Terry Baldwin was not having the best of spying missions. Jed’s Shogun had not been on the drive when he’d arrived earlier and there’d been no sign of the pikey little shit since. To make matters worse, Terry had an upset stomach and had twice had to crap in a nearby bush. Feeling pains shooting through his stomach again, Terry crawled out of his hidey hole. This evening had doom written all over it, so the best thing he could do was go home get an early night, then come back tomorrow nice and refreshed.
Still on a high from torturing the name of his brothers’ killer out of Jamie Carroll then blowing his brains out, Eddie Mitchell was in a rather buoyant mood as he climbed into the back of the white Renault van. The removable number plates had been changed and the stickers had now been replaced: instead of reading ‘Beryl’s Flowers’, the side of the van was now advertising ‘Suzie’s Blinds and Curtains’.
‘Everthing pan out all right? Have you spoken to Flatnose Freddie today?’ Gary asked his father.
Eddie nodded and told Raymond to start driving. ‘I met Freddie at lunchtime, the body’s already gone and the warehouse has been spring-cleaned.’
‘How much extra is he charging us for the use of that warehouse, Dad?’ Ricky asked. Usually Flatnose Freddie just disposed of the bodies, but this time round he’d sorted out a disused warehouse in Aveley for the killings to take place in.
‘Five grand per head, on top of the ten to get rid of the carcasses; it works out sixty, all told.’
When Eddie had killed geezers in the past, he’d do it anywhere that took his fancy, but to top four men in three nights was adventurous, even by his standards and he’d decided to leave the dirty work to Freddie. Old Flatnose was the best clean-up merchant in the business.
To take everybody’s mind off what was about to take place, Ed decided to rib Stuart over his love life. ‘So when you seeing this Emma bird again, Stu? You’ve had that look of love in your eyes since you took her out for lunch. Gina spotted it; she’s going out shopping for a hat tomorrow.’
‘Fuck off. Best you tell Gina to keep the receipt, ’cause no way am I ever getting married,’ Stuart said laughing.
‘Credit where it’s due, Emma’s a right sort,’ Gary added. He’d been with Stuart the night he’d met her.
‘You shagged it yet?’ Ricky asked bluntly.
Stuart smirked. ‘A decent bloke never kisses and tells, lads.’
The banter continued for another few minutes, until Raymond said something that killed the humorous conversation stone dead. ‘That’s Baldwin’s Land Cruiser, boys. He’s a couple of motors in front of us.’
‘It’s only eleven o’clock. I thought you said he didn’t get home till after midnight? You sure it’s his?’ Eddie asked.
‘Of course I’m fucking sure. I’ve been stalking the cunt for days,’ Raymond replied sarcastically.
‘Raymondo, overtake him so we get to his house before he does,’ Ricky ordered.
Eddie disagreed. ‘We’re in a poxy old Renault van, not a fucking Porsche! Just keep him in sight, Ray, follow him home, then we’ll leap out and ’ave him as he pulls up.’
Terry Baldwin’s stomach was still giving him terrible gyp. He’d dropped the motorbike off back at the garage, but had had to stop twice on the journey to squat behind a tree. Feeling the griping pains shoot through his stomach once more, Terry knew he was going to have to stop again before he got home. It was either that or shit himself. Seconds later, he spotted some trees: he pulled over and clenched the cheeks of his arse together as he waddled towards them. He spotted the white van slow down, but after glancing at the writing on the side, thought nothing of it.
Feeling nothing but relief as his bowels opened for the fifth time that evening, Terry pulled his trousers up. Seconds later he was approached by two angry-looking men in black hooded jackets.
‘Move now,’ one hissed at him.
‘Bollocks. Don’t fucking start with me, I ain’t no mug, you know,’ Terry replied angrily. He didn’t recognise the blokes, so just assumed they were going to mug him or nick his motor. Wishing he now hadn’t hidden the gun at the garage, Terry froze as he clocked Eddie Mitchell appear from the shadows. ‘Shit,’ he mumbled.
‘Me and you need to have a little chat, Baldwin. Now, you have two options, number one is follow me and get in the van nicely, or number two, I’ll blow your brains out here and you die in your own shit.’
Terry Baldwin immediately chose option number one.
