by D. S. Butler
His plan had failed before it even started. He had turned, about to walk away, when the front door opened just a crack.
“What do you want?” Georgie Carter asked as he peered through the gap. His eyes were wide, and his small face was pale.
Martin smiled. “You need to come with me, Georgie.”
Georgie shook his head. “I’m supposed to stay here until Jimmy comes back.”
Martin smiled again, trying to look reassuring, but it didn’t seem to work. Georgie retreated into the house and moved to close the front door.
Quick as a flash, Martin put his foot in the way, pushing the door open wide and sending Georgie staggering back into the hallway.
“Get out!” Georgie screamed.
Martin tried to keep hold of his temper. The last thing he needed was Georgie’s shouts to draw the attention of the neighbours.
“Calm down. I’m only here to help. I’m supposed to take you back to the hospital to see your father.”
Georgie shook his head. “My dad doesn’t like you.”
Martin shoved his hands in his pockets. His fingers itched to throttle the stupid boy. Legally, he was an adult now, but Georgie Carter was weak and delicate and still looked like a schoolboy.
“We’ve put all that behind us now, Georgie. Sometimes, it takes an awful thing like this for people to overcome their differences.”
Georgie frowned. He clearly wasn’t convinced yet, but at least he had stopped shouting.
“Come on,” Martin said. “Your dad is waiting.”
Georgie hesitated, and Martin began to consider dragging the boy out of the house by his ear, but finally Georgie gave a small nod and reached for his coat.
He obediently followed Martin out of the house, shutting and locking the front door behind him.
“Where are we going?” Georgie asked as they began to walk away from the house.
“To the workshop. I need to pick something up. Have you got your keys?”
“Yes,” Georgie said simply.
He did not ask any questions about why they needed to go to the workshop or what Martin wanted to pick up.
Martin was pleased. He liked it when people did as they were told without asking any questions.
* * *
Holed up in his uncle’s flat, Trevor Carter was panicking. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. What the hell had his uncle been playing at?
Uncle Gary had told him he would be firing a warning shot. He was supposed to aim for his leg, and even then, he promised he would miss.
“It was supposed to be his leg,” Trevor muttered. “Not his bloody chest!”
He stood in the centre of the ransacked living room. He’d thrown two chairs at the wall, knocked the small carriage clock from the mantelpiece, smashing it on the floor, and even pulled over the large cabinet at the end of the room. But none of that had made him feel any better.
His father’s blood had seeped onto the pavement. Trevor closed his eyes, trembling as he remembered.
At the sight of his father’s blood, Trevor had panicked. His hand slipped on the throttle, and he had careered around the corner so fast his uncle couldn’t hold on and had ended up landing on his arse in the middle of the street.
Trevor’s first reaction was to drive on and leave his uncle there. He hadn’t wanted to slow down, but he had forced himself to ease off the throttle and come to a stop.
He’d even taken the time to kill the engine, kick out the stand and walk back to his uncle.
He couldn’t see any of the lads from the workshop but knew it wouldn’t be long before they gave chase.
His uncle was making a hell of a racket, cradling one of his arms close to his chest. It looked like he had broken it when he fell off the bike. He held out his unbroken arm so that Trevor could pull him to his feet, but Trevor had stalked past and ignored his uncle. Instead, he picked up the gun.
There was no way he was going to let his lunatic uncle get the gun again.
He’d never even handled a gun before and had no idea what to do with it.
He had ended up shoving it in the pocket of his motorcycle leathers, then he drove off, leaving his uncle crying out in the middle of the street.
Oh, God, what had he done? He wished Uncle Gary would die and not his father.
The rage and adrenaline that had flooded his system and led to him smashing up the flat was now gone, and he sank to his knees. He had ruined everything, and his father had been right all along.
Trevor really was the black sheep of the family, and he deserved everything that was coming to him.
Trevor was so lost in his misery, he didn’t hear anyone enter the flat.
