by Kerry Kaya
Old habits die hard, and quickly, they had assessed the room, taking note of where the fire exits were, should they have someone try to escape their clutches. Toward the front of the venue, a stage dominated the floor. Surrounding the stage, were a dozen tables with six high-backed chairs to each table. Positioned to the back of the room, sat a long bar, with expensive bottles of alcohol and crystal glasses that glistened in the dim light.
From their position, they could already see that the room was heaving with punters. The air was heavy with anticipation, expensive aftershave, and cigar smoke.
“And this is supposed to be the best of our society?” Danny remarked, as they began to weave their way around the tables. With no idea of who exactly they were looking for, the task ahead was exactly as he had described to Tommy Carter, like finding a needle in a haystack.
The beginning of a heavy beat and a sudden stir of excitement, caused Danny to stop walking and turn to look back at the stage. In disbelief, he watched as a young man wearing next to nothing shimmered out from behind a makeshift glittering curtain to the opening chords of “Hey, Big Spender.”
A wave of disgust rippled through him as he recalled young Matty Payne telling him how these boys were runaways, lured into the seedy world of male prostitution with the empty promise of money and protection. He turned back to the task in hand, before doing a double take. He took a step closer to the stage and narrowed his eyes. He recognised the boy. “Hey,” Danny called out, his voice loud, “I know you.”
With fear and recognition in his eyes, Jake Carter turned on his heels and bound from the stage, pulling down the curtain with him, in his haste to get away from the big man.
“I know him,” Danny roared to Moray, before charging across the stage, much to the annoyance and disruption of the punters.
Running down a small corridor, Danny flung open a series of changing room doors as he did so. Where the fuck did the boy go?
“Well, where is he?”
Danny turned to look over his shoulder. “I don’t know, but I know that kid. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Moray shrugged his shoulders. He’d barely even caught a glimpse of the boy. “Was he on Freddie’s payroll?”
“I don’t know.” Shrugging his own shoulders, Danny ran his hand through his dark hair. “I don’t fucking know. I can’t remember.” He chewed on his lip as he tried to think back, wishing now that he had taken more interest in the kids Freddie had employed.
“Well, he has to be somewhere.” Pushing past Danny, Moray opened the last remaining door. It was a fire exit. He ran up a short flight of steps and looked out onto the empty street. “He could be fucking anywhere by now.”
“I’m telling you … I know that kid,” Danny repeated as they made their way back to the main floor.
“Well, we’ve lost him now.”
Unbeknown to them, Jake wasn’t the only one to have left the club. Ronald Browning, otherwise known as RB, had also silently walked up a short flight of steps, and with an arrogant air, had stepped out onto the empty street, before hastily driving away into the night.
Chapter 5
Leon Parkes grinned as he took a seat opposite Tommy and Jimmy. There was a hint of excitement in his voice as he spoke. “So, how is the planning going?”
“So far, so good.” Tommy nodded down at the desk. In front of him, he had a map of Barking. Of particular interest was the area of Thames View Estate. “The main problem you’re going to have is getting back off of the estate afterwards.” Tommy pointed to the map. “Look, there are just two roads on and off of the estate, and the minute the alarm is raised, the old bill will cordon off those exits.”
Leon’s heart sank. He clearly hadn’t thought through the intricate details of the robbery. “So, how do I get around that then? I mean, if I can’t get off of the estate, then where am I supposed to go?”
With a grin, Tommy tapped his finger against the map. “Right here,” he said.
Leon peered closer and shrugged his shoulders. “What?” he asked, looking up at Tommy.
“The foot tunnel. Now you wouldn’t fit a car through there, but you would fit a motorbike, and that,” Tommy said, pointing his finger at Leon, “is exactly how you are going to get off of the estate. Instead of driving across the A13, you’re going to drive underneath it, and from there, you can go wherever you want.” Tommy traced his finger across the map. “The beauty of it is you’ll end up behind the old bill, rather than in front of them.” He gave a wide grin.
“The old bill won’t know what’s fucking hit them,” Jimmy added.
A wide smile spread across Leon’s face. He looked from Tommy to Jimmy and shook his head in amazement. “It’s fucking genius, Tommy. Fuck me, I could kiss ya right now.”
Shrinking back in his seat, Tommy began to laugh. “Steady on, Leon. You’ve got the wrong Carter. I’m not that way inclined,” he winked.
“Oi,” Jimmy chastised, a half smile spread across his face, as he punched his brother on the arm.
“I mean it, Tommy.” Leon became serious. “It is genius. I would never have thought of doing that, not in a million years.”
“Well,” Tommy paused. “Genius or not, there’s still a lot of work to do, and remember what I said, only you can make this work. The last thing I want is to see you getting your collar felt and end up banged up at her majesty’s pleasure for the remainder of your life.”
Leon nodded his head profusely. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I have to make this work. My wife and kids are depending on me.”
Satisfied, Tommy got down to business. “Then this is exactly what you are going to do.”
* * *
Sweating profusely, Ronald Browning dragged a handkerchief across his brow. “Who were they?” he demanded to know.
