by J. D. Weston
"One."
"Okay, stop."
Harvey finished fixing Ginger back to the pillar alongside the driver and took the stairs up to the mess where the team held their meetings. Frank was already stood at the head of the room and Melody had taken her place by the coffee machine. She held a coffee between both hands, savouring the warmth of the cup. Reg sat on one of the two couches playing on his phone.
"How long until Jackson is back?" asked Frank, ignoring Harvey's entry.
"He'll be another thirty minutes. He'll be coming from Hackney," said Melody.
"Okay, well let's start without him. I'll fill him in later."
Frank sat on the edge of the large dining table that served as the meeting table. In all Harvey's time there, he hadn't seen anybody actually sit and eat there.
"I'll keep it as brief as I can," began Frank. "The chief has been on to me. Stone, can you tell me who you've been talking to? What firm is it? Just to clarify."
"Carnell."
"Bobby Carnell?"
"Yeah, you knew that."
"Just for the record, that's all," said Frank. "In the Pied Piper pub? Am I correct?"
Harvey didn't reply.
"Am I correct, Stone?"
Harvey nodded.
"Bobby 'Bones' Carnell was shot dead in the Pied Piper this evening. Anything you want to tell me?"
"Not really."
"So it wasn't you?"
"No, Frank, I was busy having the life kicked out of me in a concrete bunker buried in some junkyard." Harvey pointed at his swollen eye.
"The chief told me, and I'll paraphrase, the team is creating too many toe tags and not enough arrests."
The room was silent. The chief had the power to shut the unit down. The team had already had several warnings following previous cases and were told to bring more suspects in. The chief had said they were abusing their powers.
"Fourteen men have been found dead in the Ilford scrap yard, Stone," said Frank. "Fourteen?"
Harvey didn't reply.
"Are you not capable of arresting anybody?"
"You brought me in to do what you can't do, and I'm doing it. If there's a problem just say the word."
Frank looked disapprovingly at Harvey. "Where's Luan Duri?"
"Lying face down in the mud in Bow."
"Dead?"
"That was me, sir," said Melody. "He was about to execute Harvey."
"Well you should have bloody let him," barked Frank. "We haven't had one arrest worth anything in this investigation. Those two downstairs are nobodies. Crime isn't going to come grinding to a halt by taking them off the street, is it? We probably can't pin anything on them anyway. Do you see what I'm saying here? We need to do more police work. Leave the SAS crap to the bloody SAS."
The room was silent once more.
"So where does that leave us?"
"Just one more firm left. Seems like somebody did all the hard work for us, sir," said Melody.
"I want John Cartwright in handcuffs and with a pulse. I don't care how you do it, but I want him." Frank glared at Harvey with a look that told Harvey that he didn't care about the relationship between him and Cartwright. "Are you up for this, Stone?"
Harvey stared at Frank. He pushed off the wall where he'd been leaning and stepped over to him.
"Have you any idea what I've been through tonight, Frank?"
"Yes, I can see by the body bags."
"You need knocking down a few pegs, standing there in your nice suit with your hot coffee dishing out I wants. I've had enough of it, Frank. I've been shot at, hunted down, had guard dogs set on me, stripped naked, tortured and beaten. Then the final straw was that I was this close, Frank." Harvey held up his finger and thumb an inch apart. "I was this close to being executed, and you expect me to stand here and listen to you dribble on about how there's too many toe tags and not enough arrests? Why don't you get out there and see how you get on? These men are dangerous. They don't just put their hands up and let you put the cuffs on, Frank. They fight back. They shoot. They do anything they can to survive another day." Harvey spoke softly. "So finish your nice hot coffee. Go back to your nice, warm office, and stick that in your crappy little report."
Harvey stepped away and opened the door to head out.
"Where are you going, Stone?" asked Frank.
Harvey stopped, turned and glared at Frank. "I'm going to get John Cartwright, and if you want him alive, you'd better go out and get your hands dirty."
