Shadows

by Conrad Jones

  “Go on.” Henry nodded.

  “Scotch for me,” Patrick said. Graham stood up and walked off to the bar. He hitched up his tracksuit pants to cover his designer boxer shorts.

  “I knew there was a reason why you were asking all these questions about the Masons but I didn’t realise it was so big. Now I get it.” He shook his head. “Did you lose anyone?”

  “The captain of the dragger.”

  “Dragger?”

  “A trawler. We sent some product over the water by boat.”

  “And someone found out about it.”

  “Obviously. We need to find out who that was,” Henry said. Graham returned to the table with a tray. He placed the four pints in front of them and then put the whisky next to them. “Absent friends,” Henry said, raising his glass. They clinked glasses and swallowed the burning liquid.

  “I can’t believe that someone fucked you and the Masons over and I can’t believe they have kept that quiet,” Graham said, emptying his shot.

  “The Masons and the Farrells must have closed ranks and kept the news quiet for now,” Patrick explained. “It is not good for business. It will be all over the newspapers and the television no doubt.”

  “So, who the fuck did this?” Clint turned to Graham.

  “More to the point, who could do that?” Graham asked. “There are not many outfits with the balls to pull that off.”

  “And that is why I asked you to meet us,” Henry said. “Not just for old time’s sake. We need your help.”

  “I’m not sure that we want to get involved, to be honest, Henry,” Clint said, shaking his head. “Asking questions around here can make you dead.”

  “Dead as a dodo,” Graham agreed.

  “Come on, lads. It is no big deal for you. It was a simple transaction that was hijacked. These things happen but we have a considerable investment in it.” Henry shrugged. “We’re here to recover our goods or the money but to do that, we need to know what happened. You can help us there. No one needs to know that you have helped us. You can trust me, you know that.”

  “We trust you, Henry. It isn’t you that I’m worried about. No offence.”

  “None taken. All we’re asking is that you help us find out who hit the deal. Once we know, you won’t hear from us again.”

  “Do you think it might be an inside job?” Graham guessed. “Because the Farrells are missing. Do you think they turned on the Masons, whacked Gary Mason and fucked off with your stuff?”

  “Maybe but I doubt it. Do you think that could have happened?”

  “No way. I can’t see the Farrells turning on Big Ron and killing his brother,” Clint said, shaking his head. “That would be suicide. He would demolish them one by one. They wouldn’t dare. Like I said earlier, the only reason the Farrells stayed on top was because of Eddie’s deal with the Karpovs. With them gone, Ron is the man.” Clint whistled through his teeth again and sat back. He steepled his fingers and looked at Henry. “Whoever did this is on top. This is beyond most outfits. What are your instincts telling you happened?”

  “We don’t know. That is the point. We’re not ruling anything out yet.” He paused. “We can’t afford to get this wrong.”

  “Whoever hit you doesn’t give a fuck about you or the Masons and that narrows it down for you.”

  “I know who my money is on,” Graham said with a nod. “An outfit who thinks they can do what they want, when they want to and they think that because they can.”

  “No one can take our product without facing consequences from our end. No matter who they are,” Henry said, pointing a finger. The corner of his eyes twitched, anger building. “We still have a sting in our tails.”

  “I bet you do, Henry.”

  “We do. That’s why I’m here.”

  “What went missing, Henry?” Clint asked seriously. “Drugs or money?”

  “Both.”

  “You were importing?” Clint said, shaking his head.

  “It was a new enterprise.”

  “What was it?”

  “Zombie.”

  “Fucking hell.” Clint whistled again. “That stuff is like fucking gold dust. No wonder you got hit. Everyone wants to sell that shit. The punters can’t get enough of it. Not many people can get their hands on it and when they do, it doesn’t last long.”

  “I need to know if anyone locally starts selling it,” Henry said quietly. “I’ll look after you. You know that.”

  “We’ll keep our ears to the ground.”

