And they’d caught plenty of calculating bastards already. How many more of them could there be out there?
* * *
Pat watched Miss Incredible sashay back to her table before turning to Moggs.
‘You take the drinks in. I need a quick word.’
‘Not fucking surprised.’ Moggs started to grin then winced as his wounds objected. ‘Shit,’ he said, reaching for the tray.
‘Andy . . . another pint and two halves of Stella, please.’
Andy didn’t have problems grinning. ‘You’ll go blind,’ he said, ringing in the sale.
Pat was well-practiced at carrying three glasses at once. He made the Gorgeous Sisters’ table without spilling a drop.
‘By way of apology,’ he said to Joanna, who seemed less than delighted to see him. Then, to Heather, ‘I paid for this round myself.’
‘Does that prove you’re not a coward?’
‘No.’ He looked back at her friend, dripping with sincerity. ‘It proves I really am sorry. If I hadn’t had other arrangements, I’d have gladly escorted you.’
‘Ask her out tonight instead,’ Heather suggested.
‘I would. But I’m sort of committed.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Joanna said swiftly. ‘And of course you’re committed. Men like you always are.’
‘Hmmm,’ went Heather.
Pat hadn’t been invited to sit but took a stool anyway. Determined not to too obviously gawp, he aimed himself so he was mostly facing Joanna. Probably not sisters after all, he decided. Still both gorgeous, though.
‘So you’re local lasses,’ he began. ‘How come I haven’t seen you around before?’
Joanna was now more at ease. She returned his smile. ‘You can’t have been looking hard enough.’
‘Let me guess. You work at WYB.’
‘Heather does the work. I just sit back and supervise.’
‘What about you?’ Heather put in. ‘What do you do? And why aren’t you in your important meeting?’
‘I supervise things as well. And I’ve already told the meeting what the decision is. I’ve left them to rubber-stamp it.’
‘Swoon,’ said Heather, ‘a powerful man! No wonder you’re committed.’
‘Heather goes all mushy with powerful men,’ Joanna explained.
‘Does she now?’
‘I wouldn’t call me “mushy”. I’m more competitive than mushy.’
‘Competitive?’
‘I think she means in bed.’ Joanna’s smile was wider than ever. ‘She was clashing bodies with your friend . . . very competitively . . . all Sunday long.’
Jonjo, Pat thought, you spawny bastard.
Miss Incredible didn’t seem in the least embarrassed by Joanna’s revelation. ‘Best Sunday I’ve had in ages,’ she said sweetly. ‘I didn’t want it to end.’
Pat half-emptied his glass in the ensuing silence. He was going to say something pithy and incisive (maybe: glad you enjoyed yourself) when his phone went. It was Donna again, although not with good news this time; this time she was reminding him to be back at Kings Cars for two without fail.
‘I thought you were the all-powerful boss?’ Heather said as he rang off.
‘I am. My secretary just doesn’t appreciate the fact.’
‘So what is it you do? Jonjo said you were a business rival.’
‘Did he now?’ Pat slipped easily into the cover story. ‘I sell cars.’
‘You’re a used car salesman?’
‘Quality used cars. I could sort one for you, if you like.’
‘No thank you.’ Heather all but turned up her pretty little nose. ‘I’ve got the very latest Mini.’ Then, her eyes suddenly shining: ‘Do you sell on finance? WYB do packages that would be perfect for your customers.’
‘Thanks, but no need. Sean handles our finance deals.’
‘Does he, now? Should I be speaking to the organ grinder rather than his monkey?’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it. The organ grinder thinks he’s God’s gift.’
‘To what, finance or women?’
‘Both.’
‘Sounds promising. Perhaps we can mix business with pleasure.’
Joanna tutted, ‘I’m not listening to this,’ she said. ‘If anything comes of it, I’ll deny all knowledge.’
‘We could be onto something here,’ Heather countered. ‘We could get Jonjo’s finance sales as well, him being in the same business, and all.’
‘Seriously,’ Pat said. ‘I’d steer clear of Sean. And Jonjo’s nearly as bad. They don’t need banks to manage their dealings.’