"Stone, if you do this, it's over. I can't protect you."
"You're right, Frank," said Harvey. "If I do it, it's over."
"How do you plan on finding him?"
"Easy," said Harvey. "I know where he is."
18
Head Honcho
"Tenant, I want Stone on that screen, and as soon as he steps out of line, we call it in. No more games. This isn't a bloodbath. We're supposed to be police."
"He's only got one tracker left, sir, his bike," replied Reg.
"And where's his bike?"
"Currently doing one hundred and ten miles an hour down the A13."
"Well, where's all his other chips? We put one in his neck, didn't we? What the bloody hell happened to that?"
"Duri cut it out, sir. Took his phone off him too."
"And his jacket? Tell me we have one in his jacket."
"Nope," said Reg. "Looks like he pulled that out when he came back."
Frank turned to Ginger who was sat shivering on the floor cuffed to one of the upright pillars that supported the mezzanine. "You. What did you tell him?"
Ginger looked away, then turned back to Frank. "I d-didn't tell him anything."
Frank stared hard at the man who was visibly freezing. "Full immunity."
Ginger cocked his head.
"You haven't got anything on me anyway so immunity from what exactly?"
"You work for John Cartwright."
"Never heard of him."
"That's strange because we have a gun that matches a double homicide in the Pied Piper that took place earlier today, only moments after John Cartwright left the pub."
Ginger closed his eyes in disbelief. "Is that right?"
"The prints on the weapon match yours exactly, Ginger,” lied Frank. “And an eyewitness put your silent mate here on the scene too. He held the door. I could probably get his prints off that too if I needed to.” Frank paused. “Do you understand the severity of the situation, Ginger?"
"Yeah, you want me to grass."
"You tell me what you told our friend, and maybe John Cartwright survives," said Frank. "You fail to tell me, and I'll see to it that you spend the next ten years sharing a cell with the biggest, friendliest, and loneliest category A prisoner I can find. He'll warm you up, Ginger."
Ginger hung his head. He cast his eyes up to the man opposite him, Clive, who shook his head and mouthed, "It's not worth it."
"No deal," said Ginger.
Frank stood over him then squatted down beside the pair.
"You both just made the biggest mistakes of your lives."
"It doesn't matter. If we grass on John, our lives won't be worth living anyway."
"If you grass on John, Ginger," spat Frank, "you'll be saving his life. Did you see my friend who just left here? Of course you did, look at you. Have you any idea what he's capable of?"
Ginger sat and looked at the floor. "He won't get away alive." He mumbled.
"You what?" said Frank. "What did you say?"
"You didn't honestly think I'd give him John Cartwright's home address, did you?"
Frank stared in disbelief. Melody strode over to Ginger and kicked him hard in the kidneys. "Where have you sent him?"
Ginger just smiled. Then his shoulders began to bounce as he chuckled to himself.
"Tell me where he's going, Ginger," said Frank gravely.
"Why don't you ask your mate? He'll be strolling through the door right about now. I do hope they don't recognise him." Ginger grinned up
at Frank.
Melody leaned down and landed a clean right hook into Ginger's jaw.
"Boss, it's Jasper."
"What's the news?"
"We're hitting them hard. I've got three crews out there right now cleaning up. By this time tomorrow, nobody will even remember Bobby Carnell."
"Good work," said John. "Carnell said he'd taken over the Albanian's turf too. What's the name of the guy that wiped his arse, Jasper?"
"Dom, boss."
"Dom, that's it. Okay, it'll be him taking care of North London, and you know what? He can keep it. We've got no interest there. Our roots are here. But we need Dom to know that we're doing him a favour. He might be useful later on."
"Send him a message, Jasper. Find out where Bobby Carnell's body is being stored and get yourself up there."
"Boss?"
John spoke quietly, with a cruel intonation. "Cut his right hand off and send that to Dom. Tell him to stay up there, and we'll all live happily ever after. But if he tries to stretch his legs in East London again, it'll be the end for him and his family."
