by M W Foolster
"They're all out of their heads, Ryan. No way will you get any sense out of any of them. And the guy is here to collect. Real mean looking. He can't of been out for long and look, he knows Dad. So what the fuck are we going to do?"
Scratching at the green skull tattoo on the side of his head, "Look, you gotta buy me some time, brov. Need to think."
Toby heads back towards Gabriel, leaving Ryan pacing backwards and forwards. The saloon bar door is suddenly thrown open, smacking heavily into the drunk who'd so nearly made his escape. Pulling a flat cap from his head, a high pitched voice erupts from the small man who'd just barged his way in.
"A cab for Simon Whelks."
Ryan points at the staggering male who'd just been walloped by the door. The small man stands muttering to himself as he scrutinises the drunk. He starts shaking his head in disgust at seeing that the unfortunate Simon Whelks has now fallen back onto the edge of the platform housing the Halloween display, head in his hands and muttering to himself. Removes his black rimmed glasses and wipes at them with a hanky.
"You must be bloody joking, mate. Look at the state of him. Not having him in the back of my car." He strolls towards Ryan. "Reminds me. Want to keep this here. One of the women I dropped off earlier left it in my cab. She might come back for it."
Ryan looking down at the expensive earring placed into the palm of his hand, racking his brain. The three strangers he'd never seen before. Came for the quiz. The two women had left together after the altercation with Jay and Tony, had watched them go but he doesn't remember seeing the guy leave.
"Where'd they come from Bert?"
A cold blast of air whistling through the pub as the cab driver pushes the door open.
"Deepdown. It’s on the private estate in Knarlswood. Real money around there, I can tell you. Good tippers an all."
Ryan grabs hold of Bert's arm, swinging the shocked cab driver around.
"What's your bloody game then?"
Ryan releases his grip, but his aggressive manner leads to the now alarmed cab driver steadily easing his way backwards out through the door.
"Sorry, Bert, but this is real important. Got to make sure she gets her property back, right? Look, you got an address? Anything? And ain’t like I don't pass your business cards out is it? Please mate, just think."
"Well... Yer... Be ok I guess. Was a flat, 52 Brett Court. Ain’t got time to go back out that way myself but look, if there is a reward going, don't forget me, right?"
With a sharp nod, Ryan turns abruptly, his elbow catching the unfortunate Simon Whelks in the back as he does so. Pays him no attention despite sending him sprawling face first onto the platform.
"I swear to you, it's the god’s honest truth mate."
Stood holding a pool cue, Gabriel looks Ryan up and down. Hard to believe the tall and gangly youth dressed all in black, with his purple Mohican and a face full of piercings is Ron's son. Sighs heavily,
"Man, this is bad. You know they are Ray Butner's property right? You're Dad swore to him they'd be safe with you. Put his life on the line. Butner don't get it back. And well…"
Gabriel shakes his head as he bends over the pool table and takes a shot. Clenches his fist on seeing the red and orange striped balls go down the end pockets, has enough back spin on the white to line up another easy shot into the middle pocket.
"Don't make any sense mind that the Walrus could know about tonight. You two ain’t said nothin, right?"
Ryan looking niggled, shakes his head. "No way mate, I swear it. Like we would be that stupid."
Gabriel has his reservations regarding that, but gives them the benefit of the doubt. He pockets the blue stripped ball with enough side spin to send the white to the end of the table.
"Then has got to be some twat with a loose tongue back in the hole. No other explanation, is there?” Both brothers shrug, and stare down at their feet. “Man, well somebody tipped him off. You sure he knew I was collecting it tonight? "
Ryan nods. "Yer, he knew Butner had a collection arranged. But didn't know your name and he sure as hell didn't have any idea that you was collecting diamonds. And the bastard didn't give a shit what he had to do to get his hands on it. You saw what he did to Toby's hand. Was accompanied by some skinny sergeant with funny teeth. A right creep. Gaunt face, sunken cheeks and a quiff. You remember his name Toby?"
"Think was John something."
Gabriel casually walking around the pool table, eyes up his next shot,
"Not come across him myself. Look, I will let Butner know he's got a grass in his camp, that should keep the crazy fuck busy for awhiles. Butner hates the Walrus as much as the rest of us and man, have so gotta pity the poor fuck who tipped the Walrus off because am telling you, Butner will find him."
