Jake knew she was right, of course, but he felt something was missing from Tony’s life. He was always striving to do better and better, and not let anyone or anything get in his way. As much as he liked the ladies, he had even laughed about them one night while having a drink with Jake. ‘They’re all the same, Jake, each and every one of them wants her hands on my club and my bank balance. No one wants Antonias, they all want Tony, club owner, millionaire. They’re all gold-diggers, so why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I like sex, and I would be a fool to turn it down.’
Meanwhile, there was always business to take care of. There were other pub bosses and up-and-coming guys who fancied themselves as gangsters, and they all had to be dealt with in Tony’s own professional, psychopathic manner.
At one point, having heard that some of these would-be gangsters had been mouthing off about Tony only being interested in the women and taking his eye off the ball when it came to business, he had gone into a pub he knew they drank in, one lunchtime, with Jake and a machine gun. When they got there, only the landlord and the would-be gangsters were in the place. He opened fire, waving the gun around, and shot the place to pieces. While firing at the walls and the furniture, and blowing the pub to bits, he watched these men cowering behind the bar and under tables.
Tony had walked behind the bar and stared at the three men hiding there. One fumbled around in his pocket and took out a knife. Tony’s eyes had darkened and his charming smile became a grim sardonic smirk. He knelt down beside the man and ripped his own shirt open.
‘Go on then, do it,’ he said.
Jake and the other men watched as Tony knelt there with his shirt open, displaying his chest and stomach to the man with the knife. He was daring the man to thrust the knife into him.
‘You haven’t got the guts,’ Tony sneered, his eyes wild and blazing.
Jake saw the man with the knife look at Tony, then he took the knife and thrust it forward towards Tony’s chest. In the nick of time Tony moved, but he was slashed across the arm. Tony burst out laughing. ‘My turn,’ he said, and he took a handgun from the waistband of his trousers and shot the man through the right hand, then he picked up his left hand and shot him through that, too. Blood poured out everywhere.
Jake and the others watched the injured man writhing on the floor; he was screaming and shouting. Tony stood up and put his gun back in his waistband. He picked up the machine gun and put it on top of the bar, then promptly started doing up the buttons on his jacket. The knees of his trousers were stained with blood. He looked at his watch. ‘Time to go, Jake,’ he said.
‘What about him, you crazy bastard?’ said one of the other men cowering behind the bar; he was pointing at the man with the ruined hands. ‘They all say you’re crazy but I never believed them how much till now.’
‘He’s your problem, call an ambulance or something, but whatever you do, always remember that you’ve just witnessed how crazy I am first-hand, okay?’ With that, Tony took the machine gun off the bar and bent down to the man writhing in pain on the floor. He took hold of the man’s hands and pressed his fingers on the body and the trigger of the gun. It was only then that the other men saw that Tony was wearing leather gloves. The only fingerprints on that gun belonged to the man writhing on the floor.
Tony walked towards the door. The landlord popped his head around the side door to see if the coast was clear.
‘You,’ Tony said to the landlord, ‘need to watch the kind of custom you let through the door. Here.’ He took a bundle of money – a thousand pounds – from his inside jacket pocket and threw it at the landlord. The money went flying through the air and hit the floor. The publican bent down and began hurriedly picking it up.
‘Thank you, Mr Lambrianu, thank you, sir,’ he said, as he shoved the notes down his T-shirt.
Tony got back into his car and told John, his driver, to get his other suit out of the boot. ‘For God’s sake, Jake, this suit cost me nearly three thousand pounds and now it’s trash. I hate blood, it gets everywhere.’
He got changed in the back of the car, then sat back in the seat and straightened his tie.
‘Did you really need to shoot him in both hands, Tony?’ asked Jake. He had witnessed Tony’s anger many times, and always thanked God he had never been on the receiving end of it.
‘Not really, I just felt like it. Don’t worry, he’ll soon get patched up. And, in future, he’ll think twice about calling me names, and so will his friends.’ That was the end of that, just another day’s work in the life of Tony Lambrianu, another problem solved.
