Shirley knew she’d done wrong, just as Linda knew she’d done wrong, but whereas Linda chose to sulk defiantly, Shirley instantly tried to make amends. She held up the large black ski mask she’d bought and pulled it down over her face. “Look, Dolly! What do you think of this? It’s black and it’s big enough to cover our hair.”
Dolly ripped the ski mask from Shirley’s head, taking a lump of hair with it. “The eye holes are too big and I don’t want ones with a mouth hole. I can see your lipstick and your spray tan.”
Shirley looked at the floor. She knew that everything Dolly said was right, but she’d spent two days schlepping everywhere for this gear, all the way to Harlow, Windsor, even up the M1. Shirley took off the jumpsuit . . . Twenty-five quid down the drain, she thought. Well, seventy-five counting all three.
Throughout Dolly’s tirade, Linda had been standing in the kitchen doorway chewing her nails. Although Shirley’s shopping trip had clearly been a stupid waste of time, it was Linda who had put Dolly in a foul mood in the first place, and she did feel guilty. Not guilty enough to take any of the heat off Shirley, but even so. She decided she’d make some tea.
Seeing she’d hurt Shirley, Dolly decided to backtrack. “If you sew up the mouth hole completely and the eye holes a little bit, it’ll be fine, Shirley. Dye the other ones black and we’ve got ourselves the first bit of our outfit. But the jumpsuits are no good, I’m afraid. We need overalls, like I said. Once you’ve bought the right ones, cut the labels out and burn them so they can’t be traced after we dump them.”
Shirley knew this was Dolly’s way of apologizing. “What about the plimsolls?” she asked.
“Dye them black and they’ll do fine.” Dolly lit a cigarette. “Come and sit down, both of you. I didn’t ask you here to talk about jumpsuits and plimsolls.” As Dolly finished speaking, the kettle clicked off and Linda went to fill the teapot. “Leave it!” Dolly bellowed.
In her rush to join Shirley and Dolly seated on the crates, Linda tripped over Wolf and kicked his backside to move him out of her way. Dolly gave her a nasty look and called Wolf over to sit next to her. She opened her bag and pulled out her notebook.
“We got problems,” Dolly started. “I’ll go through ’em one at a time, but most important, I’ve been thinking about what I read in the ledgers and I reckon Harry used four men in the raid, not three.”
“Four?” Linda repeated. She and Shirley looked confused.
“Four men and one of them got away. Leaving Joe, Terry and Harry to fend for themselves.” Linda and Shirley were riveted by what Dolly was telling them. She continued. “This fourth man must have been called in from the outside, to drive. He must have driven the truck up front. Now there’s been nothing about him in the papers, nothing at all. That means the law either haven’t figured it out yet, which I doubt, or they’re after him.”
“They won’t be the only ones!” Linda shouted, leaping to her feet, red-faced with anger. “The bastard!”
“Linda,” Dolly said gently, trying to calm things down again.
“No! I’ve got a right to speak. If he left my Joe burning to death . . . if he could have saved them and didn’t, I’ll kill him, Dolly, I swear I will.”
Again, Dolly tried to calm Linda. She was a hothead, after all, simply reacting in the only way she knew how.
Linda was having none of it. “I’ll kill him! You might not care about your man, Dolly Rawlins, but—”
Dolly was on her feet and at Linda so fast she didn’t even get to finish her sentence. The heavy slap to the side of her face knocked her sideways.
“Don’t you ever suggest I don’t care!” Dolly growled. “I saw how much you cared this afternoon, so stop with the hysterics, sit down and shut up!”
Linda slowly sat back down, holding her stinging cheek and trying to keep back the tears of grief, pain and embarrassment.
Shirley was frozen to the spot, trembling. God, Dolly has a temper! She’d never seen her fly off the handle like that before and could hardly believe it. And here was Dolly, sitting back smoking and checking over her notes as if nothing had happened.
From beneath her mop of black hair, Linda quietly spoke, “Why is it I’m always in the wrong?” she asked in a trembling voice.
