by Martina Cole
He could see that, on one level, he had been out of order. But deep inside he still felt he had done the right thing. After all, she was his mother. It wasn’t like he had had a tear-up over nothing. It didn’t matter that she could more than look after herself. This was different. It was family. It was about blood. And Danny Cave had been out of fucking order – even his old man had agreed with that. Clumped his son in the visiting room, in full view of everyone. He was making a point, and Angus understood that: Danny Cave the elder was telling Diana Davis that he had it all under control. He wasn’t going to let his son get away with being a lairy ponce.
Not that Diana Davis gave a flying fuck what people said. She never had. As she had told Angus repeatedly, ‘You can’t educate haddock.’ It was only ignorant fuckers who cared about what other people thought. You had to rise above it, as she had. Who gave a shit in the grand scheme of things? You had to ignore the no-marks, or the fact you were bothered showed you were no better than them.
Diana inspired loyalty in those around her and that was because she would move heaven and earth to help a friend in need. That was why people were so enamoured of her. She would also always listen to reason – provided that reasoning was in her favour. If it went against her interests in any way, it never augured well for those on the other side of the bargaining table. If you crossed her she would hunt you down like a rabid dog.
Angus had a lot of his mum in him, but also a good dose of his father. Big Angus had been a renowned bank robber – he was remembered as the main man. He had been huge, well mannered and a prime mover throughout his illustrious career. Most importantly, he could have a row when the need arose. He was excellent at his chosen profession, and that was because he had a reputation for knowing how to plan, how to recruit and how to execute the perfect blag.
People had travelled far and wide for his opinion and for his take on a rob. And he would give his honest opinion – for a price, of course. He could get in and out in nanoseconds, and always made sure that no one was harmed and no one was too frightened during the event. His calm voice was enough to make the people involved do as he requested. The sawn-off shotgun helped too. But, as his mum always said, it was a prop, nothing more.
His father was a hard man but never towards civilians, and that was very important for his son to know. You never harmed anyone who wasn’t in the game, and you never brought in anyone who you couldn’t trust implicitly.
His mum was a good teacher, and he appreciated that, but Angus was getting older and he was champing at the bit to get himself fully immersed in the world in which he had been brought up. As young as he was, he believed he was destined for great things – that was a given, considering his parentage – but he felt like it was taking too long to get anywhere.
Angus wanted everything immediately. He wanted to be straight in at the top, not still learning the trade like a fucking plumber or a gas fitter. But he was also aware that his mum, as lovely as she was, would take him out without a second’s thought if he pushed her too hard. She would not countenance what she saw as insubordination. She was hard, as hard as fucking nails, when she needed to be.
His granddad had once described her as the only woman he had ever met who not only thought like a man, but could fight like one too. Angus knew the truth of that statement, as did many people who had tried to thwart her over the years. She had fought hammer and tongs to get where she was today. She was at the top of her game, in a predominantly man’s world, and that took guts. It also took brains and, more importantly, it took respect. And that was something she had earned in spades.
Unlike his mother, he didn’t have her knack for patience, or indeed her knack for thinking things through. That was something that was going to be proved to him very soon.
It would change his life for ever.
Chapter Two
Diana Davis was her son’s biggest advocate in public, and also his biggest critic in private.
He was a bit too like his father for comfort. She had loved the man but, just like her son, he had had no Off button. He had relied on her to make sure that everything ran smoothly, which she had done – through trial and error to begin with. Big Angus was a clever man, no one could ever dispute that, but it was she who actually took him in hand and made sure that he used his talents for their good.
She was the one who recruited for him and who made sure that he didn’t make a mug of himself. He had a dangerous tendency to rely on his mates, as opposed to looking for more skilled men, who were more inclined to go on the rob with a modicum of sense. Her old man could rob anywhere – it was a knack he had. His problem was he would recruit complete and utter morons because he liked them! Or because he felt he owed them. That was just not good business sense. She had had to explain that to him, over and over again, and finally he had listened to her.
In reality, he had not had any choice; he had come to realise she was far more savvy than he would ever be. They were a good team, and that was something he had cherished in the end, because she had a real business brain and he didn’t.
During his biggest lump, she had taken over and not only planned the blags but also recruited whoever she felt was the best candidate for the job in hand. She had done her homework, and he couldn’t fault her. When he got out he had relied on her opinions because, after serving that big sentence, he had been determined never to be banged up again.
Big Angus was a natural thief, but he wasn’t a natural when it came to picking appropriate cohorts. He would happily take on men who couldn’t rob a fucking Wendy house without detailed information. Diana had ensured that she mined the best there was to accompany him on his regular jaunts into post offices and banks and, of course, building societies. Big Angus could always be taken in by a sob story or his misguided loyalty to an old mate who needed a hand to get back on his feet. He was a fucking soft touch.