TOP DOG
‘Lambrianu, Lambrianu, that’s all I’m fucking hearing! I’ve had it up to here!’ Marlon raised his hand to head height to make his point.
The room was stifling; there was no air, and they couldn’t put any fans on because it would blow the very expensive cocaine around. Marlon was hot, sweaty and bad-tempered. He was sitting at his cocaine-encrusted table, surrounded by his bodyguards and, yet again, they were telling him about that fucking madman.
‘What’s wrong, boss?’ Errol, one of Marlon’s most trusted men, stepped forward. His feet sounded heavy on the floorboards – left bare, as it made it easier to mop up spillages. ‘Everything's nice and easy, has been for the last two years since you and him became friends. It’s good, easy money – better than when we were dealing with that other guy.’
Marlon jumped up and grabbed Errol by the throat. He was beyond angry. Cords stood out in his neck as he throttled his bodyguard. Damp sweat patches were visible in the armpits of his bright red shirt. ‘Whose fucking side are you on, bounty bar?’ Bounty bar was an insult – black on the outside and white on the inside. Marlon’s large, black, heavily ringed hand squeezed tighter around Errol’s neck. Errol was trying to push him away. The other men in the room froze and cast each other sideways glances. This was not the time to interfere.
Marlon's hand gripped tighter. Errol's eyes were bulging as he tried to breathe. His face was so close to Marlon's, they were almost touching noses. Spit flew out of Marlon's mouth as he rasped into Errol’s face, ‘I’m the fucking boss, do you hear me? That fucking half-breed is nobody. I let him work the other side of the water because it suited me, that’s all.’
Marlon had made his point and so loosened his grip, leaving Errol to gasp for air and stagger towards a wooden chair. Errol sat down heavily. He held his neck, trying to breathe, his head drooping down toward the floor. Marlon was a big man and could easily have choked him or, worse, broken his neck.
‘What you gonna do about him, boss?’ Marcus sat at the far side of the room on an old sofa. He felt nervous breaking the tension, but felt it was the right thing to say.
Marlon was breathing heavily from the exertion, and his chest heaved as he slowly got his breath back. He turned to Marcus and smiled, then flexed his hands and rubbed his nails on his shirt, as though polishing them. ‘Get fucking rid of him, boy, what else? It’s time that nancy boy remembered who I am.’ He straightened the black leather hat he was wearing. ‘I deserve respect, I’ve been around a lot longer than him and yet all I can hear on the streets is his name, not mine.’
Marlon went and sat back in his chair. He had been thinking about this for a while. He wanted rid of the cocky blonde upstart, but to cause gangland warfare and shoot that club up wasn’t worth it. This was between himself and Lambrianu … only one boss could rule.
Marcus decided to try a different approach. ‘You’re right, boss, he’s a loose cannon. He not so businesslike as yourself.’ Marcus’s thick accent dominated the room. He was more African than Jamaican. His rubbed his flat, squashed nose. ‘You hear what he done de other week?’
Marlon ran a hand over his face. When he saw how sweaty it became, he wiped it on his trousers. ‘What?’ He sounded bored with it all, but he waited.
‘It done seem some wise guys thinking he don’t care about anything anymore but clubbing and the women. Say he taking his eye off the ball and losing his
touch, but that loco white boy totally lost it when he heard what they been saying.’ Marcus related the incident in the pub, then said, ‘That the kind of guy he is, boss. Waving machine guns in the air. That what I heard, anyways.’
Marlon had listened intently; this, indeed, was interesting. He’d heard that something had gone down in the pub, but no one ever saw or heard anything in the East End, so the details had been sketchy at best.
Marlon nodded. He was beginning to think more clearly, now. ‘There has to be more than one way to skin a cat,’ he said. ‘That white boy leaves a bad taste in my mouth.’ Suddenly Marlon’s eyes lit up and he smiled, displaying a mouth full of gold teeth. He leaned back on his chair and pushed his leather cap forward over his brow.
