by Martina Cole
Lewis was kneeling down. Groaning now, he tried to rise. Georgio saw Timmy go in to finish him off, and he stood in front of the bigger man.
‘Give me the knife, Timmy. You don’t want to add another five years to your sentence, do you? He ain’t worth it.’
‘Out of me way, Georgio. I’ve took all I fucking can in this shithole, I’m telling you. I’m sick of this perverted little ponce telling me what I can and can’t do. Who I can have. He took my Sadie away from me. You know that.’
Georgio saw that Timmy was near to tears. He also saw the unnatural light in his eyes. He was high as a kite. Lewis’s drug-running had finally backfired on him. Whatever Timmy had dropped, it had given him the courage to go after the top man.
‘Give me the knife, Timmy.’
He watched as Lewis slumped on to the floor of the shower room. Chopper made a move towards Timmy, who jabbed the knife to within an inch of his face.
‘You want some, you scouse bastard, do you? Come on then.’
‘Give Georgio the knife, man. You’re in enough stook as it is.’ Chopper’s voice was low. ‘Do yourself a favour, eh? You’ve done what you set out to do. He looks dead enough to me.’
Timmy looked down on Lewis and smiled gently. ‘He fucking better be, because if he ain’t I’m a dead man myself.’
Georgio removed the knife from Timmy’s hand, passing it to Chopper as he took Timmy by the arm.
‘Let’s go and get a cup of Rosie Lee and a bit of Holy Ghost, eh?’
Timmy smiled vacantly.
‘Tea and toast. We’ll celebrate that wanker’s demise, shall we?’
Georgio nodded sagely, then led Timmy past the two screws at the door and shook his head at them in a gesture of warning. The two men stepped back, allowing Georgio to pass them by.
The shower room was still silent with shock. One of Lewis’s minders, Michael Clarkson, spat on to the inert form. Then, picking up his towel, he walked from the room, whistling lightly under his breath.
The elder of the prison wardens knelt down beside Lewis and took his pulse.
‘You’d better get the quack, Daniels. He’s still alive.’ Standing up he looked at the men in the shower room. ‘This puts a different complexion on things, don’t it? Did anyone see anything?’
Slowly each man in the room shook his head; some even carried on with their showers. Shrugging the warder sounded the alarm and oversaw Lewis’s removal to the hospital wing.
Ten minutes later it was just a normal morning in any maximum security prison.
Benjamin Dawes was washing himself once more when he shouted out: ‘If Lewis croaks, I bagsy his rug and his curtains. They’ll go lovely with me three-piece suite.’
Everyone cracked up with laughter.
Donna’s introduction to the underworld of Scotland was a shock, the more so because the first taste she had of it was being driven by Alan to a large house on the outskirts of Edinburgh.
The house had a long winding drive, a gabled roof, and enough ivy along its Georgian exterior to cover her own home five times over.
‘Nice drum, ain’t it? Everyone always pictures the slums when they think of villains. Well, that might be where we all started out, and some never leave them, but a few of us, Georgio included, go for the high life.’
Donna didn’t bother answering him.
Three large German Shepherds were barking at the car as they drove through the electric gates.
‘Don’t attempt even to open a window till Jamesie gets here. They’d rip you to pieces.’
Donna looked out in dismay at three identical sets of teeth as the dogs jumped on the car.
‘They fuck up me paintwork every time.’ Alan’s voice was resigned.
‘Listen, Donna, don’t say nothing unless you know what you’re talking about, right? Jamesie is a bit of a lad, a laugh, but at the same time he don’t suffer fools gladly, know what I mean?’
Donna carried on staring at the three large dogs, whose barking was beginning to give her a headache.
A small man of indeterminate age walked down the steps from the house. He whistled and the dogs immediately became like pets, wagging their tails and jumping up at him. He patted them roughly. Smiling pleasantly, he nodded at Alan.
‘That means we can get out of the car.’
‘But the dogs?’ Donna’s voice was frightened.
‘They won’t come near you once Jamesie’s there, don’t worry.’
Alan slipped from the car and walked cautiously towards the smaller man. The dogs began scampering around him, sniffing him and waiting to be petted.
Alan stroked them all in turn, murmuring endearments.