It wasn’t until Jimmy Diamond stepped inside the living room that Trevor realised he wasn’t alone.
He didn’t have the energy to fight back. The hatred he had for Jimmy, which usually burned inside of him had left him, and Trevor felt numb.
Jimmy stared down at him with judgement in his eyes, and Trevor didn’t do anything. He couldn’t even get to his feet.
He bowed his head. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said.
Jimmy had every right to call him every name under the sun, and Trevor was expecting that. Even so, the first punch took him off guard. Jimmy Diamond had never willingly fought Trevor, despite numerous provocations over the years; he always retreated, avoiding conflict out of respect for Dave Carter.
But this time there would be no retreat.
Jimmy kicked out at him with his boot, sending Trevor sprawling on the floor. Even then, Trevor didn’t fight back. He just took it because he knew it was what he deserved.
Trevor would never forget Jimmy’s harsh words and furious punches that day because he had earned every single one.
Finally, Jimmy grew tired of pushing around an unresponsive Trevor.
“Fight back, you bloody coward!”
Trevor started to sob. He blurted out what they had planned to do that evening and how his uncle had gone completely off script. “It was only supposed to take him out of action for a little while, so I could step in and prove my worth. This was not what I wanted.”
Jimmy stared down at him, contempt written all over his face. “You are a fool, Trevor.”
Trevor hung his head in shame.
He remembered the next words Jimmy uttered for the rest of his life because they were so unexpected.
“Get up. Let’s put this behind us. I think I’ve got a way to make things right, Trevor, but I need your help to do it.”
* * *
When Jimmy showed Trevor his gun, he’d expected him to look shocked. He hadn’t expected him to duck behind the settee.
Jimmy shook his head. “I’m not going to shoot you, you bloody idiot.”
Trevor peeked out from behind the settee. “I probably deserve it,” he said miserably and then nodded at the gun in Jimmy’s hand. “Why have you got a gun?”
Jimmy didn’t want to share that particular nugget of information with Trevor, so he just shrugged and tucked the gun back inside his overalls. “I thought I might need some protection. Have you still got the gun your uncle used?”
Trevor stared at Jimmy, as though he were debating whether or not to trust him. Finally, he said, “Yes. I put it in the drawer.”
Trevor nodded to the overturned cabinet on the floor, and Jimmy sighed. “Give me a hand.”
With Trevor’s help, Jimmy lifted the cabinet back into position and shoved it back against the wall. He pulled open the drawer Trevor pointed at and took out the gun.
The surprise on Trevor’s face when Jimmy handed him the gun was almost comical.
“I’m trusting you, Trevor. Your father has enough enemies. He doesn’t need to know his own son betrayed him.”
Trevor’s lip wobbled, and he sniffed as he reached for the gun.
Jimmy had to admit he didn’t feel particularly comfortable handling the guns. It hadn’t been pleasant to have a weapon on him at the hospital, especially w
hen the Old Bill had turned up to question them all about the shooting. But he was glad he had it now. Gary Carter would not be allowed to get away with this.
On the way to the workshop, Jimmy explained his plan. He wanted Trevor to get in touch with his uncle and arrange to meet him at the workshop. Trevor was to tell his uncle he had taken charge of all Dave’s projects and wanted his uncle to be second-in-command. When Gary Carter turned up at the workshop, Jimmy and Trevor would be armed and waiting for him.
“I hope you can see this is the only way, Trevor. We can’t let Gary get away with this.”
Trevor nodded glumly and waited for Jimmy to unlock the workshop.
“That’s funny,” he said. “The doors are open.”
Trevor shrugged. “Locking the door probably wasn’t their top priority. They were probably too concerned with finding and tracking down whoever shot my father so they could punish them.”