He looked over to where Errol was sitting. ‘Errol, stop snivelling,’ he shouted. ‘You got your breath back now. Go to my special first aid box and see what in it. Maybe we pay him a friendly visit tonight at that posh club of his, see those strippers of his.’ Marlon rubbed his crotch. ‘Some of them sure do look like they could do with some black tail, eh, guys?’ Now Marlon sat there laughing to himself. Only he knew the joke he was going to play on Tony and he was going to have some fun in the process.
***
When Marlon turned up at the club, with three of his bodyguards in tow, he made a huge show of walking up to Tony and putting his arms around him.
‘Good to see you, Tony, mate,’ he said. ‘Just thought I’d pay you a visit and have some fun with your girls.’ He smiled and looked towards the strippers and then back at Tony.
Tony smiled as he greeted Marlon and his men, but inside, he felt uneasy; Marlon generally stayed to his side of the river. They had their meetings, but he never just turned up out of the blue. Tony liked Marlon well enough, and they were business associates, but he wasn’t so foolish as to trust him. He had suspected for a while that something like this might be on the cards. He had expected it and, true to form, Marlon hadn’t let him down. So, tonight was the night, was it?
‘Give him the parcel, Marcus, for fuck’s sake.’ Marlon looked impatient as Marcus held out a Tupperware box for Tony to take. ‘That from my mama,’ he said, ‘she makes the best jerk chicken around. Thought you might like some. You can warm that up and eat it later. Now, pour me some rum.’
Tony took the box from Marcus. He could already smell the garlic, chilli and onions in the spicy food, even though it had a lid on. Phew! He was hoping to get laid tonight, but it wouldn’t happen if he was stinking of that stuff.
With all the enthusiasm he could muster, he said, ‘Thanks, Marlon, I bet it tastes great. I’ll have it later, thank you.’ He put the Tupperware box on the bar and told the bar staff to bring a bottle of rum over.
‘Fancy some of this, Tony?’ Marlon tapped the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Can I use your office?’
Tony nodded and led the way, and Marlon followed along behind. He had brought his little packets of cocaine with him and Tony didn’t like it. He didn’t want that stuff on the premises, just in case.
Marlon sat at Tony’s desk and chopped the white powder into lines, then began snorting it up his nose. He laughed as he wiped away the dust. ‘It’s a shame that girlfriend of yours isn’t here, she would be licking that stuff up.’ He laughed at his own joke.
Tony looked confused, then the penny dropped and he realized what Marlon was talking about. A few weeks earlier, Tony had seen Roxy with some powder on her top lip and nose. When he had pointed it out, she had told him it was special face powder the models used to hide blemishes. The lying cow! he thought to himself. She was a cocaine sniffer, and he hadn’t realised it.
Marlon seemed to know her well, so she had obviously been to him or one of his dealers for her supply. Now, it all made sense. She always seemed to be full of life and never tired. Her sexual fantasies were a little off the wall, sometimes, and she quite liked a threesome, with one of her friends and Tony. This, he thought to himself, is because she’s completely off her head. No, she definitely wasn’t girlfriend material.
Tony and Marlon smiled at each other like old friends, but they both knew there was a lot of resentment behind those smiles.
***
They went out to the bar and Tony gritted his teeth as he watched Marlon wander off back to his men and his bottle of rum. No doubt he had a stash of fifty-pound notes to tip the strippers with. He didn’t like anyone fooling around with the strippers, but he felt tonight he had to make an exception.
‘What’s he doing here, and what the fuck is that?’ said Jake as he eyed up the plastic box on the bar top.
‘That,’ said Tony, nodding at the box, ‘is shit. He seems to think I’m going to eat it.’
‘It stinks,’ said Jake.
‘We’ll give it to the dogs, out the back. As for him, well, he’s come to put me in my place.’
‘Do you think he’s going to cause trouble in here? Really?’ Jake looked at Tony, shocked.
‘He’s not going to get the chance. Do you still remember how to sort the cars out, if needed? If not, John does. Go and sort it while I keep him busy.’
‘You sure? That’s a bloody expensive car to waste.’
‘That, Jake, is why I pay insurance.’ Tony smiled back at him and chinked his glass against Jake’s.
***
As the evening drew to an end, Tony went and sat with Marlon and his men. ‘Found one you like, Marlon?’ Tony indicated the stage, where the strippers were.
