by Ricky Black
‘You don’t need to. Do what you wanna do.’
‘I want to know why you have a problem with it.’
‘I have a problem with Chink. Like I said, he’s not dirty like us,’ Shorty repeated.
‘What the hell does that mean? Is that a race thing again?’
Shorty shook his head as he swerved into the next lane, cutting off the driver behind him. It was a tactic he undertook now and then to ensure he wasn’t being followed.
‘We’re grinders. We came up hard and that’s why we’re doing this. Chink is a little Uni punk. He’s not built for this life.’
‘Yet, he made six grand for us. Six grand in a few weeks, with no extra help. Why can’t you see the potential in that?’
Shorty made a face, ‘It’s only six bags. Big deal. We make more than that daily. Much more.’
‘Yes, but now we have another source of income, one that we don’t have to do any groundwork for, because Xiyu did it for us. The club scene isn’t easy. He’s navigating it and that means a whole different type of customer. A more reliable, clean cut type.’
Shorty sucked his teeth but didn’t reply.
‘Shorty, this is a good move. At least consider it. If it doesn’t work out, we don’t lose much.’
‘We lose money if he flops. When he flops.’
‘Like you said though, we make more than that already,’ Lamont reminded him, laughing. Shorty didn’t reciprocate.
‘I don’t trust him.’
‘Trust me. I’ve never steered you wrong yet, and I have a good feeling about this. It could take us to the next level.’
Shorty shrugged. They were approaching the city centre now. The music volume had increased again, but Lamont didn’t mind. If it helped placate Shorty, he was fine with it.
Lamont wondered what he’d missed with Xiyu and Shorty. He’d hung out with both, but time spent with Shorty normally involved running around the streets, playing football. Lamont’s time with Xiyu consisted of playing chess and practising maths for fun. It had been a weird balance but seemed to have worked out.
Lamont wondered if it was simple jealousy that was affecting Shorty’s decision.
‘Do you want me to arrange a meeting with Xiyu so he can explain the plan to you?’
‘Nah, if you wanna deal with him, then do it. I’m down with you but I ain’t gotta like that Chinky motherfucker and I don’t. First time he messes up, he can fuck off back to those little puffs he goes Uni with.’
Lamont laughed again. Shorty was hilarious when he was grumpy.
‘Let’s get you some food and put a smile on your face. I’m buying.’
Lamont parked his car on Chapeltown Road, smoothing the folds of his jacket and walking towards the barber shop. The sign gleamed, but there was a sense of foreboding as he approached the shop. Lamont ignored the feeling and stepped inside. He hadn’t been in a while, but it still reeked of sheen, hair grease, and a lingering fast food smell.
There were three ripped barber seats, unkempt and barely held together. The wooden seating area looked uncomfortable, and there wasn’t a customer in sight.
‘Lamont Jones, is that you?’ Trinidad Tommy came from the back, limping toward Lamont. The pair shook hands. Trinidad didn’t look like he’d aged in the few years it had been since Lamont had seen him. He was balding, but his skin shone and he looked healthier than some younger people Lamont knew. His grip was like rock. The strength never left some people.
‘Nice to see you, Trinidad.’
‘You too, you too. I haven’t seen you in a long time, but you’ve grown up good. You favour your mother.’
Lamont swallowed a lump in his throat at the mention of his mother.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you wanting a trim?’ Trinidad half-heartedly gestured to one of the barber chairs. Lamont slid into the seat, instructing Trinidad to shape him up.
‘How are you doing then?’ Trinidad asked, combing out Lamont’s hair before he shaved it.
‘I’m doing well. In fact, when you’re finished, I want to talk with you. Cool?’
Trinidad frowned, but nodded. When he’d finished Lamont’s hair and cleaned him up, they went into the kitchen area. Trinidad sat down, Lamont remained standing.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I’ve heard about your money troubles,’ Lamont said. Trinidad scowled.
‘People shouldn’t be telling tales. My problems are my own, and I’ll sort them myself.’
