Breaking Out

by Janice Nix

  From court, I was driven to Holloway in a prison van – the squeeze box. Night had fallen, and secret tears streamed down my face in the darkness. Through the blur I saw the two stern stone griffins on the gateway as it opened with a harsh metallic scrape. I missed Nadia so much. A great jolt of loneliness took my breath away. Waves of nausea and fear spread through my body. I was all alone, and near to panic.

  I clenched my fists. No room for crying now. Mi need to lock down tight. Always remember: if you control your mind, then your mind controls your face.

  I told myself that I would get through this. It was time to close down my weakness and my fear, to find a will of iron, to survive.

  During that first sentence, I met Zeta.

  I’d hadn’t been inside for a day when I heard whispers about her. She was mafia, serving eighteen years. Her husband was involved in the same crimes, doing his time in Wandsworth. The two of them were heavy – met with fear and respect from everyone around them.

  Eighteen years inside. It was hard to get my head around that amount of time. But when I saw her, she amazed me. She was graceful and stylish, absolutely calm, dressing each morning and emerging from her cell as though she was heading for a smart city office. Nothing seemed to bother or upset her. She had total self-command. This woman was a boss. The sight of her inspired me. If she could be this way, I saw that maybe I could be a boss too.

  Shoplifting? Dipping? What kind of pettiness was that? I was ashamed of the smallness of my crimes. I’d certainly learned from my mistakes, but what I’d learned was that I wanted to go harder – much harder. I made a big decision: as soon as I had done my time inside, I was stepping it right up. I was ready to rise to the next level.

  And di way forward is wit’ the big man – Scully. I was certain of it. I grew more and more impatient to meet him again.

  The two of us had done some deals already. It was just small business at first – after I had accepted that one ounce of white in exchange for my watch, I’d wrapped it out in grams for sale. My customers seemed happy – ‘Jan – this work’s propa,’ they told me. Scully only sold the best. I went back to him and bought a second ounce, and then a third. He never put pressure on me to take more than I could manage. He let me take my time.

  Days after my release from prison, I knocked on his door. The Stockwell yard was quiet. As usual he sat behind his desk in his office. His piles of business paperwork covered its whole surface – bills, receipts, booking forms for jobs. His calm brown eyes were watching me steadily.

  ‘Time for reload?’ he asked me.

  ‘Yes. But I’ve been thinking. This time I’ll take more. I’d like four ounces. It’s selling well.’

  Scully smiled.

  He opened a drawer and took out six plastic packets.

  ‘Uh – I only said four ounces. I can’t pay you for six.’

  ‘Take them. You can owe me. I know you’ll make good.’

  I looked at the packets. Could I do it?

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Okay – yes, I can.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that,’ said Scully with a smile. ‘Word on the street is that you’re tough.’

  ‘Word on the street?’

  ‘I been listenin’. What I hear is you’re doing your thing. People understand you take your freedom seriously. If they’re not on spot when you get there, you’re gone.’

  ‘That’s right, yes. That’s how I’ve been doing it. I’m not playing around out there.’

  ‘I like that,’ he told me.

  ‘Well, thank you. Here’s money for the four ounces, and I’ll bring the payment for –’

  ‘I thought about offering you more,’ said Scully, interrupting me. ‘But then I thought – Janice is a woman.’

  His words sent anger speeding through my body, but I wouldn’t let him see it.

  ‘That’s right – I always have been!’ I answered with a grin.

  He grinned back, but then he looked thoughtful.

  ‘A woman in this business would be vulnerable,’ he said.

  ‘A woman’s vulnerable if she makes herself vulnerable.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s so. Don’t put me in a glass house. I can look after myself. If you’re putting a proposition to me – let’s hear it.’

  ‘You want to be out on the road selling work all hours of night? This is bigger stakes, now, Janice. Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am.’

  ‘Then you’re a different cat, Mama J.’

  ‘I guess I must be.’

  Scully sat back in his chair. He placed the tips of his fingers together.

