by D. S. Butler
Martin looked at his daughter and smiled fondly.
“Do you know, I am feeling quite tired, but I’ve got Red-haired Freddie turning up soon. We’ve got work to do this morning.”
Ruby was pleased to hear it. She’d felt that her father had been withdrawing from the business a little recently, and she was glad to see him getting stuck back in. It was nice to see her dad acting normally again.
“If that brother of yours is coming home, I’ll need to earn some cash. He bleeds me dry every time he visits.”
Despite his grumbling, Martin was smiling, and Ruby grinned back because she knew deep down her father was glad Derek was coming home.
As much as he played the tough guy with everyone else, Ruby never doubted that her father loved her and Derek.
* * *
Red-haired Freddie had partaken of a few too many scotches last night and was feeling extremely fragile.
His mouth was dry, and he could have murdered a cup of tea, but as Jemima had already left for the day for work, he would have to make it himself.
He groaned against the pillow and then threw back the covers, swinging his legs out of bed.
He shivered as his feet hit the cold floorboards.
Martin had asked him to do a job later that afternoon, driving him around in the Jaguar and collecting the various monies they were owed from some of the small businesses in the areas they protected. Freddie rubbed his eyes. It was an easy enough job, and none of the customers were challenging. He didn’t expect any resistance this afternoon.
He stood up, stretched and walked over to the curtains to open them out of habit. He looked down at his car, which was parked in the street in front of the house.
He did a double take. There was someone standing right next to it again.
For a moment, his indecision made him freeze. He didn’t know whether to shout at them through the window or race downstairs to tell them to get away from his motor.
He couldn’t tell who it was because the bloody rain was pouring down again and whoever it was had their back to him.
He hammered on his bedroom window to attract their attention, but they didn’t look up. He raced downstairs to the front door, clean forgetting he was still in his underwear.
He fumbled with the lock, and by the time he got it open, there was no sign of the loitering bastard.
Getting drenched, Freddie walked out to look at the motor and did a slow circle of the vehicle in his white underpants and vest, which were slowly turning see-through from the rain.
There were no scratches on the bodywork, and the car was still locked. It looked like he’d managed to get there in time. The motor was his pride and joy, and he was determined to keep his eyes peeled from now on.
Wet through, Red-haired Freddie started to trudge back towards the front door when he noticed Ivy Murphy from next door was peering at him through her net curtains.
Freddie gave a little twirl and held out his arms to give her an elaborate bow.
“Like what you see, do you, Ivy?” he shouted and then cackled with laughter as the net curtains quickly shut.
“Nosy old cow,” Freddie muttered to himself as he walked back into his house.
Chapter 29
A few minutes later, Freddie had managed to get dressed, but he was still shivering when he heard a knock at the door.
Who the bleeding hell was that at this time? He had only just made his cup of tea, which he left untouched on the kitchen counter as he went to open the front door.
He opened his mouth at the same time as he opened the door, ready to give whoever it was a mouthful for disturbing him, but when he saw it was Martin Morton, he clamped his mouth shut firmly.
“Boss?” Freddie said looking at Martin in confusion. His boss’s face was pinched and angry.
Freddie stepped back into the hall, allowing Martin to step inside. “Do you want to come in?”
Martin glared at him furiously. “No, I do not want to come in thank you, Freddie. What I want to know is, why didn’t you pick me up half an hour ago, as we had arranged?”
Freddie blinked in confusion. He knew full well he wasn’t supposed to be meeting Martin until this afternoon. They had arranged it yesterday. Still, Freddie was nobody’s fool, and he wasn’t about to argue with Martin Morton.
“I’m so sorry, boss. I don’t know where my mind is at these days. I must’ve got my times mixed up. Come in while I finish getting ready.”
Still muttering apologies, Freddie raced upstairs to get ready. Less than two minutes later, he escorted Martin out to the car.
At least the rain had lessened slightly, but Martin’s bad temper hadn’t. He’d gotten soaked walking down the road to Freddie’s place from the club. He hadn’t been able to telephone Freddie because Freddie didn’t have a telephone. As Freddie slipped behind the wheel, he turned to Martin again. “I really am sorry, boss.”
Martin gave a little huff and then said, “stop apologising and just get a move on.”
Freddie did as he was told, turning on the engine. He pressed on the accelerator and pulled away from the kerb. He hadn’t gone very far when he realised the brakes weren’t working properly.
He had pressed lightly on the brakes as they came up to a crossroads, but nothing had happened.
Freddie’s fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly, they turned white, and he pumped the brake pedal to no effect.
The squeal of another vehicle’s brakes and the honking of horns, made Freddie hold his breath. They narrowly missed an oncoming bus before colliding with a parked vehicle in the next road.
Martin had slammed his hands onto the dashboard, bracing himself.
Shaking and breathing unsteadily, Freddie rested his head on the steering wheel.
Martin began to rant and rave. “What the bloody hell was that? You trying to kill me? Because there are easier ways to do it.”
Freddie shook his head. He couldn’t understand what just happened and he was still in shock they were both alive after that near miss with the bus. “It was the brakes, boss. I pressed the brake, and nothing happened. Someone’s been messing with the car.”