Over in Rainham, Joycie Smith’s conscience had begun to prick her. Jock hadn’t been able to help Stanley move the bedroom furniture today and had offered to do so on Thursday but, determined to make her husband pay for his recent sins, Joyce had insisted that she couldn’t wait that long and Stanley must move the furniture and take the old carpet up alone, which somehow he’d managed.
Seeing Stanley’s legs buckle for the second time, Joycie stood over him. ‘You’d better not be putting all this on to get out of laying the new carpet tomorrow,’ she said suspiciously.
‘I’m not, Joycie, I swear. It’s me knees, they’re seized up. I don’t think I can get up the stairs, I reckon I’m gonna have to sleep down ’ere tonight.’
Feeling more than a tad guilty now, Joycie went out of the room and returned five minutes later with a piece of fruit cake, a mug of Horlicks, a bottle of horse liniment and two paracetamol tablets. ‘Take your trousers off and I’ll sort you out while you eat your cake and drink your Horlicks.’
‘What! Why have I got to take me trousers off?’ Stanley asked in horror. The awful experience Pat the Pigeon had put him through had left him scarred for life.
‘Because I’m gonna rub this on your knees, you silly old git,’ Joyce said waving the glass bottle that contained the white liquid at him.
‘Oh, right,’ Stanley said, relieved.
‘What did you think I was gonna bloody do? I ain’t been near your little maggot for years and I certainly wouldn’t wanna touch it now, in case it’s been up that old slapper you were living with.’
‘Don’t be so bloody stupid, Pat was just a friend,’ Stanley said red-faced, as he undid the button and zip of his trousers and let Joyce tug them off.
Joyce rubbed the horse liniment into Stanley’s knees, made him take the paracetamol, then went upstairs to get him his pyjamas, a quilt and a pillow. ‘I think you should leave that new carpet, Stanley. I’ll speak to Eddie, let him sort it, he’s bound to know someone who lays carpets. If not, he’ll send one of the boys round to do it.’
‘Thanks for looking after me, love,’ Stanley said, as Joyce helped him put on his pyjama bottoms and tucked him in.
‘Goodnight, then. As soon as them legs are better, we’ll go and buy ourselves that new car, Stanley. I’m choosing it, though; my taste is classier than yours.’
Stanley grinned as his wife turned off the light and left the room. He might be in terrible pain, but as long as his Joycie was warming to him, nothing else mattered.
* * *
Another person currently suffering from a rare twinge of guilt was Eddie Mitchell. Unlike the spineless Jamie Carroll, whom Ed hated and had had great pleasure in killing, Baldwin seemed a decent geezer and was actually talking a lot of sense. Usually, when Ed confronted his victims, they turned into shivering wrecks begging and pleading for forgiveness, but not Baldwin, he had stood his ground and Ed had to admit the geezer had bottle. He even had the front to look Ed straight in the eye without as much as a flinch as he said his piece.
‘You can do what you like to me, Eddie. After what I’ve been through, nothing or no one can hurt me any more. I’ve lost my grandson, my daughter – my life’s all but over, anyway. One thing I will say, though, is you would have done the same thing as I did. I had no choice as a proud man other than to get your brothers killed. They blew my grandson’s brains out and what would you have done if that had happened to one of your grandkids, eh?’
‘I’d have probably done exactly the same,’ Ed replied honestly, admiri
ng the man more and more as each minute ticked past.
‘As for my Sally, my only regret about you getting to me is that I ain’t got revenge for her yet. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past week, stalking that cunt Jed. I was gonna shoot him, blow the pikey bastard’s brains out, and if I’m gonna die tonight, I hope you can at least do that for both of us. I mean, he fucked your daughter’s life up an’ all, didn’t he? Do what you want to me, Eddie, but man to man, swear to me you’ll get revenge for both of our daughters by killing Jed. Can you promise me that? I’ll never rest in peace if you don’t.’
Stuart was at the wheel, driving towards the warehouse. Gary, Ricky and Raymond were sitting in the back and were virtually struck dumb, not only by Baldwin’s honesty, but also the balls the man had.
‘So if you were gonna kill Jed, where’s your gun?’ Gary asked, breaking the silence.