"There's something poetic about that, boss, considering Carnell's fetish for fingers."
"Yeah, if he's got brains he'll pay attention. He might even become an ally one day. But if he hasn't got brains, and doesn't do what he's told, then that's the gene pool at work."
"The gene pool, right."
"Any news on Adeo?"
"Nothing, boss. The Albanians are quiet."
"Ginger said Adeo and that Gerry bloke went to some junkyard the Albanians ran. Said it was a bloodbath."
"You think he's alive?"
"Something tells me he's not, Jasper. Shame, I've known him thirty-something years. But it wouldn't be the first mistake he made."
"I don't believe it," said Jasper.
"What?" asked John.
"What if I told you that Bobby's guy just rocked up here?" said Jasper, pleased with his discovery. "He just parked opposite me in the car park."
"Gerry?"
"Yeah, looks like him. Face like a slapped arse. He's on a motorbike just sitting in the dark outside the Basement Club in Barking. Looks like he's waiting for someone or something. I'll call the boys, and in about ten minutes time he'll be dragged into the back of the van and dumped in the river, boss. Leave it with me. I'll take care of-"
"No," said John, a little too abruptly. "Don't touch him."
"Boss? He might know about Adeo."
"I guarantee he knows about Adeo, Jasper, but do not let the boys anywhere near him. I also guarantee that even if they do succeed in getting him into the van, it'll be him who's dumping them the river. I'll be there in thirty minutes. I do not want him touched."
"Let's go, Jackson. We'll take the Audi, it'll be quicker," said Melody.
"Mills," said Frank.
"Sir?"
"A quiet word," said Frank, opening the shutter doors and stepping outside into the frigid air.
"We're already behind him, sir."
Frank gave her a look that told her that the talk was non-negotiable.
They walked slowly towards the river then stopped once they were out of earshot of Jackson and Reg.
"It's a delicate situation, Mills."
"Yeah, but I'm keen to look after Harvey. He's mad right now, but he's an asset, sir."
"He is, Mills. He's good at what he does, but he's a liability."
"Can I speak freely?"
"Always."
"With all due respect, sir, you could have gone easier on him. The night he's had would have probably have killed the pair of us. Your words and tone was the last thing he needed. Harvey is in a position where the most powerful villain out there knows he's up to something. If John finds out that Harvey is working with us, he'll never be able to step foot in East London again."
"Yeah, that's a predicament, alright. You think that's the only reason he's going after Cartwright?"
"What other reason is there? I spoke to him about it, and there doesn't seem to be a relationship between them."
"I got that impression, but I also got the impression Stone respects him. There's not too many people out there Harvey respects, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do."
"He respects you, Mills. You make a good team."
"I admire his strength and control."
"Control? Did you see him leave here?"
"That wasn't him out of control, that was Harvey taking himself out of a situation. I'd bet money he's found somewhere to sit and think before he acts."
"Patience, planning and execution?"
"Exactly, sir."
"If he kills Cartwright, that's it, you know that?"
"Yeah, you said."
"You don't understand, Mills. If he kills Cartwright, the balance will shift. Cartwright is the glue that holds the world out there together. Ever wonder why nobody holds up the off-licenses or local businesses? Did you ever wonder how, in a place where terrible violence happens nearly every day, old ladies can still leave their homes and go play bingo or collect their pensions? The firms might be a royal pain in the arse for us, but trust me, they keep a lot of the crime down. Now tell me, out of the three firms involved in this investigation, which one is still going strong?"
"Cartwright."
"And of those same three, which one didn't we know of until today?"
"Cartwright."
"Exactly. He's a villain, Mills. But if Harvey takes him away, there'll be chaos as smaller, younger and bloodthirsty firms strive to take control and petty criminals begin to take the piss. We'll have more deaths on our hands than we can deal with. If the chief doesn't shut us down anyway for this fiasco, then he'll shut us down for sure when there's a dead body or two showing up every day."
