“What the hell is going on? We were dealing with Victor Marka, not you… you near enough gave us his name and address. Why start on us?”
The three men snorted with laughter, sharing a private joke at Dan and Eva’s expense.
“You meddle in things that don’t concern you, sweetheart. Pretty as you are, you’re still a bloody meddler. And no one likes meddlers.”
“Let’s not be cryptic here, Gillespie. Pretend we’re stupid, and explain,” said Dan.
“You are stupid, Bradley. I know you used to box. I think I even saw a couple of your little bouts back then. But boxers are thick. You’re a just a dumb punk who should have stayed in the ring. If you'd done that, you might even have made some money. But you were so thick you gave up the ring to work with that fat old shit bag, Devon Parker. What were you doing? Did he sweet-talk you out of a sporting career, did he? Made you think he was Columbo? Made you think the same? But you haven't the brains, Bradley. You’re all show, piss and wind. Ego is your downfall.”
“Ah, I get it. You’re a fan. A spurned fan who misses my devastating right hook. That’s nice. Sad for you, but nice all the same. Parker gave me a start. He knew I was never going to make it to being a national, let alone world champion. He gave me a chance at a career to use my brains as well as my fighting prowess. Tell you what, when I write my memoirs, you can have a signed copy. I’ll even throw in some spit for you. Free DNA, it’ll be worth a fortune.”
Gillespie’s leather face took a deeper shade. His sunken eyes flickered. Eva intervened quickly.
“All we want is Jess. That’s it. We’ll leave your interests alone, I mean it. All I want is to go home and earn a living. So does Dan.”
The old man shrugged. “I know what you want.”
“Then what do you want, Mr Gillespie?” said Eva.
Gillespie nodded to the man with walnut skin.
"This place belongs to Damon here.”
The black man with the scars nodded curtly, a thin deadly smile etched on his lips. “Damon works the same way I do. Same values and principles. He has an area he works, and he has class and manners, just like I do. We don’t go in for all the fireworks, smart arse and cut throat treachery the likes of the Mitkins and Marka tried on. And besides, Damon here has another problem which I can sympathise with. Foreign gangs have invaded his territory, ruining the peace.”
“Like the Somalis?”
The scarred man looked at Dan and said nothing, but his eyes lit up brighter than Gillespie’s. “Damon is ambitious, and he’s on the up. He’s modest, so he won’t tell you that, but I will. But the thing is, those bastards are trying to spoil the natural order of things. The Russians with their robber baron, lying, deceitful two-faced-”
“Come off it, Gillespie. You’re all just violent hoods. Don’t give us the Robin Hood stuff. But I am intrigued. The two of you getting together doesn’t make sense. Since when do Brixton gangs and Basildon gypsies muck in together? Wait. I think I know the answer… When the opposition are doing mergers too. You teamed up because you saw the Somalis, the Mitkins and Marka’s boys building an army which could have wiped you out. So this is just a marriage of convenience. When the flak dies down, you’ll turn on each other as sure as night follows day.”
“Smart arse,” said Gillespie to the scarred one. “I told you, all ego and no brains. Thing is, Bradley. No one gives a rat’s arse about what you think. And the other thing is, this is business not playground politics. Damon gets his opening into the Essex market for his expertise, and I get access to the whole of South and East London for mine. It becomes a very lucrative and rewarding exchange for both of us at the precise moment Marka gets wiped out. In business, if you have the right kind of timing, you’ve made it for life.”
"You could do all that without hurting us. We are just small fry, Gillespie. You don't need us,” said Eva.
"Yeah, and I thought about that. The problem is sweetheart, I actually do need you. You know the score. Bradley knew it well in advance too. The Russian was mad about him, the audacity he had in trying to taking him on over that assassination. Marka was making an example of Bradley, an example to send ripples and rumours out in all directions. If you can create rumours and fear, half of your enemies are beaten before you start.”
“Like in the ring.”
“Absolutely. See you did learn something. You do surprise me. And just because you think you’ve gotten away from him, it doesn’t mean you really have. You know that, don’t you?”
Gillespie wasn’t looking at Eva. He was looking and waiting for Dan to reply.
Dan nodded. “He’s a maniac. Now that I have escaped, I’ve ruined his plans all over again. The crazy bastard will stop at nothing to get at me.”
