by Ted Tayler
Annie’s eyes lit up. She had him on the hook. She leaned forward, making sure he got an eyeful of her naked breasts. As her lips brushed against his cheek, she whispered: -
“You won’t regret it. I’ll dream of you tonight. I know I will.”
“Sweet dreams,” said Phoenix. He stood up and walked to the door. Outside on the pavement, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Phoenix waited on the corner to see if Annie followed, but the pub door remained closed. A visit to the pizza parlour filled another ten minutes, and when he reached the shop door with his takeaway, he saw Annie’s car speed past. She was headed into the city centre.
It was safe to walk home. Once inside the safe house, he called Athena.
“Hello darling,” he said, “is Hope still awake?”
“Hello to you too,” Athena replied, “and yes, she’s sat on my lap. Do you want to talk to her?”
Phoenix and Hope shared a one-sided conversation. She was excited to hear her father’s voice and Phoenix enjoyed her squeals and gurgles. He missed his daughter so much. When Hope finally lost interest in the phone, Athena resumed her catch-up with her husband.
“Is it safe to talk?” she asked.
“I’m alone in the safe house. I’ve just ended my first day working for the Dwyers. I was collecting door-to-door on one of the council estates. It’s grim up here; you have no idea. The Dwyers are making a fortune out of these people. So far, I haven’t seen any physical violence, only intimidation and threatening behaviour up to your armpits.”
“Are you taking every precaution to stay out of danger?” asked Athena.
“My biggest threat is Dwyer’s sister. She’s a man-eater. Whenever she looks at me I pray she’s not feeling hungry.”
“I trust you to do the right thing if she takes a bite out of you,” said Athena. “You must get out of there alive. We need you back here, we have other battles to fight. You must do whatever’s necessary to take out the Dwyer gang, the quicker the better.”
Phoenix understood what was being said. Athena was prepared to let what happened undercover, stay undercover if Olympus achieved the desired result. He hoped he could conclude matters before Annie made her move on him. He was thankful he had escaped the clutches of the Geordie Amazon for now, even if it was only temporary.
The pizza didn’t taste as good as it had the other night. His appetite had deserted him. Phoenix went to bed early. Sleep brought no dreams, nor nightmares, only a solid eight hours rest.
*****
The outer door creaked. Mick Quinn stirred from a fitful sleep. He had to think for a second where he was. He was sat in his office, in his captain’s chair. The scotch he drank while thinking through the things that troubled him, must have made him drowsy. He looked at the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock.
Mick thought he should get moving, lock up, and drive home to Cassandra. She’d be wondering where he had got to. As the fog cleared, he remembered the creaking door.
“Good evening, Mr Quinn.”
Mick spun around in his chair. A young man stood on the other side of his desk. He knew the face, but a name wouldn’t surface.
“How did you get in? Miriam locked the door behind her when she left.”
“I have my methods,” his visitor said, “I needed to see you urgently. There will be changes in London. The old rubbish is being chucked out.”
“You want to watch your mouth, sonny,” snarled the Mighty Quinn, “I don’t take kindly to threats.”
The old gangster was only halfway up from his chair when the visitor struck the two fatal blows. Quinn slumped back in his chair. His assassin turned the chair to face the window once more.
“I hear you enjoyed the view of this part of the city, Mr Quinn. It doesn’t belong to you any longer,” he said and left the office as quietly as he had come.
*****
Tuesday, 22nd July 2014
Miriam Rowlands arrived for work at five minutes to nine. Mr Quinn’s car was still in the garage where he’d left it yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t like him to be in so early. As she climbed the stairs to the office, she thought maybe he got a taxi home. Perhaps that bottle of malt he had hidden in his bottom drawer had helped him think.
As soon as she stepped inside, she sensed something amiss. There was a smell she didn’t like although what caused it was beyond her. She dropped her bag and keys on her desk.
“I’ll sort this phone out, and then I’ll open a window, get the fresh air in here.”
Miriam switched on the office phone.
