Origins- the Road to Power

by Ricky Black

  ‘There was no one there. It’ll be Courtney’s people definitely. I’m gonna do some digging. Stay indoors and I’ll have someone outside watching.’

  Marcus was gone. Lamont sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache. The Yardies needed to be dealt with. It meant wading into the war between them and the English youths, but Lamont didn’t have a choice. He needed information. Taking out a spare phone, he dialled Shorty’s number.

  ‘Yo, L. I’m not waiting around like some little bitch doing nothing. The big man told me what happened. It’s on.’

  ‘Shorty, relax. This whole beef, what did it start over?’

  Shorty kissed his teeth down the phone, making Lamont’s head hurt more.

  ‘Money. A few Yardie’s were working with Keller and Mali. Summat went wrong with the deal, and Keller and Mali got ripped off. They tried getting their money back, but it didn’t work, so they did a drive-by. It went wrong, and they hit the wrong guys. Suddenly there’s a war, and no one’s backing down.’

  Lamont mulled that over. He’d heard about that shooting in passing, but hadn’t known the specifics.

  ‘And Brandon?’

  ‘He’s the hitter dudes were using. He disliked them Yardies, summat to do with how his dad treated his mum, so he was running around like Rambo doing stupid shit. Now, he’s stabbed the wrong person, and he’s on the run.’

  ‘Didn’t you consider telling him to stop?’

  ‘For what? He’s not a kid. He knew what he was doing. It was just a dumb plan.’

  Lamont couldn’t argue with that.

  ‘Okay, Shorty. Let the big man handle this. Stay out of sight. please.’

  Shorty grumbled before hanging up. Lamont drank some water, massaging his forehead. He knew why it had all started, and it was even more of a mess than previously.

  The police were already making encroachments into Chapeltown. Lamont didn’t want or need them poking around his activity. He needed to end the war, and he needed to do it quickly.

  Marcus checked his gun, looking to Charlie in the driver’s seat. He had his eyes on the road, totally in the zone. In the back, Sharma was ready to go. Marcus wished Victor could have rode with them, but he was still in recovery after a previous job had gone awry.

  Marcus had spoken with Shorty, who all-but begged to go on the mission with them. Shorty was an excellent solider, and they’d worked together in the past, but Marcus would handle this problem himself.

  ‘I’m going straight for Courtney. Keep everyone else at bay and secure them in the room. If we’re not gone in ten minutes, I’ve got a crew on standby, who will come in and spray the house. Cool?’

  Both men nodded. They pulled up down the street from Courtney’s spot. It was early evening and still warm, but there was no one outside to make an issue.

  They headed for the garden, Marcus behind Sharma, Charlie covering their backs. At a nod from Marcus, Sharma kicked in the door. They heard immediate noise. Marcus surged through with his shotgun, hitting a man who’d tried going for a weapon. He headed for the kitchen where Courtney and another goon were having a conversation. The goon went for a knife, but Marcus was quicker, the butt of his shotgun crushing the man’s jaw. He crumpled to the floor. Marcus aimed the weapon at Courtney.

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Tall-Man, what the hell are you doing? You can’t rush into my house like this,’ said Courtney, his eyes wide, locked on the shotgun.

  ‘Sit down, or I’ll sit you down,’ replied Marcus. He heard scuffling sounds and moved position to allow him to see the door. Courtney waited a beat, then slid into a seat, his hands and lip trembling.

  ‘What is this about?’

  ‘Who sent shots at Shorty’s spot? Mess me around, and we’ll kill all of you.’

  ‘You wanna start another war? You know who I am? You’ll all die.’

  Marcus’s eyes bored into Courtney’s. Courtney broke eye contact a moment later, sighing.

  ‘We’ve known each other for years. You know how I get down, and you know I don’t care who you send after me. Who sent shots at his spot?’

  ‘Look, he’s called Goodison. He went after Brandon’s people, then he sprayed Shorty’s yard. I didn’t tell him to do it.’

  ‘We spoke. You knew that Shorty had nothing to do with Neville getting stabbed, and you still went against me anyway?’ Marcus cocked the shotgun.

  ‘Tall-Man, please! On my mother, I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘You didn’t stop it. Gimme his number and a location. Now.’

