by Martina Cole
Jonny Barber had never really liked Colin Dawes. He suspected it was because Colin had the knack of being popular by his very nature. Even at school, Colin had managed to make friends with everyone around him. Admittedly, Jonny couldn’t really fault him for that, but he found Colin’s obvious camaraderie with all and sundry very unsettling. He just wasn’t comfortable with people like Colin Dawes; he always felt wrong-footed around him.
Nevertheless, Colin Dawes had worked for the Barbers for a very long time, and Jonny recognised that he owed him a private audience for that reason alone. His loyalty had never once been questioned, he’d never given them cause for any doubt, unlike the majority of the men on the Barbers’ payroll, who Jonny personally wouldn’t trust to look after his mother’s mangy old cat without a written statement of support from the RSPCA. His brother Dicky had played a hand in that. He had picked fights with everyone at some time or another – it wasn’t even personal, it was just his nature. In all honesty, Jonny wasn’t entirely without blame. Just like Dicky, he had never been blessed with a sunny nature, and he had caused his fair share of bad feeling with the people he employed. Thanks to his brother’s natural antagonism towards most of the human race, he had never been in a position to relax his guard and put his trust in the people around him. Dicky could have more fights than Joe Frazier in a twenty-minute timeframe. Dicky had made a career out of alienating everyone on their payroll at one time or another. Now Jonny was worried it might come back to bite them on their arses. His younger brother was basically a fucking moron.
‘All right, Colin? What can I do you for, mate?’ He was trying to be friendly, jovial even. It was hard though. He was still waiting for his brothers to make an appearance.
Colin smiled, trying to look relaxed. He was still a good-looking man, even at his age. Colin had always put his looks down to his aversion to alcoholic beverages of any kind. He had never liked the taste of drink, even as a lad and, seeing the trouble that it could cause, he was very glad about that. Give him a cup of tea any day. Alcohol not only reduced people’s inhibitions – it was also a fuel for bad tempers. It fanned flames that caused serious damage to everyone involved.
He was nervous, and he took a breath to steady himself. ‘Look, Jonny. I don’t want to cause trouble, mate. You know me – I keep out of everything, but I can’t stand by and see you made a mug of.’
Jonny Barber was looking at Colin Dawes as if he had never seen him before in his life. He had not expected anything like this – certainly not such raw honesty. ‘What the fuck are you prattling on about?’
Colin had no choice, he had to tell it like it was. Jonny was not going to make it easy for him, but it was too late to back out now.
‘Rob and Dicky have taken a few blokes, and they are on their way over to Patrick Costello’s house where, incidentally, he is having a big fucking party to celebrate his wedding anniversary. Rob and Dicky seem to think that they can easily gain entry into Patrick’s home, and then they plan to take out the Costello family en masse. I assume they didn’t discuss any of this with you, because you would have told them that they were on a death wish. It’s fucking lunacy, Jonny. But you know young Rob – he’s got a serious fucking hard on for Michael Flynn, and Dicky has always wanted to pay back Declan Costello for past misdemeanours.’
Jonny Barber was unsure if he was actually awake. This could only be some kind of nightmare brought on by narcotics or some kind of serious illness. No one in their right mind would think – even for a moment – that they could take out the Costello brothers. And certainly not in their own fucking home, for fuck’s sake! It was so blatantly outrageous a claim, yet so like something Dicky was capable of, he knew that it could only be the truth.
He understood that Colin Dawes was only trying to help, was doing him what he felt was a favour – being loyal and decent even. But he wished Colin Dawes had kept his big fucking trap shut.
Jonny wasn’t sure if he was willing to get involved. He would rather have been able to say, in complete honesty, that he had known nothing about any of this, and that it was as big a surprise to him as it was to everyone else. Thanks to this cunt, he couldn’t do that now.
There was no way in hell that his brothers would be able to walk away from this. It was never going to happen. The fucking Flying Squad would be hard pushed to infiltrate Patrick Costello’s house, even with a warrant and a tag team from the SAS. Patrick Costello had always made sure he was well protected from any outside aggravation. He was a man who was always two steps ahead and who, therefore, had put in place security that might be needed should any threat arise.
Jonny felt faint suddenly. His head seemed to be filling up with hot air, he couldn’t breathe properly. He felt himself choking; his mouth was so dry, he had no spit left. He had only the sticky dryness that came from extreme fear. His chest felt tight, as if a steel band was squeezing all his breath out of him. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears it was drowning out everything else. He knew that he was on the verge of collapsing. For the first time in his whole life he was experiencing acute terror on a grand scale, and it was coupled with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about any of it.
He was clutching his chest, but he was dismayed because he wasn’t having the heart attack he so dearly craved. He was aware that he was already thinking clearly again, and that his natural instinct for self-preservation was kicking in. Even as he realised that, he felt guilty because he knew that he should be at least trying to do something to help his brothers out. But they had already made their beds. They had not seen fit to tell him what they had planned, so he could do nothing for them now. They had undertaken this madness alone – and they would have to take the consequences alone.
