No Mercy: The brand new novel from the Queen of Crime

by Martina Cole

  Angus and Roy were both pole-axed by his words. Joey Barbossa was dependent on them for his daily bread. It didn’t make any sense that someone who was no more than a drone could even dream of doing them such potential damage.

  Geoffrey smiled and sipped his champagne once more. ‘He’s been a busy boy, and the Juarez brothers giving him credibility really hasn’t helped. Talk to Colin Bates – he deals in Magico on a Sunday night. His family are the Bateses from Liverpool. Good people, as you know. They are making a mark there, but they wouldn’t tread on your toes to do it. They are very sensible. But this needs to be nipped in the bud – your manager is not keeping his eye on the ball.’

  Angus could feel the anger growing inside him. That this had been happening under his nose! He prided himself on knowing what was occurring with everyone he dealt with.

  Geoffrey put his well-manicured hand on his arm and held him tightly. ‘I am giving you a heads-up, Angus, because I like you. You need to show your face in Marbs on a regular basis. It’s basically bandit country, these days. Everyone wants a fucking slice.’

  Angus nodded his agreement.

  ‘And, remember, you never heard this from me.’

  Angus was well aware that he had just had the touch of touches. He also realised that Geoffrey had a network that was obviously far superior to his own. What he couldn’t understand was why none of his own people knew about this. What was his manager, Dennis White, playing at? He was spreading money all over the fucking Port, and for what?

  Spain was being looked at by everyone, these days; money laundering was the big incentive. Buy huge villas for cash, and then mortgage them. It was happening in London too; pay two million in cash and then mortgage it, and you had clean money to use as you wished. It was taking over from the drugs, if he was honest. There were more Russians and Croatians investing out there, but he had never thought for one minute that they could impinge on his businesses.

  This was a complete piss-take, especially if the Juarez brothers were trying to tuck him up on the say-so of fucking Barbossa. Geoffrey was right, he had taken his eye off the fucking ball. Or so it seemed.

  ‘I really appreciate this, Geoffrey.’

  He grinned, and Angus had to admit he had a wonderful set of railings.

  ‘Well, what can I say? You would be surprised what I hear.’

  Angus nodded. ‘Obviously.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Lorna was back home and lying on her sofa watching EastEnders.

  She liked being pregnant, it suited her. She knew that Angus was thrilled about the baby. Like her, he understood the importance of having a child.

  She knew his mum was like hers; they just thought it was something that happened to everyone: ‘Get on with it, it’s the most natural thing in the world. Women are giving birth all over the world all the time.’ Well, she wasn’t just anyone. Her having a baby was not going to be denigrated because most women were capable of giving birth. That really angered her. Any woman could give birth, but it was whether or not they did the absolute best for their baby that really mattered.

  Lorna believed that any child they created deserved every advantage, and she would make sure her children got exactly that. This baby was wanted, loved and already cherished. There was a lot more to having a child than people realised – especially people who came from where they did. She would make sure that her children were given the best of everything.

  No matter what.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  ‘Get the plane fuelled, we need to go to Spain.’

  Roy Rogers nodded. He was ahead of Angus and had already put things in motion.

  ‘It’s done, Angus. We’re flying into a private airfield so we don’t announce our arrival.’

  Angus was fuming, but he was also planning his next steps in his head.

  ‘You know the worst of it, Roy? All that wedge we are weighing out in Spain, and fucking Geoffrey had to give us a heads-up! It’s bandit country all right, and I will fucking remind them all exactly who they are dealing with.’

  Roy nodded.

  There wasn’t anything he could say. He would do the same in Angus’s position.

  Roy had taught him well.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Alejandro and Matias Juarez were pretty sure they had cornered their little market in Puerto Banús.

  They were basically no more than Spanish thugs, but they had a few friends who thought they might be worth backing, if they could produce what they claimed they could. Joey Barbossa was promising them the earth and seemed sure that he had the insider knowledge needed to see this deal through. It was their chance to enter the big time. Everyone knew that Angus was letting the Banús slide – or at least that was the talk on the street. Since he had become a married man, with a baby on the way, his visits had been few and far between.

  It was the perfect time for a coup. While everyone was concentrating on something else, the Juarez brothers believed they could just slip into the role that had been established by Angus Davis. Of course, they hadn’t broadcast this. They had flown under the radar, trusting that Joey Barbossa was leading them in the right direction and would uphold his end of the bargain. After all, he worked for Angus Davis – so if anyone knew the score, it had to be him. Plus they were talking to a lot of the dealers at the clubs, and if they were offering a better arrangement then they would be quids in.

  This was a cut-throat game, as Joey was always saying. As long as you could deliver on your promises, you were in for the long haul. It was about building trust and a rapport with the people you were selling to. Once you had established a good relationship, the rest would come naturally.

  Everyone liked a deal – that was a given – and once they knew they had a good one, they would readily change their allegiance.

  It was simple economics.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Dennis White was in a bar in Marbella when he noticed a drug deal going on before his very eyes.