  Courtney scribbled the address on some paper and gave it to Marcus. Marcus put it in his pocket, keeping his eyes on Courtney as he did so.

  ‘I’m gonna take care of Goodison. You’re gonna put the word out that Shorty had nothing to do with what happened. Understand?’

  ‘You think you can tell me what’s gonna happen? I am an elder, and you’re a kid. You cannot come into my house and start telling me what I’m going to do.’

  ‘If you don’t, I make a call and put a kill-squad into play. They’ll kill everyone connected to you, family or not. If you wanna do the same to me, then cool. I’m ready to die,’ Marcus again met the older man’s eyes. ‘Tell me if anything in my face suggests I might be joking.’

  There was a long silence, punctuated by whimpering sounds from the living room. Marcus tightened his grip, wondering if his team had been overwhelmed, and if he would need to fight his way out. Courtney finally nodded, letting out a deep breath.

  ‘I’ll put the word out. People will know that Goodison went into business for himself. We will not harm Shorty.’

  Marcus surveyed the man, wondering if he could trust him. He considered just killing him right there, to send a message to the rest, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t joking about the kill-team. They would murder Courtney’s family first, and save him for last if it came to it.

  ‘I hope we can work together in the future. Put your hands on the table.’

  Marcus searched Courtney for a weapon, then checked the unconscious goon and made to leave the room when Courtney spoke again.

  ‘What about Brandon? You protecting him too?’

  ‘Brandon who?’ said Marcus, leaving the kitchen. Half a dozen men were laid out on the living room floor, Sharma and Charlie securing them. Marcus grabbed their weapons and put them into a sports bag.

  ‘This shit ends here. Me and your boss have spoken. Don’t violate and make me come looking for every one of you.’

  Marcus walked out first, followed by the others.

  Friday 7 September 2001

  Lamont was in the passenger seat as Shorty drove, rapping along to some mediocre tune that he couldn’t get enough of. It had been a few weeks since the strife with the Yardies. Courtney kept his word and put it out that Shorty had nothing to do with Neville’s stabbing. It had been touch and go, but the Yardie gunman had survived, and was now in recovery. Brandon was abandoned and left to deal with the Yardie’s. His death was messy and highly publicised.

  Lamont had spoken with Marcus, and they had organised a loose truce for now, both sides agreeing to back away. Delroy and a few other influential kingpins had helped to give it a sense of credibility, and for now, there was peace. Lamont didn’t know how long it would last, but he was making the most of it.

  Delroy had spoken with him a few days ago, wanting to know if Lamont changed his mind about working for him. He’d also wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any further problems between Lamont and Reagan.

  ‘We’re here.’

  Shorty and Lamont climbed from the car, and Lamont followed his friend into the garden. They knocked, and Bill’s wife answered, her considerable cleavage packed into a tank-top. She smiled at Lamont, but her eyes lit up when she saw Shorty. Lamont resisted the urge to roll his eyes when they hugged. He didn’t know what they were playing at, but it was foolish.

  ‘Bill’s waiting.’

  Lamont and Shorty made their way to the office, and Bill
’s wife returned to what she was doing after grinning at Shorty. Lamont elbowed him, causing Shorty to scowl.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘You know what it was for. Don’t do anything that will jeopardise this arrangement. Please.’

  Shorty kissed his teeth, shooting Lamont a dirty look as they knocked on the office door. Bill was alone which was a surprise. Normally his brother Jonny watched his back. Lamont filed that information away. Bill had his feet up, a beer in his paw, eyes on a large football screen. He didn’t even move when he saw them.

  ‘Nice to see you lads. Enjoying the weather?’

  Lamont and Shorty both nodded. They didn’t need the small-talk. Lamont had been wary of their supplier ever since they’d watched him beat one of his workers half to death. Lamont didn’t understand why he’d wanted to send them a message, but he’d ensured that Marcus knew where the supplier lived, just in case.

  Lamont truly hoped there were no pending issues. The supply was excellent; they paid promptly, and there was always a healthy reserve in case they needed more. He had other suppliers he could work with as a backup, but Bill and Jonny were convenient. He didn’t want to ruin that flow if he didn’t have to. Business had exploded, and everyone was making enough money to where they didn’t need to kill each other. It wouldn’t last. It never did, but it was enough for now.