‘What’s the matter with your companion? Is she frightened of my wee boys?’ Laughing, Jamesie went to the car and opened the door. ‘Come on, dearie, they won’t hurt you. Give them a stroke and you’ll have friends for life.’
Donna, an animal lover, stroked the thick warm fur and gingerly slipped out of the car.
‘Sit down, you buggers, before you ruin her good suit!’
The three dogs sat obediently and Donna smiled widely.
‘They’re gorgeous. They certainly know their jobs, don’t they?’ She knelt down and put her arms around the largest of the dogs, kissing its furry muzzle.
Jamesie grinned. ‘See? There’s nothing to be afraid of. The only people I canna keep them from attacking is folk in uniform, but I don’t worry too much about that. I was never a lover of the polis myself!’
Alan laughed and took Donna’s arm as they followed Jamesie into the house. The three dogs sat once more by the front door, as it was shut in their faces.
‘As much as I love them, their place is outside. In Germany they sleep in six foot of snow. If you bring them into the house they moult all bloody year. It’s the central heating, you see. Come away in and I’ll make us all a drink.’
As they followed him through the impressive entrance hall into a large drawing room, four small Jack Russells set up a cry.
Donna knelt down to stroke them all, impressed despite herself by the house and the animals.
‘How many dogs have you got?’
Jamesie shook his head. ‘Too many to count. I’m a breeder, you see - I have kennels in the grounds. My dogs are very sought-after. You like dogs, I take it?’
Donna nodded. ‘I love them. My old dog died about two years ago, and I still miss him.’
‘You do get attached.’ Jamesie began making them all hot toddies. Donna was absolutely fascinated by the small kettle hanging over the wood fire. Picking up a tea towel he took the kettle from its hook and poured steaming water into three thick glasses.
‘About a year ago, I sold two beauties to a dealer from Wales, a woman and a man. Funny pair. The dogs were over a grand each, so they had a few bob. Well, I like to keep an eye on my animals even after they’ve been sold so I took a dander down to their place one day.
‘Ach, those poor dogs! The bitch was tied in a small pen, her puppies around her, her own shite stuck to her fur. Two of the most beautiful Rottweilers you’ve ever seen, and great little personalities they had. To see them in that squalor broke my heart. I razed the place to the ground before I left - the outbuildings, that is. I didn’t touch the house because they had children. But my temper was up, I can tell you. The kids were no better treated than the animals. I brought them home. Puppies, the lot.’
‘That’s terrible, how are they now?’
‘I’ll take you out to them later. I must say Georgio did himself proud with you. I never gave him the nous to have a brain where women were concerned . . .’
Alan hastily interrupted him. ‘Devoted he is to her, Jamesie, absolutely devoted.’
Jamesie carried on making the hot toddies, his face closed now. Donna sat on the edge of a chintz sofa watching the four Jack Russells settling at her feet.
Jamesie gave them both a glass and held his up in a toast. ‘To Georgio, the fucker!’
Alan and he laughed and
took long draughts of their drinks. Donna sipped hers and placed it on a small onyx-topped table. Jamesie sat down and looked at Alan.
‘So what exactly do you want from me?’
Alan sipped his drink before answering. ‘We want to spring Georgio, Jamesie, and we want to do it soon.’
Jamesie nodded his head sagely. ‘I had a feeling it was going to be something like that.’
Sadie sat in the cell with Timmy, her heart racing. Since the attack earlier in the day the whole Wing had been on tenterhooks. No one had admitted to seeing anything. All had been washing their hair and had had shampoo in their eyes. The two wardens had been looking the other way. To all intents and purposes, Lewis had stabbed himself in the kidney.
Georgio came in with three teas.
‘It’s like a nightmare out there, Timmy. Rumours are flying round. One is that he’s dead, another is that he’s being operated on, another - and this is from Benjamin - that he’s been taken away by a load of birds from the Sunday Sport to do his time in the punishment block.’
Even Sadie smiled at that. ‘I hope he is dead, Georgio, for Timmy’s sake.’
Timmy shrugged and sipped at the strong liquid laced with prison hooch. ‘I hope he’s dead and all. I hate that bastard. It’s funny, you know, but as frightened as I was of him, I felt as if I’d just about taken all I could. Then seeing my old Sadie here . . .’