Too afraid to go home, Jake had made his way across London to Ronald’s flat in Kensington. He’d almost collapsed across the threshold, he was that terrified. He shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know,” he answered. The truth was, he knew exactly who the men were. They were friends of his dad, and the terrifying thought that those two men had recognised him, was enough to bring Jake out in beads of cold sweat.
“I knew this would happen.” Ronald spoke to no one in particular. Remembering that Jake was in the room, he kicked his foot out viciously toward him. “You are to blame for this.” The fact that Jake was the victim in this sordid affair was wiped from his mind.
Where the fuck was Freddie Smith when he was needed? Nobody within their circle had seen head, nor tail of the man in months. Bitterly, Ronald downed a tumbler of whiskey in a bid to calm his nerves. Smith had had enough swerves from the police over the years. It was about time he was put to use. He crossed the room and snatched up the telephone receiver. He dialled a number and when he received no answer, he smashed the phone back onto its cradle with such force that it almost cracked in two. Where the hell was Smith indeed?
* * *
Sadie walked aimlessly around his flat. Every now and again, he glanced down at the black rucksack he’d placed inside the kitchen door. After watching the boy race from the club, he had gathered up Jake’s belongings, and brought them home with him, for safe-keeping.
He slumped down onto a kitchen stool, and just as quickly, jumped up again. Snatching up the bag, Sadie placed it down on the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath, then pulled across the zip. It wasn’t like him to have a nosey through other people’s belongings, but there was something about this boy that intrigued him.
Carefully, Sadie took out the items Jake had placed inside the bag. He began to inspect a white polo shirt and dark denim jeans. They were of an expensive brand. So, clearly the boy had money and wasn’t a typical runaway.
Intrigued, Sadie delved deeper and pulled out a bank card. He turned the card over in his hand and read out loud the name written across it. “Jake Carter.” Biting down on his lip, he stared into space. “Carter.” He knew that name.
> Suddenly, Sadie’s mouth fell open as realisation set in. He dropped the card onto the work top. How on earth had he not seen the resemblance before now? The only Carters he knew were all dark-haired, blue-eyed, walking clones of one another. With a sudden clarity, he now knew that young Jake had to be a relative of Tommy and Jimmy Carter.
He stuffed the belongings back inside the rucksack, pulled across the zip, and then placed the bag beside the front door. Unsure of what exactly he should do with this new-found information, Sadie cautiously eyed the rucksack for the rest of the afternoon.
* * *
Clearing away the remnants of her mother-in-law’s birthday party, Stacey sat down at the kitchen table for a quick coffee and a five-minute breather. She glanced at the time on her mobile phone screen, then looked expectantly toward the front door. Her Jake should have been home hours ago.
Concerned, Stacey toyed with the mobile phone in her hand. Should she give him a call, or leave him be? After all, Jake was right. He was eighteen now, an adult in the eyes of the law. Yet, despite this, he still was and always would be her baby.
She drained the remainder of her coffee, then stood up and continued clearing away the leftover half-eaten plates of sausage rolls and ham sandwiches. As much as she hated herself for it, Stacey couldn’t help but keep looking up at the clock on the wall. Jake was at the forefront of her mind, and she had a feeling he would be until he walked back through the front door.
* * *
“Why do you always have to antagonise him, son?” Sat in her favourite armchair, with a cup of tea balancing precariously on the arm of the chair, Janet looked across at her third born son, Gary. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he was still taking his medication? Or his happy pills, as Jimmy called them.
“He’s a cunt.” Gary spat out the words.
Pursing her lips at her son’s choice of language, Janet shook her head sadly. It was Tommy who’d paid for Gary to have private psychiatric treatment, and she knew for a fact that the bill had ran into the thousands. “That’s not fair, son. Tommy has done everything he can for this family.”
Gary gave a bitter laugh. A smirk threatened to spread across his face, and he gave his mother a maddening smile. “Tommy’s done everything he can for this family.” He repeated back Janet’s words, his voice taking on a sing-song tone. “Your blue-eyed boy, has done fuck all.”
“Come on, Gary, don’t be like that.”
“There’s gonna be big changes soon.” Gary stared into the distance, with the same maddening smile spread across his face.
“What do you mean, big changes? What changes?” Sitting forward, Janet cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Gary?”
“You’ll see.” Heaving himself up from the sofa, Gary continued to stare into the distance. “You’ll see,” he repeated.
Alarmed, Janet watched her son walk from the room. It had been years since Gary had had an episode, or a breakdown, as the psychiatrist had called her son’s funny turns.
Reaching for her mobile phone, she scrolled down to her eldest son’s telephone number. Her finger paused over the dial button. Maybe she was being a silly old fool, and Gary’s behaviour was nothing for them to worry about after all. Besides, as long as her Gary was still taking his medication, then surely it couldn’t be that bad.
She switched off the phone and placed it down onto the coffee table beside her. She wouldn’t worry Tommy with it all right now, not unless Gary gave her further cause for concern. It was to be one of Janet’s biggest mistakes.