Trevor was still looking pale, and Jimmy started to worry he wasn’t up to the task. They needed to put on a united front and convince Gary Carter he needed to get out of London for good. He needed to believe that if he didn’t leave, they would kill him. The way Trevor looked right now, Jimmy thought he wouldn’t be able to convince Gary of anything.
Jimmy had watched Charlie Williams pull down the roller door to the workshop, but perhaps Trevor was right. It was likely in the confusion that the main door hadn’t been locked.
“Things will work out, Trevor. As long as you do what I say…” Jimmy broke off mid-sentence.
The workshop wasn’t empty.
Lying on the hard floor, battered and bruised was Georgie Carter.
Trevor let out a yell of outrage and rushed over to his little brother. Georgie’s face had been beaten to a pulp. He could only open one eye. The other was bruised and swollen shut.
Jimmy had never felt so angry. Shaking with pure rage, he looked down at Georgie, feeling helpless. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known…
Trevor’s face had turned even whiter, and his expression was tight as he tenderly helped his little brother into a sitting position.
Georgie cried out with pain and clutched his ribs.
“Who did this?” Jimmy asked quietly, even though he already knew.
“Martin Morton,” Georgie said. “He said it was a message for you. As you chickened out, I had to pay the price.”
Trevor rounded on Jimmy furiously.
“How could you? How could you let something like this happen to Georgie? He hasn’t done anything to anyone.”
Jimmy didn’t need Trevor to point out that this was his fault. Poor, simple Georgie had been beaten because Jimmy hadn’t been there. He’d left him alone with no protection, and that had been an amateur move. He should have been expecting Martin Morton’s attack.
Looking at the state of Georgie, Jimmy felt a coldness wash over him. For the first time, he realised all the things he’d been doing to antagonise Martin had just been adding fuel to the fire. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was man enough to take on Martin Morton, and he wouldn’t be heaping on any more fuel to feed that fire. Now the time had come to extinguish it.
Martin Morton was pure, unadulterated evil. Big Tim hadn’t been any kind of match for him. Jimmy would never be able to forget what Tim did to his mother, but he could understand the fear of working for someone as unhinged as Martin meant that Tim must have felt he had no choice.
“I’ll sort it,” Jimmy said to Trevor. “I just need to talk to Tim first.”
Trevor jumped to his feet. “There’s no time for that. I’m going to teach him a lesson. He’ll regret ever coming near my brother!”
“Trevor wait!”
Jimmy considered giving chase, but he knew he couldn’t leave Georgie alone. Trevor was even more of a fool than Jimmy had thought if he was about to confront Martin Morton alone. He knew Trevor still had his gun, but even taking that into consideration, Jimmy knew the odds still favoured Martin Morton.
Chapter 49
Jimmy didn’t take long to decide what to do after Trevor had run off. It was time to end this once and for all. He carefully helped Georgie to his feet and guided him to the door. He locked the main doors to the workshop behind them, and then they set off towards Bread Street. Georgie didn’t once ask Jimmy where they were going. He trusted him implicitly, and that just made Jimmy feel even worse.
Georgie was in so much pain he could only shuffle along. At first, Jimmy began to fear he might have to take Georgie to the hospital, but he could walk unaided and insisted he would not see a doctor. Jimmy guessed he was scared that Martin might be lying in wait for him there.
“I won’t make you go to the hospital, but I’ll get the doctor to come and visit,” Jimmy insisted.
Georgie sniffed and nodded.
It seemed to take them forever to get to Linda’s house, and as they passed the small terraced houses, some curtains twitched, but no one came out to help them.
Jimmy knocked on the front door, and they didn’t have to wait long until Linda opened it.
“Oh, Jimmy, I heard what happened today. Isn’t it awful?”
Jimmy nodded and stepped to the side so she could see Georgie standing behind him.
Linda gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, what on earth has happened?”
Without waiting for an answer, she tenderly reached out to Georgie and helped him inside.
“Georgie got beaten up,” Jimmy said, stating the obvious. He didn’t mention who was responsible, though. “Is Tim here?”