Dolly took a huge drag of her cigarette before replying. “Because you’re twenty-six and I’m forty-six and I’m the one paying the bills.” She looked at Shirley, who was white-faced with shock. “Finish off making the tea, would you, Shirl?” she asked. Shirley went off to the kitchen without a word.
Dolly looked at Linda’s red cheek, where her four finger marks were clearly visible. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Linda got up and moved away from Dolly before she said something they’d all regret. Dolly didn’t care about Linda’s mood and continued as though her brief apology had solved all their problems. “You know what this means, though, don’t you? It means we’ll have to get someone else in.”
“Not a man,” Shirley piped up from the kitchen. “If we bring a fella in, half of London will know what we’re up to.”
“Preferably not a man, no. There’s no one in the ledgers I know well enough to trust, so I’ll have to think on it. But we might need to put the date of the job back to give us time to find the right woman.”
“Jesus Christ,” Linda said impatiently. “If all we need is another woman, I’ll find one.”
“I’ll find her,” Dolly said defiantly. There was no way anyone else was going to make a choice as important as that.
“You’re the boss.” Linda sneered.
“And if you don’t like it, you know what you can do! You can go back to bed with that bit of rough trade. I bet he’s a right keeper and, if he’s not, well, I’m sure there’ll be another one along in a minute.”
Coming out of the kitchen, Shirley had no idea what Dolly meant and certainly wasn’t going to ask. Linda stepped toward Dolly with furious eyes, clearly at breaking point. Shirley stepped quickly in front of her with a cup of tea, forcing Linda to stop dead. Unable to ignore the pleading in Shirley’s eyes, Linda took her tea and moved away from Dolly again. Shirley sat down in between them.
“You said we had ‘problems’—plural,” said Shirley, waving away Dolly’s horrible cigarette smoke.
“The Fisher brothers are coming on heavy and they’re not going to let up. They’ve already started on me, ripping my place apart and next time it’ll be my face. Then they’ll start on you two.” It was one thing for the widows to have a go at each other, but the Fishers were a different matter altogether. This news changed everything. Linda could walk away from Dolly if she became too much of a pain and Dolly would let her. Tony Fisher, on the other hand, would tear you apart just for turning your back on him. “The Fishers want Harry’s ledgers and they’re not taking no for an answer. This fourth man, whoever he was—well, I don’t think he’ll show his face round here again. I reckon he took off weeks ago.” Dolly stared at Linda and saw the hatred in her eyes for the coward who left her Joe to die such a slow and painful death. She spoke with total sincerity. “We’ll get him, Linda, and he’ll get what’s coming to him, but for the moment it’s good that no one can find him.”
Linda broke the gaze first, looking down at the dirty concrete floor before Dolly could see the tears welling up in her eyes.
“We’re going to pull a raid and I don’t want any of us getting hurt,” Dolly went on. “We’re not big strong fellas, we’re women. But we’ve got to start thinking like men. Boxer Davis works for the Fishers now and I’ll put money on the fact that he’s round there spilling the beans. And when they hear what he’s got to say, they’ll lay off.”
A self-satisfied smirk came over Dolly’s face and, as they waited for her to speak again, Shirley was suddenly reminded of being back in the sauna and learning about the raid for the first time. Whatever Dolly said next, Shirley knew she’d be stunned by it. She was right.
“I’ve told Boxer that the fourth man, the
one that got away, was Harry. Boxer believes that Harry’s alive and when he tells the Fishers, they’ll believe Harry’s got the ledgers. This is the best way to protect us right now. Harry was the only person round here who could keep the Fishers in check cos of what he had on them, so we need Harry to be alive again.”
“How can you be sure Boxer will tell them?” Shirley asked.
“He’ll talk. He always did, especially with a drink inside him. I gave him one of Harry’s suit jackets and two hundred quid so, drunk or sober, he’ll be feeling invincible.” Dolly finished her tea and handed her mug to Shirley. “I’ll be back in touch as soon as I’ve come up with the other member of the team.” Dolly opened her handbag, took out a bit of folded paper and handed it to Linda. “That’s a safe number for you both to call me on—it’s an unlisted line at the convent I volunteer at. You can leave a message there anytime and they’ll contact me. Memorize it, then burn it.” Without another word, Dolly scooped up Wolf and left.