‘What are you saying? Are they irresponsible lenders or something?’
‘I can’t answer for Jonjo, but Sean’s a wheeler-dealer. If there’s any extra profit to be made, he’ll be having it. No way would he share with WYB.’
‘Sounds like my dad. He doesn’t trust banks either.’
While Pat laughed at that, Joanna pointed over his shoulder. ‘I think you’re wanted.’
It was Sean, closing in on the girls like a Great White.
‘Duty calls.’ Pat got to his feet. ‘Sorry again about Saturday.’
‘What have you got to be sorry about?’ Sean wondered.
‘He shunned Joanna,’ Miss Incredible replied with an incredulous smile. ‘Can you believe it?’
‘You mean this stunning and delightful lady opposite? I’m afraid it’s more evidence of his insanity. In a way she was lucky.’
Pat smothered a groan. Heather obviously wasn’t immune to the Great White’s charms; he could already see sparks flying between them.
‘Are you the main man in these parts?’
‘I am.’
‘I’m Heather Hunter. I know you’re too busy right now, but I’d like a word sometime. I’ve a proposition that might interest you.’
‘Have you now?’ Sean fired up his mobile. ‘Who says I’m too busy?’
‘Pat did.’
‘And we have to be on our way,’ Joanna added.
‘Best swap numbers then.’ Sean beamed at her. ‘I’d rather do it at leisure over a drink, wouldn’t you?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Heather. ‘I always prefer doing it at leisure . . .’
Chapter Thirty
Rick tipped the taxi driver and escorted Elaine into The Busfeild, joining his dad, Geoff and Penny, Frank and Gilly and a constantly shifting crowd of others. After his second beer he paid a visit to the gents’, returning via the taproom, where the kids were eating buffet food. Pretending not to notice the RU18 sign, he bought the girls a stack of Bacardi Breezers and his nephew what appeared to be a pint of Coke.
‘Soldiers don’t drink when they’re on a mission,’ he said with a wink, giving Jamie a pile of pound coins. ‘And today’s mission is to beat your sisters at pool as many times as possible.’
‘No problemo,’ said Jamie.
‘In your dreams,’ countered Becky.
Rick went back to the middle bar where, despite plenty of forced optimism, it was obvious most of the mourners had already had enough. That included Dad, who was putting up a brave front but had been shattered by his loss. After another half hour he made his excuses and there was an immediate drift of leavers after him.
‘Well,’ said Frank, casting around the depleted pub. ‘I don’t know about you lot, but we’re here for the duration. I promised Gilly a drunken wake and that’s what she’s going to get. It’s what Mum would have wanted.’
‘Mum hardly ever touched the booze,’ Geoff objected. ‘Two sherries at Christmas was enough drunken revelry for her.’
‘True.’ Frank nodded. ‘But she wasn’t a wet blanket. She liked to see everyone else enjoying themselves. As the man said in the service, the last thing she’d want is for us to be miserable. She’d want her life to be celebrated.’
Rick glanced at Elaine. ‘If you’re putting it like that, I’m sure we can hang around a bit longer.’
Geoff didn’t look nearly so sure. ‘We’ve got the kids .
. .’
‘We’re okay a while yet,’ Penny put in. ‘They’re behaving themselves, playing pool and not smashing things. Go on, Geoff, let your hair down.’
‘Yeah,’ said Frank, grinning. ‘Just like last time.’
Rick wasn’t sure who suggested “brothers and partners” should have a pool tournament, but somebody did and the idea caught on. By the time they got into the taproom another two couples had joined them and, by the time they’d persuaded Jamie his mission was accomplished, all the remaining mourners were crowded round, anxious to be involved.
‘Random doubles then,’ Frank decreed, ‘fiver each.’
Overcoming good-natured objections about his choices, the middle brother randomly arranged teams of two, paying the kids’ corners for them. Five minutes later he’d set up a complicated scoring system and everybody was at the table or drinking and spectating, eagerly awaiting their turn. Entering into the spirit, the landlord transferred through what was left of the buffet and kept the alcohol flowing.