  “Good. Who is competent enough to hit the Masons?” Henry asked.

  “Competent. That word again,” Clint chuckled. “Competent like the Karpovs?”

  “Exactly.”

  “There aren’t many outfits up to a job like this. I would put money on it being them. I just can’t see anyone else risking it.”

  “If it was them, we’ll find out in the end.” Henry shrugged. “That is what we’re here to find out.”

  “That is heavy shit, Henry,” Graham said, sitting back. “If the Karpovs hit the Masons and killed Gary, you should leave it to Big Ron. Let him deal with it. Does he know who hit them?”

  “We don’t know. They’re not talking to us,” Patrick interrupted. “They are in the same position as we are. They don’t know what happened either so they don’t know who they can trust. They will suspect we did it.”

  “Fair comment,” Clint agreed.

  “Like I said earlier, we have a considerable investment to protect,” Henry said quietly. “I’d appreciate it if you can put the feelers out.”

  “We will. Asking questions about the Karpovs can be expensive, Henry.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “You need to tread carefully. Some investments you win and some you lose,” Graham said, draining his pint. “I’d be tempted to cut my loses on this one. If you grab the tail of that particular dog it will bite you on the arse. I wouldn’t be messing with that lot.”

  “If it was your money, you might have the privilege to walk away,” Patrick interrupted. “I don’t.”

  “Oh dear,” Clint said, smiling sourly. “You did the deal off your own back, eh, Patrick?” Patrick nodded, almost imperceptibly. “And someone leaked the site of the drop and they pulled your pants down.” Clint shook his head. “Now you have Henry and his bosses on your case.”

  “Something like that.”

  “I don’t envy you right now,” Graham chuckled.

  “I remember a few boys back in the old days that fucked up. Henry’s bosses aren’t very tolerant.” He smiled thinly as he spoke and nudged Graham. Graham grinned. “That didn’t end well for them, eh, Henry?” Henry stared blankly at them. “They were found nailed to the floorboards in a derelict squat in Bootle. No one knew who had done it, did they, Henry?”

  “You’re up to your neck in shite on this one, Patrick,” Graham added.

  “I know that. Whatever happens, I need to be able to explain myself.” Patrick shrugged. “It will be what it will be.”

  “One thing is for sure,” Graham said, lowering his tone. “The Masons have got a rat in their nest. I’ll bet it was one of the Farrells that blabbed about the deal to the Karpovs.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It just makes sense to me. I’ve heard that some of the Farrells are pissed off that Big Ron has stepped up and taken over the business but none of them have got the balls to challenge him. Leaking the time and place of a big deal would be worth a lot of coin and it would be one in the eye for Big Ron.”

  “That makes sense.” Patrick said thoughtfully.

  “Fuck yes!” Graham chuckled. “Think about it. The Farrells were puppets for the Russians for years. They worked closely together. It makes sense that some of them made friends and are still in contact with them. Just because Eddie lost the plot and pissed them off doesn’t mean everyone fell out with them, does it?”

  Patrick shook his head. “No. It makes sense, I suppose.”

  “Even if yo
u find out it is the Karpovs that hijacked the deal, what are you going to do about it, Henry?” Clint asked seriously.

  “Now we know who is in charge of the Mason’s operation, we’re going to speak to him. Then we need to find out who crashed the party.”

  “And then what?” Clint chuckled. He looked from one to the other. “Say you find out that the Karpovs are responsible, you can’t just ask for your gear back.”

  “Why not,” Henry smiled coldly. “They stole it. We want it back.”

  “Because they are huge, Henry,” Clint said, spreading his arms wide. “Aren’t they, Graham?”

  “FM’s, mate.”

  “FM’s?” Patrick asked.

  “Fucking massive.”

  “And nasty, Henry. These fuckers will go after your family if they can’t get you. They have no scruples. This is not like the old days. You’re out of your league here.”