Linda looked at the phone number for about ten seconds; then handed it to Shirley. “I’ve got no matches left; you’ll have to eat it.”
Shirley looked at the phone number too, then was about to pop the note in her mouth when she caught the look on Linda’s face.
“Joke! It’s a bleedin’ joke, Shirl.”
Shirley wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Today had been far too stressful.
“I can’t stand her sometimes,” Linda whispered.
Shirley’s reply wasn’t as supportive as Linda expected. “I think the feeling’s mutual.”
Linda shot Shirley a disdainful look. “She’s got no right to talk to us like we’re kids. I think you did really well with those jumpsuits.”
“I didn’t, Linda! They’re completely wrong and you know it. Dolly was right to be angry.”
“She’s no right to talk down to us or to slap me around. She’s not the boss.”
“She is.” Shirley’s voice was quiet, controlled and deadly serious. “If this is really happening . . . she is the boss.”
Linda was well and truly pissed by ten o’clock, and sat in her booth at the shooting arcade in the West End red light district with a sozzled grin on her face. But no matter how drunk she got, she never gave out the wrong change. Charlie stood by the entrance door and kept looking over nervously at the booth as she took swig after swig from the vodka bottle. He worried that if the boss came in now, and saw Linda pissed and singing at the top of her voice, he’d probably get the sack as well. He sighed and smiled—if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. He threw the remains of his coffee onto the street, went over to the booth and peered through the glass at Linda. It took her a while to focus her eyes but, when she did, she gave Charlie her broadest smile.
“Charlie, my old darlin’. How are you?” Charlie held up his empty mug and flicked his eyes toward her vodka bottle. “Bugger off.” Linda whispered through the gap where she gave people their change. “Everyone’ll want some.” Then she howled laughing. Letting her head flop forward, she started making the odd drunken snorting noise. After a few moments, Charlie could no longer tell if she was laughing or crying. He was just about to ask if she was OK when she flicked her head violently back again. Her eyes were hard now, and she spoke through gritted teeth.
“You know what, Charlie boy? I fucking love this place. I mean, look at it. There’s underage kids with fake ID being pestered by the local pedo . . . there’s a drunk kipping on the doorstep . . . there’s more dealers than druggies . . . and passing trade is prossies, their pimps and their punters. I’m surrounded by the best of the best. Yeah, I’m really going places, Charlie! Cheers!” Linda emptied the remaining vodka in one swallow.
As Charlie went back to stand by the entrance door, he saw Bella O’Reilly walk in. Linda was right: the passing trade was prostitutes and their pimps or punters. Bella had brought both. She had beautiful shiny black skin, sultry looks and was dressed to kill in a skin-tight yellow satin top and tight black jeans, a matching jacket slung over one shoulder. Her high heels made her look even taller than her imposing six feet. Bella stopped in the middle of the arcade, surveying the scene, as did her pimp, who hovered a short distance behind her. Oil Head, as he was commonly known, started joking with a couple of Chinese guys while twisting his black Fedora in his hands, his gold rings glinting in the arcade’s flashing lights. Charlie knew he was organizing a drug deal. He’d told Oil Head before about plying his trade in the arcade, but the pimp had just laughed—a sort of grunting nasal laugh, a result of snorting too much cocaine. The problem with Oil Head was you didn’t know if he was laughing with you or at you. He was a nasty bastard who liked roaring around on his Harley Davidson and all his girls were scared shitless of him, all except his number one—Bella O’Reilly.
Bella started swaggering round the machines like a seasoned rock performer working the stage, even stopping to sort out two loud-mouthed youths who gave her the come on. Whatever she said had the desired result. They both looked petrified, apologized profusely and made a hasty exit. Bella saw Linda in the booth and gave her a big smile before coming over. She didn’t need to say excuse me to get past people; they nervously stepped out of her way.
“Bella!” Linda screamed from inside the booth. Bella, still walking, did a quick bump-n-grind and then stopped in front of Linda, propping herself up against the glass.