Diana had taken his natural talent and she had enhanced it. Most of his cronies were well aware that she was the real brains of the outfit. That had suited her, because she wasn’t a fool and she knew that she needed to be able to look out for herself should the worst happen. Well, the worst had happened – the cancer, that had taken him before his time – and, after his death, she had fought for her place in their world and stayed there.
Now she had to turn this boy of hers into something resembling a Brainiac. And that, she feared, would be the hardest task she had ever undertaken. So far he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but she felt he had promise. At least that’s what she told herself – Christ Himself knew she had her work cut out.
Smiling now, she looked at her son and said, ‘Right then, let’s put this behind us and go and see your granny. She’s cooked dinner for us.’
Angus followed her out, deciding that if she was willing to offer the olive branch he would be a fool not to accept it. Plus his granny was a blinding cook, and he couldn’t do any wrong in her eyes. So all in all, he felt that today, at least, he’d had a result.
Chapter Three
‘Leave him alone, for fuck’s sake, Di. He’s still only young, he will learn.’
Jane O’Leary was loud in defence of her grandson, as Diana knew she would be. She couldn’t see anything wrong with him – he was perfection personified. Diana got it, he was her flesh and blood. But the woman couldn’t see anything that he did as remotely wrong. Jane would defend him to the death – and so she should – but not to her, his own mother. Especially not when Diana was trying to teach him a very valuable lesson about the economics of villainy. It really grated on her sometimes.
‘You need to give him some responsibility. That would be the making of him.’
Diana rolled her eyes in consternation. She lit a cigarette and pulled on it deeply before saying in a tired voice, ‘For fuck’s sake, Mum, he still watches The Banana Splits. And you should try getting him out of his pit before pissing lunchtime.’
Jane sighed as she basted the roast potatoes her grandson loved.
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‘Well, he’s his father’s son then. We all know Angus, God rest his soul, wasn’t nine-to-five material.’
She blessed herself reverently and Diana felt the urge to laugh; her mother was such a hypocrite. This was a woman who would lie under oath without the blink of an eye, yet she saw herself as well up there at the right hand of the Father when it suited her. God, she loved this woman, as much as she aggravated her at times. ‘He battered that boy senseless, Mum.’
Jane shrugged casually. ‘From what I hear, he was questioning your morals. Young Angus reacted as any man would, especially that big galoot you married. Big Angus would have throttled him too, as well you know.’
Diana was clearly wasting her time.
‘Anyway, I heard that young Danny’s father was as incensed as your man there. He isn’t a fucking fool by anyone’s standards.’
The trouble was, her mother was absolutely right. Danny Senior was fucking fuming, but only because he was worried that his little ray of sunshine would be taken out by someone close to her. She had a loyal workforce, and some of them were a bit too loyal at times, but she wasn’t going to knock that. It had stood her in good stead over the years, and she was proud of it. She stood by them as well, and that was how it should be. It was mutual respect.
She and Danny Senior had always got on well together. He must know that she would make sure no one would cross the line. But a rogue fucker? That wasn’t unheard of, in their line of business: a new Face trying to make their mark; an old Face who might think they were being sidelined and looking for an in.
The old guard were shitting themselves and she didn’t blame them. They really were dinosaurs, and she was more interested in a younger fan base – which she had, because she wasn’t a bullshitter. She was still regarded as a force to be reckoned with, her reputation was without stain. She was someone who people dreamed of working for and eventually with. It was well known that if you were a part of her crew, you could only go on to bigger and better things. She basically guaranteed that, because she was respected and she cherry-picked the best.
The problem was that her son and heir was a loose cannon. He needed a wake-up call, and she was going to make sure that he had one. You had to be cruel to be kind sometimes. She would give him something to think about, and she would wait and observe how he dealt with it. Diana was quite capable of being a slippery bastard when the need arose.
She watched as her mother gave her son his dinner on a tray on his lap while he stared at the telly. She saw how her mother smiled at her grandson and stroked his hair and treated him like visiting royalty – which he was considered to be in this house.
Diana had deliberately never had another child because she realised that the more kids she had, the less chance she would have of a life of her own. Her old man had been banged up for a lot of her son’s life and she had not relished visiting him with her child in tow. But she had done it, because he had deserved to know his son, and her son had deserved to know his father. It had galled her all the same. She had hated every second she had spent with her son in those prison visiting rooms, even though her husband had been seen as one of the good guys, had been respected by the cons and POs alike. Her little boy had been treated like he was something special because of his father’s reputation and he had come to believe it.
She wasn’t a fool, she knew that her son wasn’t ever going to be an academic, but he wasn’t cut out for the norm either. He was bright enough but he had sussed out his father’s place in the world at a young age and he wanted to emulate him. He had been brought up on stories about his dad. Stories that had been stretched in the telling and had glamorised his way of life. No one had explained to young Angus the loneliness of waiting for a man you loved and who couldn’t parent the child he had produced because he was locked away.