  “Don’t underestimate us,” Henry said, lowering his voice. “We brought plenty of big players to their knees, remember?”

  Clint and Graham looked at each other and nodded. “Fair comment,” Clint muttered. “No one fucked with you lot in the old days, Henry but these guys are hardcore. They are the big boys in the yard now.”

  “Oh I get that. These guys are bullies stealing dinner money from the smaller kids at school.” Henry grinned but his eyes were cold. “Most bullies don’t like it when the little kid turns around and gives him a bloody nose but it happens.”

  “Are you going to give the bully a bloody nose, Henry?” Graham chuckled.

  “We’ll give him a bloody nose to think about first.” Henry finished his drink. His face turned to stone. He pointed his finger in Graham’s face. “We’ll give him a bloody nose and then we’ll kick his fucking teeth down his throat.” Clint’s mouth fell open but he didn’t speak. Graham looked shocked by his sudden aggression. “One way or the other, we want our property back, don’t we, Patrick?” Patrick nodded, although he wasn’t sure what Henry had in mind. The look in his eyes told him that things were about to get a little crazy. “Talking of which, is the stuff we left behind safe?”

  “Of course it is,” Clint nodded nervously. He reached into his pocket and put a key and a business card onto the table. “The address for the storage unit is on the card. All your stuff is in there. ”

  “Good man.” Henry smiled and raised his glass. They all clinked glasses and finished their drinks. “How well do you know Ron Mason?”

  “Like I said, we go way back. We’re not bosom buddies but we’ve done a few bits and pieces for him over the years.”

  “He’s not talking to us. We need him to talk to us. I want you to set up a meeting for us,” Henry said with a smile. Clint looked nervous. Graham looked very uncomfortable. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” Clint said. “It’s no problem.”

  “Good,” Henry said, sitting back. He seemed to relax. “Let’s talk no more about it for now. I want to get drunk.” He threw another fifty pound note onto the table. “Get another round in, Graham.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Clint said, pocketing the money. “I need a piss.” The two men stood up and walked to the bar.

  “What is in that storage locker?” Patrick asked when they were out of earshot.

  “Persuasion.”

  “Persuasion?”

  “Aye,” Henry said with a nod. “We’re going to need all the persuasion that we can find to get anything out of this deal. Trust me, Patrick. I know what I’m doing.” Patrick finished his pint and looked at the band. He didn’t trust Henry one little bit.

  Six Hours Later

  Big Ron Mason listened to the news on the television. It was the third time that he had watched the loop on Sky News. He emptied his bottle of Jack Daniels and grimaced as the burning liquid swilled around his mouth, numbing his tongue. He was trying to numb his brain with alcohol but it wasn’t working. His brother, Gary, had been a pain in the arse growing up but he loved him nonetheless. They were best friends. Gary had been his number two since they were in school. He thought back to an incident with the Kio brothers when he was fourteen and Gary was thirteen. The three of them had waited for Ron near the gates after school one day, following an argument that had occurred at break time. Ron didn’t like Degsy Kio and Degsy didn’t like Ron. Their mutual dislike had been simmering for months and it was only a matter of time until it spilled over into violence. Testosterone filled their veins, spots covered their faces. They were turning into young men and aggression coursed through them. Degsy and Ron were both feared and respected but they needed to sort out the pecking order.

  Degsy was the same age as Ron, the middle Kio was a year older and the eldest had left school the year before. Degsy would wind Ron up in school but when it came to it, he knew Ron was too much to handle on his own. Ron was big for his age even then but he was outnumbered and the odds were stacked against him massively. Degsy had called him out to settle things after school but Ron knew that if his brothers were there, they wouldn’t stand there and watch him be beaten. They would join in. It would be three onto one, no matter what the outcome. He knew he was in for a hiding at best but pride wouldn’t let him run. Ron was scared but hid it well. Rumours about the Kio family had circulated the estate for years. They were all trouble and fought as a pack. The elder Kio had been to Borstal for stabbing another kid the year before. Rumours said that he always carried a blade and that he wasn’t scared to use it.