Pockets the yellow striped ball but places too much spin on the white and clips the black. He slams the cue down hard on seeing the black drop.
Ryan pleading with Gabriel. "Look mate, just give us the twenty four hours and I swear we will get them back. We know who has the diamonds, even got an address, twenty four hours is all I am asking. Please.... I am begging you."
"Look man it’s like I said, out of respect for your Dad, you got until this time tomorrow. But that's it right. Was supposed to text Butner when I collected but I will make an excuse."
Gabriel walks back across to the bar, both the brothers noticing the dragon tattoo on his hand as he reaches for his mobile.
"Gonna tell Butner that the Walrus was sniffing around so no way I could risk it but will try again tomorrow. You got your twenty four hours man but then it's on your head. Fair enough?"
Sipping from his glass, still shaking his head, Gabriel continues, "But I am telling you, Butner won't write off hundreds of thousands pounds worth of diamonds. No way. So you best be right about this. Man, the guy is seriously fucking evil. A psycho. Will want blood, you know. And remember, if you don't get it back it's your Dad who is stuck behind bars with the maniac. And it will be him in the firing line."
Ryan adamant. "We will get them back no matter what it takes."
"Sweet. Right, am outta here guys,"
He gulps down the last of the rum and belches loudly before asking.
"The cemetery far from here?"
A bemused looking Ryan glances at his brother.
Gabriel sighing loudly. "Look, can I walk it?"
"Well yer easily, it's what a fifteen minute walk. But you ain’t going there tonight right?"
Gabriel shrugs. "Told you, Butner gives his orders and you act on them. Ain’t like he will hold a debate about it. Besides, it’s something that needs to be done ASAP, you know. Don't suppose you've got a torch I could borrow?"
Having provided Gabriel with a torch and directed him towards the cemetery, Ryan slams the pub door shut and bolts it before turning off the lights in the public bar.
"What the fuck do you need that for?"
Toby gawks at the large switch blade Ryan slams down on the bar.
"Schhhhhh. Keep your voice down Tobes. You heard what the man said. Dad's life is in danger so not like we have got a choice. You got any better ideas then spill,"
Ryan's steely eyes send a shiver down his brother’s spine.
"What the fuck are you going to do, Ryan? Kill him?"
Fingering the knife with a look of determination on his face. "You just get locked up in here. Look, I am going to follow him.....
“WHAT?"
"Schhhhhh, will you. Look, Tobes, the way I see it, if he like disappears off the face of the planet then Dad is safe. Right? We say the package was collected as arranged so won't be our fucking problem, will it?"
Toby's hand shaking violently as he points at the knife.
"Have you like, totally lost it? You are talking about killing somebody for fuck sake. And the guy is built like a brick shithouse. Besides, he seemed decent enough, and he was close to Dad. He sure don't deserve that brov."
Ryan snaps. "For fuck sake Toby, man up will you. This ai
n’t a game. Sure we can go look for these diamonds but what are the chances of getting them back? Even if we find the guy, ain’t no guarantee it was even him, is there? Might even of done a runner. Too much at stake and too many ifs. "
"But you said..."
Ryan cuts him short. "I know what I said, and I meant it. I am going to go after the thieving bastard but this is like a buffer. For Dad, you know. Ain’t no way I am going to let his life be put at risk. Butner is a fucking psycho. You know that. And if we fuck up, he will make an example of Dad. We ain’t got a choice."
"Just don't know, Ryan. Swear, I don't like this.
"THINK I DO?"
Toby backs away from his brother, wracking his brains for an alternative. "Anyway, it's too late, said he was to text Butner when he collected. "
Ryan grabs hold of his brother roughly by his arms,
"I will do it. I will get the mobile off him and send the bloody text myself. Just fucking pray he ain’t sent it yet. But I need you focused, Tobes. You hearing me? I can't do this on my own. You with me, or what?"
With a reluctant nod of his head, Toby watches as his brother slips the blade into his jean pocket.
"You best be real careful, Ryan. That guy knows how to look out for himself."
"Trust me, Tobes, so do I. You get the pub locked up and follow on right. And keep your mobile handy, will let you know where I am."
