed.

  ‘Funnily enough it was one of your old grasses, Little Sammy. Remember him? You turned him in about fifteen years ago to the filth on robbery and drugs charges. Around the time you were getting done by the VAT and tax people. Anything ever come of that, did it? Anyway, he works in one of my spielers now but still has a few contacts around and about. We put out the word, the way you do, and lo and behold, he couldn’t wait to tell us. You are not a liked man, Jack, you do realise that, don’t you?’

  Maura waited for Jack to digest the information before she said, ‘So, enough fucking about; where’s Vic Joliff?’

  He was quiet. Kenny looked at him in desperation.

  ‘You’d better tell them, Jack.’

  He looked at his old pal sadly.

  ‘What have you told them then?’

  Kenny shrugged.

  ‘All I know. I thought you was going to get in touch with them yourself, Jack.’

  He was off the arm of the sofa in an instant.

  ‘You stupid fucking wanker . . .’

  Benny laughed uproariously.

  ‘Not a very nice way to treat your guest, is it? Basil Fawlty could do a better job.’

  ‘Listen here, you little punk. Vic came round like you lot have. He wanted me to set you all up for a hit, Maura included. I said no. It’s not the first time I have been asked to get one of you wasted, especially you, Benny. You are not a liked boy either – a very disliked little boy, as a matter of fact. But I said no. Now I get some right strange requests. One mad bastard even wanted me to arrange a hit on Margaret Thatcher but I didn’t do it, see. I have even been asked to waste Charles over his treatment of Diana. Do you get my drift? I do not take on every job. It’s called business and I will thank you not to fucking well come here and ask me mine. I have never asked you yours. And as for the coke, this is my coke. Mine, not fucking yours, and it cost me a hefty wedge and you are thieving it. Burgling it if you like. Each bag is worth fucking twenty-nine grand!’

  ‘Lot of dosh. What’s twenty-nine times three hundred?’

  Benny was laughing as he asked Lee the question. He pretended to work it out.

  ‘A lot of fucking moolah, that’s what!’

  They all laughed again. Jack felt as if he was in a nightmare and the worst thing was, he knew he was not going to wake up from this one.

  Maura interrupted the merriment to ask seriously, ‘So Vic asked you to waste us, you said no and that was that?’

  Garry’s voice was neutral as he said, ‘And if you believe that, folks, you would believe anything!’

  But Jack merely nodded, his anger still evident. He was smarting more over the coke than anything.

  ‘That’s about the strength of it, yeah.’

  Garry looked around th
e room and his eyes alighted on Kenny Smith.

  ‘Kenny?’

  ‘What, Gal?’

  ‘Have we all got ‘‘Cunt’’ tattooed on our foreheads, by any chance?’

  Jack sighed heavily.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Garry . . .’

  But he and Benny were out of their chairs now and Jack instinctively held his arms up to his face. Garry had taken a small length of lead piping from his pocket. The crack as it crashed into Jack’s face was loud in the room. He dropped to his knees, blood oozing from between his hands which were cupped across his nose and face. Benny was laughing again.

  Maura walked from the room, beckoning Kenny to follow her.

  He did. Gratefully.

  ‘Leave them to it. Come through to the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.’ She smiled wanly. ‘He’ll talk, and when he does we will at least have a working knowledge of what’s going on.’

  He followed her into the large state-of-the-art kitchen.

  ‘Thanks for all your help, Kenny.’

  ‘I don’t feel happy about it. Jack had a point, you know.’

  She nodded wearily.

  ‘We’re past playing by the rules now, Kenny. This is all-out war. We have to get that mad bastard Joliff. It’s gone beyond a joke now.’

  Kenny nodded.

  ‘I worked that much out for meself. No sugar for me, Maws, I’m on a diet.’

  Like Maura he knew it was pointless to dwell on something you could not avoid or do anything about. So instead they talked of his little girl and his quest for a nanny to take care of her until Maura’s mobile rang and she answered it. Kenny heard the dismissal in her voice as she tried to get whoever it was off the line. She was professional was Maura and he liked her a lot.

  ‘Bring the baby over me mum’s one day. She would love it, Kenny,’ she said, looking back at him.

  He smiled and nodded. He might do that. Mother Ryan was a nice old bird, a good cook and all. He remembered going there with Michael and Geoffrey after a bout of serious skulduggery and getting a large brekker and an alibi all rolled into one.

  Leonie sat in the master bedroom and listened to the sounds coming from Jack’s front room. It was interfering with her enjoyment of MTV classic grooves. But she knew when to make herself scarce.

  Tommy sat in his Roller and waited for Carla to arrive. They were going over to Kent for lunch, as far away from their usual haunts as possible. She was insatiable and he wondered why he wanted her. He could do much better looks wise, and age wise come to that, but he always had liked to shit on his own doorstep. It added to the excitement somehow.

  As he waited he watched her son Joey walking down the road. A poof if ever there was one. He didn’t like the kid. There was something about him . . . but then most of the Ryans were a few paving slabs short of a fucking patio, and this one would sell his granny if the price was right.

  He quickly rang Maura and asked her how she was. She didn’t ring him often and by ringing her he made her think he was up in Liverpool. She was curt and he guessed she was in the middle of something. She rang off quickly and that annoyed him, too. She dismissed him at times like he was nobody. Well, she had a shock coming to her and no mistake.

  He popped the phone back into his pocket without locking it. Joss was annoyed with him and that grieved him. But his mate had to accept that he would do what he wanted. Always had, always would. Only there was a definite rift between them now and Tommy was sorry about that. His feelings for Joss were the closest he had come to loving another man.