“Which means it’s now open season on you too, sweetheart. Anyone tainted by Bradley is in danger.”
Eva said nothing, but thought of Jess. “So what do you want? We’re just small fry caught in a big boys’ game. I told you, we want out. You can all get on with whatever game it is you’re playing.”
"But small fry makes very good bait, doesn’t it, Damon?”
“The best bait of all,” said the man in a London accent tinged with West Indian ancestry. “I’ve got some news for you small fries,” said the man called Damon. He took a tumbler of amber drink and spun the liquid gently in its glass. “It’s about double-dealing, sure. The Russian had a deal with me, but I already know he is about to mix it with those African rag tags. He will try and cut us out, just like he did with your Essex boys, the Mitkins. Mr Gillespie shared his intelligence with me, so I now see what he sees. Marka thinks he is invincible. But no one is invincible. It’s game over for the Russian, and those pirate scum won’t get a piece of what they are after.”
“Pirate scum?” said Eva.
“The Somalis. They operate more like a terrorist cell than a gang. Like the old seven headed Hydra analogy, cut one head off, another grows back in its place. The only reason Marka is using them is because he believes he is invincible. But they are no one’s allies, they are too hard to handle. He is using them so he can drift in behind them, use them to kill off the opposition, and then he will kill them before they turn on him. It’s his style, clear as day, but the Somalis won’t care because they think they are invincible too,” said Gillespie.
“Yeah. But what Marka won’t understand is, the Somalis almost are invincible. They fight to the death, and they will be replaced by others. What happens to Marka wouldn’t matter to me and Mr Gillespie of course, because if Marka’s plan works, we’ll be dead. But he is too arrogant. It is his undoing, and he doesn’t see he has done a deal with the devil,” said Damon, relishing the idea behind his words.
“Cutting to the chase, Marka still thinks Damon Chalker here is his man. He still thinks Damon is a patsy ready to roll over and die at the moment of his choosing. But we’ve decided Marka’s time is up. Marka has someone watching over this place, because in his mind, this is his territory. Which means…?”
“He knows we are here,” said Eva.
“Correct. So?”
“Either they will send someone in here to collect us. Or they will pounce on us as soon as we leave.”
“Top marks, Bradley. And Miss Roberts. I know what’s going to happen to you. It’s obvious. They will take you directly to Victor Marka. You're a pretty one. A trophy. I know this bastard inside out. We’ve been watching him for years, but no one ever gets close. But you will, sweetheart. And I know it, because I would do exactly the same thing.” Gillespie grinned at her without hiding the leer in his eyes.
“You’re exactly the kind of scumbag I was really hoping you weren’t,” said Eva.
“I’m a businessman, sweetheart.”
“Stop it with the sweetheart and everything else. You are just a sick old bastard who exploits other people.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“Insult you? You’ve been insulting us since day one. Parker. You had dealings with him, and you
misled him.”
“Eh?”
“Know a man called Remy?”
Gillespie looked at Damon Chalker, who looked back at Gillespie.
“I know you do. He’s sitting out there right now playing Poker. You’ve been playing us the whole time. Did you play Parker into getting killed as well?”
Dan listened. At first he played along, but now he looked at her. He never saw that idiot Remy at the table. But she was right, now he remembered a glimpse of his familiar face sitting in the middle ground. Remy was there, alive and kicking. Eva was switched on.
“Look around. You’re not in a position to question anything.”
“The thing is, Gillespie, I only care about getting Jess out of here. I don’t really care about what you want at all. Where is she?”
“After you do what I say, you can see her.”
“No way. You know we’ll probably be dead. I know that too.”
Gillespie looked at her hard and even, and then a smile crept across his face. “You’re hard as nails, ain’t you? Harder than you look.”
“I’ve had enough of your sexist, patronising, out of date ugly man-shit, Gillespie. I’m not playing along anymore. Now where is Jess?” Damon smiled widely and shook his head. Gillespie didn’t like the African’s pleasure in his discomfort.
“Show her the girl. What harm is it?”
“You’ll do more than show her. You’ll let her go,” said Eva, keeping her voice firm and steady. Inside she was trembling.
“You can see her, but she won’t be coming out. I’ll let her out when you’re done. If she goes, you’ll run and leave the job unfinished.”