  He was shocked to the core, mainly because he had a big stake in this bar, and as easy-going as the Spanish police might be, they certainly wouldn’t appreciate a piss-take like this. He gestured to his minder, Leonard O’Brien, and alerted him to what was occurring. They both watched in wonder as a scruffy little ponce, who should never have been given houseroom, did a deal right in front of them.

  The man looked like a tramp. He should have been refused entry to the bar, let alone be allowed to get to the upper floors. It was a complete liberty, especially considering they were in the VIP bar trying to close a deal of their own.

  Lenny knew his job, and he removed the offending article with the minimum of fuss. He walked the man swiftly through the bar and into the lift that would take them to the upstairs offices. He also took the opportunity while in the lift to give the man a quick but serious clump. Lenny was irritated that he’d had to leave a good-looking girl wearing hot pants and very high-heeled designer shoes that he had purchased for her that afternoon. He had been promised the night of his life, and he intended to keep that promise – come hell or fucking high water.

  He was not a happy bunny.

  He threw the man unceremoniously on to the office floor and pushed his foot down on the man’s neck so he couldn’t get up off the floor – and couldn’t breathe that well either. Not that it would have mattered. Lenny and the man both knew there would never be a fight – well, not a fair one anyway.

  Lenny frisked him for a weapon, but his gut instinct told him there wouldn’t be one.

  Dennis White came into the room and glanced around him with distaste. He looked at the man on the floor with a size-twelve foot on his neck, and he said conversationally, ‘Are you on your own fucking drugs, you mug?’

  The man was staring at Lenny in fear, and when Dennis’s rather expensive shoe hit him in the face he knew he was fucked. Dennis White kicked him four times, breaking his nose, several teeth and a cheekbone. Dennis White was a great believer in doing your own dirty
work, should the occasion merit it.

  It certainly did today.

  ‘So, first question. Who the fuck let you in?’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Dennis White was terrified. He couldn’t believe that a scum-bag like this was dealing in his club – a club he ran for Angus Davis, whose mother made Baby Jane Hudson look like a fucking Girl Guide.

  It was like his worst nightmare had come true. He was on the verge of having a heart attack with the worry of it all. Someone he trusted, who worked for him, had allowed this shit-bag access. Now he had to find out who that was, because this could cause fucking murders. Literally.

  It was just un-fucking-believable, as he kept repeating to Lenny. How in God’s name had this happened?

  ‘Right, geezer. What is your name, you lunatic?’

  The man was only too pleased to spill, as Lenny knew he would be; there was nothing like a foot on the windpipe to get people talking. If this fucker had infiltrated the club, it meant that he personally had taken his eye off the ball. Which of course he had – for a twenty-two-year-old built like Marilyn Monroe who could blow him like a train – hence the expensive shoes.

  Dennis was not too thrilled about any of this, and Lenny couldn’t blame him. It was about making up the difference now, and talking his way out of real trouble. Lenny spent half his life at the club on a good wedge so Dennis White didn’t have to. Lenny had a lot of explaining to do.

  Arif, his head bouncer, was fucked left, right and sideways, because he had to be in on this. This low-life would not have had houseroom without his say-so. He had been given an in all right, the treacherous sod. That told Lenny that Arif was not doing his job, and that it would soon be common knowledge. But it also told him that the old adage ‘there’s no fool like an old fool’ was truer than ever. He couldn’t believe he had been so fucking stupid and no one had given him a heads-up. He was determined to clean this place up – providing he survived the night, of course.

  That was the trouble with Spain – it was like being on an extended holiday. The sun, the beach, the clubs, daytime drinking, seeing your mates everywhere. It was dangerous, because it just wasn’t like actual work.

  Dennis smiled nastily and said sarcastically, ‘So, Leonard, from what I understand from dead boy here, the Juarez brothers are apparently taking us all for complete mugs. And that ponce Joey Barbossa is in the mix. Now my question to you is, how the fucking hell didn’t you know? I was under the impression you were my main man. I trusted you, and I pay you a wedge of Olympian standards to ensure this kind of mayhem doesn’t occur on my watch.’

  Lenny wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. So when Dennis went to the cupboard and brought out the baseball bat, he had no choice but to accept what was coming to him. He could easily take his boss in a fight. They both knew that – it was why Dennis had the baseball bat – but he wasn’t about to make that mistake. He had to take what was dished out and pray he survived it.

  Lenny could only hope that he could salvage something from his years of loyal service. Though, in all honesty, he wouldn’t forgive or forget, if the boot was on the other foot. Lenny was known to bear a grudge. It was part of his persona, why they paid him so much to look after the businesses. When Dennis passed the bat to him, he felt a rush of adrenalin. He understood that he wasn’t dead in the water yet, that he was still useful.

  ‘Batter him, and batter him good.’

  Lenny did as requested.