Her son had been fed endless tales of derring-do, and told funny anecdotes of his father’s wit and cunning. No one had ever told him that it was she who had kept it all going, even after his death, that it was she who had fought not only to claim what they were owed but also to make sure that it was invested so they could have a good life.
Sometimes, like today, it really did rankle with her, because she had been as guilty as everyone else of turning her husband into a martyr. No one had ever explained to her son that, without her behind him, Big Angus would not have got as far as he had. She made sure that the hangers-on – and there were plenty of them to go around – weren’t given fucking house room. And, after her husband’s death, she had used the insurance, along with her natural intelligence for earning a coin, to get where she was today.
She sat at the kitchen table with her mum and chatted about nothing of any relevance. But inside she was tired, and she was angry. It grieved her that her son was still filling his head with stories from days gone by and missing the big picture.
No matter how anyone dressed it up to please her, Angus, her darling son, was a spoiled little cunt.
Chapter Four
Jimmy Fernandez was shattered. He had been out most of the night with his brother, Christos, and they were making their last call before dawn.
They were both relieved to see the back of a difficult shift. It was only a Wednesday and it had been fraught with aggravation from the off. What was wrong with these people? Why did they want to shoot the fucking messengers?
They were only delivering what was ordered – and explaining that the prices were going up. It wasn’t fucking rocket science. It wasn’t as if it was the first time they had delivered bad news. Coke was like gold these days – it fluctuated with the market.
The Filth had managed to cut them off from the docks – Tilbury and Harwich – that’s without what had happened up north. It was now an expensive product, which the hoorays in London didn’t seem to care about. But the clubbers in London and the home counties were not too thrilled. That was to be expected, but why blame them? They had no say in any of it, and they read the fucking papers surely? The Filth were crowing about cutting off the cocaine trail.
Well, dream on, imbeciles. Everyone knew that was just a piss in the ocean and within weeks things would be back to normal. It was laughable, but the abuse in the meantime was fucking outrageous.
The price of coke was judged by who was buying it. If it was in certain West End clubs then it was three times as much as anywhere else. It was easier to rinse the punters there because they were such fools. It was also cut to fuck once it went past Whitechapel. There was hardly any gear in the stuff that hit the clubs in Soho anyway. Couldn’t get a cat high, but at least they paid without a row. They wouldn’t know a decent bit of gear if they were granted it with a royal charter.
As the boys got into their car they were both hacked off with the night’s events. Who needed that shit? They were only doing their job. They didn’t earn any extra, for fuck’s sake.
When the guy in the motorcycle helmet walked up to the driver’s window, they both looked at him with genuine interest. The guy lifted his visor. Smiling, he gestured for them to open the window.
Jimmy had a sudden feeling that this wasn’t kosher. They were down a back alley in Ilford, and the sun was just coming up.
He took the first shot in the eye.
His brother took three shots: two to the head and one in the back.
He had tried to escape.
Chapter Five
Diana was woken up by the shrill ringing of the telephone beside her bed.
It was six in the morning and she looked at it with trepidation; there was nothing good to be told at that time of the day. She pulled away from the man beside her. He was awake too now, and he leaned up on his elbow as she answered the phone. Like her, he guessed it wasn’t going to be good news.
‘What?’
Her usual answer to any phone call was uttered with severe indignation. It had served her well over the years. It had always stopped the caller from trying to get their excuses in first. The last thing she wanted was someone’s bullshit, especial
ly if they had fucked up and wanted to get their alibi in first. She was only interested in facts.
She was fully awake within seconds, and her voice was shrill as she screamed, ‘You are fucking kidding me!’ She listened for a few more moments and, when she replaced the receiver, she looked at Gabriel Riley and said angrily, ‘Bring the car round, we have an event.’
Gabriel looked at her without moving before he started to roll a joint. Diana watched him while she tried to take in what she had just heard. It was totally unbelievable.
Gabe lit the joint and took a deep pull on it, then offered it to Diana. She accepted it gratefully and took a toke while she tried to comprehend what the hell had happened.
Gabriel looked at her troubled face and said seriously, ‘What is it, Di?’
She loved looking at this man. He was a lot younger than her, but they had a connection, they had really great sex and they could talk about anything.
Gabriel was a Jamaican from Kingston, in his thirties. He was a handsome man, a real Rastaman. They had met in a blues club that she had financed, and they had hit it off immediately. In more ways than one. He had supplied her with top-grade grass and she had basically cornered his market.
It had suited him, because she was everything he had ever wanted in a female. Gabriel had never really been attracted to the girls who orbited his world. They were pretty and they were young but they were looking to him to teach them about life. He didn’t want that burden – he wanted a real woman, like Diana Davis. She was strong, she was good-looking, but more importantly for him, she was interesting. She always had something to say and it was relevant and it was educational.
He didn’t care about the age difference. She had that extra something that a certain type of man could recognise and appreciate. He had been attracted to her from the first time he had clapped eyes on her.