‘What do you need?’
‘I don’t need anything, Lamont. I’ve never needed anything. I’ve worked hard, looked after myself my whole life. I’ll make it through this.’
‘Trinidad,’ Lamont looked at the wizened barber, holding his stare until the man looked away. Trinidad had known Lamont Jones since he was a child, and he’d never known him to exhibit such a quiet intensity.
Trinidad had heard rumours about what Lamont was into, and that he was doing very well. Looking at him now, it wasn’t a surprise. ‘I want to help you. I understand you’re proud, but I’m asking you what you need, and I want an answer.’
Trinidad swallowed, sighing. ‘I need ten thousand pounds to get the creditors off my back.’
Lamont scratched the scar on his chin, silently staring into space. Trinidad watched, not knowing what to do. Finally, Lamont smiled.
‘I want to be partners with you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I want us to go into business. I’ll give you twenty thousand pounds. Ten, you can use to pay what you owe. The other ten will be an investment. We’ll breathe some life into your business and work together to grow.’
‘Is this a joke?’ Trinidad’s eyes narrowed.
‘I don’t joke about money, Trinidad. We can draw up an official contract, but I’m deadly serious about this.’
Shaking his head, Trinidad smiled and shook hands with Lamont.
‘I agree.’
‘What’s the plan here, L?’
Lamont and Shorty were at the barbers, sitting in Lamont’s new office. In the background, they could hear the hammering and drilling as the contractors worked on renovating the premises. The office had been completed first at Lamont’s request, and he was looking forward to filling the space with his own belongings.
‘You’ll need to be more specific,’ replied Lamont, staring around the room, envisioning what he would put where.
‘Why did you invest twenty bags in this piece-of-shit barbers?’
‘Because, Trinidad needed help for starters, and I think some businesses are important in Chapeltown. A barber shop is one of them. Another reason is the money factor.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘We’re growing. Our crew is already one of the biggest in the streets. It’s only a matter of time before people look at us, and we have to be able to justify the money. Investing in a cash-rich business like this place is smart. I’ve been working with that white dude Xiyu put me onto, and he’s helping me move my money around. There’s more to life than buying new chains and clothes and cars.’
‘Fam, look how we grew up,’ Shorty replied. ‘We were broker than broke. Now that I’ve got money in my pocket, you better believe that I’m gonna buy up everything that I always wanted. That’s the Hood dream, L.’
Lamont shrugged. ‘My dream is a little bigger, Shorty. And I don’t want any police officer or person of authority to take my dream away from me whenever they wished.’
With that, the old friends sat in silence, listening to the work of the builders.
‘We’re here.’
Lamont and K-Bar climbed from the ride, approaching the meeting spot. K-Bar was armed, and his confident demeanour emboldened Lamont. The door opened as they cleared the garden. A man shook both their hands, leading them into the living room.
A few others milled around, glaring at the pair. Lamont held the eyes of everyone, K-Bar doing the same, until the men looked away.
‘Clear the room,’ Lamo
nt said. They didn’t work for him, yet didn’t hesitate to listen, heading upstairs. The man they’d come to meet looked put-out, but said nothing.
‘Is everything in place then?’ Lamont asked Terry Worthy. Terry ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, making a sucking sound with his teeth.
‘Blanka’s proper paranoid. Doesn’t know who he can trust. Spends most of his time snorting his own coke and snapping at people. His guys are looking to be led by someone else. A few are saying it should be me.’ Terry puffed out his chest, smirking.
Lamont resisted the urge to laugh. Terry was a clown, but he was entertaining, and something often overlooked in this business of theirs. Terry was an independent dealer, but had links amongst Blanka’s people and in wider circles. He’d been pushing to do business with Lamont for a while, and they’d fed him little crumbs, slowing introducing him to the plan to take out Blanka. He’d proved instrumental, and Lamont was good at keeping his ego in check.
‘Do you want to lead?’
