by Ricky Black
Lamont returned with Xiyu’s drink, annoyed to see that his lady-friend from before draped all over him again. Xiyu had a seedy smile on his face now as she whispered something into his ear that made him glance around to see if anyone overheard. Approaching, Lamont gave Xiyu his drink and sat down with a glass of water. If he had another pint, he’d end staying all night.
‘I spoke with Martin. He’s busy this week, but said to give you his number. You can have a meeting on Tuesday. Ring him for the details.’
‘Thanks, Xiyu. Means a lot.’ Lamont took out his phone, ignoring the missed calls and texts. Xiyu relayed Martin’s number and Lamont stored it in his phone.
‘I’m gonna be off then.’
‘Stay and finish your drink at least, pal,’ Xiyu insisted, pointing at the water that Lamont hadn’t touched. Lamont did as bidden. ‘Can I ask you a question, L?’
‘Go for it.’
‘How much are we talking about here?’
‘In terms of?’
‘How much are you wanting to invest? I mean, Martin’s small-time, but he’s not gonna want an investment of like five hundred quid or summat. He’s a serious guy.’
‘So am I.’
‘How much then?’
Lamont drained his water and stood.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he reached into his pocket and handed Xiyu a fifty pound note. ‘Buy yourself a few drinks on me. Thanks for the introduction.’ Nodding at his girl and shaking Xiyu’s hand, Lamont made his way out of the pub, phone already to his ear to call a taxi.
Lamont sat in the reception of an office building in town, reading a magazine and trying his best to relax. True to his word, Xiyu had set up everything for Lamont. He’d spoken to Martin over the phone and they arranged a sit down to get a feel for one another.
Lamont felt out of his element. Everyone around him seemed immaculate in their neat business attire. They carried briefcases, fancy bags and containers of coffee. They seemed busy, sure-footed, never hanging around to chat, always moving from point A to B. Even the receptionists were demure and professional. For Lamont it was a brand new environment, but he was determined to navigate it.
The reception was spacious, with marble flooring and mahogany desks, neutral walls covered with various paintings and certificates announcing the authenticity of the company. Lamont was definitely sold. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing yet.
As Lamont waited for Martin, he realised he didn’t even know what the man looked like. He was about to ring Xiyu and ask for a description when he heard a small voice call his name. He turned, watching as a red-faced, lumpy man hurried towards him. The man held out his hand and as he did so, the folder he carried fell to the floor, papers going everywhere. If possible, the man’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. Several workers passed, openly sniggering.
‘You must be Martin.’ Lamont bent down to help Martin pick up the paperwork.
‘Yes, I’m Martin Fisher. It’s good to meet you. And thank you.’ Martin gestured to the papers. He forced them together in a haphazard pile, then shook Lamont’s hand with his clammier one. They went into the lift and took it to the second floor. Lamont was led into the work area, dozens of others dressed like Martin talking loudly on phones. The smell of sweat, sickly sweet aftershave and coffee were prominent.
Lamont took everything in on his way to Martin’s shabby cubicle. It was boxy, the wooden desk too small for the assortment of paperwork covering it. There were two dirty coffee mugs that needed cleaning and a copy of a broadsheet newspaper that Lamont saw that was three days old. He sat opposite Martin and waited for him to begin.
‘I’m sorry about the mess. I haven’t had much time to do a clean.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Can I get you something to drink?’
‘No thank you.’
‘Did Martha downstairs offer you something?’
‘She did.’
‘And you’re sure you don’t want anything?’
Lamont nodded. Martin copied the movement, nodding his head frenziedly like an idiot. He quickly stopped, taking a deep breath. With shaking hands, he reached for the prospectus folder he had dropped in reception and opened it. His eyes scanned the first page quickly. Cursing under his breath, he moved it to the side.
‘Really sorry about this. I had them all in order, and now . . .’ He ruffled his floppy black hair, breathing hard. ‘I’m just going to get a drink. You sure I can’t bring you one back?’