There was silence. She looked at Dan. It was stalemate, an impasse, and Eva saw he had a point.
“Get the girl out now.”
“I want you to let the girl out of here the minute we leave here.”
“What?”
“We’re going to get scooped up by Marka, aren’t we?”
“So?”
“So some men can wait with us – Chalker’s men – until we get scooped up. Marka believes they are his men anyway. But I want to see Jess walk free out of here before I will ever comply with you.”
“I’m not offering you any kind of deal, Miss.”
“I’m not negotiating either. This is the only way any of this is going to happen. I’m serious.”
Gillespie and Chalker exchanged another glance.
“I don’t trust you at all, Gillespie. If I don’t see Jess with my own eyes, I’m not going to do your dirty work at all.”
Chalker spoke up: “Just get the girl.”
One of his men got up from the card table and took his cards and cash with him. He opened a door to a side room and a few seconds later emerged with Jess, pushing her along from behind. She looked tired, a sheen of sweat over her forehead. Relief flashed into her eyes when she saw Eva and Dan, but her mouth was still gaffer taped shut.
Gillespie turned to her. “You’re going home, sweetheart,” he said to Jess. The card player untied her hands, and Jess pulled away the gaffer tape. “Eva! You’re okay!” she ran over to Eva and wrapped her in a hug.
“Yeah… Both of us are fine. Now make sure you stay home this time, like we said.”
Her demeanour changed, grew stiff.
“What’s up?”
“Gillespie is sending us back to Marka.”
“But Gillespie hates Victor Marka!” she said, whirling round at him.
“Yes, I do. And that’s why I’m sending him an extra special present. You’ll see.”
“You fat piece of-” Eva grabbed Jess’s wrist, and pulled Jess round to face her.
“Don’t, Jess, please. This has to happen, so get involved. Accept it.”
Get involved. What the hell did that mean? Get involved in letting Eva die? No. There was a surface meaning to Eva’s words. They were nothing too, inaccessible to the untrained ear and eye. But Jess saw the sparkle underneath. A moment later, Eva saw Dan had caught it too, his body falling slack and compliant instead of angry and resistant as it had been since the moment he arrived in this underworld.
“Follow my advice, Jess. Understood?”
Jess nodded.
“It’s under control now, Gillespie.” said Eva. “So what’s next?”
Only Brian Gillespie was grinning now, a wide ugly grin that spread from ear to ear.
Nine
Eva gave Jess some more money for food and the train journey, and insisted on watching her enter Brixton tube station alone before she would finally agree to the next step. She and Dan were driven to Brixton’s main drag to watch Jess wave and leave London for the second time in a day. Two of Chalker’s black London boys were in the front seats of an Audi saloon. The child locks were on to prevent any escape, and after Jess had gone, it was now time for Eva and Dan to be returned to the man who would kill them. The guy in the front passenger seat finished a short call on his smartphone and looked back at them both.
“They are sending people to collect you now. Man, they sounded happy to hear about you two. You must be in deep trouble,” said the man with a smile that said he was wired and plenty high. They stayed silent and waited for him to look away. The bass in the car was loud enough to hide most of the merest snippets of conversation they had been trying to have since the short drive from Elmo’s had begun. So far, they had shared the smallest rudimentary parts of a plan, and Jess cottoned on to something of it before she left. The rest she would have to work out herself from the morsels Eva had been able to feed her through the music.
“They must not get you, Dan. No way.”
Dan shook his head in disagreement. “But it has to happen.”
“No. Gillespie knows Marka and what he will do. So do you. But he’ll want to play with me a while.”
Dan shook his head violently at the prospect. “No… Fucking…. Way.”
“Dan - he’ll kill you as soon as he sees you now.”
Dan knew she was right, but he couldn’t bear the idea of Marka forcing himself on Eva.
“Dan, I’ll live. I’m a big girl. You want to bring him down, right?”
“It’s the reason I’m still breathing. Besides you of course.” She ignored his half-hearted charm.
“You can’t do it. Not in the state you’re in. To be of any help to me you need to get away. So do it. I’ll go in and do what needs to be done.”
“But if I can do it you can get away too.”
She shook her head. “It won’t happen, Dan. Not both of us. This is divide and conquer, Dan. I’ll stay, you go. My chances of surviving trump yours.”