"I understand, sir."
"If Cartwright dies, I can't go on. I'm on the home run towards retirement. I haven't got it in me to learn a new way of doing things. John Cartwright is the last of the old school villains, Mills."
"And you're the last of the old school cops."
"Exactly. I'm tired, Mills. I want to hand over the reins on a high note. Retire in peace, as it were."
"I get that, sir. However, I also think that maybe the time for people like John Cartwright is over. We don't need the carnage, but maybe some fresh blood might do some good."
Frank raised an eyebrow at Melody's comment. "You should see if my chair is comfortable, Mills."
"Sir?"
"My desk chair, see if it's comfortable. I have a feeling you'll be sitting there sooner than you think."
19
The Beast Lurks
"Where did it come from?" asked Dom.
"We don't know. Nobody saw anything."
"Cartwright."
"Cartwright is down, Dom. He's barely got enough men to make him a cup of tea."
"No, don't you believe it, mate. Cartwright is playing the game. He's on a rampage. He's got men in every one of our pubs from East Ham to Bow."
"So why send us this?"
"It's a message."
"A message? They could have just called instead of sending Bobby's hand."
"Cartwright is drawing a line in the sand."
"What do you mean?"
"If he wanted us, we'd be laying in some dark street right now or buried in Epping Forest. It's not us he wants. He just wants his manor back."
"So we're stuck up here now? I can't stand this place."
"For the time being, mate," said Dom. "We need to leave Cartwright alone. Let things settle. We're building up numbers. When the time is right, we'll make our move."
"What about the lunatic? Gerry?"
"Gerry?" asked Dom. His mind had trailed off miles from where he stood. Dom was a strategist. He was thinking about John Cartwright and something his dad had taught him when he'd been a boy. Bullies had ripped his shirt and stolen his lunch money, and he'd wanted to get revenge. His dad had told him to make friends with them; retaliating would be futile. For a young teenage boy full of pubescent e
motions, the advice had seemed absurd. But as he thought about Cartwright and the position he now found himself in, the strategy made perfect sense.
John would be an ally, a good ally to have. But the things Bobby had taught Dom countered his father's words. Bobby had groomed Dom for the job he did. When Dom had been much younger, Bobby had shown him first-hand how to deal with someone who stepped on his toes or pushed him too far. Bobby was respected for it.
Dom had two choices, and both had severe consequences. Stay out of the East End, let John Cartwright have his manor back and risk losing all respect from Bobby's men, who were his own men now. Or he could strike while Cartwright's numbers were down and his men spread out. Dom knew that they were taking over Bobby's turf. Now might be the only time he could get in an attack. The choices weighed heavily on his mind.
"The hard nut, Dom."
"Yeah." Dom snapped back to the chat with his friend Cole. "He managed to make a name for himself pretty quick, didn't he?"
"Apparently Bobby liked him. He said he had a certain cold style. Even made the Albanian bloke cry and didn't lay a finger on him."
"Do we know anything else about him?"
"No, Dom. It was Doug that found him and made the introduction. He met him in the Piper apparently."
"When exactly was that?"
"A few days ago. The day after the Dockside Arms was burned down."
"Convenient, don't you think?"
"What’re you saying, Dom?"
"I'm saying that I wonder if this Gerry is really who he says he is. Did you see how he spoke to Cartwright? And how he ignored Bobby?"
"He's a hard nut, Dom."
"No, there's more to it than just hard. It's like he was somehow above it all. Like none of it really mattered."
"You reckon it was him that killed Bobby?"
"No, it was two men according to Lee the barman. He didn't say it was Gerry and I'm pretty sure he would have if it was."
"So what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking a lot, Cole. I'm thinking that this bloke shows up out of the blue. Three or four pubs are burned down, all of which belong to one firm or another. There's blokes being killed left, right and centre and another one had his ears cut off, and I haven't seen one flashing blue light."