He had been left out of the loop because they had both known he would have forbidden it. So fuck them for the treacherous bastards they were! He could only look out for himself now, guard his own interests, and try to salvage what he could from what was, in reality, a situation that was fucking unprecedented in the world they inhabited. He would have to make damn sure that the Costellos and that ponce Flynn were given every assurance that he personally had no knowledge whatsoever of his brothers’ suicidal mission. It was about self-preservation. His brothers were as good as dead already; he had no option but to try and save his own arse if it was in any way possible. But he didn’t really hold out much hope.
‘How about a drink, Colin? And then you can tell me everything you know, eh?’
Colin Dawes was thrilled by the invitation, unaware that he was actually being kept there as Jonny Barber’s alibi for the evening and that he was putting his own life in danger if it all went pear-shaped.
Chapter Twenty
Patrick Costello’s wife Carmel was a woman on a constant mission in life.
She was confident she had her husband’s affection – his love even – but it was something she had to work for all the same. And she did just that. He treated her like a goddess, and always made sure she was given her due as the mother of his children. No matter what might happen in the future, even if he ever did get a capture by the Filth for some reason, he had provided for his family. Not that anything like that was really on the cards. Her Patrick was far too big nowadays. But, if it did come to pass, she knew she would still be able to live the lifestyle she had become accustomed to. She had access to his offshore accounts – he had given that information to her to ensure that she felt safe – and she never worried about the future.
Patrick was older than her; he had married later in life and taken those vows seriously. Even so, Carmel was a realist. Patrick saw himself as a good husband, as well as a good Catholic, but he was also a man. And not just any man, but a Face in a world of permanent strange, where good-looking and very willing young women were plentiful. There were far too many girls in the Life just like she had been, with the same goal in mind, and the same determination to get what and who they wanted, whatever the cost. She knew men with second, third and even fourth w
ives. That would never happen to her – she would keep her status come hell or high water.
These young girls – who seemed to multiply every year – had the edge, because they were younger than her, fresher, without the scars of childbirth and without the curse of familiarity. She made herself known to each and every one of them so they would be in no doubt of what they would be up against should they decide to try and challenge her position. However much Patrick adored her, she would not let her guard down for one second. She was determined to be the only Mrs Costello, and she was not going to give that status up without a fight. His only way out of this marriage was death – and not hers either. She made sure that she was surrounded by her own clique of girls and women that she felt were not a threat to her or her lifestyle. She knew every female in her husband’s orbit, and she made sure that she was a permanent fixture in every part of his social life. Patrick might think she was being paranoid – he was a great guy, a good father, and a loyal husband. But he didn’t comprehend the lengths that certain women were prepared to go to in order to get what they wanted.
Carmel was not going to give any fucker the chance to try and muscle in on what was rightfully hers. She had always worked – and she continued to do so every day – to keep her home and, more importantly, her place in the Life. It was a good life in so many ways, but it was also very difficult because she could never let herself relax, could never take her eye off the ball. She was constantly on alert, and it was exhausting. But she had to protect herself and her children from being ousted by a younger model.
Now they were having an anniversary party and, even though Patrick had made sure it was a great night and was treating her like royalty, she still couldn’t bring herself to truly relax and enjoy it. She had made him organise it. She might tell everyone that it was all his idea, but it was all hers really. Occasions like tonight made a point to everyone. The Costellos were together, they were happy and nothing could come between them. It was a moment of triumph.
If only she could enjoy it and her husband’s company. But she couldn’t relax any more.
She caught sight of Michael Flynn’s fiancée, Josephine Callahan. The girl was absolutely stunning, there was no doubting that. She was also a really nice person, and Carmel hated that she was so jealous of her, but she couldn’t help it. Josephine was not only gorgeous, she was young – as young and as innocent as the day was long. It was an irresistible combination to most men.
Michael Flynn, though, was all over her like the proverbial rash, and Josephine had eyes for no one but her Michael. They were a lovely young couple, and she had no reason for the jealousy she was feeling towards them. Nevertheless, Josephine Callahan was another one to be watched like a hawk, and watch her she would. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer – what a true statement that was. Patrick had asked her privately to take the younger girl under her wing, to look after her and ease her into the fold so to speak; after all, Carmel knew the score from personal experience. Even though her husband had shown no interest in the girl other than the fact she was Michael’s intended, Carmel still felt the ugly pain of jealousy, coupled with a feeling of fear. That fear was always going to be there. She might act like she had everything under control, that she was in charge of everything around her – from her family, to her home and the people she brought into her personal orbit – but it was all a sham. Deep inside, she had never really known a truly happy day since she had married Patrick Costello. Once she had landed him, she had spent every minute since trying to keep him. And it was not easy.
Carmel had too much pride to let anyone, especially Patrick Costello, kick her to the kerb. She had invested too much of her time and effort to end up a has-been. From the moment he put a ring on her finger, she had made it her mission in life to keep him by her side.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael was in a good mood. His Josephine looked the dog’s gonads at the party tonight, and he was excited about his forthcoming nuptials. He really was a man in love.