There were three messages. All from Cassandra Quinn. Miriam ran to Mick’s door and threw it open. Her boss was staring out of the window, just as she had left him. As she touched his shoulder, he flopped sideways in his captain’s chair. Miriam screamed.
Michael Terrence Quinn had died eleven hours earlier from two stabs of a stiletto delivered to his brain through his eyes.
Across the city, Colleen O’Riordan caught the buzz of a message being delivered to her mobile phone. She waited until she had finished her breakfast before she glanced at it.
“I’ve put the rubbish out.”
She smiled. No time like the present. She would get ready, call for her most trusted hard men, and then visit the hangouts Mick Quinn had once frequented. The news of the Godfather’s death would spread quickly. Colleen was determined to lay claim to the areas he had controlled before a young upstart decided to step into his shoes. Parts of his kingdom had fallen into her hands already, and Quinn had never lived long enough to work out who was responsible. The King was dead, long live the Queen.
Her grip on London’s criminal network moved forward at a relentless pace. In a matter of weeks, if not days, she would control everything.
Only one man stood between her and her goal; that worm, Hugo Hanigan.
*****
Phoenix arrived on Westgate to start another day’s collecting. He referred to his book. Annie Dwyer was right. If he got every penny on this list, he would carry six hundred pounds to the pub tonight. Fingers crossed, Phil Dwyer would be there alone, and he could grab his sixty pounds and get off home.
A new day, but a familiar pattern. The sight of a new collector brought questions. Where was Alan? Phoenix noted the door opened quicker than when he’d been riding shotgun for Benny Giggs. Little things, but they added up.
As the morning wore on, he asked questions of his own. A gentle probe here, an innocent follow-up question there. Most of the men and women on the Westgate were frightened to answer. They were keen to pay up and close the door; even if the man who had replaced Alan seemed a decent sort.
“I keep getting asked about Alan,” he said to an elderly couple. The wife had joined her husband at the door when she overhead heard him asking why he was seeing a new face.
“He was a nasty man,” she said and pushed her thin cardigan up her arm. Phoenix had wondered why she wore one on such a warm summer’s day. Her right arm was purple, yellow and black from wrist to elbow. More colours to add to the Olympus palette.
“Did Alan do that, Mrs Hatch?” he asked.
“Mary wanted to go to the coast on a day trip. We haven’t been away for years. The money was due, and we couldn’t afford both that and our weekly loan payment. Alan twisted her arm behind her back. He told me he’d snap it like a twig if I didn’t hand over the cash.”
“Jim paid him,” said Mary Hatch. “Alan warned us not to breathe a word, or he’d come back and finish us,”
“Well he’s not around now, so would you make a statement to the police, if they were to hear about it? If someone tipped them off, for argument's sake?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jim Hatch said, “if word got back to Annie Dwyer we talked out of turn, she’d burn us out of our home. She can be evil if she doesn’t get her own way. We’ve lived here thirty-eight years, man.”
“So, it’s not just blokes like Alan, and Phil Dwyer that get nasty then?” asked Phoenix.
“No way,
they’re all tarred with the same brush,” said Jim Hatch. “Annie Dwyer, the Mullens, the other blokes they use; they’re thugs, every one of them.”
“You don’t fit in with the people we’ve seen, or been told stories about,” added Mary Hatch, “are you sure you’re in the right job, love?”
“You’re a nice couple,” said Phoenix. “How did you get involved with these loan sharks in the first place?”
“Have you ever tried to live on a state pension?” asked Jim, with a dry laugh.
“The kids help out when they can,” said Mary, “but they’ve got their own troubles. We needed a new boiler, to keep us warm in the winter. We’ve been paying the loan off for three years so far.”
Phoenix told the old couple he’d be in touch and credited their account with ten pounds in his book. He used a note from yesterday’s commission.
“Bless you,” said Mary Hatch, on the verge of tears.
“It’s the least I can do,” said Phoenix.
