The Jump

by Martina Cole

  Alan smiled faintly. ‘Then I’ll tell you, shall I?’

  He relit his cigar and settled himself once more in his seat. ‘Your husband and I grew up together in Canning Town. Unlike Georgio’s, my family weren’t exactly respectable. My old man was a drunk, spent more time in the pub than he did in the house. I don’t have to paint a picture, you look the type to watch Channel Four!’ He smiled at her again. ‘Well, old Pa Brunos, he took me under his wing, like. He used to take me and Georgio boxing together. I could have gone professional, but I didn’t. Instead I became a street-fighter. A bareknuckle man. I’m a big bloke and I attracted a good crowd of people. You’d be amazed at the types who turn up to see two blokes punching the fuck out of each other.

  ‘Well, me and Georgio, we still kept in touch. He got into his building lark and I got into the boxing scene. So professionally we were worlds apart, though Georgio used to come and see me fight, and we’d have the odd drink together in The Bridge House. Twelve years ago, I beat a man to death not five minutes from where we’re sitting now. It was in Chinatown, actually. I did it in full view of a lot of people and I got life imprisonment. I am not going to tell you why I did it, that’s a secret known only to me and a couple of other people.

  ‘While I was inside Georgio looked after my family. My wife divorced me. I accepted that, we’d grown apart anyway. But Georgio looked after them all. My son was at Ampleforth, Georgio paid his fees, and my daughter was at home with her mum. She went to a convent nearby. Georgio made sure she had enough money. You see, when I got life, a certain person I was in partnership with did a runner with all our money. My wife would have had to sell the house, everything, to make ends meet. I wrote to Georgio and he came up trumps for me. He also sorted out the slag who’d tucked me up. I did seven years before I was eligible for parole and I was out after eight years and five days. Georgio did a lot for me.

  ‘I’ll never forget him for that. I also told him that I owed him one, and I stand by that statement now. So you can tell him that I will move heaven and earth to help him, but I can’t make any promises. What he’s asked me is a biggy. But if it’s at all possible, I will make it happen. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

  Donna shook her head, unable to take in what the man had said.

  Georgio had done all that and he had never once mentioned it to her. And though she admired and respected him for helping this man’s family, another part of her was grievously wounded that he could have done all that without giving her so much as an inkling of it. He had never once mentioned it to her. She did not even know this man or his family had existed until today.

  ‘How’s he bearing up?’ Alan asked now.

  Donna sipped her drink to wash down the tears that had welled up inside her.

  ‘Very well under the circumstances. He hates it in there, though. He was fitted up. A man called Wilson pointed the finger at him.’

  ‘I heard about that. Shame he’s brown bread, ain’t it? No chance of making him change his statement now, is there?’

  Donna shook her head again. ‘None. There’s a man called Lewis involved. Georgio got into something with him, and now Lewis is on the Island with him. He’s making things very difficult for Georgio. He got in with the big boys, I’m afraid, right over his head. Now this is the upshot.’

  ‘I know Lewis of old,’ Alan said. ‘Georgio should have had a bit more savvy than to have done any kind of business with him. He’s an arsehole, if you’ll pardon my French. A ginger beer and all. I heard Lewis loves it in there, like a holiday for him. I also heard he bought himself out of Broadmoor. The man’s a psychopath. I can understand why Georgio wants out. If Lewis is on his tail, he’s better off as far away as possible. Has he decided where he wants to go?’

  Donna shook her head.

  ‘Well, I’ve got a villa in Spain. He could hole up there for a while. I own a timeshare complex out there. Nothing fishy, all my places are top class. I don’t rip anyone off, never have. I got into the timeshare there a few years back. I have a large place myself I use to take me kids on their holidays. My little grandson is four now. You’d love him. Right little hard man he is.’

  Donna found herself smiling at his proud voice. ‘How old are your children?’

  ‘My Lisa is twenty-five and my son Alan Junior is twenty-one. I am forty-nine years old, before you ask.’