‘Not so much of the old, Timmy, if you don’t mind.’
Georgio shook his head in wonderment. ‘Chopper’s been keeping a wary eye out. We’d all better watch our backs anyway. Lewis looked dead to me, but I’ve a feeling he’s a hard bloke to get rid of, know what I mean?’
The cell was quiet once more, each deep in their own thoughts when Mr Marvello, a neutral screw, came into the tiny room.
‘There’s murders going on, if you’ll excuse the pun. The Governor’s like a teenage virgin on a date with Casanova. He wants to know why no one saw nothing. I have to laugh, you know, chaps. I often wonder where they gets these pricks from. Never been in a fucking nick in his life, then comes in here on a large wage and starts telling us what to do. It’s laughable. Anyway, all that aside, lads, Lewis has had his kidney removed. He’s in intensive care at the civvy hospital. Hopefully, he’ll kick the bucket then we can all get back to normal.’
Sadie looked into the screw’s face. ‘What’s normal, Mr Marvello? I’ve forgot.’
Marvello grinned. ‘With respect, Sadie, it ain’t something I’d have thought you was familiar with. Keep your fingers crossed anyway.’ He slipped from the cell.
Timmy drank his tea in three large gulps. ‘I’m a fucking dead man, I know it.’
Georgio shook his head. ‘Wait and see what happens, Timmy. If Lewis snuffs it, you saw the reaction from the other cons. Most of them are hoping he’s out of the ballgame. Either way, Lewis is out of our road for a while. We can all breathe easier now.’
Sadie stood up. ‘I’m going down the reccy room, see what the buzz is in there. Coming?’
Timmy shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I done that. Not to Lewis anyway. Oh Sadie, I’m shitting meself.’
Sadie stroked Timmy’s head. ‘Well, it’s done now, as my old mum used to say. I’ll nip down and see what the general consensus is. I won’t be long.’
As usual the recreation room was loud, with a TV blaring and a cassette recorder playing. Men shouted to be heard above the din. Sadie went inside hesitantly.
‘All right, Sade? How’s your old man?’
Benjamin’s mouth was wide with laughter. ‘That right they removed his kidney? Keep away from the meat pie, lads!’
Big Ricky the Rastafarian was rolling himself a joint. Sadie knew that if Lewis was out of it, Ricky would be the next contender for the crown. He was big enough and violent enough to take over. Already Lewis’s henchmen were ingratiating themselves with him. Sadie was pleased. Ricky was all right. He was prison-minded, he left the gays alone and only really hated nonces. There was a big difference in the men’s attitude towards consenting males and men who touched little boys or girls.
Chopper was sitting alone in front of the television watching an old black and white movie on Channel Four. Sadie watched as Lana Turner sat on the bedside of her maid and cried bitter tears.
‘Imitation of Life! I love this film.’ She sat by Chopper and three other men who were also engrossed in the film. ‘I love the bit where she goes to the night club to get her daughter and pretends she’s her maid.’
Chopper nodded. ‘I know, it guts you watching it.’ He leant out of his chair. ‘Turn that fucking wogbox off, will you? I’m trying to watch me film!’
The music was hastily turned off. Ricky stood up and switched it back on, turning the volume up full. Steel Pulse blared out into the room. The strains of their song ‘Ku Klux Klan’ were audible to everyone in the Wing.
Chopper stood up menacingly and Ricky flexed his muscles. Everyone had been waiting for this all day. Someone had to take over the Wing, and the main betting was on Ricky, a known lunatic.
‘Calm down, lads. Let’s see what the score is first.’ Georgio’s voice was loud. ‘Lewis has had a kidney removed. Let’s see whether or not he gets back home safe and sound, shall we, before the Third World War erupts?’
Lewis’s henchmen stood back from Ricky, unsure what to do.
‘Fuck Lewis, Brunos, and fuck you and all, you Greek ponce!’ Ricky’s voice was loud. ‘This is between me and him.’
Chopper slipped off his denim shirt. Excitement was mounting in the room. Six wardens arrived and as they had all had a good shaking down from the Governor, they did what they were paid for.
