by Conrad Jones
‘What can I do, San?’
‘Turn yourself in, Matt.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Turn yourself in,’ she said, touching his face. ‘Do your time and I’ll be here when you get out. So will the kids. I’m not taking them from their home, Matt.’
‘We’re not talking a few months here, San, I’ll get years, San[EM25]!’ he banged the steering wheel. ‘I’m not going away for years, watching my kids grow up in a visiting room.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘No way.’
‘How fucking selfish are you?’
‘What?’
‘You know if you get convicted and don’t cooperate that they can take the house from us?’ she said, glaring at him. ‘It’s called the proceeds of crime act. They can confiscate everything, even my home. They will take the fucking lot, Matt.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘They did.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Matrix and the Drug Squad. Two DI’S came to our home and told me that they were going to make sure that it won’t be our home for much longer.’
‘When was this?’
‘Last night!’
‘They’re trying to frighten you.’
‘They are frightening me!’ she said, another tear rolled from her eye. ‘We have to cooperate with them, Matt or we’ll lose everything and you will end up in jail anyway.’ She checked her watch. ‘There is no other way.’
‘What are you talking about, cooperate?’ Matt said, nervously. ‘Why are you checking your watch? What the fuck have you done, San?’
Three police cars screeched into the car park. One stopped directly behind the Range Rover, the others stopped at an angle either side.
‘I’m sorry, Matt,’ San whispered. ‘I can’t let them put me and the kids on the street.’
‘What the fuck have you done?’ Matt said, looking around as armed police deployed from their vehicles. ‘Did you grass me up, San?’ the driver’s door opened and the wind rushed in. A nine-millimetre Glock was pointed at his face. He could see the officer’s lips moving as he read him his rights but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He felt his hands being forced behind his back, felt them pulling him from the seat and handcuffing him. He couldn’t take his eyes from Sandra’s. Tears streamed down her face, streaking her skin with mascara. ‘Did you turn me in, you of all people?’ he blurted.
‘I’m sorry, Matt. They said if I didn’t we would lose everything. I was thinking of the kids …’
They pulled him away from his vehicle and the wind took her words away. He couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore. Sandra turned me in, he thought over and over. The only person I ever trusted …
chapter 22
Justin leaned against a wet brick wall and watched the shop doorway across the street. The window was steamed up with condensation. He was hidden from the relentless rain in an alleyway, waiting for the shop owner to return. Vince Barker owned a string of betting shops across the city. He made a lot of money from the people who could least afford to gamble. His secondary business was selling cocaine, again to the people who could least afford it. He was at the top of Charlie’s debt list and Justin was determined to collect at least some of the debt that night. If he was going on the run, he needed money, a lot of money, and he was having a bit of a dry patch financially. Collecting the Vince Barker debt would increase his chances of getting out of the country. It would guarantee him a decent lifestyle somewhere in the sun. He fancied the Canary Islands. They were cheap and accessible and sunny. He fingered the switchblade in his pocket. It was cool to the touch. Vince Barker had a reputation for being difficult about paying his debts. Justin didn’t have the time to negotiate. Vince was his ticket out of the country whether he liked it or not.
A dark green Jaguar pulled up outside the shop, surface water sprayed up from the asphalt. Vince Barker climbed out of the driver’s seat, locked the door and jogged through the rain to the betting shop, his head bowed. Justin watched him as he went inside and closed the door behind him. It was near closing time. The diehard punters would be thrown out in the next few minutes. Justin walked across the road and waited near the door. Rain ran from the peak of his baseball cap in a constant stream. He could hear the voice of a commentator listing the horses that were running in the last race from Chepstow. There were only a few minutes left. The betting would be halted as the horses approached the stalls, the race would be run and that would be goodnight to all the punters until the following day.
Justin pushed the door open and walked in. The heating was on and the contrast between inside and out was startling. It was warm and welcoming to encourage the customers to stay. His collar was up and he kept his shoulders hunched as he picked up a betting slip and filled it out. A five-pound win on number six at the odds of five to one. He took it to the counter and placed the bet. Vince was standing in the doorway of an office to the rear of the shop. His black hair was too dark for a man of his years and he had developed a paunch but he had the nose and swagger of a man who had fought and won some battles with his fists. A clear plastic screen protected the staff behind the counter from the punters. Despite not reaching the ceiling, it acted as a deterrent. Tempers could flare when punters lost money, especially if they were coming down from drugs or alcohol or both. The doors were fitted with security locks and CCTV recorded every transaction. Vince Barker was a shrewd businessman.
Justin took his betting slip and moved away from the counter. He sat on a high stool and watched the horses line up. They were off and running within seconds. He looked around at the other punters. They were sallow-faced men with a lost look in their eyes. It was as if all hope had been sucked from their bodies, each race a drain, each bet sapped their lifeforce. They were sitting glued to the screen, their watery eyes not blinking as their last chance of a win that day played out. There were no cheers of celebration as the horses crossed the line. Two of the men screwed up their betting slips and tossed them into the waste basket with expert aim. A third studied his accumulator wondering where it all went wrong. The more he looked at it, the more the harsh certainty was etched into his expression. Not a single bet had come in. He wouldn’t even get his stake back. The men put their coats on, drifted towards the door, muttering about how unlucky they had been and that tomorrow was another day. Justin screwed up his own betting slip and tossed it onto the floor, his horse had come in last. The lights flickered and dimmed as the staff prepared to lock up. One of the women put her coat on and joked with Vince as she made her way to the security door and punched a code in. It clicked and opened.