‘In a garage over in Dagenham. I bought a motorbike, and rented a lock-up where I’ve been stashing both. My wife Anne’s due home from Australia next week, she’s been over there ’cause her mother died recently. I was gonna kill Jed in the next couple of days before my Anne came home. If she’d have clocked what I was up to, she would have killed me more violently than yous lot probably will.’
Eddie looked into Terry Baldwin’s eyes. He was sure the man was genuine and, even though he was responsible for Paulie and Ronny’s deaths, Ed couldn’t hate him. Paulie and Ronny had dug their own graves because of their own stupidity, in a strange sort of way. ‘Pull over,’ Ed ordered Stuart.
‘What you doin’, Dad?’ Ricky asked, perplexed.
Eddie ignored his son’s question. ‘You got the keys on you to this garage of yours?’ he asked Terry.
Terry nodded and gave Eddie the address.
‘Best I drive; I know where it is,’ Raymond said, winking at Ed. It was the same road in Dagenham to which he’d followed Baldwin recently.
Raymond swapped places with Stuart and five minutes later pulled up outside the garages. Eddie got out of the van, ordered Baldwin to follow him and told the others to stay where they were.
‘I’m coming with ya; you ain’t goin’ in alone if that cunt’s got a gun in there,’ Gary said, wondering if his father had lost his senses.
‘You do as I say,’ Ed replied, glaring at his eldest son.
As Terry Baldwin opened up the garage door, Eddie immediately spotted the motorbike. ‘So, where’s the gun? And don’t you move, just tell me where it is,’ Ed said. He was already gloved up.
Terry Baldwin pointed to a stack of boxes in the left-hand corner of the garage. ‘If you move them boxes, there’s a loose slab of concrete underneath. The gun’s under there, wrapped in a shammy leather.’
Eddie had no doubt that Baldwin was telling the truth, but checked anyway, and then turned to him again. ‘I’ll do a deal with ya. You kill Jed successfully, then in return you get to keep your own life and you also owe me a favour or two.’
‘What?’ Baldwin asked. He felt as though his hearing was deceiving him.
‘You heard.’
‘But what about me ordering the hit on your brothers? I know you ain’t the type to sweep something like that under the carpet, so how do I know I can trust you not to kill me once I’ve killed Jed? It ain’t me I’m worried about, but my Anne’s been through enough already, if you know what I mean.’
Eddie stared Baldwin in the eyes, took his gloves off and held out his right hand. ‘My word is my bond. I’m Eddie Mitchell, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, what choice have you got other than to believe me?’
‘None,’ Terry Baldwin replied as he gripped Ed’s right hand.
Eddie let go of his hand and smirked. ‘Right, let’s get back to the van and we’ll drop you back at your motor. It’s getting late now, so let’s meet again in the morning to discuss the finer points. Oh, and by the way, Baldwin, if you cross me or balls things up in any way, shape or form, I will personally make sure that you die in the worst fucking way possible to mankind.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Refusing to discuss his apparent change of heart until the following day, Ed arranged an early-morning meet at Auntie Joanie’s gaff. Gary, Ricky and Raymond arrived before Ed and were still all dumbfounded by the events of the previous evening.
‘I reckon the old man’s going soft in his old age. I mean, how can he not kill that cunt after he had Ronny and Paulie’s throats cut?’ Gary said angrily.
Ricky agreed with his brother. ‘I’ve noticed a change in him ever since he’s been with that Gina. Look at what a prick he made of himself at his wedding, getting down on one knee, declaring his undying love in front of every bastard and then trotting off like some bell-end on that stupid horse and carriage,’ he added.
‘Don’t ever underestimate your father. He’s no mug, and if he’s changed his mind about killing Baldwin, then you can guarantee that he’ll benefit from it in some way, shape or form. Ed ain’t gone soft; he might have perhaps mellowed a bit, but that’s probably ’cause he’s got another nipper on the way. I’ve mellowed since Polly got pregnant and one day, when yous boys have pregnant wives or girlfriends, you’ll understand what I mean,’ Raymond explained.
‘I ain’t fucking getting married or tied down with kids. Too much grief, mate,’ Gary said immediately.
‘Me neither. I’m staying footloose and fancy free an’ all,’ Ricky added.
Seconds later, the door opened and Eddie walked in, followed by Stuart, who had travelled with him.
