by June Tate
They gathered round waiting for instructions. The air was full of tension and anticipation. Every man knowing that the next few hours would be critical.
Twenty-Six
Jack Mills was talking to his associate, Fred, also known as Alec Summers. ‘We need to plan this very carefully. George Coleman is involved, so I guess he’s rounded up a few men to help him out.’
Summers frowned. ‘We’ll be outnumbered.’
‘Only if we stick to the time and place. I don’t intend to fall into such a trap. We need to hit young Daniels before he even gets to the docks. It’ll be my guess he’ll go to the club so he and Coleman can plan their moves.’ He lit a cigarette and walked up and down, thinking.
‘If I could get on the roof of the building opposite the Club Valletta, it’s a narrow street, I would still be in range and take them by surprise. This would give us time to get away. You can be in my car at the back, ready for me, but make sure you keep the engine running.’
Summers smiled slyly. ‘Excellent. But what about the girl?’
‘Leave her where she is for now. Nobody’s going to find her there and I haven’t time to waste on her if we’re to get into that building. We’ll sort her out after. Come on.’
Victoria was pacing up and down the small room in which she was imprisoned. She kept yelling in the hope that someone would hear her cries through the grill, until she was hoarse with shouting. She sank to her knees, exhausted.
She was now convinced she was in the docks, but obviously it wasn’t an area which was used much by pedestrians or dockers; otherwise someone would have heard her by now. She pulled her knees up and rested her head against them. Her temples were throbbing, she was chilled with nerves. Her Johnny was in grave danger and she was helpless to warn anyone about it. She prayed he’d told George Coleman what was about to happen; it was her only hope. George was well versed in such matters after spending so much of his life with her father.
Vittorio, the man who had been such a mystery to her. This had been his world! How ugly it was. How could he be the man her mother had loved? How could she have condoned his way of life – have shared in it even? She shook her head, totally confused by such thoughts as she pondered over this.
Johnny, in his earlier days had also been involved in the underworld, full of gangsters, thieves and murderers, until he came to Southampton and fell in love with her and now he was going to pay dearly for it. She wondered if she was to be eliminated too? How could she remain alive? She’d seen the two men, could recognize them. She felt the blood drain from her body, convinced that her time was limited. She got to her feet and started yelling as loudly as she could with what remained of her voice.
Cole rang the club and spoke to George Coleman. ‘At seven thirty an unmarked car will collect young Daniels. A couple of my men will be in it. We’ll drop him off in the docks well before the meeting time.’
‘I’m coming too,’ George told him.
‘All right, but you stay well back, I don’t want to have to worry about your welfare too, I’ve got enough on my plate.’ He omitted to tell him his own men would be placed in the docks much earlier.
George agreed. After all, he had already chosen his men to hide out in the vicinity with orders to do nothing unless it was warranted. They were to be a back up to the police. George knew of course that they would be armed, but they were instructed not to shoot unless it was absolutely necessary, and, if it was, to scarper afterwards. The police would be far too busy to give chase at that moment, so his men would hopefully be safe from prosecution.
George relayed the detective’s message to Johnny.
‘Has anyone found Victoria?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Not as yet, son. Give it time. The police and my men are searching the docks, someone will find her, you’ll see.’ As he lit a cigarette he only hoped that Victoria was found because Mills had said if he didn’t return safely . . . well, it didn’t bear thinking about and he would have failed to keep Vittorio’s daughter safe.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Sandy walked in.
‘Is it right that Victoria is missing?’ he asked, wringing his hands nervously.
‘Where did you hear that?’ asked George with some surprise, as the police had not yet made this information public.
‘I heard a whisper. It seems the docks are teeming with police on the search and someone heard her name mentioned. Is it true?’
George told him what had transpired
‘Oh, sweet Jesus! That poor child must be terrified.’
‘No doubt, but Victoria is made of stern stuff, she’ll keep it together. Someone will find her soon enough.’
But Sandy wasn’t fooled. He looked at George and just raised his eyebrows. George frowned at him and nodded towards Johnny, who was sitting with his back towards them, stiff with tension.
‘When we leave, will you stay at the club, just in case Victoria returns?’
‘Yes, yes of course I will.’ He lowered his voice. ‘This is a bad business, George. I only hope it works out.’
‘Don’t we all, especially that poor sod,’ he said, looking across at Johnny. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.’ He poured small brandies into three glasses and handed them around. ‘Drink up. It’ll help settle us all.’
Just before seven thirty that evening, a car drew up in front of the Club Valletta and a constable in plain clothes went inside. The three men were waiting in the foyer. The other officer, armed with a rifle, stood outside the club, waiting.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ Sandy said and went through the door first followed by Johnny, George and the officer.
It had been a dark night but at that moment the moon appeared from behind a cloud and Sandy looked up at it just in time to catch a movement and a flash of light.
‘Look out!’ he cried and, turning quickly, he grabbed Johnny, pushing him sideways. A shot rang out, quickly followed by another, the second from much nearer by, and a scream of pain filled the night air.
George ran to the figure spread-eagled on the pavement.
‘Jesus Christ! That bloody well hurt,’ moaned Sandy.