  He had never been so relieved in his life. But he still had to face Angus Davis, and that was not going to be what he would call pleasant. Like Dennis, it was his biggest fear. They were both aware that they had fucked up. They were also both aware that neither of them had heard even a whisper of what was about to go down. That, in itself, was enough for Angus Davis to wipe them off the face of the earth. They understood his position – after all, they were being paid to prevent lunacy like this.

  And lunacy it was.

  Angus would skin them alive and laugh while he was doing it. He really didn’t suffer fools gladly. And why would he? He paid everyone’s wages, and he paid well to make sure that this kind of shit didn’t happen.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Angus was furious because his wife was ready to drop their baby and he had to fly out to Marbella and leave her on a whim. He was going to nip this in the bud and be on his way within hours.

  He was angry because he felt that it was somehow his fault that the Juarez brothers and Joey Barbossa felt they could take him for a complete cunt. It was unbelievable and insulting. Just thinking about it made him feel so provoked and so indignant that he could cheerfully murder someone.

  It was a complete piss-take, and he was not a man who could overlook such an insult. A crowd of morons thinking they could mug him off without a second’s thought! It was just without any kind of merit. Anyone who knew him, and knew him well, would not even consider such a stupid concept. They had to know that he wouldn’t allow such brainlessness to flourish in his organisation. After all, he was nothing if not a hands-on employer.

  Roy Rogers was every bit as angry, but he was also thinking seriously about who could really be behind this lunacy. Joey Barbossa couldn’t work out a clue in the Sun crossword, let alone think he could pull something like this, without a few big guns. He was what would be regarded as ‘cranially challenged’, if you wanted to be politically correct about it. Otherwise, he was as thick as the proverbial shit, and couldn’t be trusted to work out his wages without an abacus and his mum on the end of a phone.

  It was laughable, outrageous. Whoever was bankrolling this was either on the ball, and up for the war this was going to cause on the ground, or they were on a fucking death wish. Those were the only two scenarios that were even remotely believable.

  So who had the front, the nerve and the firepower?

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Joey Barbossa was in a restaurant on the marina.

  It had a wonderful chef and a very expensive menu – the cheapest starter was over a tenner. It went against the grain in a lot of ways, but he knew that he had to start living it large now he was a man of substance.

  When it was all over, this would be his new life; he would be dealing with people who thought this was the norm. He needed to remember that he was now a player, and he would have to embrace this lifestyle with gusto.

  He couldn’t believe how easy it had been so far. But there was a long way to go before this was all on the definite. The Juarez brothers had known they couldn’t do this on their own. So they’d wanted to bring some firepower from Manchester, which had been Joey’s job. He knew he could do it – that was why they’d needed him.

  They had to take Angus out, of course, but that was just business, nothing personal. Everyone liked Angus, but he didn’t spend enough time on the Banús to keep his house in order.

  To think about it, even Dennis White had to have the ache. He was left here like the poor relation to sort everything out, while Angus reaped the rewards. Even Dennis must have worked that one out, surely!

  It was simple economics. Once Angus was out of the way, there would be a big hole, and Joey was determined to fill it.

  Chapter Forty

  ‘Where the fuck are we?’

  Angus wasn’t impressed. He was tired, and he was aggravated. They had landed in what amounted to a field.

  Roy held his hand up and said vehemently, ‘Listen to yourself, will you? You’re so angry and so fucking sure of yourself, it never even occurred to you that you might be flying into a death trap, did it? I am not saying we are, but what I am saying is, better safe than fucking sorry, yeah?’

  Angus looked at Roy for long moments. He could hear the fear in his voice, and he was well aware that he should have been thinking along those same lines. But he was too angry, and that would always be his downfall. Roy was right; he was too fucking sure of himself at times. He was thinking about his wife and baby. He wasn’
t thinking about the actual reason he was even coming out here. It had not even occurred to him that he might be in danger in any way, shape or form.

  He was Angus Davis. He felt he was invincible. But he needed to be reminded that, in his position, he could never, ever believe he was one hundred per cent safe, because that was the price he paid to live the life that he did.

  ‘You remember that we are in bandit country here, Angus. We have our creds, but we are dealing with every piece of shit that decides to take a stake out here. Since you married Lorna, and now with the baby on the way, you are like a fucking joke. Even your mum is worried, and she loves the bones of you. You’ve been taking your eyes off the prize, son, and this should be a warning to you. This load of old fanny should never have happened. You should have been involved in everything that went on here – you should never trust someone else to do your fucking work.’

  Angus had not been creamed like this since he was a teenager, and he knew that Roy had to think that it was needed, or he would never have said a word.

  ‘I told you, over and over again, to keep a wary eye on the clubs. I have, and even I didn’t see this shit-storm coming, and that’s because it’s being run by a load of fucking muppets. But those muppets could have got a foothold, because you and I know that there are plenty of people waiting to step into our shoes. Fucking grow up, will you, Angus?’

  Angus knew that he had drunk too much brandy, and that he had no answer to Roy’s argument, so he said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could say. He had fucked up, that was the long and the short of it.