  Carla got into the car and Tommy shook his head in amazement. She had no knickers on, that much was evident. He snuck his hand up her dress and she squealed at the coldness of it but he noticed she didn’t stop him.

  She was fluttering her eyelashes at him like a young girl and he noticed the lines around her eyes. She was pretty enough but she wasn’t Maura. Maura at least had a bit of class. She could wear a plain dress that would look like a rag on most women yet on her it looked a million dollars.

  When they went out to restaurants even young blokes gave Maura the once-over. It was something about her; she had whatever it was that attracted people. She never wore revealing clothes like this one here. She didn’t have to sell anything let alone her body to get attention. She got it anyway.

  He knew more than a few old lags who would chance their arm if they had the guts. Carla was the poor man’s Maura and she knew it. For all her uplift bras and her Brazilian waxes she would never be her aunt. That was her weakness and that was what Tommy played on.

  Carla squeezed against him as he copped a feel. She kissed him, all tongue and Versace perfume.

  Tommy hugged her back, hard.

  Maura’s phone rang again as she and Kenny looked at the debris that had once been Jack Stern’s front room. Sighing, she rejected the call. But it rang again immediately.

  ‘Hello?’

  Her voice was short, but she could not hear anything except background noise. Then she heard a car start up and realised that Tommy had accidentally turned his phone on and it had redialled the last number called. As she was going to turn it off she heard a woman’s voice. It made her heart stop dead in her chest. Then she heard Tommy replying. The two of them were talking filth as they drove along in the car.

  ‘All right, Maws?’

  Benny was looking at her strangely. The others were trying to revive Jack Stern. They noticed nothing.

  ‘Yeah, just come over a bit funny, Ben. I felt rough this morning.’

  ‘Not as rough as this poor bastard.’

  Maura could not turn off the phone even though all her instincts told her that was what she should do. She walked unsteadily from the room with it glued to her ear. She listened to them talking together, knowing that at some point she would be brought into the conversation. It was this she wanted to hear and yet she dreaded it.

  Then Garry came out and said, ‘You better get in here, Maura, he’s ready to spill his guts.’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Who’s that on the blower? And what’s wrong with you, Maws? You look as sick as a fucking parrot, girl. What’s up?’

  She passed him the phone and he listened. He looked at her with sad eyes then turned the phone off and ground it beneath his foot.

  ‘Fuck him. And fuck her, the little whore. They ain’t worth it, Maws. But at least it answers a few questions.’

  ‘What do you mean, Gal?’

  ‘Later, Maws. Let’s sort this ponce out first.’

  She nodded then walked back into the room and forced away all her hurt and disappointment.

  It wasn’t the first time she had had to do it and she knew that it wouldn’t be the last. Family came first. Michael Ryan had taught his sister well.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vic watched as his latest hideaway was overrun by Ryan scum. It made him laugh to watch them all running about like big tarts. He had been hiding in an old converted barn in Ingatestone. There was nothing in the place to tell them anything. Except the message he had left for them. He had spray painted on the wall: Ha-fucking-ha.

  Every time he thought of it he smiled.

  He was having everyone watched, and as soon as he knew they had descended on Jack mob-handed had bailed out. Now he studied them through binoculars, busy on their wild-goose chase, and it afforded him a bit of pleasure.

  He lay in the long grass and wished he had had the sense to bring a rifle with him. He could have picked them off one by one. He was one step ahead of them all the time and that knowledge pleased him.

  He took out his wallet and looked at a photo of his Sandra. She was lovely, and he missed her more and more by the day. There had been something about her; they had connected in a way he had never connected with a woman before. They had understood each other perfectly.

  The Ryans would all pay for her death, and he would make himself a few quid into the bargain. Sentiment was no reason to stop work, was it? Life had to go on in some respects.
Even if it was an empty life.

  He was whistling through his teeth as he watched the commotion below him. His 1000-cc motorbike was well hidden down the hill so he would leave once the coast was clear.

  He liked bikes, the helmets gave you anonymity. And that was something he needed these days.

  Tommy dropped Carla off at her house and declined her offer of coffee. She had shagged him raw and he had to admit to himself he could not cope with her demands again today.

  She pouted like a little girl and he half-laughed as he said, ‘Leave it out, Carla. I am knackered.’

  ‘We could just have a coffee and a talk.’

  He shook his head. Talking was the last thing on his mind where she was concerned. Her idea of a conversation was about something she’d read in Hello!. Hardly the stuff of a stimulating exchange.

  ‘Not today.’

  Still she sat in the car staring at him and he suddenly realised she was not going anywhere. Carla thought they were at the famous impasse. He felt his heart sink to his boots. Her eyes were hard, like pieces of green glass. Why had he never realised that before?

  ‘What’s going to happen with us, Tommy?’

  She had that little girl voice back again. The voice that did not sit well with her age or obvious experience. He stiffened in his seat. He had been expecting this but not just yet. This was quick, considering he was trumping one of her relatives as well.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  His voice was neutral and had the note of dismissal in it that women like her had been hearing for hundreds of years.

  ‘I mean, Tommy, when are you going to tell Maura?’

  He smirked.

  ‘Why would I want to tell Maura? I love her.’

  The pain was evident on her face as she said, ‘Really? So what’s going on between us if you love her so much?’

  He laughed again.

  ‘We were only having a friendly shag, Carla, remember? Those were your words, love, not mine.’

  She lit a cigarette and took a deep pull on it.

  ‘No. Sorry, Tommy, I was under the impression we were together. I know it will be hard telling Maura. I’ll do it if you want?’