  ‘I never knew Georgio had done so much for you. He never said anything.’

  Alan smiled. ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? It’s between me and him, the same way all this will be between me and you. I ain’t making any promises. I’ll look into this thoroughly, and if there’s a chance, then we’ll be off.’

  Donna finished her brandy in one gulp, grateful for its burn. She had never felt so misused in all her life. Georgio could be cruel at times, so cruel. He’d lived a completely separate life from her and she had never realised it until now.

  Another part of her mind was telling her that the things she had found out about him, had she known them at the time, would only have caused her sleepless nights. Georgio had probably guessed this, which was why he’d never told her, but had looked after her according to his lights. As far as her husband was concerned, he had done well by her. She had to hold on to that thought.

  Anything he had done, had been for her as well as himself. She had lived a good life with him, she had had everything she’d wanted, more than anyone could want in fact. They had travelled the world, lived like kings, she had accounts at Harrods and Fortnum’s to name but a few. She had never questioned where all the money came from, she had just spent it. If she had known, she would have been worried and Georgio had always been at pains to stop her worrying about anything.

  Alan watched the different expressions flickering across her face and sighed. She seemed a nice woman, a respectable type, definitely too good for Georgio.

  ‘Come on, let’s go down and get something to eat,’ he suggested. ‘All this drink is making me hungry.’

  Donna stood up unsteadily. She felt much better after she had consumed a large plate of spaghetti marinara, the clams still having the salty tang of the sea. It had been cooked to perfection. She wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and Alan poured out a glass of sparkling water for her.

  ‘Drink that, it’ll dilute the brandy.’

  Donna did as she was told. ‘That was excellent!’

  Alan smiled. ‘I’ve always liked me grub. Banged up, the food is terrible - unless you cook your own. Lots of old lags become quite good cooks on a long stretch. Sex and food are the two most important things to men - and not necessarily in that order!’

  Donna laughed with him. He was an attractive personality. Big enough to win attention wherever he went, Alan Cox was also gentle and kind. The kindness shone through his rough exterior, especially when talking about his children or his grandson.

  ‘I’m going to start putting feelers out in the morning,’ he promised her. ‘I take it Georgio wants you as the go-between?’

  Donna nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

  Alan grinned. ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  She finished the glass of water and said seriously, ‘I don’t know anything any more, Alan. I thought I knew a lot once. About my husband, my life. I thought I was settled. I thought I would carry on as I was until I died. I felt safe. Now, I have a husband who’s doing eighteen years, I am sitting in a restaurant with a man who, if you’ll forgive my saying it, murdered someone in cold blood not far from where we’re sitting, and I am planning the escape from prison of someone who didn’t even have the decency to tell me he kept your family for years. I am beginning to wonder if I actually know him. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder exactly what Georgio is capable of.’

  Alan heard the loneliness and the hurt in her voice. Realised that Georgio, as usual, had ridden roughshod over the little woman in front of him. She was out of her depth, way out of her depth. She was frightened, intimidated and worried, deeply worried. She wasn’t
the usual villain’s wife. That sort, even if they didn’t know for sure, could take a shrewd guess what the score was. This girl, or woman, was as green as the proverbial grass.

  He clicked his fingers together and a waiter came over. ‘Bring a bottle of my good brandy, will you? And two glasses.’

  Donna snapped, ‘I don’t want any more to drink.’

  Alan frowned and snapped back: ‘Well, you’re having some. You need a livener, girl. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, dangerous work. You could end up in clink, love. So if I was you I’d think long and hard about how deep you get in all this shit. Talk it over with Georgio, tell him to find someone else to do his running around. He will, he’s a known face. You’ve done your bit by coming here.’

  Donna stared down at the tablecloth, biting back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue.

  ‘He can’t trust anyone but me. I already know that.’

  Alan sighed. ‘Then he’s a lucky man, and you’re an unlucky woman. If we’re to plan this thing together I need someone who won’t cry their eyes out at the first sign of trouble, do you get what I’m saying?’