Having watched Ryan sneak out of the pub, Toby bolts the heavy wooden doors behind him, and leans back against them. Looks across towards the saloon bar. The wooden partition with its yellow frosted glass prevents him from seeing if the drunks are yet to vacate the pub, if not, he’ll just have to throw them out. Turns off the fruit machines and heads back behind the bar. Glass raised to the optic, he pours himself another whisky. Cash register emptied and takings placed in the safe, still no sign of his uncle but perhaps that's just as well. He can imagine what his reaction would be to having closed up early. Like that's important though. He tries to shake the negative thoughts from his mind but it’s almost impossible; they're about to commit a murder. And even if the sole motivation is to save Dad, Ryan is about to take a human life. Bloody Ryan. Not as if Dad should even be banged up in prison with that psycho Butner. Was Ryan who went on the burgling spree to feed his sodding habit. Dad put his hands up to the charges to save Ryan's bloody neck. This is all so messed up. Need to pull himself together, to move faster because like it or not, he can't leave Ryan to do it alone. Is relieved to find the saloon bar now emptied, light switches flicked off, locks the entrance and exits the bar. His mind too preoccupied to notice Simon Whelks sleeping peacefully in the rocking chair.
Head down and deep in thought, Gabriel pays no attention to the saloon car parked up under the lamp post, let alone the two detectives scrutinising him. Barely ten hours since he'd walked through the prison gates but so much for being a free man. That would change though, be damned if he'll remain Ray Butner's puppet on the outside for long. But he needs Ron's boys to come good with their promise. All so farfetched, but surely they weren't feeding him a load of crap. No, he'd of known, too stupid to have been a lie, besides which, they'd looked petrified. But, if they don't get back the diamonds… A cold shudder runs down his spine as he thinks as to what the consequences would be. For Ron at any rate. He kicks out in anger at the empty can in front of him, spooking the cat busy emptying the contents of a black bin bag across the road. Having successfully avoided the half eaten chicken and vegetable peelings strewn across the pavement, Gabriel sits down on a low wall and pulls his mobile from his jeans. Butner will be expecting his text.
"Nae, let’s gie it a minute, John. Dinae want him tae see us. And nae lights right." DI Jordan keenly observing Gabriel Brown.
Teeth chattering noisily, DS Fuller sits shivering, the car windows down because the DI is still having issues with flatulence.
"Looks like he's got company, Gov."
"Aye. Sae he has." The DI's intrigued, having caught sight of Ryan's distinctive Mohican ducking down behind a brick wall a few houses down. Gabriel totally unaware, and still sat fiddling with his mobile.
"What do you think that's all about then?"
"Nae idea but something's going on. Maybe the twat brothers were none taee happy at having tae hand it over. And not the sodding huge belt, that's for sure."
Ryan's mohican, if nothing else, is still clearly visible as he works his way along the wall, and soon has DI Jordan sniggering. "Looks like a sodding great white moving in for a kill. But tell ya one thing, he'll be in serious trouble if our friend Mr Brown catches sight o’ him. A real nasty temper on him that one."
DS Fuller, playing with a pack of cigarettes, glances across at the DI.
"Suppose a smoke is out of the question?"
"Taee feicking right it is. Want them catching sight o' us?"
Sighing heavily as he shoves a stick of gum in his mouth, "How comes I've never heard of him then?"
"Nae great surprise where you’re concerned, is it, John? How the hell yah ever made detective…" The DI trails off, chuckling to himself.
"Enough with the sulking lad, I’m only yanking yur chain. He's a cunning sod, that one. And a long way from home, because he lives up at the Caulston Park Estate and nae doubt that he's top dug. Please tell me yah have heard o' the Caulston Dragons."
"Crikey, have I. One of the largest, most feared and vicious street gangs in London. Right?"
A sarcastic clap of his hands. "Spot on. Which makes our friend over there just aboot the most feared gang leader in the Capital. Got a reputation for being bloody ruthless. Most likely why naebody has ever had the balls tae stand up tae him. Drugs squad have had their eyes on him for years but have never been able tae gather enough evidence tae prosecute. In fact, never had any evidence at all tae my knowledge."
"A drugs baron? Really? Don't look the part."
"Yah know the saying, John, never judge a book by its cover. A lot more tae him than meets the eye... Sae, where's mine then?"
