He moved pretty fast for an older guy. He must have torn through his house and out the back door because he’d almost reached his studio already. I was still moving when I aimed and I was going to let loose a shot but, before I could, he threw open the door to the studio and disappeared inside.
I had about a second to think it through. I could take my time and wait. I could go back and get Danny who was in the car outside, but I’d already told him I would handle it. I had my reasons for that and they had nothing to do with ego. There were times when the guy giving the orders had to earn the right to give them. Cutting up Gladwell was one of them, this was another. Plus, I didn’t want to lose momentum or give Miller the chance to grab a gun and find a nice safe spot to hide behind and phone the police. I tore after him, wrenched the door open and pointed my gun straight ahead, half expecting him to be standing there doing the same thing. I knew I’d have to be quick and accurate or he’d do for me before I could get him in my sights.
Nothing.
Just silence in the dark corridor and those bloody photographer’s lamps shining brightly up ahead of me like searchlights, casting strange deep shadows, anyone of which could have been hiding Miller. I edged my way slowly forward, keeping the gun pointed straight ahead of me. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn’t a clue what he kept in here. There’d be a gun somewhere no doubt, knowing his line of work, but was it a .38 or a Kalashnikov? I was sweating because I knew that, in here, anything could happen. I could be outgunned, outthought and out of my depth but I pressed on regardless. Our-young-’un always used to say about the Paras: they kept moving, always forward, always pressing, so they didn’t lose momentum.
‘You sold us all out Miller,’ I called, hoping I sounded a lot harder than I felt. ‘I know it and you know it, so I’m coming for you now.’ His answer? A bullet that he sent my way from god knows where. It ricocheted then echoed in the tight confines of the metal studio, creating a din that made my ears ring. This was the first time I’d been shot at and I tried to stay calm. I told myself he couldn’t possibly hit me from wherever he was hiding, or I’d have seen him by now.
Knowing Miller, he’d most likely have a Colt or a Browning, something non-flashy, old school. My heart was thumping again. The gun felt loose in my sweating palm and I was scared I was going to drop it. I was so close to finishing all this, to taking out the guy who had given Gladwell all the information he needed about our firm, then it would be over - and that was the scary part. I felt like those soldiers who knew the war was nearly finished, the enemy had surrendered and they’d won but they’d still got streets and houses to clear and they didn’t want to get shot by some mad housewife or deranged grandad.
‘The gun isn’t going to help you Miller. Not after what you did,’ I was slowly edging my way along the corridor towards the bright lights, ‘Geordie Cartwright was a soft touch, with his debts and the promise of some easy cash, wasn’t he? You sold him out to Tommy Gladwell but the Russians are all dead and so is Tommy. Now you’re fucked and you know it. There’s nowhere to go from here but down,’ Another shot hit the wall to my left so I was thinking he had to be somewhere to my right, but it was a big place and he had the advantage. If I was going to get to him I’d have to come out of this narrow corridor and then I’d be an easy target. I remembered the layout and prayed he hadn’t changed things around since I was last there. I went down low, lying flat on the ground, then I bent my arm round the corner and fired once. The noise of my gun going off was deafening in here. It couldn’t be long before some distant neighbour of his called the police. Danny must have heard the shots and he’d be wondering what to do. I’d told him to stay outside but it would be just like him to burst through the door to save me. I didn’t want him killed because of my stupidity.
Miller answered my round with two more harmless shots and I gambled he’d want to conserve what was left of his ammo. I climbed into a sprinter’s stance, kept low and launched myself forward, all the time expecting a third shot. I must have caught him by surprise because I made it behind the big metal girder before he could fire again and I was safe, for now, as long as I didn’t move.
I was better off here than in the corridor but he still had the advantage. He knew my location and I hadn’t a clue where he was. If I had a plan at this point I didn’t know it myself. I was just hoping I could somehow draw him out, get him to betray his position with another shot and finish him. I wasn’t a bad shot but that was against paper targets on a firing range, not a living person who could move and shoot back. I was about to swing out an arm and fire again when something happened that completely threw me. Abruptly, all the lights went out.