  Donna nodded.

  ‘It’s going to be dangerous, and it’s going to be hair-raising. It’s going to cost the earth and it’s going to take a lot of our time. The Old Bill will be sniffing round, the Serious Crime Squad will be yapping at our heels, and the Sweeny will know something’s afoot within twenty-four hours of me putting out feelers. There’s enough grasses in Soho alone to turf Wembley stadium. Do you think you can handle all this?’

  Donna kept her head down, frightened to look at the big man opposite her.

  ‘You will be dragged through places you didn’t even know existed, with people you can only imagine in your wildest nightmares. I ain’t trying to frighten you, just letting you know the score. If you’re going to shit out, I’d rather it was now, before you know too much about what’s going on.’

  The waiter came to the table with the brandy and glasses. While he served them, Donna was grateful for the respite, and forced herself to appear calm.

  Alan gave her a balloon glass half-full of brandy. She took it gratefully.

  ‘So, what are you going to do, love? See Georgio and tell him to get someone else?’

  Donna took a gulp of brandy, wincing at the burning in her throat. ‘I think I will be all right, Mr Cox.’

  ‘The name’s Alan,’ the big man grinned, ‘and I’ll take your word for the other. But I warn you now, love, one sign of you cracking and you’re out. Georgio can give me a back up in case I need it. I can’t visit, so everything has to be done with a go-between. Now I don’t care who it is as long as they’re reliable. I’d prefer a geezer, but I expect you know that already.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  She took a cigarette from her pack and Alan lit it for her. Donna’s hands were shaking so much he had to steady her fingers with his free hand.

  ‘Oh, you’ll be all right, will you? You’re shaking like a leaf now, and we ain’t even started planning anything!’

  Donna leaned across the table and hissed, ‘Why don’t you shut up!’

  Alan laughed out loud. ‘I like a bit of spunk. I only hope you’ve got a big reserve of it, Donna, because believe me, my little love, you’re going to need it.’

  Alan had arranged for Donna to be taken home. As he watched the car disappear around the corner he sighed. He began a leisurely walk around to Dean Street where he entered a doorway. The small drinking club had been there since he had been a boy. The man who owned it was called Fido. No one knew his full name or anything about him. Alan was a welcome customer. He was rich, well-dressed and well-respected, and he could have a row: the perfect credentials for Fido’s place.

  Fido sat in a small booth and Alan joined him without being invited. Fido was thin to the point of emaciation; he was also chalk white with sparse grey hair, and he looked like a gangling civil servant.

  ‘Hello, Alan, long time no see. What can I do you for?’

  ‘I need a message delivered on to the Island. Private. I don’t want it to get to the ears of a man called Lewis.’

  Fido laughed softly. ‘I can arrange that. I deal with Lewis’s messengers anyway. He’s a slag, but he pays well. Who’s the message for?’

  ‘Georgio Brunos. Just tell him Alan said, find a number two. He’ll know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘It’s as good as done, my son,’ Fido assured him.

  A woman in her forties walked over to the booth and Fido ignored her as she spoke to him, not even glancing in her direction.

  ‘Come on, Fido, where’s Jerry? I know he’s been in. Jack told me he has.’

  Fido carried on ignoring her as he spoke. ‘Don’t you ever ask me anything about anyone again, Vera. If you do, I’ll stripe your face till the cows come home, all right?’

  Vera, a large redhead, turned and walked away, her back ramrod straight with temper.

  Fido sighed softly. ‘I wish these toms would get a handle on their pimps, Alan. In my young days they stuck to their mark like shit to a blanket. She’s looking for him to give him his wedge and the fucker’s nowhere to be seen.’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘Today it’s all different. No finesse any more. I yearn for the good old days meself. Soho died in the sixties, you know. Once they legalised everything, the fun went out of it.’

  ‘You’re still here though, Fido.’