At five in the afternoon, he had six hundred pounds. He received slammed doors and ‘no comment’ to his questions too, but he gathered snippets of information from addresses across the estate that gave him encouragement. In time, he would have enough damning data to pass to the authorities. The Dwyer gang’s grip on the poverty-stricken inhabitants of the North East would end.
Phoenix drove across the city to the pub.
“Usual?” asked Mick. He poured a pint of lager and pushed it across the counter.
“Thanks, it’s been a warm one today. This will hit the spot.”
“How’s it going?” asked Mick.
“Early days,” replied Phoenix, unsure whether the barman knew what Dwyer was involved in. He may be on the payroll too, so least said, soonest mended.
“Take my advice,” said Mick, checking nobody was listening, “get out of this business, and quick.”
“It’s only temporary,” shrugged Phoenix. “As soon as I get enough cash together, I’ll be heading south again.”
Customers arrived at both ends of the bar. Mick left him to serve the public bar first. Phoenix went to his seat. He wondered how long before Phil Dwyer arrived.
The voices at the bar grew louder. Mick was at the other end, serving.
“Hurry, we’re dying of thirst here,” shouted one man. His two colleagues were laughing, encouraging him. Phoenix could tell they spelt trouble.
Mick wandered to serve them. He didn’t appear bothered by their attitude.
“Three bottles of Newky Brown, pal,” said the mouthy one, “and get a bloody move on.”
Mick placed the drinks on the bar and told him the price.
“Sod that, I’ll run up a tab. I’ll settle up later.”
Mick shrugged and pointed at a sign behind the bar that read No Credit and made to move the bottles back towards the till.
The man grabbed Mick’s arm.
“Touch my drink, and I’ll slash your throat from ear to ear,” he yelled.
The door opened from the public bar. Phil and Annie Dwyer walked in, drinks in hand. They were the customers Mick had served first.
“What’s got under your skin today, Alan?” asked Phil.
“This twat wants us to pay up front. I’m good for the money. He needs to show us respect.”
“Pay the man, Alan, there’s a good lad,” said Annie, her voice hardly above a whisper, but the menace it held wasn’t lost on the three men at the bar.
Mick took the cash offered, thanked Alan, and after putting the money in the till disappeared to the public bar.
So, this was the ‘nasty man’ Mary Hatch and others had described, thought Phoenix. He knew the type. He couldn’t wait to punish him for the damage he’d done to the frail old lady, and the intimidation he handed out around the estates.
Annie spotted Phoenix and headed over to sit beside him. Phil Dwyer noticed him too and scowled in his direction as he saw his sister’s choice of seat.
“Alan, I want you and your boys to meet Frankie,” he said. “He started working for us yesterday.”
“He’s got his feet under the table, I see,” said Alan, staring at Phoenix. He swaggered across to the table and made a point of pulling his chair closer to Annie before sitting. She moved nearer to Phoenix when Alan’s knee touched hers.
Phil sat opposite Phoenix.
“Enjoy the match last night, Phil?”
“Terrific, Frankie, this could be our season,” Phil replied.
Phoenix ignored the other three men. He placed his money bag onto the seat. Annie picked it up and slipped it into her handbag.
“All there, Annie,” he said, quietly.
“Good to hear,” muttered Phil.
Phoenix waited to see whether Alan handed over his cash. The other two goons didn’t look as if they provided much more than window-dressing. Alan headed any collection run they operated.
“Whereabouts in the city do you collect now, Alan?” he asked. “I seem to have taken over your old books.”
“Missing me, are they,” sneered Alan, and his goons nearly wet themselves with laughter.
“Not really,” said Phoenix. “I got the full six hundred, and never needed to hurt anyone.”
Alan pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He shook a fist towards Phoenix.
“You need to watch your mouth,”
“Telfer, will you act your age? Sit down and behave yourself.”