Fuck. It was pitch black, so dark I could no longer even see the gun I was holding in front of me. The bloody windows must have all been blocked up with blackout blinds, so his nuddy girls got some privacy while he took their picture, and now he’d thrown the switch.
I heard a noise and strained my ears to work it out. Miller was moving. He knew where I was. He knew the room and I didn’t. I could hear him slowly edging his way round to get me and there was nothing I could do about it. I was starting to feel panicked.
The sounds he was making were so slight I couldn’t place him and I knew I didn’t have long. In a few seconds he would be right on top of me. He could fire at me from point-blank range and I wouldn’t even see him. There was nothing I could do because I couldn’t even see the bastard.
Desperately I thrust my hand into my pocket, grabbed my mobile phone and jabbed at it. It gave off a little light from the screen but I had to risk that. The phone took its time before it gave up the feature I was looking for. I scrolled down the contacts book quickly, sweat making my hand clammy. I found the name I was looking for and dialled.
It turned out he was right by me, even closer than I thought. The sound of his mobile phone going off in his jacket pocket was deafening in the silence of the studio.
As last words go his weren’t particularly memorable, just ‘shit, fuck!’ as he scrambled to silence it. As he reached the phone he must have known it was me that was dialling him. I like to think he had a millisecond to realise I’d outwitted him before I aimed the gun straight at the noise and sent four shots rapidly in his direction.
When the sound finally died down, there was a sort of strangled gurgle coming from the floor. I had to make sure he was no longer a threat to me. I walked carefully towards the nearest wall, pointing the gun in Miller’s direction before feeling around behind me until I found the thick blackout blinds. I wrenched one of them right off the wall and the moonlight shone down onto him.
Miller was lying face up, trying to cough out the blood from his shattered lungs as it filled his airways, the dark stain spreading all over his chest, proof that I had hit him more than once. His gun lay harmlessly on the ground a few feet from him. I walked over and trod on it, whilst aiming my gun at him, then kicked it to one side. I made sure he could see me.
‘Why did you do it Miller?’ I asked a man who had once been a big part of my extended, dysfunctional family, ‘tell me it wasn’t just for the money.’
He opened his mouth and it looked like he was trying to speak but the only thing that came out was more blood. He was choking on it.
I didn’t say anything else. I knew I was never going to get his story now. He was too far gone. Miller couldn’t have explained his treachery if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t even get the words out. So I put it down to good, old-fashioned greed.
Miller had always said he was an atheist. I knew he didn’t believe in anything after this life but oblivion. Sure enough, he looked terrified as he died.
THIRTY-EIGHT
...................................................
When we got back to Palmer’s house, I went straight up to Sarah’s room. She was lying in bed but awake. She looked mightily relieved to see me. When she sat up, the covers slipped off her shoulders a little. It looked like she wasn’t wearing anything beneath them.
/> ‘Is it over?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘You finished it?’
‘I finished it.’
‘Good.’
‘Are you alright?’ she looked tired but relieved.
‘I will be,’ she said, ‘one day.’
There was an awkward moment while both of us waited for the other to fill the silence.
‘Do you want anything?’ I asked.
She nodded, ‘I want you to climb in here and hold me.’
‘Sarah, are you sure.’
‘Yes,’
She pulled back the covers. I was right. She wasn’t wearing anything. I took off my clothes and climbed in next to her.
I walked into the lock-up with Palmer. His guys had been standing guard over grey-hair in shifts all this time. He looked rough; scared and stressed, cold and hungry, still wearing the horrible clothes they’d given him down the gym. When he saw me he tried to look down at the ground.
‘Look at me,’ I ordered and he raised his head slowly, his eyes screwed up like he expected to be shot at any moment, ‘it’s over and you lost,’ I told him. ‘Gladwell is dead and so is the she-devil.’
‘Oh god,’ he croaked.