Linda and Bella knew each other from way back. Bella had always been in a class of her own: big enough to take care of herself and scared of no one. Linda, unlike Bella, had never worked for a pimp; she’d been more of a lone amateur who only gave hand or oral relief as opposed to full sex, and well before she met Joe.
“How can you stand it in here?” Bella asked.
“It’s soundproof and the voddy helps,” Linda joked. “I love your hair, Bell.” Bella’s fabulous hair was now cropped close to her head, in a Grace Jones style. She wore a gold headband which, although it was cheap and sold on the market stalls, looked a million dollars on Bella and made her look like an African princess. “What you up to these days?” Linda asked.
“Same old, same old. Three spots a night at the ‘Z-Easy’ and anything I can fit in between.”
“How come you’re back in this neck of the woods?”
“You know me. I was doing all right, but then I lost my temper one night and beat this geezer up. Foreign bastard he was, couldn’t understand a word he was saying. His hands were everywhere, but he hadn’t paid for everywhere so I told him to leave off. When he didn’t I lamped him one. I pled guilty and Oil Head paid my fine.”
“So you owe him.”
“Big time. I’ll pay him off then see what I fancy doing.” Bella glanced across to Oil Head, who was whispering to one of the Chinese men and pointing toward Bella. “Looks like I might have a client.” Bella’s face became serious and she moved round to the door of the booth. Linda opened it so that they could talk face to face.
“I heard about Joe and I’m really sorry. He was one of the best and you two were great together, sugar. You need me, a few quid or anything then just ask, I’m gonna move back to my old pad soon so I’ll be close by and visit you more often. For now, I’m at the International.”
“Thanks, Bella. I appreciate that.”
Oil Head whistled to Bella and she held up her hand. Linda took her gently by the wrist. “You off the hard stuff?”
Bella looked embarrassed for a moment. “You got the wrong person, darlin’, that was the old man. He did the final OD three months back.” Then she added, “So I know what you’re going through.” Linda knew that Bella had used heroin in the past and took her denial to mean that she was clean now. She certainly looked clean. In fact, she looked fabulous. Bella gave Linda’s hand one final, comforting squeeze and then left.
Charlie appeared next to Linda. “I could give that black chick one,” he said, scratching his balls and sneakily sniffing his pit. Linda laughed at Charlie’s naivety.
“She could give you one an’ all, but y
ou wouldn’t get up afterward. You so much as look at her and she’d clip you round the ear.”
“I wouldn’t dip me wick in her anyway,” Charlie said defensively. “She’d probably give me a dose of the clap.” As he slunk away, he added, “She looks way too much like a fella anyway.”
Linda looked across at Bella as she left with her Chinese punter. From the back, with their overcoats and short black hair, they looked incredibly similar. Linda grinned to herself as she opened the drawer in her desk and got out a new bottle of vodka.
Chapter 11
Arnie Fisher poured two glasses of champagne, then took both of them over to the leather sofa where Carlos was sprawled out reading a magazine. He sat close to him and put his hand on his thigh. Carlos took the glass and, laying his arm across the back of the sofa, silently invited Arnie to sit back into it. The men chinked glasses and sipped their champagne.
Arnie was looking very dapper in a new cream silk suit. He got up, admired himself in the mirror, turned and smiled at Carlos. “Would you like one made up, too?” he asked. “It’d really suit you.” Arnie loved to dress Carlos, like a toy doll or a dog who had no opinion of their own. Carlos didn’t mind, in fact he quite enjoyed being pampered. He nodded seductively and sipped his drink.
Gloria buzzed to come through and, without waiting for an answer entered, dressed up to the nines, her huge tits bursting out of the 46 C cup. She leaned on the door. “Boxer’s outside, wants a word . . . let him in, shall I?”
Arnie adored Gloria. If he had been straight, he would have had a scene with her. They got on well, he could yell and shout at her and she didn’t give a toss. She was a good girl was Gloria, been with him for years, used to be a hostess downstairs, got a bit old for the racket, and went upstairs to the office. Her typing was still haywire, and she couldn’t spell, but somehow she got things in order, and she looked good out there at her desk.
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