‘I’m fine.’ Lamont’s words had a slight edge now, that Martin recognised. Shuffling from his chair, he tottered to the kitchen at the far end of the office. He came back a minute later, drinking from what looked like a canister of water. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he reached for the papers again.
‘So . . . Xiyu says that you were interested in investing some money? Depending on the figures, I think I can help.’
‘In what way?’ Lamont asked. Xiyu had given little insight into what Martin actually did.
‘I mainly deal in property. Buying into houses, doing them up, renting or selling them. In terms of business, I know of quite a few companies looking for investments. One of these companies is a letting agency. I think it could be a good fit for you in terms of what you’re wanting to invest.’
Lamont mulled that over, not wanting to speak before he understood what Martin was saying.
‘If I’m interested, what happens then?’
‘I put you in play, introduce you to the others, and you can decide, sign the contracts, whatever.’ Martin seemed more relaxed now, more confident talking figures.
‘Can I take the prospectus away with me?’
‘Of course. You’re in control here. This doesn’t move forward without you being fully committed,’ said Martin.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what do you get out of this?’
‘A simple middleman fee. A percentage from you and a percentage from whoever you work with.’
‘So, you don’t invest in any of these companies yourself?’
‘I have a share in the letting agency.’
‘Do you make money from it?’
Martin took another sip from his water.
‘Yes. The aim of the game here is steady, consistent profit. Xiyu said you’d probably deal in mainly cash. What I will help you do is invest that cash into a portfolio so you’re much more flexible in terms of capital. Cash is good, but also not good if you understand my meaning.’
‘It’s why I’m here.’
‘That’s good. I promise you that any of these companies you consider will do wonders for you in the long run. Take the prospectus away, consider your options and then get in touch with me. I’ll have a meeting set up in no time.’
Monday 22 February 1999
‘This is big for us, L.’
After several months, Louie had finally stopped dithering, allowing Lamont and Shorty to run his drugs line for him. He had made the initial introduction to his supplier, and Lamont and Shorty were on the way to meet him whilst K-Bar handled business.
‘I know, Shorty.’
‘If we can go away with a kilo, then we’re up and running.’ Shorty continued, driving to the Hyde Park meet. They had rented a vehicle using Louie’s name and credit card.
‘Shorty, I know,’ Lamont repeated. Shorty glanced over but said nothing. Louie had said little about the supplier, other than saying they went way back.
They climbed out after reaching the spot, knocking at the door. A woman opened it. She looked to be in her forties, busty with bleached-blonde hair. She smiled at the pair, and they smiled back.
‘You lads here to see Bill?’ she asked. They nodded.
‘Follow me. I’ll take you to him.’ She led them to the kitchen. Two men sat there, eating large meals and talking to one another in quick tones. They paused when they saw Lamont and Shorty.
‘You lot must be Louie’s lads,’ one of them said. He was bald with a thick moustach
e and the makings of a beard. He stared at the pair through pale blue eyes as he shovelled food in his mouth.
‘That’s right,’ said Lamont.
‘Sit down then. We’ll talk when I’ve munched this,’ he gestured to the food. Shorty and Lamont took seats. The woman waited by the wall.
‘Do you want a drink or owt?’
They shook their heads.
‘Sweet,’ Bill turned to the woman. ‘Go kick your feet up and watch TV, love. I’ll be along soon.’
The other man continued to stare at Lamont and Shorty. His expression wasn’t friendly.
‘This is my bro, Jonny,’ said Bill. Both men nodded at Jonny, who didn’t respond. Lamont wondered if they should have brought Marcus.
‘Right, let’s talk,’ Bill pushed his plate to the side and stifled a burp. ‘Louie speaks bloody highly of you two. Says you’re reliable and you’ve never tried fucking him over,’ he nodded in approval to his own statement. ‘Lou’s a good guy. Used to help our old man a lot before he died.’
‘He’s been good to us too. We want to make him richer,’ said Lamont. Bill laughed.