  He grinned. ‘They’ll take me out of here in a box, mate.’ He paused for a few seconds before saying: ‘Brunos is doing an eighteen and Lewis is riding his back. Sent two blokes to rough up his old woman, I heard. They’ve disappeared and now Lewis is like a monkey with a red-hot poker up his arse. I took the messages. I don’t like him so you’re lucky. I take his money and do me job, but that’s it. I owe him no allegiance, so I’ll give you a bit of advice gratis.

  ‘Lewis wants his poke, Alan, and Georgio knows where it’s hidden. The sooner that man opens his mouth, the sooner he gets buried. I’ll waive any money for this first message. That way you know I’m not on anyone’s take. No one will know about it, I can guarantee that. Afterwards each message is a grand, OK?’

  ‘You’re a mate, Fido.’

  ‘I’m your mate, Alan, because me and you go back to the old days. God knows, I do miss them.’

  ‘So do I, Fido. So do I.’

  The other man shook his head wearily. ‘They’re arming the Old Bill now. I never thought I’d see the day. Once they carry a piece it’ll be open season for the villains. Every likely lad with a oner will be carrying a gun. Old Teddy Black’s in on it already. You know if you have handguns, each one must be registered, right? Well, with shotguns you only need one licence and you can have as many as you like. He’s putting out scores of sawn-offs. Like a fucking armoury his drum is, and it’s legal. Well, semi-legal, and that’s enough for old Teddy. It’s the drugs, see. Drugs and guns go hand in hand.’

  Alan nodded in agreement. ‘Never liked drugs meself. But then, you already know that. When will the message be given?’

  ‘Tomorrow, by noon. I have a few screws on me payroll, I won’t send this one through a lag.’

  ‘You’re a diamond. I’d better get back and cash up. They’ll all think I’ve been nicked if I don’t show me face soon.’

  ‘I hear Amigo’s is doing well.’

  ‘It’s a living, Fido. I owe you one, all right?’

  Fido nodded. ‘I’ll send someone round tomorrow to let you know the message has been delivered.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  Alan left the club and walked slowly back to Greek Street. He looked at the debris-strewn pavements, the McDonald’s boxes, the circulars and flyers in the gutter, and sighed. Fido was right. The West End was changing, and he wasn’t sure whether it was for the good.

  Donna arrived home at ten past three. She thanked the driver of her car and watched as he was then picked up by another man in a Mercedes. She stood on her driveway, di
shevelled and half-drunk. The heat sensor lights were blazing and she looked around her as if for the first time.

  The front garden was about seventy-five feet. It was neatly laid to lawn, with conifers screening each side and a large willow by the front gates. The gravel crunched under her feet as she wearily made her way to her front door.

  As she selected the doorkey from the bunch in her hand she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Willing herself not to look, she stepped into her home, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Someone had been standing in between the conifers by the side of the house. She shuddered.

  Walking up the stairs, she went into her bedroom and turned on the light. Then she crept back down the stairs in darkness, making her way slowly to the conservatory at the rear of the house. The conservatory ran along the whole back wall; it was huge, her pride and joy. It housed her swimming pool, the marble-tiled floor of which was a decorative feat in itself. This was also her reading room, having two large sofas, three chairs, a large table where she would eat in the summer, and a small bar area. From the far end she could see to the side of the house.

  Donna groped her way along in the darkness, wishing she had not drunk so much brandy. Finally, she was there, and she pushed her face close to the window. The heat sensor lights would be going out at any moment then she wouldn’t see anything.

  She watched in amazement as her back gate opened gently and a large man slipped through. She was even more amazed to see that it was Paddy Donovon.

  The drink making her bold now, she waited until he was level with the window. She was just about to knock on it, to attract his attention, when she saw he was carrying a handgun. Then the lights went out and left the whole place once more in darkness.

  Donna sat down on the cane chair by her side, her hands trembling. In the dimness she turned over the thoughts in her head.

  Paddy definitely had a gun.

  Was he here to harm her? She immediately dismissed this idea. She trusted Paddy with her life.