He wasn’t sure whether Linda and Tim had managed to sort things out. How did you get past finding out the man you had loved and trusted murdered your best friend?
Linda’s expression tightened, and she nodded. “He arrived shortly before you did, wanting to talk things through again. He is in the kitchen.”
“I need to have a word with him and then there’s something I have to do. Can you look after Georgie for me until I get back?”
Linda looked surprised but answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course, I will.” She looked at Georgie and smiled. “Let’s get those bruises of yours seen to. I’ve got some iodine in the bathroom cabinet.”
As Linda led Georgie away, Jimmy walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Tim had heard their voices and stood in the doorway. He looked as though there were so many things he wanted to say, but after a moment, he just turned away and muttered something about being so sorry.
But Jimmy wasn’t here to punish Tim. He was here to ask for his help.
“Martin Morton did that to Georgie,” Jimmy said. “It’s my fault. I left him alone.”
Big Tim’s face contorted into a grimace. “Don’t say that, Jimmy. The only person to blame is Martin Morton.”
It crossed Jimmy’s mind that Big Tim probably believed Martin was behind the attempted assassination of Dave Carter. As he explained things to Tim, the disbelief was clear on the big man’s face. Although he stated clearly that Gary Carter had been the shooter, he didn’t mention Trevor’s involvement.
“I need a favour,” Jimmy said.
Tim nodded. “Anything.”
Jimmy quickly explained what he wanted Tim to do. “What do you say, big man? Have you got my back?”
Big Tim seemed to be choked up, but he managed to answer, “Always, Jimmy. Always.”
* * *
Trevor Carter was outside Morton’s club. His hands were sweaty and made the gun in his hand feel slippery. As a couple of young lads turned the corner and began to walk towards him, he put the gun in his pocket, out of sight.
Adrenaline was still flooding his system. He wiped away the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It was still too early for the club to be open, and there was no one on the door. There were lights on inside, though. He had no idea whether Martin Morton was in there, but if he wasn’t, Trevor would track him down wherever he was hiding and make the bastard pay for hurting Georgie.
Trevor had never u
nderstood why his father felt family was so important. They didn’t exactly have a model family. Trevor’s mother had topped herself, but even before that she’d been away with the fairies. Uncle Gary clearly hated Trevor’s father, and Trevor knew from painful experience that his father couldn’t stand to look at him. He was a disappointment.
The only person who had ever looked at him with love and admiration was Georgie, and Trevor wasn’t about to let his little brother down.
Despite running off from the workshop full of bravado, now that Trevor had a few minutes to think, he realised he needed some kind of plan if he was going to confront Martin Morton. At the very least, he needed to know how many men he would be up against. He had the element of surprise on his side, but that would mean nothing if he burst into the room, and it was full of armed men.
He looked over his shoulder and saw that the street was mainly empty. There were a few young children playing at the end of the road, but no one was paying any attention to Trevor.
He stepped up to the door of the club and tried to peer in through the glass, but the glass was etched and distorted so he couldn’t see properly.
After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the door open and strode inside.
As soon as he was in the club, Trevor smiled. Luck was on his side. Martin Morton sat alone at the bar, nursing a shot of whisky. He turned, glowering at the intrusion, but when he saw it was Trevor, he grinned.
The bastard was laughing at him.
Trevor would soon wipe that grin off his face for good. He raised the gun, but instead of looking scared, Martin just laughed.
He got up off his barstool and began to walk towards Trevor.
Trevor took a step back. “Stay where you are! I’m warning you, I’m going to shoot you for what you did to my brother.”
Martin’s smile only grew wider. “Go on then. What are you waiting for?”
Trevor’s finger lightly touched the trigger, but he couldn’t apply any pressure. Instead of Martin Morton looming in front of him, all he could see was an image of his poor father this afternoon just before Uncle Gary shot him and…