‘Bit skinny for me, Tony. Nothing like a nice Jamaican woman’s arse to make the blood hot. Believe me, white marble can be cold but amber is warm to the touch, eh?’
Ignoring the comment, Tony said, ‘How you getting home? Do you want to stay here?’ Tony was silently praying that he would refuse and, thank God, he did!
‘Gonna get my driver to come.’ Marlon took out his mobile.
‘No, that’ll take ages. Why not take my car and bring it back tomorrow? I’ve given my chauffeur the night off, but do you think one of your guys can drive you? You can take it, if one of them can.’
Marlon’s eyes lit up. The very thought of sitting in that fancy Rolls Royce of Tony’s, with the ‘Lamb 1’ number plate, made him grin. ‘My boy, here, had nothing to drink. He can drive,’ said Marlon pointing at one of his men.
‘Wait here; I’ll just get you the keys.’ Tony stood up and walked to his office, where Jake was waiting for him.
‘Is the car ready, Jake?’ Tony’s face was set like stone.
‘Are you sure about this, Tony? Maybe the guy just came to see you for a drink. Think about what you’re doing.’
‘This is no hunch, Jake. It’s make or break time. Come on, let’s wave our friends and allies off.’
Tony passed the keys to Marlon’s driver, then walked Marlon to the door and said his goodbyes. The driver got into the front seat and Marlon got into the back, with his other two men. Tony stepped back inside the club. The driver turned on the ignition.
The explosion from the car was enormous. The walls of the club seemed to sway and there was the sound of breaking glass as the impact of the blast shattered windows in its wake. The street was lit up by the flames from the car. Another explosion sounded just after the first. It was deafening.
Knowing what was going to happen, Jake and Tony had run to the far end of the club. Fortunately, there were only a few stragglers left inside, plus the staff. People were in shock; they knelt down behind the bar and the tables to protect themselves from the glass and dust flying through the air.
When the blast was over, Tony ran to the entrance and peered out. He saw his pride and joy, his beautiful Rolls Royce, in flames. People in the street were screaming and running, scared out of their wits. Some had been hit by flying glass and were bleeding. Others had been thrown across the street by the force of the blast.
Jake was shaking. ‘Shit, Tony, look at the mayhem. Look at those people, they’re hurt.’
‘Collateral, Jake. They’re not dead. It’s
two in the morning, there aren't that many people around. Call the fire brigade.’
Jake took out his mobile, but it wasn’t needed; he could already hear the sirens. ‘That second explosion must have been the petrol tank blowing,’ he said. Tony had explained all that to him when he had worked as a mechanic and said just how easy it was to put a load of explosives in a car and wire it to the ignition.
Once the firemen started putting the flames out, and the police and the ambulance arrived, things seemed to calm down.
A crowd had gathered from nearby streets and restaurants, and the police moved them back. A detective saw Tony standing outside the club and he started asking him about what had happened. Happily, Tony told the truth: his friend, Marlon, was using his car and it had blown up.
Tony had the sense to look distraught and shocked, and feigned dizziness, which meant he had to sit down. The detective told him they would be back tomorrow to discuss things further, and left. The whole building was taped off for the time being and outside stood the charcoal shell of his car.
‘Bye, Marlon, rest in peace,’ said Tony. He looked at the doors, which had been blown in, then turned to Jake. ‘Right, let’s call someone to sort these doors out. We’ll have to redecorate, as well – the walls are black with smoke. Time to get down to business.’
‘You’re a cold bastard at times, Tony. What about those other people going about their business in the street? Some got hurt.’
Tony smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘What about them? I never put the explosives in the car, you did.’ He walked away, leaving Jake standing there, feeling guilty.
THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS
When the police arrived the following morning and stated the obvious – that they thought the explosion was meant for Tony – he went into full acting mode, looking distressed and worried.
‘Do you have any enemies that might have wanted to do this?’ The detectives looked at each other and then down at the floor. They both knew who and what Tony was, and what the answer was, too, but they had to ask.
Nasty Business Page 5