Broke up the fight before it started.
The last thing they needed today was another incident, another killing. It was much better in their eyes when the criminals hanged one another. That you could smooth over with the Home Office.
‘Come on, lads, this ain’t the time or the place. Lewis ain’t dead yet. The Governor’s like a cat with a sore arse as it is, don’t give him more reasons to take away your privileges.’
The tension in the room was tangible. At some point someone had turned off both the TV and the cassette player.
Ricky and Chopper stared into each other’s eyes.
‘You’ll keep, boy.’ Ricky’s voice was deep and low. But everyone noticed that for all his talk, Ricky was the first to look away.
Sadie and Georgio made their way back to Timmy.
‘What’s the rowing about?’ he asked.
Georgio sighed deeply, running his hands through his thick dark hair. ‘Let’s just say, the king’s not dead yet, but it ain’t stopping him being overthrown.’
Timmy looked puzzled. ‘What’s he on about, Sade?’
She shook her head. ‘Let’s just wait and see what happens, shall we? I thought that Lewis’s going could only be for the good, now I’m not so sure.’
Georgio grinned rakishly. ‘Well, I ain’t complaining.’
Sadie giggled. ‘Now I come to think of it, neither am I!’
Timmy stopped the two men’s laughter by saying, ‘But that’s just it, ain’t it? He ain’t dead yet.’
Silence descended on the three once more, all taken up with their own thoughts. But all thinking about the same thing.
Lewis.
Jamesie whistled through his teeth in wonderment.
‘We’re talking Armalites, helicopters, the works. Parkhurst is hardly the easiest place to escape from. It’ll mean big money.’
Alan wiped his mouth with his napkin. The poached salmon was perfect, as was all the food before him.
‘I’m well aware of that fact. You’re the only person I trust to supply us with what we want. You’re the man, Jamesie, everyone knows that.’
Donna watched the little man preen himself in satisfaction.
‘I get a lot of my stuff from the Army, as you know. I could easily arm my own little corps if I wanted. Christ knows I’ve done it for enough African count
ries. I draw the line at the Arabs though, never had a lot of truck with them.’
Donna smiled, acting the part of willing negotiator with everything she had. ‘I thought the Arabs had it sewn up?’
Alan nearly choked on his salmon at her words.
‘That’s only rumours, my dear,’ Jamesie said brightly. ‘I could name a few other biggies for you. I deal mainly with people from the continent these days. What with Glasnost and everything else out there, I could get you some plutonium if you really wanted it. The things I’ve been offered, you wouldn’t believe!’
‘I would,’ Alan interrupted. ‘I was talking to Peter the Pole the other week. He’s doing a lovely sideline these days - ex-Army flame-throwers. They’re going like hot cakes, by all accounts.’
Jamesie wiped his chin with thick stubby fingers. ‘It’s surface-to-air missiles that are the real moneyspinners. Believe me, I know. Everyone’s arming themselves, whatever governments might say. I was in Cuba a while back, on holiday. Now there’s a country ripe for a takeover, you mark my words. As for Haiti . . . that Aristides couldn’t look after a fucking terrier, let alone a whole country. It’s a joke, I tell you. I don’t even watch the news any more. I could get myself a new sideline telling the papers what’s really going on.’
Donna listened intently, shocked at the revelations. Of all the conversations she had expected, this was not one of them.
‘Do you travel a lot?’
Jamesie looked into her face, enchanted with her good looks and bright brain.
‘All the time - South America, Africa, the Soviet Republic . . . now Moscow is the place to visit before it becomes Eastern Europe’s Benidorm. You want to see it out there. Man, I tell you, it’d knock your socks off. I deal with a lot of the new rich from there. Villains, like meself. I have a friend in London, a banker, he’s their contact. They pay out about three-quarters of a million cash for a house in, say, Knightsbridge or wherever. Then they borrow money against the property. That way the money’s clean, you see?’
He smiled at Donna. ‘From there it’s just a small step to offshore. I tell you, love, it’s becoming the laundry capital of the world. And anyone with half a brain will cash in on it. I know Georgio was going to. Last time I spoke to him he was expanding his money business, the borrowing games, pennies and halfpennies. It’s the laundering that is the main winner now.’