Alan Telfer glared at Annie Dwyer. Nobody had used his surname since he worked for the Dwyer gang. Phil preferred nicknames, or a first name, to keep people’s private lives, private. You never knew who was listening. Bloody Annie Dwyer had been in the same class as him at school. She had thought herself too good for him back then, and now she was all over this new bloke like a rash.
“Give Annie your takings, Alan,” said Phil, “let’s settle up commissions, finish our drinks, and get out of here. We’re attracting too much attention.
Five minutes later, the commissions had been paid, and drinks finished; with little conversation. Alan Telfer and his goons gave Phoenix the stare. He ignored them and watched Mick the barman drying glasses at the counter. How long had he been back at this end of the bar he wondered?
“We’re off,” said Phil, “come on sis, let’s get home.”
Annie looked crestfallen. She gave Phoenix’s hand a squeeze. A gesture that Phil missed as he turned towards the door, but Telfer saw it as he and his men trotted after their boss.
“Later,” she whispered and left Phoenix on his own in the quiet bar.
He walked to the bar. Mick was drying glasses.
“I would have stepped in if Telfer had taken a swing at you, Mick,” Phoenix said.
“Thanks, now you understand why I warned you earlier,” said Mick. “I don’t know what your game is, but you need to stay away tomorrow night. I don’t want to see you get caught up in the fallout,”
“You’re undercover, aren’t you?” asked Phoenix, the penny finally dropping. “Is there going to be a raid tomorrow?”
Mick stopped drying the glass. He thought for a moment.
“I’ve decided to trust you. Somehow, I don’t think you’re mixed up with these low-life scum for fun. I’ve no idea who you work for, but yes, we have enough for an arrest. We’ve been tracking them for eighteen months.”
“I’ve got a few extra pieces of evidence, and possible witnesses to add into the mix,” said Phoenix. “I’ll pass them on to your HQ before I leave here.”
Mick and Phoenix shook hands.
The net was closing on the Dwyer gang.
CHAPTER 12
Phoenix drove back to the safe house and parked the car. Once inside, he tidied up. He knew he must complete one more day’s collecting tomorrow. He couldn’t give Phil Dwyer any inkling everything wasn’t one hundred per cent normal.
Mick had fooled him for days. Phoenix hadn’t reckoned him as a policeman working undercover. The pub was the ideal spot to gather intelligence, but the man had to have
serious balls to put his head into the lion’s mouth. Almost as much as he did, working for them. It would be over in twenty-four hours, and then he could get home to Athena and Hope.
The place looked immaculate when he finished cleaning. Takeaway containers were in the bin and the washing-up was done. His Olympus gear and spare clothes stashed in his bag. Phoenix looked around him. He was confident the safe house looked as good as he would wish it to be if he was next to use it.
Phoenix rang Athena and relayed the good news. He called Giles to arrange help for Jim and Mary Hatch. They deserved a holiday. Phoenix checked the address for the couple who sent one of their kids to her parents because they couldn’t afford to keep them together as a family. Giles would sort that out in the morning.
Phoenix looked in the fridge. One can of lager left. Might as well drink it, it might be out of date before anyone else stops here. There was an unopened bottle of wine there too, but he didn’t feel in the mood.
“I’ll see what films we have in that pile of DVD’s, and then it’s an early night.”
Ten minutes into ‘Man of Steel’ the doorbell rang, and Phoenix’s heart sank.
Later, meant later tonight then, he thought.
Phoenix opened the door, Annie stood there in a tight red dress and black high-heeled shoes. Her hair hung down, and her makeup accentuated those fiery eyes. Annie looked hot.
“I realised which was your car in the car park earlier,” she said, “so I checked the driveways opposite the row of shops to find you.”
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,”
Annie didn’t wait to be asked, she pushed past Phoenix and walked into the main room.
“My, you have tidied the place,” she said, “it doesn’t look as if anyone lives here,”
They won’t after tomorrow, sweetheart, Phoenix thought.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, “there’s a bottle in the fridge.”
“I’m driving,” she replied, “I know it doesn’t usually stop me, but there’s something I want more.”