‘Why is it you always arrange these early meets and you’re the one that’s always late?’ Gary asked his father in a sarcastic tone.
‘Because it’s my fucking prerogative to be late. I run this firm, remember?’ Ed replied, as he took his seat at the head of the table.
Ricky got straight down to business. ‘So what’s going on, Dad? Why did we capture Baldwin and then let him go again?’
‘Cooey!’ a voice shouted out.
Eddie jumped up and answered the door to Auntie Joanie. ‘Cor, they look ’andsome. You cooked them bleedin’ quick, didn’t ya?’ he said, taking the tray off her.
‘I’d put the bacon on and buttered the baps before you bloody got ’ere. I know what yous boys are like, always starving. I’ve made you a brew an’ all and some homemade shortbread. Shall I bring ’em up now?’
‘Stuart will get ’em. You rest your legs, Auntie, and thanks, sweetheart, you’re a diamond.’
‘Let’s eat, and talk after,’ Eddie said. Nobody made a bacon bap like Auntie Joanie. She used thick butter and put four slices of quality bacon in each one.
Gary was the first to push his plate away. ‘Look, I didn’t drag meself out of bed at seven this morning just to indulge in a monkey’s tea party, so do you think we can get this meeting started?’
Ed glared at Gary, then wiped his mouth with a serviette. ‘Right, there are three reasons why I decided not to kill Baldwin last night. Number one, I admired the geezer’s balls and honesty. Number two, what he did to Ronny and Paulie was an act of revenge for his grandson and any proud man would have done the same thing – I definitely would. And number three, he’s gonna kill Jed, which’ll save us doin’ it.’
‘You’ve gotta be kidding us! What about our plans for tonight? You can’t trust some nomark you barely fucking know to do a job like that properly,’ Gary shouted.
Ricky stared at his father in total disbelief. ‘Gal’s right, you’ve lost the fucking plot, Dad. How do you know that Baldwin can be trusted? He might be a grass and get us all banged up, for all you know.’
‘I personally don’t think it’s a bad idea, as long as he’s gonna do Jed alone. At least we can make sure we’re seen somewhere, then we’ve all got an alibi,’ Raymond responded sensibly.
The only person who didn’t chip in with a comment was Stuart. Being the newest member of the firm, he tended not to get too involved in any disagreements and instead just went with the flow.
Eddie walked over to the drink
s cabinet, poured himself a Scotch, then walked back to the table and slammed the bottle down in front of his two sons. ‘I haven’t even told you the plan yet and if you stopped putting your two penn’orth in and listened for five minutes, you’d realise it makes fucking sense.’
Furious that the night’s ambush of Jed and Jimmy was now off the radar, Gary grabbed the bottle of Scotch and poured himself a large one. Gulping it back, he grimaced at the taste, slammed the glass on the table and stared at his father defiantly. ‘Come on, then. What’s the plan? I’m all ears.’
‘I had a meet with Baldwin while you were still lying in your pit this morning. He’s gonna shoot Jed tonight and I’ve told him, if he fucks up, he’s a dead man walking.’
‘What about Jimmy, though? Why don’t you get him to kill him an’ all?’ Ricky demanded.
Eddie fingered the scar down the left-hand side of his face that Jimmy gave him in 1970. ‘That cunt, I’m absolutely determined to do meself and I will, but first I really want to see him suffer. That little fucker Jed has always been the apple of Jimmy’s eye, so can you imagine how he’s gonna feel when his favourite son gets his brains blown out in front of him? To do it this way is the biggest torture we can put old wonky-nose through, trust me on that one.’
‘But why the change of plan?’ Gary asked suspiciously.
‘The more I thought about us killing Jed, the more I had a bad vibe about it. I mean, people don’t just disappear off the face of the earth, do they? I just had a feeling that if we’d have done what we planned to, the filth might have started sniffing around us and we can do without that. Jamie Carroll don’t matter, as we have no history with him. Seriously, I think Baldwin falling into our laps like he did is a fucking act of God.’
‘What about Flatnose Freddie? Is he still gonna dispose of Jed?’ Ricky asked.
Eddie smirked. ‘No need, is there? Baldwin can just shoot him and leave him on the driveway. We ain’t involved, are we? We’re all going to a nice restaurant tonight, so we’ll have our alibi.’
The Victim Page 26