Johnny quickly checked on him before chasing after the two policemen running across the road to the building opposite, who, between them, kicked the door down and entered.
‘You old fool!’ spluttered George on his knees beside his old friend.
‘What the hell happened?’ asked Sandy.
‘I’m damned if I know. You yelled and sent Johnny flying, there was gunfire and you fell screaming about being hurt.’ In the light from the club entrance, Coleman could see blood seeping through Sandy’s coat and helped him gingerly to his feet, carrying him inside.
‘Call an ambulance, quickly,’ he told the barman.
The customers who were in the club began to gather round.
‘It’s all right folks,’ said George. The man just had a fall, he tripped over the pavement. Please return to your seats.’
‘I thought I heard the sound of gunshots,’ said one.
‘No, sir, just a car backfiring, nothing to worry about, I assure you.’
When they’d gone George took a couple of linen napkins off one of the tables and, lifting Sandy’s jacket, placed them over the wound as a pad to stem the bleeding.
‘You’ll be all right you old queen, so stop fussing!’ But he smiled as he said it. ‘You probably saved young Johnny’s life tonight and for that we’re both indebted to you.’
Meanwhile, in the opposite building, Johnny and the two officers had raced up the stairs to the roof. The marksman held him back. ‘Let me go first please, sir.’ And he slowly opened the door leading outside. The moon was still shining and they could see a body of a man lying beside the parapet. The officer walked carefully over towards it, closely followed by his associate and Johnny.
Mills was unconscious. The police marksman had hit his target when he’d seen the flash of Mills’ gun. One of the men felt for a pulse.
‘He’s still alive!’ he cried.
‘Then get on the radio and ask for an ambulance to be sent. We want to keep him that way.’ In the distance they heard the screech of tyres as a car took the corner too quickly and crashed.
‘Go and check that,’ the marksman told his mate. ‘It may have something to do with Mills. Call for backup.’
The Royal South Hants Hospital had two unexpected operations to perform in the theatre that night. Sandy had a bullet removed from his shoulder and Mills one from his temple.
In a side ward, Sandy lay back in his bed after he came round from the anaesthetic to find Lily sitting beside him. He looked at her through slightly glazed eyes.
‘Lily,’ he muttered. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Well, hello, my hero,’ she said, teasing him, and took his hand. ‘I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?’
‘Have they found Victoria?’
Her smile faded. ‘No, not yet.’
‘Oh dear,’ he said and his eyes closed once more.
George Coleman joined Lily. ‘I’ve had a word with the doctor,’ he said. ‘Sandy’s going to be fine. Fortunately the bullet didn’t do too much damage. Nothing that can’t be treated anyway.’
‘What about the other bastard who did this?’
‘Ah well, that’s a bit different. They managed to remove the bullet lodged in his brain, but they won’t know the result until he comes round. At the moment he’s stable.’ He pulled up a chair. ‘The police checked on a car that crashed shortly after the shooting but the driver was and still is unconscious; he’s also here under police protection until he comes round. They think he may have had something to do with it and of course they’re anxious to question him to find out where Victoria is.’
‘Do you think she’ll be . . .’ She hesitated, faltering over her words, unable to say what she was thinking.
‘She’ll be fine,’ George interceded.
In the dark of the cell in the docks, Victoria Teglia suddenly woke. She’d dropped off to sleep through sheer exhaustion. She felt stiff and cold as she got to her feet trying to gather her thoughts. She had no idea of time and couldn’t see her watch face in the dark. She assumed it was late as outside was silent. The trains had stopped running. She sat on the camp bed, wondering how much longer she’d be there before the odious Alec Summers returned with his mate.
She stiffened. Was that voices she heard? She listened intently . . . yes, yes, it was. She stood up and started yelling as loudly as she could. She could hear the voices getting nearer until suddenly a flash of a torch shone through the grill.
‘Miss Teglia, is that you?’
Her knees gave way with relief and her voice broke with emotion as she cried, ‘Yes it’s me! I’m locked in.’
‘Don’t you worry, miss, we’ll soon get you out of there!’ came the reassuring reply. ‘Just you hold on.’
She burst into tears and collapsed on to the bed.
A short while later she heard the door being unlocked and Johnny’s voice. ‘Victoria!’ And in the light from several torches she saw him as he rushed forward and took her into his arms.
Twenty minutes later a nurse came into the room where Lily and George were sitting beside Sandy. ‘Mr Coleman, there’s a call for you.’
Lily gazed at him with a look of terror. He gripped her shoulder and left. Minutes later he rushed back in.
‘They’ve found Victoria, she’s fine!’
Lily shot to her feet and hugged him, tears running down her face. ‘Thank God!’
Victoria refused the police’s offer to take her to hospital to be checked over. ‘I’m fine, just shaken,’ she said. ‘I just want to go home.’
Turning to the officer, Johnny said, ‘I can’t thank you enough. I’ll take care of her now. Tomorrow I’ll make sure she’s checked over by the doctor.’
‘If you’re sure, sir, then we’ll give you a lift.’
In the back of the police car, Johnny just sat with Victoria in his arms until they arrived at her flat. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ he said and, lifting Victoria into his arms, he carried her to her front door.