He’d been feeling very wholesome since his confession. He didn’t like being with Josephine knowing he had committed murder. It felt a bit off, even though he had chosen to do it and had known it was expected of him. There was a part of him that was secretly unnerved that his initial qualms about taking someone’s life now seemed completely out of proportion. He wasn’t exactly pleased by what he had done, but there was no getting away from the fact that it had been much easier than he had thought it would be to actually do it. He could argue that he’d been put into an impossible position. When Patrick made the request, he’d had no choice but to agree.
Father Riordan had taken his sins and wiped them away. It had been so easy, and he felt much better in himself now he had atoned for it. He felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders. He would never again underestimate the power of his religion.
As he went into Patrick’s office he was smiling; he felt fantastic. ‘Hello, boys, you will not believe what I have got to tell you.’
Patrick grinned before saying sarcastically, ‘Well, let me guess. Is it to do with you, a dealer in Notting Hill, and the possibility of a cannabis-based business?’
Michael just laughed loudly. ‘Fucking hell, Pat! There was me thinking that I had manoeuvred us a right good earn, but I should have known better! You cannot be surprised, you’re always a fucking step ahead. You’re like Secret Squirrel. Un-fucking-believable!’
Declan was interested in how his brother would react to Michael’s news. He almost wished he’d kept his trap shut earlier. He trusted the boy implicitly – he should have known nothing was certain with his brother. But Michael was his blue-eyed boy, for fuck’s sake! Declan wasn’t bothered by the favouritism. He was more than happy with his earns. Patrick’s interest had never been in the bread and butter side of the business, he had always craved the more exotic earns. Declan was quite happy that Patrick left him to get on with it. His brother was a difficult man to work alongside, with a terrible need to control everyone, everything, and every deal that he saw as being within his personal remit. He was basically a massive pain in the arse. Declan loved him dearly, but he was aware that he had never been quick enough mentally for Patrick. He had always known his brother was the brains of the family, but he didn’t feel inferior to his brother in any way. He was proud of him, and he was more than happy with his place in the Costello businesses.
Declan saw in Michael Flynn the same quick brain, and the same resolve that was so much a part of Patrick’s make up. It was why his brother had taken to the lad, and why he himself understood the boy’s importance to the firm.
Declan watched his brother as he flexed his muscles and made his point.
‘You know me, Michael. I always like to know the score. I make sure that I am never in a position of weakness. It’s nothing personal, Michael, I just feel that it’s in my interest to know everything about everyone.’
Michael was not fazed. He would have done the same himself. ‘I’m impressed, Pat. But I think you’ll see the logic of it.’
Patrick sipped at his drink noisily before saying, ‘He’s Jonny Barber’s boy, Michael.’
Michael shrugged nonchalantly. Declan was impressed with the boy’s complete disregard of his brother. He had such confidence in himself, it was a pleasure to listen to him. He would not be another of his brother’s yes men. But Michael Flynn was not arrogant – he genuinely wanted to bring in an earn.
‘We want the Barbers out of the way, so what’s the fucking difference? They’re all cunts. Why do you think I cultivated Oates when I got the chance? He’s an all right geezer, and the Barbers have treated him in a diabolical fashion. None of the people they have around them are even remotely happy with the circumstances of their employment. They shit on their own doorstep, rip off their own – they don’t seem to understand that times have changed. I have done no more than open up a dialogue with Oates and he was thrilled, believe me. It’s the next step, Pat.’
Patrick was listening to the boy intently. Michael had no side, he was as honest as he was loyal. He had proved that already.
‘You’re right, mate. But I wouldn’t be the boss if I didn’t flex my muscles now and then. It never hurts to show that you’re aware of what’s going on. It’s the reason we are so fucking successful, son. Remember that.’
Michael knew he had been both praised and subtly warned. He wasn’t too bothered about either. He had no reason to worry – he had done nothing more than set up a good deal. He knew how to play the game. People like Patrick Costello needed to be reassured, needed to know that the people he put his trust in appreciated him. Michael was more than willing to give him what he saw as his due. It was a small price to pay for what he was getting in return, and he did respect him.
‘I won’t ever forget that, Patrick, don’t you worry. I want you to know that I am grateful for every opportunity and every penny that I have earned from being a part of the Costello family. I just wanted to bring something to the table. It’s a big earn, Oates likes me and, to be honest, I really like him. He’s a decent bloke. But I’m not a fool – I guessed you would already be two jumps ahead.’
It was exactly what Patrick wanted to hear. He relied on the network of people he had accrued over the years, people who were willing to give him the full monty about anyone and everyone around him. Even Declan wasn’t immune to his interest – that was something Patrick was not proud of, but he couldn’t help himself.
‘You’re a good kid, Michael. I know that.’
The office door crashed open, and they were all surprised to see Douglas Marshall burst into the room. Dougie was no more than a soldier, one of Declan’s crew of heavies, and his interruption was not appreciated at all.
‘What the fuck are you doing, Dougie?’
The words were spoken by Declan and the inference was that he had obviously lost his mind.