Justin waited as she stepped into the customer area. She looked shocked when she came face to face with him. He looked into her eyes and smiled. She relaxed a little.
‘Is Vince about?’ he asked, politely.
She looked over her shoulder and pointed.
‘Vince!’ she called. He poked his head around the doorframe. ‘This man is asking for you,’ she called, and then looked back again. ‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Justin.’
‘His name is Justin.’
‘Justin who?’ Vince tried to get a better look at him.
‘Justin who?’ she repeated.
‘I work for Charlie McGee,’ Justin said, loudly. Vince frowned and went back into the office. He reappeared a few seconds later.
‘You ladies get yourselves home,’ Vince said to his staff. ‘Go home and put your feet up, you’ve worked hard today,’ he said, smiling. His eyes flicked nervously to Justin every few seconds, watching his every move.
‘He’s such a charmer. The best boss I’ve ever had,’ one of them said to Justin. ‘Hey, is that what your girlfriend calls you, just-in?’ she nudged him with her elbow. ‘Do you get it, just-in?’
‘Funny, never heard that one before,’ Justin said, sarcastically. The woman laughed at her own joke and nudged him again. He grinned to humour her.
The second woman cackled a little too loudly. They
walked towards the front door laughing and readied their umbrellas for the deluge outside. ‘Do you want me to lock this door, Vince?’
‘No, leave it open. We won’t be long.’ The women closed the door to as they left. Vince turned to face Justin, the safety glass between them. ‘So, you’re one of Charlie’s men?’
‘I am.’
‘Have some respect and take the hat off when you’re talking to me, son,’ Vince said, in a patronising tone. Justin removed it without argument. ‘That’s better. What can I do for you?’
‘Charlie sent me to collect your debt. You owe him one hundred large,’ Justin said, calmly. ‘He needs it tonight.’
‘Does he?’ Vince said, flatly. ‘I need a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I’ll be getting them.’ Vince grinned but Justin remained deadpan. ‘Why have you turned up out of the blue? He normally calls ahead when a payment is due.’
‘He’s busy.’
‘He’s busy, is he?’ Vince looked into Justin’s eyes. His expression showed the distaste that he felt for the younger man. ‘Let’s not fuck about,’ Vince said, smiling coldly. He looked at the CCTV camera and nodded with his head. ‘We need to be careful what we say here. We’re on camera. Let’s not mention what the money is for.’ Justin glanced up and nodded. ‘Charlie McGee isn’t busy, son so don’t treat me like a mug. No one is too busy to collect their money.’ He paused. ‘I heard he got shot outside the Paradise club.’
‘He did. The debt stands and he has asked me to collect everything that he is owed before morning. You’re top of the list.’
Vince put his hands deep into his pockets and pursed his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. His hair, the dark suit and overcoat made him look like a throwback to a Kray twins’ documentary. He checked his watch and then looked at the clock on the wall. Correct.
‘You got to be somewhere?’ Justin asked, sarcastically.
‘A bookies clock has to be correct,’ Vince explained. He looked back at Justin. ‘I’ve also heard that Charlie was lifted by Matrix at the hospital and is banged up at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’ He nodded and shrugged. ‘He will be away for a long time from what I’ve been told. Might even be a life stretch, I heard.’
‘I don’t care what you’ve heard,’ Justin said, with a shrug. His eyes narrowed, snake-like. ‘Like I said, the debt stands and I’m here to collect.’
Vince walked closer to the screen and stared into Justin’s eyes. Both men were testing the other. Vince shook his head and sighed.
‘Do you really think that I keep that kind of cash around and even if I did, that I would just hand it over to one of his monkeys?’ He shook his head again. ‘I don’t even know who you are.’
‘I’ve been here twice before to collect,’ Justin said, offended.
‘You have?’
‘Twice.’
‘There you go, you see. I have met you twice but I don’t remember you. That says a lot about the measure of a man. Were you here with Charlie?’
‘Both times.’
‘That is why I don’t remember you. Charlie is a man who deserves respect from other men, you, however, are a different kettle of fish.’
‘I’ll still be needing that money.’
‘Protocol you see,’ Vince said, raising a finger. ‘We have developed a protocol that suits us both. He either calls ahead or comes himself. That is what we old school businessmen call, respect.’
‘Extenuating circumstances I’m afraid. I need that money.’ Justin took the switchblade from his pocket and activated the blade. The knife glinted in the dull light. He jumped up onto the counter and cocked one of his legs over the screen, straddling it. ‘You should have had this fitted to the ceiling.’ He waved the blade from side to side. ‘Don’t make me come down there and carve you up, old man. I know you haven’t got it all but I’ll take whatever you have got.’