‘His bodyguards are both dead too and the Russians, all of them. Bobby Mahoney was too good for you. He has seen you all off. He’s put all of your mates in the ground.’
‘It wasn’t my idea,’ he was sobbing now and shaking his head.
‘What wasn’t?’
‘Coming down here. It was Tommy’s.’
‘Just obeying orders were you?’
‘Aye,’ he was nodding like a lunatic as if that might make me understand him better.
‘You were just a soldier, I s’pose?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What am I supposed to do with a captured soldier Terry? No POW camps in Newcastle mate, haven’t you heard?’
‘Please… ’
‘I don’t think so. I reckon you’ve had your chips.’
It was a prearranged signal for Palmer to pull out his gun then make a big show of loading a magazine and cocking it.’
‘No,’ the tears were flowing now.
‘I think we have to say goodnight now Terry.’ I told him.
‘You don’t have to… ’ he pleaded.
My mobile rang noisily in my pocket. I’d turned the volume up to its highest level. I gave an exasperated sigh and answered it, ‘hello?’
‘Is that the gay advice line?’ trilled Our-young-’un. ‘I think me little brother might be a bender,’ he hung up laughing.
‘Bobby,’ I said, trying not to laugh too, ‘yes, I’m here with him now, that’s right,’ then I made a point of looking up into Terry’s fear-filled eyes, ‘I’m just about to take care of it.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ hissed Terry as he suddenly rediscovered his religion.
‘What?’ I asked the disconnected phone in disbelief, ‘are you sure about that Bobby?’ then I paused to let the ghost of Bobby Mahoney issue me some instructions, ‘well, if you say so. You’re the boss.’
I hung up and was greeted by Terry’s expectant gaze.
‘Want me to do him now?’ asked Palmer and he pressed the gun right up against the bloke’s temple. Terry moaned something indecipherable and shut his eyes tightly.
‘Look at me Terry,’ I told him but he was too scared to open his eyes, ‘you’d better look at me Terry or I’ll get irritated and he will shoot you anyway.’ Terry slowly opened his eyes like it was a supreme effort, he was trying not to blink with the gun pressed up against his head like that.
I smiled at him, ‘looks like it’s your lucky day old son,’ and he stared at me as if he didn’t dare believe it was true, ‘Bobby wants you to go home,’ I said, ‘with a message.’
It suited me for the Gladwells to think Bobby was still alive, the victor in this latest war. It added to the myth of the invincible Bobby Mahoney, always one step ahead of his rivals, always coming out on top - and it took the heat away from me. Bobby was high profile. He was like one of those generals in the American Civil War, riding through the massed ranks of his troops on a bright white charger with a feather plume in his hat, so they could all see him and cheer, which is fine until one day when someone from the other side notices and takes a pot shot at you. I needed a figurehead to hide behind, someone who could take all of the hatred and retribution that would be heaped on him by the Gladwell brothers and Tommy’s father. Who better than a dead man?
I told Terry to go and see Gladwell senior personally to let him know that Bobby had killed his son and regained control of his city, and would take a very dim view if there was any further interference in his business. It was unlikely Tommy Gladwell would have had the inclination to tell anyone that Bobby was dead. It would have been too dangerous until he had full control of the city.
We made it clear that Bobby would no longer be based in Newcastle so there was no point trying to find him there. Bobby had gone abroad, somewhere nice and hot, but we didn’t narrow it down. From there, he would continue to pull all of the strings, issuing instructions through a network of trusted associates.
When it was all finally over we went to see Amrein. I drove down to Shepperton early with Palmer and Kinane. We stayed over the night before our appointment.
It was a convivial meeting, relaxed almost, under the circumstances. We sat down together around Amrein’s table. It was a sunny day and the birds were chirruping away outside, oblivious to our recent troubles. We had a light lunch with a bit of small talk; the economy, the trials and tribulations facing the entrepreneurial businessman in these days of a chastened global financial system. Then we came down to business.