* * *
Mad Dog Harris took a seat in the scrapyard office. He shifted his weight, making himself more comfortable. He was no spring chicken, and of late, was starting to feel each and every one of his years, all seventy of them.
“Tea?” Tommy asked, knowing just how much the older man loved a cuppa.
“Aye, lad.”
Crossing the office, Tommy flicked the switch on the kettle. “We’re going to need some alibis,” he said, turning his head to look at Mad Dog.
Mad Dog raised his eyebrows. “Why’s that, lad?” He couldn’t recall Tommy mentioning any robberies he had planned out, not that he involved himself with that side of Tommy’s business anymore. He was far too old to be running from the old bill, and spent most of his day holed up at the strip club that he and his partner of over twenty years, Lillian, ran for the younger man. It was an arrangement that suited them all, and allowed Tommy to concentrate on his other businesses.
“A pal of mine is doing a job. It’s a bit too close to home, and just to be safe, we need to cover our arses.”
Deep in thought, Mad Dog nodded his head. “So, what do you have in mind?”
“Well, next week, on the day of the national, I was thinking that we should have a get together, maybe even have a day at the races ourselves. What d’ya reckon?”
Mad Dog screwed up his face. What with his aching knees, it took all of his effort, just to climb out of bed in the morning.
Taking note of the expression across the elder man’s face, Tommy continued. “Or how about if we all pile into a boozer to watch the race? You could bring Lillian with you and we’ll make a night of it. I’ll even get my Karen to bring her fella.” Tommy began to laugh. “The jumped-up ponce has to come in useful for something.”
“Aye, lad, I reckon that’s a plan, and my Lil would love to see you all.”
“That’s a deal then.” Feeling happier, Tommy began to whistle through his teeth, while he continued making the tea. He gave the contents a stir and passed across the steaming mug. “There you go, nice and strong, with three sugars, just how you like it.”
Mad Dog smiled his thanks. “What are you after?” he asked with a grin.
Laughing out loud, Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “What? I’m just being nice.”
“Hmm.” Mad Dog gave the younger man a wink. “If you say so, lad, if you say so.”
* * *
Tommy Carter wasn’t the only man with a lot on his mind. Sat behind the desk, in his office above Ritzy’s nightclub in Romford, Essex, Danny McKay was also deep in thought. He just couldn’t get the boy from the Underground Club out of his mind. He knew he’d seen him somewhere before, but where that was, he had no idea.
“Are you still thinking about that kid?” Moray poked his head around the door to Danny’s office.
Tapping a biro pen against his teeth, Danny sighed. “I just can’t place him.”
“He has to have been on Freddie’s payroll, that’s the only explanation. Maybe we should go back to the club and ask around. He must be a regular there, and someone’s bound to know who he is.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He gave Moray a small smile. “Freddie fucking Smith … I could kill him myself for all the grief that he’s left behind him.”
Moray nodded his head. He really didn’t know what to say, and knew instinctively that his mate wasn’t looking for an answer from him. “We’ll sort it out,” he finally answered. He turned to walk back to the door before pausing. “Oh, by the way, Tommy Carter rang here looking for you earlier.”
Raising his eyebrows, Danny nodded his head. He waited for Moray to leave the office before taking his mobile phone out of his pocket. Two missed calls he’d had from Carter. He rubbed his hand across his face before returning the call, hoping more than anything that there had been no comebacks from the shooting he’d roped the Carters into executing on his behalf.
* * *
Tommy switched off his mobile phone and smiled. “Right, so that’s Danny McKay coming to the boozer with us as well.” He rubbed his hands together before giving a cheeky grin. “If only it was this simple sorting out alibis for ourselves when we do our own jobs.”
“Aye, lad.” Mad Dog laughed. “Nothing in life is that easy.”
“True.” Tommy lounged back in his seat. He kicked his feet up onto the desk and closed his eyes.
Clearing his throat, Mad Dog spoke. He wanted to get off of his ch
est the real reason why he’d decided to pay the younger man a visit. “Did you hear that Dean Johnson died?” he asked, referring to Tommy’s old adversary.
Immediately, Tommy snapped open his eyes and turned to face the older man. “No.” He brought his feet down from the desk and sat forward. “When did this happen?”
“A few months back, apparently. A friend of mine went over to Spain for the funeral.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything about it, not even a dicky bird.” He was thoughtful for a few moments. “I wonder if Gary knows.”
Mad Dog shrugged his shoulders. “It was the big C that got him in the end, so I heard.”
Stunned, Tommy turned to look out of the window. “When was it that Gary went over to Spain? It was a few months back, wasn’t it?”
“It was about three months ago, I think, lad.”
“And all this time, he’s said nothing.” Tommy gave a little shake of his head. He couldn’t say he was totally surprised. Nothing his brother did surprised him anymore. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No.”
“It means,” Tommy said, sitting forward once again in his seat, “that mad bastard, Bethany, Dean Johnson’s daughter, could very well end up coming back to England.”
“And the boy, don’t forget Gary’s boy.” Mad Dog paused as he tried to recall the name of Gary’s son.
“Cameron.”