Once inside, he placed her carefully on the sofa. She was shaking. ‘I’m so cold,’ she said.
‘You’re suffering from shock, darling. I’m going to run a hot bath for you then I’m putting you to bed.’
He undressed her and bathed her and then, after making sure she was dry, he wrapped her in a spare blanket and put her into bed, climbing in beside her, tucking the bedclothes around them both. Holding her close, he whispered, ‘You’re safe now, darling, and you need to sleep.’
‘I love you, Johnny,’ she murmured and closed her eyes. Within seconds she was breathing softly, oblivious to anything.
Johnny Daniels lay quietly but wide awake, his head full of images. His father. The close shave with death he’d just had. Sandy taking a bullet that was meant for him – and eventually the safe return of the woman he adored.
At last he would be free of his father. Pat Daniels would no doubt be prosecuted if the police could prove that he had planned the shooting. That would all depend on whether Mills recovered and named his boss. Then there was the driver of the crashed car, yet to be named. Did he have anything to do with the plan and, if so, would he talk? He gave a deep sigh. At least he was still breathing and Victoria was safe. That was enough to be going on with; the rest would have to wait.
Twenty-Seven
At noon the following day, Lily was standing outside her daughter’s flat, fidgeting, waiting for the door to be opened, trying to keep control of her emotions. The last thing Victoria would want was a mother weeping with relief. Lily had rung earlier to check that it was all right to call in and Johnny had assured her it was fine. Lily carried a basket with food she’d raided from the kitchen.
Johnny opened the door and ushered her in. ‘Victoria is awake,’ he told her. ‘She’s sitting up in bed drinking tea.’ He left her alone and, taking the proffered basket and goodies, went into the kitchen.
‘Hello, Mum,’ said Victoria.
‘Hello, darling, how are you?’ She saw the dark circles and pinched face and her heart ached. She sat on the bed.
‘I’m fine . . . a bit shaken if I’m honest, but so grateful to the police for finding me.’
‘I was with George at Sandy’s bedside when we got the news you’d been found, it was such a relief.’
‘How is dear old Sandy? Johnny told me what happened.’
‘He’s going to be fine. He was very lucky; the bullet missed all his vital organs and lodged in his shoulder. The surgeons removed the bullet and repaired the damage to their satisfaction apparently. Sandy will have to have some physiotherapy once the wound has healed but he should be fine in time.’
Victoria was gazing intently at her mother whilst she was speaking and Lily, knowing her so well, asked, ‘What is it? There’s obviously something on your mind.’
‘I don’t know quite how to put it,’ Victoria said.
‘Just spit it out, it’s always the best way.’
‘All right, I will. How could you have lived with my father and shared his life as a criminal? I’ve now seen that side and I just don’t understand.’
Lily was shaken by this outburst. There was a great deal of her past she would never disclose to her daughter, but this needed an explanation if she and Victoria were to continue to be as close as they always were.
‘There were many things about your father’s life that I didn’t condone, but I had no choice. If I went to live with him, I had to take the whole package – and he never pretended to be anything other than what he was. At that time, I was desperate, so I agreed.’
‘And after?’
‘I fell in love with him.’ She shrugged. ‘That part I don’t have to explain to you. You fell in love with Johnny, knowing his background.’
‘Did my father ever kill anyone, was he a murderer too?’
‘No he was not!’ Lily knew at least she
was telling the truth. Vittorio had men to do his dirty work and, although she never ever knew the details as he made sure she never questioned him about his business, she did know that he, personally, had never taken a life.
‘Vittorio was not like Pat Daniels. All right, he was a self-educated man but strangely, maybe, he did have principles. He was a wise man, a clever one. He took care of me and, had he not died, we were to be married. It was my one regret.’ She straightened her back. ‘I would have been proud to take his name and you have no need ever to be ashamed of it.’
She rose from the bed. ‘I’ve left some food for you with Johnny. Call me if you need anything.’ Leaning forward, she kissed Victoria and left the room, with some relief. That had not been what she was expecting.
Victoria picked up the picture of her father from beside the bed and studied the face looking back at her. My mother loved you, she thought. Would I, knowing what you were? I’ve seen your world and I wonder if I would! I am not my father’s daughter and that’s for sure! She took one last look at the picture and put it away in the drawer of her bedside table.
Several days had passed and Victoria was back at work, as was Johnny. He’d dispensed with the bodyguard, to his relief and was able to work without the feeling of impending doom. Jack Mills was still in intensive care but Fred Black – or Alec Summers, as he’d been known – had recovered consciousness after a few hours and under questioning had rolled over, giving the police all the information they required in the hope of a reduced sentence. If Mills survived he would face a charge of attempted murder and Pat Daniels would again be in court charged with conspiracy. He was now a man alone, without friends or any gang members, who had long disappeared into the dark alleys of the metropolis.
On the following Sunday, George had insisted that Victoria take the day off. ‘Go somewhere nice with young Johnny,’ he had suggested. And when Johnny came into the club later he told him the same.
‘I’ll have a word with Victoria and see what she wants to do,’ the young man said. But when later he did so, she had other ideas.