  ‘Well then. That should mean you’ll have no trouble selling your six ounces. Let’s see how you get on.’

  Scully was right. I had no trouble selling those six ounces. I made enough profit to buy an extra ounce. Next time, it was going to be seven.

  ‘Seven ounces?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Well now, that’s a shame. I was thinking of starting you with one.’

  ‘One?’ I questioned, keeping my voice even.

  ‘Yes. One ki.’

  ‘And how much will I owe you for that?’

  ‘Thirty grand.’

  What the fuck? yelled a voice in my head. Thirty grand! Selling wraps to my contacts and friends won’t move all this! I can’t sell a kilo in one go!

  ‘Er … how would I sell it?’

  ‘Don’t worry ’bout that.’

  ‘But – um – I’m going to have a kilo of cocaine in my house. My customers buy small. It’s going to take me ages.’

  ‘You’ll need new customers, babe. And don’t keep it in your house. Never in your house. Always go home clean.’

  This was the moment of decision. If I wanted to rise to the next level – he was offering me my chance.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Right, Mama J. You need to buy a new phone. When you’ve got one, you come back and collect.’

  My Motorola brick cost eleven hundred pounds. With that phone, I felt like a boss.

  Three days later, Scully placed another package on his desk. This time it was the size of a paperback book: a block of tightly pressed powder wrapped in plastic. Then he showed me how to divide up my first ki into packages of twenty-eight, fourteen and seven grams.

  He told me he’d direct people to me. But this time, they wouldn’t be customers who wanted to party. I was working on a different level now. These would be dealers, buying wholesale.

  ‘I’ll phone you later,’ he said when our business was done. Always the gentleman, he rose to show me out of his office. Suddenly I saw – in a vivid mental flash – just how enormous and how dangerous this game was becoming. I stopped dead still. I could feel my heart drumming. This was the place where the roads divided. Whichever way I went, there would be no turning back.

  ‘Scully?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thirty thousand? I can’t believe I owe you that much money.’

  He gave me his warm, wide smile.

  ‘Yeah, babe. But I trust you. You have a pleasant evening now.’

  Two minutes later, I was standing alone on a quiet suburban street. I had thirty thousand pounds’ worth of class A drugs in my handbag.

  How the fuck am I going to sell all this?

  I sat in my living room. I was excited. I was also very nervous. Then my new Motorola started ringing.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello. Scully gave me this number.’

  It was a voice I didn’t know.

  ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘Scully told me I can get something from you.’

  ‘Okay, you can.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Near Brixton.’

  ‘Meet me in Somerleyton Road. I want twenty-eight – an ounce.’

  I drove down there. My new customer was standing by the bus stop. My only problem was his payment – the bundle of cash he handed over was too large for me to coun
t.

  ‘Is your money right?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yeah, man.’

  I took his word – there didn’t seem much else that I could do. I shoved the cash quickly into my bag and drove off. When I got home, I counted. To the very last penny, it was right.

  I’d just sold my first ounce.

  I sat on the sofa feeling breathless but elated – and stunned at how easily it all happened. The Motorola rang again. A different voice was speaking.

  ‘Hello? Scully gave me your number.’

  Very late that night, the phone rang one last time.

  ‘How was your evening?’ said Scully in my ear.

  ‘Oh – it went well.’

  ‘Any issues?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘Well, that’s good news. We should celebrate.’

  ‘How should we do that?’

  ‘Well, Mama J, I was thinking I would take you out to dinner.’

  ‘Oh wow – I love your car!’ said Sabrina.

  ‘Thanks, babe.’

  She climbed into the passenger seat of my new Vitara jeep, looking admiringly at its white leather seats with their smart black piping. I’d customised the car, and now the words ‘Nasty Girl’ were written in red and silver across the door on my side.

  ‘Jan – this is so cool.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s alright.’

  I loved Nasty Girl. She drew envious stares from the street. She was larger than life. That was how I wanted to be.