‘And yourselves.’
‘Definitely. No point doing this otherwise.’
‘I normally give Lou half a kilo. He’s gone over prices hasn’t he?’
Lamont nodded. ‘If possible, we want to step up. Order wise.’
Bill and Jonny shared a look.
‘Step up to what?’
Lamont paused for a second, keeping his eyes on the brothers.
‘A whole box of each.’
‘Can you afford that?’ Bill let out a low whistle.
‘We can afford half up front. The rest plus five percent when we’ve shifted them.’
‘Can you move it though?’
‘Everything is in place,’ said Lamont. ‘We can move it with relatively little effort.’
Bill stared Lamont down again. Lamont matched his expression.
‘I’m gonna give you lads a play. Mess about with my money though . . .’ Bill didn’t need to finish. Shorty’s eyes narrowed, but Lamont held out his hand. Bill shook.
‘I’d expect nothing less, Bill.’
‘I’m gonna shoot off now that’s sorted. Jonny will sort the particulars. I want my end in two weeks. Toodle-oo gents.’
As Jonny turned to address them, Lamont felt a happy glow in his stomach.
After meeting with Bill and Jonny, Shorty and K-Bar broke the drugs down, ensuring Louie got a portion for his runners. They hit the streets with a vengeance, selling out quicker than any of them expected. Bill and Jonny were stunned when Shorty returned with their profit after less than a week, asking for more.
They spread far, establishing new links. Bit by bit, the gulf between Lamont’s faction and others grew. Lamont wanted more though, and intended to get it.
Chapter Fourteen
Friday 30 April 1999
Lamont and Marika sat in a high-class restaurant in the city centre. Lamont wore a grey shirt, black trousers and shoes, with Marika wearing a ruffled shirt and tight denim jeans.
For Lamont, it was difficult to see his little sister was growing up. She looked older than her years, with a fresh-faced beauty, intense eyes and dark hair tumbling over slender shoulders. Several patrons in the venue were openly eyeing her. Lamont shot each a vicious look, making them look away.
‘Can I get some wine?’ Marika asked.
‘No. You’re sixteen.’
‘Why bother bringing me to this expensive restaurant then? May as well have bought me a takeaway.’
‘Whatever. How’s school?’ Lamont ignored Marika’s pouting.
‘Boring.’
‘Are you revising for your exams?’
‘Yes. Every day.’
Lamont knew she was lying. Despite being bright, Marika spent more time trying to get out of school than applying herself.
‘Take it seriously. Please. You can do whatever you want, with the right qualifications.’
‘Is that why I barely see you anymore? Are you doing whatever you want?’
‘I’m doing what I need to. You need to be better than me though,’ Lamont sipped his sparkling water. ‘How are things at home?’
‘L, don’t go there.’ Marika shook her head. The waiter approached them to take their orders. They both settled for a pasta, fish and salad combo.
‘I’m just saying. If you wanted to move out, I’d help you rent somewhere. You wouldn’t even have to pay rent until you found a job.’
‘Look, you’re my big bro and I love you, so I’m not gonna mention the blatant disrespect you’ve shown Auntie.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Auntie told me about you threatening her before you moved out. Tell me your side.’
‘You’ve already decided, so what’s the point?’ Lamont folded his arms, nostrils flaring.
‘Cool.’ Marika shrugged, and they sat in silence. When their food arrived, they kept their eyes down. Once they were finished, Lamont paid the bill, and they left the restaurant, walking through the city centre, particularly beautiful tonight, the moon shimmering amid the dark backdrop of the sky. People glanced at the striking pair as they ambled by.
‘I don’t want to argue,’ Lamont finally said, breaking the tension.
‘Me neither. Let’s agree not to talk about home life.’
‘I like that.’ Lamont had a wide grin on his face now. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye as a couple walked towards him. He was on edge until he recognised the man.
‘Hello, Lamont,’ said Nigel Worthington, his old coach. His eyes fell on Marika. ‘You’ve grown up since I last saw you, girl.’