Using the bare facts of what had occurred, I went through the whole tale; how Tommy Gladwell had tried and failed to step out of his old man’s shadow, how he had almost been lucky enough to get to Bobby Mahoney, had even managed to kill the legendary Finney. How we had been forced into putting together a new crew and how, finally, we had taken back our city and restored order, leaving Bobby in charge just as before, only stronger.
‘I’m impressed,’ Amrein said quietly and he looked it. ‘And the Gladwell boy, his friends?’ he asked, sounding like a headmaster asking after a former pupil.
‘Gone.’
‘Mmm,’ he pondered this for a moment, ‘is that likely to cause you further problems, an escalation of hostilities perhaps?’
‘Nothing we can’t handle,’ I told him.
‘I’m sure,’ he smiled benignly.
I put the bag on the table in front of him and said, ‘I’ve brought the Drop down early since you were good enough to see us at short notice and we’ve upped it, by ten per cent,’ that surprised him. ‘We like to think we will be doing business together for a very long time,’ I explained, ‘if things go well between us then it will be the same amount each time from now on.’ He tried hard but failed to hide the fact that he was pleased. I was relaxed about it because I knew Kinane’s sons would have arrived at the Sunnydale estate by now, ‘though we obviously expect you to earn it.’
‘Of course,’ he smiled like he couldn’t quite believe my cheek, but you could tell he was a happy man.
‘There is one other thing,’ I said.
He held his hands out expansively, ‘how can I help,’
I nodded towards the French windows, ‘mind if we take a walk?’
‘Certainly,’ he rose and the bodyguard opened them. The two of us walked out into the garden together, crossing the great expanse of manicured lawn, the lush green symbol of Amrein’s success and he let me talk, sensing I had a matter of some delicacy to raise that I would come to in my own time.
‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ I said, ‘a beautiful house, priceless connections, all the influence that large sums of protection money can buy, which is why Bobby Mahoney has used you all these years and never complained about the price, not once, because he knew what he was getting out of the deal.’
<
br /> Amrein nodded, ‘peace of mind,’ he said.
‘Peace of mind,’ I emphasised, ‘there’s a lot to be said for it,’ we were half way across the lawn now, almost at the summer house, but he hadn’t noticed anything different.
‘And that’s why we want to continue with a long-standing relationship that will be mutually beneficial and lucrative.’
‘You won’t hear any argument from me,’ and he gave me that same disarming smile he’d given me weeks ago when he had warned us to sort out the mess back home.
‘I respect you,’ I told him. ‘We listened to your advice, got our house in order, showed the world that a few guys from Russian Special Forces and a jock with delusions of grandeur aren’t enough to knock us off our perch - but Bobby Mahoney isn’t happy with you.’
‘What?’ He seemed genuinely taken aback. I’d lulled him with the quiet words and the increased payments.
‘Because he trusted you completely,’ I stopped and turned to face him and noted the faint glimmer of fear in his eyes. I’d timed it to perfection because we were almost at the summer house.
‘I’m not sure I follow,’ he said weakly.
‘He thought that, because he had worked with you for years and put money into your bank account time and time again, you would never give your blessing to the next wannabe gangster who came to you with a half-baked plan to take over his city. But I know that you did give Tommy Gladwell your blessing.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it? Tommy Gladwell may have been a fool but he was a fool from the old school. He knew how things worked. Because of his old man, he knew all about the Drop. He knew who you were and how you operated. He wasn’t so stupid he wouldn’t come and see you first with his business plan because he’d know if you were against him right from the start he’d have no chance. You weren’t going to sit back and let our money slip through your fingers. What did he promise you, eh? A nice big chunk of wedge for yourself, with none of it kicked upstairs? It would have to be that or you wouldn’t run the risk of losing our business, but your employers wouldn’t see it that way, would they? The whole point of our arrangement is that you are supposed to be on our side and they know that. You have gone decidedly off-piste Amrein, I must say.’
The Drop Page 26