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Sabrina. ‘Mine’s in the garage – again.’

  ‘Still making that noise?’

  ‘Of course it is. Blasted old banger. I really need a new one.’

  ‘I just got this,’ I told her, patting the steering wheel. ‘But if you can wait a couple of months, I can get you something nicer. And definitely more reliable.’

  ‘Jan, I didn’t mean – it’s just – you know – the kids always need things, it’s difficu–’

  ‘Honey. It’s okay. I’d be happy to.’

  Sabrina gave me a quick little smile.

  ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind …’

  ‘Of course not.’

  She’d been there for me in my darkest moments: when I lost Pepper, when I went inside. Of course I was happy to get her a car. She was my same-birthday-sister.

  ‘Are you okay now, JanJan?’ she asked me. ‘After – you know. Nadia alright? You both back on your feet?’

  ‘Yeah, honey. We’re good. And getting you the car won’t be a problem.’

  It wasn’t a problem at all. In my new partnership with Scully, I was making serious money.

  The Motorola never stopped ringing. A few months later, I bought another. My two huge money phones went everywhere with me – and the cash was coming in fast. Scully introduced me to his partners, Chubby and Glen. At first they were surprised that he was working with a woman, but Scully was the boss. If he vouched for me, the others would be cool with it. I had a chance to prove my worth.

  I still sold the odd gram to friends, but now there was no need to sit around the kitchen table wrapping with Gill. No more visits to the smokers down in Streatham. The game was selling wholesale, working with dealers only.

  I did some business with Bagga, for old times’ sake – until he suggested that we cut our product with bicarb to raise profits even further. The syndicate’s unbreakable rule was that we never cut the product. We sold quality – that way, we didn’t get complaints, or have to waste our time with customers who thought they could haggle over price. The cost was what it was – and it was worth it. When I received a rare call from a buyer unhappy with our goods, I’d give a refund straight away – even though I knew that the problem must be further down the line. If someone cut what we’d sold them, that was certainly a nuisance, and I noted for the future not to use that contact again. But what mattered was to keep our reputation for straight-dealing.

  We ran things tight, reducing the danger as far as we could. But still we faced the constant risk of being monitored by the police. Nobody ever phoned a landline. We were careful on our mobiles and used coded language, aware that the connection might not be secure. ‘I was looking for a half pint of milk.’ ‘Got any sugar?’

  But Scully still transported his work around in carrier bags. He’d stroll along with his shopping, but alongside the carrots and tins in his bag was a kilo of white. Other times, he used pretty gift bags with ribbon handles from WHSmith’s. Birthday boy! the bag would read, or 21 today! I saw that this amused him.

  ‘You carried that here in that bag?’ I said to him one day in amazement.

  He gave me his most mischievous smile.

  ‘Do you think the police got X-ray eyes? You think they can see through the bag? Just play it cool.’

  The big man had the confidence to hide in plain sight. He dressed in balding old fleeces and polo shirts carrying his company logo. His work boots were battered and flecked with paint.

  ‘If I start dressing up,’ he said to me, ‘people gonna say that I have money.’

  ‘But they already know you have money!’ I told him.

  ‘Ahh, Janice – not everybody knows.’

  What everyone knew was that Scully always had quality work. He had contacts everywhere, and all of them respected the way he did his business. I was playing a very big game – and now it was going to get bigger.

  ‘Mama J? It’s Andrew. I’ve got good news – the prince is in town!’

  Andrew was another one of Scully’s connections. He was a concierge at a luxury hotel in Knightsbridge, SW1 – and whenever the prince came to town, Andrew would pick up the phone. The prince got through an ounce of white a night.

  My selling price to Andrew was £1,400 an ounce. When he sold to the hotel’s guests for £1,800, he was nicely in profit. I drove over to see him in my new BMW 328i. That way, I wouldn’t stand out among the Porsches and Lamborghinis. I’d drive into the courtyard and Andrew would come outside. We’d air-kiss – ‘Hello darling!’ – and I’d hand the gift bag over. On other days, I’d nip inside and linger for a while with a glass of champagne.