Martin was silent for a moment as he stared coldly at Freddie. “Who would have dared to mess with your car?” Martin’s voice was low and cold.
Freddie shook his head. “I saw someone standing by my car the other night and then again early this morning.”
“Who?” Martin demanded.
Freddie looked blankly at his boss. “It was raining, practically dark, and I couldn’t see who it was.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know who it was,” Martin said as he sat with his fists clenched in his lap.
Now it was Freddie’s turn to ask the question. “Who was it?”
“Jimmy Diamond, of course,” Martin said. “The boy knows all about cars. He works at Dave Carter’s workshop. It would be easy enough for him to mess with the brakes.”
Martin reached for the passenger door handle and began to get out of the car.
“Where are you going?” Freddie asked, still feeling quite shaken up.
Martin cracked his knuckles. “I’m going to teach the little bastard a lesson he won’t forget.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Freddie muttered. Martin was about to set off World War Three.
He scrambled out of the car after Martin and tried to block his path. “You can’t, boss. Dave Carter will be there! Think it through.”
Martin looked coldly at Freddie. “Please remove your hands from my jacket, Freddie.”
Abashed, Freddie dropped his hands and took a step back.
Martin nodded. “Thank you. I’m not afraid of Dave Carter.”
Bloody hell. Martin may not be afraid of Dave Carter, but Freddie was. His knees were practically knocking thinking about the confrontation. Freddie was an East End hard man and had taken part in many brawls and stand-offs in his time, but this was different. Martin was about to confront Jimmy Diamond in the heart of Dave Carter’s territory.<
br />
He couldn’t even hope Martin would calm down before he got there because the workshop was only around the corner.
Freddie scrambled after his boss. “Wait! Let me come with you, at least. You’ll need some backup.”
Martin looked calm and unruffled. He looked nothing like a man should look after he’d nearly been wiped out by a double-decker bus. He simply looked terrifying.
“Do what you like, Freddie.”
Martin began to walk towards the workshop, and Freddie stood there for a moment before rushing after him.
* * *
Less than thirty seconds later, Martin stepped inside Dave Carter’s workshop. At first, everyone carried on working as usual and didn’t notice his presence. It wasn’t until Freddie arrived behind him, panting and begging Martin to see sense that Charlie Williams looked up.
His face fell when he saw Martin Morton standing at the front of the workshop.
“What do you want, Morton?” Charlie demanded.
Martin appreciated Charlie’s intelligence. He had used his name to alert everybody else to his presence. It worked. The noises in the workshop faded away to nothing as everybody turned to look at Martin Morton.
He stood motionless at the front of the workshop, silhouetted by the watery sunlight, the huge door rolled up behind him.
“I want to have a word with him,” Martin said, jerking his chin in Jimmy’s direction.
Jimmy stood rigidly beside one of the cars. He was as tall as Martin now and was no longer some scared little child.
“It won’t take long,” Martin said.
His eyes glinted evilly as he looked at Jimmy, but Jimmy didn’t reply or make any move to communicate with Martin. He just stared at him.
Martin smirked and put his hands in his pockets. He gave a low whistle as he looked around the workshop. “Nice place you’ve got here.” He took a couple of steps closer to Jimmy. “You’ve been working on cars for a long time now, Jimmy. You must know nearly everything there is to know about motors, right?”
No one else spoke. They were all waiting to see where this was going. No one wanted it to descend into an all-out battle when it didn’t have to.
Georgie piped up, “Jimmy knows all about cars.”
Martin smiled as he focused on Georgie. “I thought so. He probably knows how brakes work, doesn’t he?” He raised his eyebrows at Georgie.
Georgie nodded happily. “Oh, yes he knows all about that. He is very good with cars. Did you want us to take a look at yours?”
Martin smiled turned arctic as he turned away from Georgie and looked back at Jimmy. “Are you going to let him talk for you all day?”
Jimmy took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and faced Martin. “What do you want?”
“I want to know how the hell you thought you were going to get away with fiddling with the brakes on Freddie’s motor? Did you really think we wouldn’t put two and two together?”
Jimmy’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Freddie and I just had a near miss. Unfortunately for you, your little plan to get us both killed didn’t work.”
Jimmy glanced around the room, looking at the other lads. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“At least have the balls to admit it,” Martin growled, kicking a spanner that was lying on the floor and sending it clattering across the workshop.
Jimmy took a step forward. “I would if I’d done something wrong, but I haven’t.”
Martin took a menacing step forward, but before he could do anything, Big Tim stepped out from the back of the workshop and moved his bulk in front of Jimmy. “You’ll have to go through me, Martin.”
“You’re nothing but a lying little bastard,” Martin said, stepping to the side so he could still see Jimmy behind Tim’s enormous frame.
Jimmy stepped forward, clenching his fists.
Freddie closed his eyes. Things were going from bad to worse.
But before Jimmy could get any closer to Martin, Georgie Carter let out a squeal of distress and grabbed onto Jimmy’s arm. “No, Jimmy!”
Martin laughed again as Tim squared off in front of him. He lunged to the side, trying to grab hold of Jimmy, but Tim pushed him away.