Terry shrugged. ‘Sometimes guys step up, don’t they? I mean, look at you. You came out of nowhere, and now you’re top guy. Why can’t I do it too?’
Lamont could have easily named fifty reasons Terry couldn’t do it, but smiled. Terry was easy to control, and they only needed him a while longer. In the meantime, Terry had other links that Lamont had already started to plunder. His bank balance was increasing at an alarming place, and a lot of it was down to the extracurricular moves he was making. Terry had unwittingly been a massive help in that regard.
‘I’m on board with you stepping up. Spencer’s in place and ready to work with us for now?’
Terry nodded. ‘Spencer is a good lad. He’s loyal when you give him reason to be, and Blanka has been taking him for granted for a while now. By the end of this week, everything will be in place, and he’ll be gone.’
When the pair left Terry’s and climbed into K-Bar’s car, Lamont turned to him before he started the engine.
‘Put a man on Terry, follow him wherever he goes. Until Blanka is dead, I don’t trust him.’
‘You’ve got it, L,’ said K-Bar, before driving away.
Wednesday 21 July 1999
Blanka was ready.
Nothing would stop his takeover. He’d seen the gaps for a while; weaknesses in the Hood infrastructure. There were a few established kingpins at the top. To topple them would take a lot of firepower and resources, which he didn’t have at present.
Blanka had shown great patience in biding his time, building links, bullying those he could, and amassing money. He planned on waging war on a few factions that were getting too big for their boots, namely an organisation led by Lamont Jones.
Blanka knew a little about Lamont; he was supposed to be some kind of genius who everyone raved about like he was Lucky Luciano. He too had built his crew from the ground up and had solid people under him. Blanka knew about Shorty and K-Bar. The pair had earned their deadly reputations, but so had Blanka. He’d killed before too, and he’d do it again.
Blanka had told none of his people about the plan to take out Lamont Jones, unsure of whom to trust. He’d reveal it to them in time and put one of them in place to run the remains of Lamont’s crew after he decimated them.
Snorting another line of coke and turning up the volume on the Scarface video cassette, Blanka wiped his eyes and reached for a bottle of water, chugging it before stumbling to his feet. He lurched upstairs to use the toilet. As he was washing and drying his hands, Blanka heard a banging noise from downstairs.
‘Oi, what’s going on down there!’ He roared. He’d ordered two kids to cook crack in the kitchen, but he hadn’t told them to have a party while they did it. When he didn’t receive an answer, Blanka’s nostrils flared. He hurried to one of the bedrooms, rooting under the bed for his equaliser; a Mac-10 machine gun with an extended clip. Making sure it was loaded, he hurried downstairs, noting the front door had been left wide open.
Eyes darting around, Blanka heard another noise and decided enough was enough. He began firing, hands jerking to keep the gun steady as he sprayed rounds, hearing the cracking sounds of bullets hitting walls, the churning of metal on metal. He paused, taking cover next to the door, then fired again.
There was return fire this time, bullets thudding around him. Blanka didn’t know who was coming for him, but they would regret it.
‘You ain’t taking me!’ Blanka continued to yell as he pumped out rounds. ‘Come and take me head-on, you pussies! You think I’m scared?’
It was hard to see through the gun smoke and debris, but Blanka was sure he had more weaponry dotted around than whoever was out there. They were near the garden, but he had them pinned down. Blanka was so focused on the men in front, that watching his back hadn’t occurred to him.
Marcus strolled through the back entrance Blanka’s workers had unlocked, smirking at the sight of Blanka posturing like Pacino. He had all the time in the world to raise the gun clutched in his hand and fire.
Blanka screamed as the back of his leg seemed to explode. He lost his balance, and the gun tumbled from his grip. Blanka didn’t have time to see who was shooting as two more bullets thudded into his back, dropping him. The last thing he saw was a smiling Marcus aiming the gun at his face. There was a bang and a flash before everything went dark.