The DS looking down at the huge hand now hovering under his nose, apologising as he places a stick of gum into it.
"That estate is seriously bloody weird anyway, John. Should be a crime hotbed. Deprived area, high unemployment rate and over two thousand properties crammed into a relatively small area. But yah tell me, when wis the last time yah got called oot there?"
"Never stepped foot on the estate, Gov. But see your point mind, doesn't make any sense."
Now chomping loudly on the gum, DI Jordan grunts in agreement.
"Get the odd domestic and petty crap but not a single serious crime reported in the past five years. Tell me how that's possible? The kids on the estate all running around wi’ that strange feicking tattoo on their hands. Yah have seen it, right? The red dragon. And nae like they havenae got money in their pockets. All in designer clothing and wi’ the latest mobiles. Tell yah John, it's a sodding mystery tae me. Has got tae be drugs money, nae other explanation, is there?"
"Is an anomaly, Gov."
"In't it jist. Going back about six years seemed as if I spent most o’ my sodding working week oot there. Barely a day went by without there being a mugging, a burglary or worse. Stabbings galore. And can think o' at least five unsolved murders dating back tae 2008 alone."
A twitching curtain draws their attention as it sends a shaft of light across a small paved garden. They watch as the bare chested male peers over at Gabriel who's sat atop the wall opposite, see him shaking his head before yanking the curtain closed.
"Could be a sodding murder going on John and bet that pratt still widnae want tae get involved. Shut the world oot and it in't yur problem. The way it is nowadays." The DI takes a quick glance back towards Ryan, the great white's fin still bobbing up and down behind the wall.
"Now, where was I?"
"Caulston Park, Gov."
"Aye, that's right. Must be, whit, five years back that I first heard Gabriel Brown's name mentioned. Along wi' three other lads on the estat
e. Now, who were they?"
DI Jordan tugs at his moustache as he attempts to remember.
"Naw, their names escape me. But anyway, what wi' that vicious bastard Derek the eyebrows Laney and a few o’ his boys being banged up for life following operation Screwed, it left a power vacuum on the estate. Wis like hell on earth for a few months. A lot o' gang related shite. We kept oot o' it, left the bastards tae sort oot their own mess. But cometh the hour and cometh the man. Our laddie across there wasted nae time in putting his stamp on it. Rumour has it that along wi' a few o’ his chums, he had total control o' the estate wi’ in six months. Must be a couple of hundred youngsters affiliated tae that gang nowadays. Scary buggers. Jist the mention o’ the Caulston Dragons sends people running tae the crapper. Mad ehhh?"
DS Fuller nods, "Eyebrows Laney. Now him I do remember, Gov. Pinned twelve murders on him in the end, right?"
"Thirteen. Aye, the psychotic maniac thought he wis untouchable, probably wis for a few years. But even Butner eventually washed his hands wi’ the sick bastard. Thought him more trouble than he wis worth in the end. Yah know the sicko never even disposed o' the murder weapons. And as for his collection of bloody cut throat razors, made my skin crawl. Forensics had a field day wi' whit they found hidden in his lock-up."
"Can still remember DI Scoff being interviewed on the local news, Gov, looked a right smarmy bastard. Got his promotion through working that case, didn't he? Never understood why Laney wasn't charged with the other murders mind, he must of been responsible for those other unsolved killings, right? "
"Aye, nae doubt aboot it in my mind. But Scoff couldnae link him tae them. Or he couldnae be arsed. Even with the trademark shaven eyebrows o' the victims, Scoff still claimed that there wisnae enough evidence and that they were most likely copycat killings. All a load o' shite but typical o’ Scoff."
"Yer, what was that about the eyebrows and charcoal? Couldn't like bring myself to read the case reports"
"Dinae blame yah, John, does nae make for nice reading. The sick bastard used tae shave their eyebrows aff and then draw them back on wi’ charcoal. The shrinks attribute it tae him having burnt his eyebrows aff in an accident when he wis a kid, most likely at a family barbecue which would explain the charcoal. And I did see photos o' Laney as a kid, and trust me, he had the weirdest eyebrows that I've ever seen, sae maybe there is something tae it. One things for sure, the sicko is nae ever going tae see the light o' day again."