He stared into her eyes. There was no arguing with her. She saw the affection in his eyes, and the sadness too. She had won the argument - she saw it, felt it, knew it. She squeezed his good hand, and he slowly looked away. “Dan,” she said. And he looked around. She leaned over and kissed him on his split lips, a short soft kiss.
“Dan Bradley, you’ve been the most difficult person I’ve ever known in my whole life. But you were just about worth it.” She should have said more, wanted to say more, but that was all that could come. He grinned, eyes shining with emotion and he squeezed her hand right back. The driver man was wearing shades and he peered back at them in the rear view mirror. She knew he couldn’t hear a thing, but even so, he was invading the final chapter of their strange love/hate affair. She narrowed her eyes as if to push the driver’s eyes away. It worked, but the journey was still at an end. The car pulled into the car park of a McDonalds Drive Thru, and pushed up to the wall away from the busy food area. The man in the passenger seat said, “Now we wait.”
Eva gently withdrew her hand from Dan’s and nudged him with her foot. At the earliest opportunity, Dan would now try to run for his life.
After five minutes, the man with the stony-smokes grin in the front passenger seat was getting hungry. Dan saw him looking toward the Golden Arches drive thru. The driver, who was also watching his chum, said nothing, but from the silence,
it was clear the driver wasn’t impressed with the stoner. Either the driver hadn’t smoked anything or was simply better with his pot capacity than the drugged up goof. The driver was checking the mirrors, waiting for visitors, waiting for Marka or his man to make an arrival. After another two minutes, the passenger couldn't wait any longer. He opened the car door, and stepped out into the darkness. “I’m getting a Big Mac, large fries, chocolate shake, one of those apple pies too, man. You want anything?” The driver shook his head and tutted loudly and shook his head as soon as the door clicked shut. Dan held back a smile -the goof hadn’t shut the door properly, which meant the child lock had been compromised. Dan looked at the locks on his side door. No sign they were open, but he had definitely heard the mechanism un-click as the passenger got out. Eva watched the driver, noted his distracted, irritated manner as he watched his slovenly chum walk into the bright lit McDonalds interior to queue for his food. The wraparound shades peered into the rear view mirror, and found Dan and Eva playing dumb independent of each other. He shook his head to show them his dissatisfaction, and then looked away. Dan watched the queue in the restaurant diminish by one, with about four more customers to go before goofy could order. Eva was looking at Dan, and past him at the door. He could feel her eyes pushing at him, telling him to go now. But he couldn’t. He thought of Eva, Marka getting even with him in the worst possible way. The bastard would devour her then tear her to shreds, and somehow Marka would communicate to him all about his precise method, time, and the cruelty. No. Eva touched the back of his hand and he turned, bright eyes intensely framed by the circles of severe bruising around each one.
“I promise you, I’ll live,” she whispered.
He nodded a question, and she understood. She nodded in reply. It meant, Yes, I’m sure. There was a lingering glance, a questioning, sadness.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Dan looked at the queue again; their man had one body in front of him. Dan took a deep breath and looked through the rear windscreen behind him. There was a hundred yard dash to the road, and then there were shops, alleys and supermarkets here. He didn’t know the area, but he guessed he was somewhere near Clapham or thereabouts. He had a little of Eva’s money, that was all. He filled his lungs with another preparation breath. He felt the driver’s eyes on him now in the rear view, so he looked back at him and nodded. The driver stared through his wraparounds. Any second now, the guy would notice the door locks. Move! Dan opened and shoved the door, diving with it - then he was up on his feet just as the man shouted loud and hard, “Stop, stop, stop! You are DEAD!” And Dan didn’t stop. He ran and ran as quick as he could on his battered legs, turning onto the main road before there was any gunshot. No shot came, and he kept running, turning an immediate right, darting across a junction with car horns blaring at him and swear words following. He kept running, down side roads, and taking more random turns to get hidden. He ran past neon-signed fast food joints, heaving pubs, then a launderette. A launderette. He ran back to it. Hi chest heaved and wheezed. McDonalds was gone, behind him completely out of sight. He was hidden. But he had no plan, just a set of needs, the first of which was clean clothes, which was part of his overall need – to stay alive long enough until a good rescue plan came along.
Crossing the Line Page 12