  When the bell rang that afternoon, Ron saw them waiting near the gates; a crowd of onlookers was gathering in anticipation of seeing someone get a good hiding. The Kio brothers were strutting around like peacocks, absolutely convinced that there was only one outcome. What they didn’t anticipate was Gary Mason getting involved in proceedings. Gary had heard the rumours in school that the Kio brothers would be waiting for Ron after school. When school let out, he ran as fast as he could to catch up with his big brother.

  “What are we going to do, Ron?” Gary had asked nervously. “Degsy’s older brother is mad. I’ve heard that he carries a knife.”

  Ron had felt his heart swell with pride. His younger brother had said ‘we’ and ‘us’ without a thought for his own welfare. He was ready to fight next to his brother, shoulder to shoulder without question. His loyalty was unconditional. It was unconditional that day and every day after that. They became inseparable.

  “Go for their eyes and their bollocks, kiddo,” Ron had replied. “And if you get close, bite them hard and don’t let go.”

  When they got to the gates, the crowd parted and formed a circle. The Masons dropped their bags, rolled up their sleeves and removed their ties. They smiled at each other and ran full pelt at the Kio brothers. They were fearless even then. The Kio brothers were surprised by their ferocity. They had the better of them at first but Gary and Ron were powerful and resilient. No matter how many punches they took, they kept coming. Gary did as his brother had told him. He scratched Degsy’s left eye, nearly blinding him and when they came close together, wrestling, Gary sank his teeth into his cheek, biting down hard. Degsy had screamed like a girl which drove the Masons on to new heights. With their noses bleeding, they fought until the Kio brothers were battered and exhausted. They capitulated and begged for them to stop. Ron and Gary weren’t for stopping. They continued to flail, punches and kicks landed from all angles. Ron had the older brother by the hair, pulling his head down, he kicked him in the face repeatedly until his trainers were soaked in blood. Eventually the Kio brothers broke away and ran. The Masons laughed, hugged each other and then chased them until they were exhausted. When they stopped to catch their breath, the Masons attacked again. The eldest Kio left missing an earlobe, crying like a baby and the Mason brothers never had any trouble again. Not unless they went looking for it. As they grew up, they were best men at each other’s weddings, god fathers to each other’s kids and a shoulder to cry on when their marriages collapsed. He would miss Gary badly.

  As Ron watched th
e news report again, a tear filled his left eye, anger boiled in his guts. Images of the harbour at Holyhead flickered across the screen, followed by head shots of Linus Murphy and his brother, Gary Mason. His stomach knotted. He watched as photographs of the Irish fishermen flickered by and then they panned to the Royal, where they had been taken following their discovery. An Irish detective did a thirty second interview about how relieved they were to have found them alive. His cousins, the Farrells, were still listed as missing. He dialled nine-zero-one on his throwaway mobile and listened to another voicemail from the suppliers. The Irish accent grated on his nerves. They were becoming impatient. The last message was threatening. He knew that he needed to talk to them but he wanted to be sure that they hadn’t set him up first. A call from a casual acquaintance called Clint had further reassured him. Watching the news had convinced him that they were victims too. His main mobile rang, Rickets was calling from the Royal.

  “Rickets?” Big Ron answered. “What have you heard?”

  “There are police all over the place, Ron. I spoke to one of the nurses,” Rickets said. His voice sounded like he had swallowed gravel. “The Irishmen are telling people that the men who took them were Russians.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “All five are saying the same thing.”

  “What about my cousins?”

  “Not good news, Ron.”

  “Go on.”

  “They said that they were already dead or dying when they got off the trawler but they have no idea what they did with the bodies.”

  “Bastards,” Ron muttered. His huge fist tightened around the handset, threatening to crush it. “I’m going to send them home in envelopes. They will be sorry that they were born. What about the zombie?”