  The prince was always grateful and his payment was prompt. He liked to show his gratitude with a Christmas bonus too – a case of Dom Perignon.

  There were still some things I couldn’t quite resist. Although my shopping trips up West got me in trouble, that buzz of danger had always excited me. So many beautiful things all around – they pulled me back again and again. Court appearances and sentences were tiresome, but I could work around them. Every job has a part that you don’t like.

  30 January 1987, Southwark Crown Court.

  Theft. Shoplifting. Imprisonment – 6 months.

  18 February 1987, Southwark Crown Court.

  Attempted theft from person. Imprisonment – 6 months concurrent.

  18 February 1988, Southwark Crown Court.

  Shoplifting. Imprisonment – 6 months.

  Out on the road, I learned from Scully’s watchfulness. A second eye became a part of me. When I entered a building for a meeting – who else is waiting inside? Where are the doors? How could I leave quickly if I needed to? I turned up early and checked the place out, just so I knew my information about who I was meeting was good. I trusted my instincts, just like going out dipping. If I wasn’t comfortable in any location, I’d leave, or immediately take the discussion outside.

  I loved handling the money. It felt natural to me. Scully observed me doing business for a while, then made me his banker. Once our cash was counted, we bound it in wraps of a thousand, packed them ten at a time in handbags, and passed them to a safe house – a low profile address owned by someone we knew we could rely on. We paid our safe-house keepers well.

  Of course I still trusted Ida, and kept some of my money and my valuables with her. But the amounts had grown so large, I knew I needed to spread the risk around.

  The syndicate kept most of its profits offshore. When I was ready to go banking, I flew out to Antigua.
There I was regarded as a wealthy ex-pat come home on business. There weren’t a lot of checks and I could bank some cash myself, then pass the rest to local contacts who would bank it for a cut.

  ‘Blimey, Jan – a BM now! What happened to the jeep?’ asked Sabrina.

  ‘Oh – I’ve still got it. This one’s my runaround.’

  ‘Wow.’ She glanced in through the BMW’s windows, admiring its gleaming interior. Something was wrong – I could tell. She didn’t seem herself.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m good.’

  ‘Could you use some extra cash, Sab?’

  She didn’t answer for a moment. Being short of money wasn’t something that she’d like to admit.

  At last she said, ‘I’d like to earn some.’

  ‘Okay.’ I’d had an idea for quite a while. ‘I need a safe house. How about how I use your place?’

  I’d set up two safe houses already, but I wanted another. If Sabrina needed money, this could work for both of us.

  ‘You mean – somewhere to leave your stash?’ she asked.

  ‘Usually just money. Sometimes work. I need a place to put it where there’ll be no attention. You’ve got no criminal record. You’re off radar.’

  ‘And I want to stay that way, Jan.’

  ‘Don’t worry, babe. You’ll be safe.’

  I’d chosen my first two safe houses carefully – people I could trust who weren’t known to police, with little risk of attracting attention. They also didn’t know about each other, so if anything went wrong, they couldn’t give the police information. Like them, I wanted Sabrina to believe that she was working on her own.

  ‘How much would I get for doing this?’ she asked.

  ‘A hundred pounds a week. Plus your shopping.’

  ‘My shopping?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll do a shop for you. You meet me at Sainsbury’s and collect it.’

  ‘You being serious?’

  ‘Of course, Sabrina. You’re my sister. I’ll get you something nice at Christmas as well. Toys for the kids. I’m making money. Family comes first.’

  Sabrina shook her head.

  ‘Janice – you are really something else.’

  I gave her a smile. But she was still looking worried.

  ‘What exactly do I do for this money?’

  ‘I’ll give you a lock box. Keep the box safe, somewhere the kids won’t see it. Whatever I give you, put it straight in the box. When I want it back, I’ll tell you where to bring it.’