Marika beamed.
‘How are you doing?’ Lamont asked Nigel. He smiled at the woman by Nigel’s side and she returned the gesture.
‘I’m fantastic. This is my wife, Paulina. Paulina, this is a young man I used to train, Lamont, and his pretty little sister Marika.’
Marika’s face lit up when Nigel introduced her. She made small-talk with Nigel’s wife while the men moved a short distance away.
‘How’s it all going then?’ Nigel asked.
‘I’m living.’
‘Looks like it. That’s a very expensive looking outfit you’re wearing.’ Nigel gave Lamont a once-over.
‘Look the part, be the part, right?’
Nigel nodded. ‘That makes sense,’ he glanced over at the women. ‘I’m glad I ran into you. I always hated how we fell out. I was never trying to preach to you. I just wanted you to know.’
‘I appreciate that.’
Nigel coughed, taking a deep breath.
‘I walked your path. Long time ago, I was in those same streets, shotting poison because I thought it was all I could do. I saw the light after a while,’ Nigel paused again, his dark eyes boring into Lamont’s. ‘I’m not trying to lecture you, L. Just think about what you really want,’ he finished, heading back to the women. Lamont stared into space for a moment, shocked at Nigel’s confession. It explained a lot. With another glance at the deep night sky, he followed Nigel.
When Auntie’s home loomed into view later, Lamont tensed, but maintained his composure.
‘You’re not coming in are you?’ said Marika, her voice quiet. Lamont reached into his pocket and gave his sister some money.
‘Buy yourself something nice, sis.’ He held her tightly.
‘Can I see you again soon?’ Marika said into his chest.
‘Anytime you need me, I’ll be there. I promise you that.’ Letting his younger sister go, Lamont watched as she went inside, then turned to walk home, buoyed. It was important that he and Marika remained in a good place.
Lamont was almost at the corner of Hamilton Avenue when a black car pulled up next to him. The passenger window wound down.
‘Are you Lamont?’ A bald man said in a deep voice.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘Get in the back. Someone wants to talk to you.�
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‘Who?’ Lamont’s eyes narrowed.
‘If we wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt. Don’t be awkward.’
Weighing this up, Lamont climbed in the car.
The journey to the unknown destination proceeded in silence. Lamont had no idea who had summoned him. The driver and passenger looked solid. Lamont wondered if it was Marcus or Shorty’s idea of a joke but when the car stopped at the iron gates of a mansion, he knew this was bigger.
After the driver spoke into a mouthpiece on the side of the gate, the gates opened and the car cruised in, pulling to a stop at the top of a long driveway.
‘Get out.’
Lamont complied. The driver stayed in the car as Lamont and the lackey walked towards the front door and entered the house. The hallway was adorned with paintings. Knocking on a mahogany door, the lackey instructed Lamont to sit down, closing the door behind him.
A few minutes later the door opened again, another man ambling in, his large frame filling the doorway. He stared Lamont down, then took a seat opposite him in a regal leather armchair.
‘You know who I am.’ It was a statement, not a question. Lamont nodded. He’d recognised the man straight away.
‘Who am I then?’ The man barely spoke above a whisper. Lamont caught every word though.
‘Delroy Williams.’
‘Do you know what I do?’
‘Whatever you need to.’
Delroy Williams controlled much of the local drug trade. He was a powerful man who had ordered people killed, even occasionally pulling the trigger himself. He’d moved to Britain from the West Indies, cutting a bloody swath through the streets as soon as he stepped off the boat. He was large and dreadlocked, with beady, piercing eyes, a bulbous nose and huge hands. He wore a polo shirt that stretched over a massive gut.
‘Whatever I need to. I like that.’ Delroy rose, heading to a drinks cabinet in the corner. He poured two glasses of brandy, handing one to Lamont.
‘You wondering why you’re here yet?’ Delroy asked. Again Lamont nodded. ‘You don’t talk much do you?’