‘I’m too old for this shit. I see how this is going to go,’ Vince said, nodding, unperturbed. He shrugged, his hands still in his pockets, not bothered in the slightest. ‘I don’t want any trouble, son. I’ll see what I can do. Wait there.’ Vince turned and walked into the office out of sight. ‘You’ll have to bear with me while I open the safe. I have so many shops nowadays that I can’t remember the codes and obviously, I can’t write them down. Memory is something that young people don’t appreciate enough. I often walk into a room and forget what I was doing. It’s my age.’
‘Take all the time you need, just do it quickly!’ Justin called after him. He watched the front door nervously, wishing that he had locked it before making his move. ‘Hurry up in there!’
‘Calm down. I’m going as fast as I can. Less haste, more speed, my old man used to say,’ Vince said, calmly from the other room. Justin heard the door creak open. ‘Now then, how much is in here. There’s a lot of coins. I don’t suppose you want coins, do you?’
‘No. I don’t want fucking coins!’
‘Let me see what I can do.’
There was a long pause. Justin was getting edgy. Sweat was running from his head at the temples. He thought about jumping down from the counter but decided against it. Men like Vince were wily. He could have a tool in the office and be waiting behind the door for him to walk in.
‘I’ve only got a few grand here. The girls must have done a bank run,’ Vince said, from the other room. ‘I don’t keep much cash around these days. Everything is digital nowadays.’ Justin could hear him but he couldn’t see him. ‘I have punters coming in here putting a quid each way on a debit card. Fucking madness. It saves me a fortune on banking charges but when I need to get my hands on a big sum of cash, it creates problems. You understand, I’m sure.’
The sound of bags of coins being moved around came from the office. Justin looked at the clock.
‘And as for the taxman, well that’s a whole other story. You can’t hide fuck all anymore. No cash transactions, you see. The world has gone digital and the taxman knows every fucking thing you have taken nowadays. I used to have two sets of books but not anymore, oh no.’ Vince went quiet for a moment. ‘You know what I was thinking then?’
‘What?’ Justin called.
‘One of the reasons I got fucked on my divorce was the cashless world.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Justin muttered. ‘Hurry up, Vince!’
‘She was bitch you know. Much younger than me but she’d been around. She had a fanny like a yawning donkey. I should have known better but sometimes our brains are in our trousers. When I first met her, I was blown away. She was a stunner. One of my pals tried to warn me. He said she had had more fingers up her than Sooty and Sweep put together.’ There was another pause. ‘Still, we don’t listen were women are concerned. You know what I mean, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, just hurry up.’ Justin checked his watch. The minutes were ticking by. ‘What are you doing, printing the fucking stuff?’
‘I can do five-grand,’ Vince called. ‘I’ve got six in here but I need a grand to operate tomorrow.’
‘Five-grand?’ Justin shouted. He rolled his eyes towards the heavens. Five-grand wouldn’t last long. ‘Are you fucking with me?’
‘Like I said, I don’t keep cash lying around, can’t afford to these days. Do you want it in an envelope?’
‘Are you taking the piss?’ Justin said, watching the office door for Vince to come back. He appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame. His hands were still in his pockets. He winked at Justin and smiled, checking his watch.
‘Where’s the money?’ Justin shouted.
‘In the fucking safe where it’s staying,’ Vince said, casually. He gestured towards the window with his head. ‘Your taxi will be here in a minute.’ A blue light began to strobe on the ceiling, followed closely by another. ‘You are a real fucking amateur, son,’ Vince said, shaking his head. ‘Haven’t you heard of silent alarms?’ Justin’s jaw dropped. Anger flashed in his eyes but he knew he had fucked up. ‘I triggered it as soon as you said you worked for
Charlie McGee. I’d put that knife down before you get yourself shot.’ Vince chuckled to himself. ‘Fucking idiot,’ he muttered, as the police burst in. Justin dropped the switchblade and put his hands in the air.
chapter 23
Brian was sitting at the table, nervously biting his nails. There wasn’t much left to bite. He had been chewing them constantly all his life but his habit had intensified since his arrest. His regular brief couldn’t make the interview on such short notice and had sent Thomas, a junior from the practice, in his place. He was younger than Brian, scruffy and smelled of alcohol. It was obvious that he had been out on the town until the early hours. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Brian wasn’t impressed with his pre-interview briefing, which had consisted of Thomas glancing through the file, yawning every few minutes and texting between yawning. When he had finished, he said, ‘Don’t worry. It should be a walk in the park. They haven’t got anything.’ Brian wasn’t convinced that he was right about that. There was something niggling at him, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. He had spoken to his mother the night before and she was very distressed that he was locked up and that had rattled him further. Looking after her had been his primary function for as long as he could remember. Listening to her crying had broken his heart. He had to get out and go home. What had happened had no sense of reality to it. It was all like a bad dream. He wanted to wake up at home in his bed with the smell of coffee and toast in the air. The stink of custody was choking him. He had decided that he would tell them whatever they wanted to know to get out.
The door opened and DI Jo West stepped in. Her dark business suit touched her curves subtly. Alec was a few steps behind her. They looked stern as they took their seats and went through the legalities. Brian had the feeling that there had been a paradigm shift in his situation.