Martin’s eyes gleamed menacingly. “My, how things have changed,” he said mockingly. “You’re protecting him now, are you? Have you told him what you did?”
Tim’s face paled, but before Martin could reveal anything else, there was a movement from the other side of the workshop, and Dave Carter emerged from his office.
Bleeding heck, Freddie thought. He hadn’t realised the man himself was here. Could this situation get any worse?
Dave regarded Martin steadily as he stepped out into the open area of the workshop. “What are you doing here?”
Martin grinned. “Dave, long time, no see. You don’t need to get involved in this. I’ve just got something to sort out with one of your lads, young Jimmy Diamond.”
“Anything that goes on in my workshop and involves one of my lads is something to do with me,” Dave said, glancing at Jimmy and then back at Martin.
Freddie muttered a prayer under his breath. He had absolutely no idea how they were getting out of this one, and it didn’t look like Martin was bothered in the slightest.
“Well, perhaps you can do something about it then,” Martin said, nodding in Jimmy’s direction. “That boy is a lying bastard. He cut Freddie’s brakes and tried to kill us.”
Dave frowned and looked across at Jimmy. Jimmy shook his head vigorously. As this situation developed, Freddie began to think perhaps they were barking up the wrong tree. Maybe it hadn’t been Jimmy Diamond standing behind the car after all.
“I didn’t do anything, boss. I never went near the car.”
Dave turned back to Martin. His face was dangerously blank, almost expressionless, as he said, “Jimmy said he didn’t do it, so that’s an end to the matter. I think it’s time for you and Freddie to leave.”
Oh, God, Freddie thought. Please let Martin decide to leave and fight this battle another day, but Martin had never been one to take the easy way out.
“I’ll go when I’m good and ready, and that won’t be until after I’ve sorted that little bastard out.”
Freddie watched Jimmy closely, thinking that Martin’s taunting words might draw another reaction from the boy, but Freddie was watching the wrong person.
Dave Carter moved like lightning. He’d always had a big build, but he’d never been one to use force to get what he wanted. Dave Carter had reached the lofty heights of his empire by using his wits, but he was certainly showing his brawn now.
He grabbed Martin by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Martin’s feet kicked out ineffectually, but Dave didn’t let him go.
He tightened his grip around Martin’s neck until his face turned purple. Martin had lost weight with age and had become haggard, but Dave had lost none of his muscle power.
Freddie’s heart was thundering in his chest as he saw that Martin was starting to choke. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
“Easy, boss,” Charlie Williams said but didn’t dare move towards the two men.
Oh, Jesus, Freddie thought, panicking. It really looked like Dave was going to throttle the life out of him.
There was nothing else for it. Red-haired Freddie turned on his heel and ran out of the workshop.
Behind him, he heard Charlie Williams’s scornful voice saying, “Bloody coward.”
But he didn’t know what Freddie was doing. The car was only just around the corner, and Freddie needed to get there as fast as possible. He wrenched open the passenger door and then scrambled inside the glove box until his hand closed around the handle of his gun. He hadn’t thought they would need it today for the collections, and he nearly hadn’t brought it, but he was bloody glad he had now. He should have remembered the gun earlier. He was losing his touch.
He slammed the door and ran off b
ack to the workshop. As he skidded to a halt in the entranceway, he saw Dave still held Martin by the throat, and nobody else had moved.
Freddie held up the gun and said, in a voice that sounded far more confident than he felt, “Let him go.”
Freddie’s years of experience came in very useful as his hands were steady as he aimed the gun straight at Dave Carter’s head.
It seemed like an age before Dave finally let Martin go, and Freddie’s boss slumped to the floor.
Freddie took it easy, ordering everyone to stand back as he moved slowly towards Martin.
Dave’s face was blank and unconcerned as he watched Martin coughing and spluttering on the floor.
“Come on,” Freddie said, trying to pull Martin to his feet.
He scanned the workshop, making sure nobody was going to try a silly move. He caught Jimmy’s eye, and the boy said, “It really wasn’t me.”
Freddie was almost convinced he was telling the truth. But that wasn’t important right now. The only thing he cared about was getting himself and Martin out of this situation alive.
Martin leant heavily on him as Freddie dragged him to his feet and slowly backed out of the workshop. Freddie kept the gun raised, not daring to lower his guard while he was still a few feet inside Carter territory.
As they backed away and got nearer to the car, Freddie heard Dave say, “Back to work lads. Just another day at the office.”
Chapter 30
For the rest of the afternoon, the atmosphere in the workshop was tense. They still had work to be getting on with, but Jimmy’s mind was elsewhere.
As soon as he’d finished up at work, Jimmy raced home to talk to his nan. He gave her a much-abridged version, just telling her enough to make her wary. He wanted to make sure she locked the front door and didn’t let anyone in. He knew Tim would have passed on the message to Linda, and now he wanted to go and see Diane, to warn her too.
Things were escalating for reasons he didn’t understand. He didn’t trust Martin Morton to keep his family out of it. It was clear Martin Morton was a man who didn’t mind crossing moral lines. He’d proved that when he had murdered Jimmy’s mother.