Standing over Blanka’s prone frame, Marcus shot him twice more in the head, then disappeared through the back again. He climbed into the waiting car, and Victor drove away. In the destroyed living room, Blood seeped from Blanka, as Scarface continued to play out in the background.
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday 16 May 2000
Lamont left his house. A grey Suzuki jeep idled by the curb, and he climbed in the back.
‘Moneybags, how you doing?’ Marcus pulled away, the engine purring.
‘I’m fine. Wish I knew where I was going though,’ replied Lamont. All Marcus had said was that they were going to see someone. With Marcus that could mean anything. He stayed quiet as Marcus turned up the track. Marcus was heavily into his old school music, not that Lamont minded too much. It was easy to settle in and listen to Rakim blessing the tracks.
After a while, they arrived at a semi-detached home in Shadwell. Lamont glanced at the surrounding houses, wondering who Marcus knew in this area. He noted that Marcus had turned the music down and was tapping his hands on the steering wheel, almost as if he was nervous. Lamont knew they weren’t going to see women. Marcus had dragged him to see them in the past, and there was never so much fuss.
‘Right, c’mon then.’ Marcus killed the engine and climbed from the ride. Lamont followed, eyeing his friend strangely. Marcus had his hands jammed in his pockets, and his face seemed tense. Lamont wondered if he was having problems with another crew. They knocked on the door which was answered a moment later.
‘Marcus, good to see you.’ A man smiled warmly at them. He was average height and build, with a lined face and salt and pepper hair. He led them to the sitting room. It was elaborately furnished, with thick carpeting and dark brown furniture.
‘Drinks?’
Both men shook their heads. The older man fixed himself a glass of whiskey and sat in an armchair, his eyes on Lamont.
‘Marcus has told me a lot about you. He wanted us to meet.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, sir, who exactly are you? Marcus never said.’ Lamont noticed Marcus tense up next to him, but the giant stayed silent. The old man seemed unaffected by Lamont’s directness, smiling mildly.
‘My name is Junior. I’m an old acquaintance of Marcus’s.’
Lamont nodded. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how did you make his acquaintance?’
‘I import things. Marcus was introduced to me and we hit it off. He’s mentioned you often. We figured it was time for us to meet.’
‘What has Marcus told you?’
‘He’s told me you’re the smartest person he knows. I have other sources too, and they tell me you’re the f
uture of our business.’
Lamont didn’t respond straight away. He’d stepped up in the past few years, but he’d never met Junior, and was shocked Marcus knew someone he wasn’t aware of.
‘I see.’
Junior continued to smile. ‘You’re nervous. I understand. Your reputation precedes you, and I know you like things quiet. You have to realise that everything you do makes ripples. Blanka for example.’
Lamont was now paying attention. Marcus had murdered Blanka for him nearly a year ago, and the streets had been hotter than ever. The police investigated and kept up the pressure on the streets. Blanka had a reputation for violence, so there were many rumours of how he’d met his demise, and every crew in the area was linked to the murder.
The fact they found nearly a dozen weapons dotted around the safe house proved Blanka knew his days were numbered.
Lamont had spun a story through the streets that Blanka owed some Dutch gangsters money and was murdered because of this. The story gained traction, but eventually, people just stopped talking about Blanka and moved on.
Lamont took over his territory, absorbed his customers, and put one of Blanka’s old workers, Spencer, in charge. Spencer paid Lamont sixty percent of his profits for the privilege and protection.
‘Do you think it was handled badly?’ Lamont was interested in Junior’s opinion.
‘Blanka’s death was always going to cause waves. He was a force, larger than life to some. There is no way to quietly murder such men. He was a mad dog and needed putting down. Have you made the most of the situation?’
Lamont nodded, cutting his eyes to Marcus. The giant remained slouched against the wall, his muscled arms folded.
‘Be careful. You’re known now; people will seek to take advantage, and the authorities will be watching. I won’t ask about your financial situation, but I imagine you’re doing well, so let me give you the following piece of advice; diversify and don’t let them come after your money.’