‘A ton in the pot,’ Frank kept saying. ‘Winners take all.’
Thanks to the dubious selection policy Rick was teamed with Jamie, who was pretty good for a nipper, and fiercely determined with it. From the very first break (an in-off that he got to take again, on account of his youth) it was clear Jamie was going to use every means at his disposal to rake in the cash. Rick was up for that, even though he hadn’t a chance of getting away with the underhand tactics his partner was using . . . underhand tactics and, of course, the luck that only befalls twelve-year-old boys. The adage if in doubt, give it a clout must have come into being with Jamie in mind. During their first four games he got out of ten impossible positions by simply hammering the cue-ball and fluking something, somewhere.
‘Stop messing about,’ Frank cried, more theatrical with every fluke, ‘don’t you realize there’s money at stake?’
As drunken wakes go, it was the most entertaining Rick could remember. Before he knew it, it was evening and working locals had started dropping in. From virtually empty, the place was booming again.
* * *
Angel was back in Runner-up, Mr Careful Driver mode. He steered the white Transit towards gates with McGuire Bros (1960) Ltd in the ironwork and halted, keeping the engine running. Carrying a clipboard, Tinner jumped out and went to a security cabin that faced into the street. After staring at him suspiciously, the lone security guard slid back the glass.
‘Special delivery for Mike McGuire,’ Tinner said, heavy with the fake Irish accent.
The security guard had an ID badge naming him as DAVID PETERS. He checked his schedule.
‘There’s no mention here. And last deliveries are four thirty. It’s after seven now.’
Tinner had been expecting him to say something like that. He leant in a little closer. ‘Do you work for McGuire or some fecking agency?’
‘McGuire Brothers pay my wages.’
‘Well then, that fecking van is one hot potato. An’ it’s full of hardware from the auld country. If the police turn up while we’re debating the issue, it’s going to be bad news for a lot of people, you and me included.’
Peters thought a second then clicked a switch which electronically unlocked the gates. Tinner pushed them open so he and the van could get in the yard in front of the warehouse, then he shut them again, hearing an automatic click. He climbed three metal steps and crowded into the small cabin with Peters, who was busy writing something on his chart.
‘You expecting Mike later?’
‘No,’ Peters said. ‘My relief’s due at ten thirty. Then nobody until he opens up in the morning.’
‘Mike wouldn’t have forgotten to tell you?’
‘Mike might have forgotten, but Joey never would. Joey knows everything that happens here.’
‘Do you have somewhere to ring? Somewhere that’ll have another schedule?’
‘No. The only number I have is for Joey. An emergency number. Not to be abused.’
‘We’ll have to call this an emergency then. We can’t leave that fecker,’ Tinner jerked his thumb towards the van, ‘out where anybody can see it. But before we do, please tell me those monitors aren’t wired to the local cop shop.’
‘As if,’ Peters laughed. ‘They all go onto a disc in this little box. Then, if we ever . . .’
‘Get it out,’ Tinner said in his normal voice.
Peters turned from the small bank of monitors to find a large firearm pointing at his head. He suddenly looked very scared and not at all ready to resist.
‘Disc first,’ said Tinner. ‘Then your piece. And don’t give me any shit about not having one.’
Peters didn’t. He removed the disc and gave it to Tinner with shaking fingers before surrendering a new-looking handgun.
‘Jesus,’ he kept saying softly, almost under his breath, ‘oh, Jesus.’
* * *
Hidden in steadily deepening shadow, leaning against a boarded-up taxi office, Johnny Green reckoned the old patch hadn’t changed much. The shops and curry houses looked the same and, amazingly enough, some of the pubs were still there; a bit more run-down in most cases, but definitely there. The local elders couldn’t have got round to them yet.
Green lit a cigarette as he thought back. Ten years ago the elders had been spouting off about prostitution. Bugger centuries of red-light tradition, this was an Asian area now. They didn’t want cheap tarts hanging around, flogging their scabby holes and scaring the kids. Judging by what he could see, they’d got their way.
Hardly surprising, though. If he remembered rightly, dozens of younger Asians had rallied to the cause. Clean-up gangs, they’d called themselves. Their tactics included stoning punters’ cars and physically carrying the girls away from their pitches. Pimps had been beaten and, just before he’d got arrested, some crazy bastard had firebombed the hookers’ favourite café.
Nowadays the action had moved to Thornton Road, which didn’t have the same ring to it, not in his measured opinion, anyway. He wondered if they still got coachloads of Jap tourists, expecting to see the Reeperbahn. Probably not, worst luck. It was hard to say what had made him laugh hardest: all those disappointed faces . . . or the sight of fifty long-lensed Nikons snapping away at not-so sinful businesses like Haigys and the Sweet Centre.
Green had been out nearly a week now. They’d let him go with a discharge grant and bus fare back to Bradford, plus what he’d had in his pocket when they nicked him, of course. Not a fortune in this day and age.
Good job he didn’t need anybody’s help.
Freedom’s first impulse had been to hit bars and get laid. Somehow he’d ignored it and gone networking instead, quickly finding the rumours he’d heard inside were true. Most of the old crew were in their graves, marked or otherwise. In fact, apart from a lucky few doing bird, everyone he’d ever known had been iced. Heroin and crack had taken hold in these parts and the stakes had rocketed.
Not that he’d wasted any time crying. Deaths and higher stakes suited him just fine. He’d hated his old bosses with a vengeance. A ten stretch hadn’t changed that. So there was a new order to deal with. So what? They were all young dickheads. An older, smarter guy could take advantage. A guy with plenty of previous.
Filling his lungs with calming smoke, Green decided his ten stretch hadn’t been so bad. Grill never had got to rape him, although he’d gone on about it at great length. Maybe he’d enjoyed building up the suspense. Whatever, his threats had been scary enough to lead to his undoing. After a fortnight without daring to sleep Green had rebelled, catching the bigger man unawares with a bed-leg, giving him a serious twatting.
Turned out Grill wasn’t hard after all. There’d been no repercussions and no squealing. And word soon got round. While Green didn’t suddenly get a bunch of new buddies, attitudes towards him softened.
Apart from Ointment’s, that was . . .
He grunted and lit a new cig.
Many hours in the gym topped with regular “football related�
� scraps had made him fitter and tougher than he’d ever been. He was perfectly qualified to take on a mob of tossers.
Another grunt. Once out he’d sussed the lie of the land then floated the city a bit, letting his eyes confirm his ears and that, turning over a couple of jugglers along the way. Then he’d chilled for a few days before ending up here, back at the beginning.
Ready to resume normal service.
* * *
Penny was at the bar next time Rick went. She regarded him sternly. ‘Have you been buying my girls Breezers?’
‘Me?’ He shrugged. ‘I know nothing.’
‘I’ll bet. Just make sure you don’t start adding vodka into Jamie’s Coke.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Rick grinned. He’d been adding rum, not vodka. No need for step-mommy to know that though, was there? Not when she looked sexier than ever. ‘Another win and we’re in the final,’ he went on. ‘I need him sober.’
‘Well keep it that way after you’ve won. And don’t let him wheedle all the prize money off you.’
‘Okay, boss. I’ll give my share to Sandy and Becky.’
‘Make sure you do.’
‘I will.’ Rick grinned even wider. ‘You can depend on me.’
‘I know I can,’ she replied swiftly, ‘to disappear for years without keeping in touch.’
‘Didn’t you get my card?’
‘Card . . . huh!’
‘That’s overseas post for you.’
‘I see. Fifteen years and it’s been the overseas post.’
‘I’m nearly always overseas. It’s a miracle I got the news about Mum in time to be here.’
‘I’ll stop watching out for the postman of a morning.’
‘I wouldn’t do that. You never know. One of these days . . .’
‘Too late, Rick. I’ve given up on you. Especially now you’re out of the closet with Elaine.’
‘That’s part of the deception plan.’
‘Don’t be silly. You make a nice couple.’
‘Maybe, but don’t go buying a new hat just yet. We only ever get together once a flood.’
‘Sounds like me and Geoff.’
Rick started to laugh before realizing Penny was deadly serious.
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