  ‘I don’t like it when it’s too hot. The missus always wants to go to the beach and all that crap. I keep telling her to just go on holiday without me, but she keeps talking bollocks about romance. Do you know what I’m on about?’

  Shorty laughed.

  ‘My missus keeps trying to get me to go away with her. No time for that shit.’

  Lamont didn’t reply. Women came in and out of his life, and he made no effort to keep them. From time to time he thought about Layla, wondering if he should have admitted how he felt. The fact she had a boyfriend irked him, but the man was lucky. There was something special about Layla, and Lamont knew she would go far.

  ‘What about you, L? A pretty boy like you must have the women going crazy.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Just looking for Ms Right I guess.’

  Shorty snickered, and Bill shook his head.

  ‘Make sure you’re not spending too much of all that bloody money you’re making on them. Anyway, let’s get to business. This shit with the bloody Jamaican lot. What’s going on?’

  ‘There was a beef between them. It was sorted.’

  ‘So why were people shooting at your mate there?’ Bill jerked his thumb toward Shorty, who had tuned out the conversation, watching the football.

  ‘He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s sorted. That I can assure you.’

  ‘Those guys are crazy. They robbed one of my spots and stole five boxes. That’s five kilo’s I now have to make up for, you know what I mean? I’m running a business, same as you. I can’t be doing that all the time.’

  ‘Bill, I understand your concerns, but I’m confused about why you’re talking to us about it.’

  ‘I’m talking to you because you’re my link to those guys. When I hear about shootings and stabbings and people thinking they’re gangsters and trying to do silly drive-by’s, I’m gonna run it by you lot, especially if you’re in the middle of it.’

  ‘There are no problems anymore. It was a misunderstanding that spiralled out of control.’

  Bill flicked off the TV, causing Shorty to kiss his teeth. He turned to Lamont.

  ‘I like you, L. So I’ll take your word for it. I’m gonna need you to take two extra boxes though, to help me out.’

  Lamont and Shorty exchanged a look, then Lamont replied.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Shorty, find a buyer for the extra drugs. I want them moved as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll sort it. Do you wanna explain what that was all about?’

  ‘The Yardie’s targeted Bill, and he was sniffing around to see if we’re involved.’

  ‘Why would he think that?’

  ‘Because the Yardie’s are black, and we’re black, so he’s lumping us together. I don’t know if he has any other black people he deals with, but he’s assuming we’re all connected. He gave us the extra drugs to see how we’d react. It could even be a sweetener so we call them off.’

  Shorty mulled that over as they pulled up at the red light.

  ‘Do you like dealing with him?’

  ‘He’s convenient. On a personal level, I don’t like him, and I think he knows it. Speaking of personal, what are you playing at?’

  Shorty cut his eyes to Lamont. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about you hugging up on Bill’s wife and making eyes at each other. Have you slept with her?’

  ‘Nah, we’re just messing around and flirting,’ replied Shorty. Lamont noticed he didn’t meet his eyes though.

  ‘Please keep it that way. I don’t like to tell you what to do, but you can understand why fucking the wife of the man who supplies us might be a bad idea, right?’

  ‘L, it’s cool. I’m not daft. I won’t mess with that woman. Stacey would kill me anyway.’

  ‘Okay. Drop me at my place then. I’ve got a meeting with Martin tomorrow.’

  ‘Everything is going well.’

  Lamont sipped a cup of coffee and listened to Martin drone on. They were in Martin’s office, and it was sweltering, the cramped quarters causing both men to sweat. On the desk between them were various pieces of paper highlighting profits and graphs.

  ‘What about the houses? Are we ready to invest?’

  Martin nodded. ‘Are you sure about the location? With the way things are in your neck of the woods, investing in property may be a bad idea. You’ve got a bloody gang war.’

  ‘The gang war is over,’ replied Lamont.

  ‘How do you know?’

  Lamont had no intention of sharing this information. Martin was aware Lamont was connected to crime, but didn’t know the full extent. Lamont trusted Martin, and they had made money together since their initial introduction, but there was a limit.

  ‘Just take my word for it. I want to invest in Chapeltown, so make it happen.’

  ‘I will. You’re the boss, and I’m here to help you stay rich. You’re talking about a massive investment, however. You have a good thing going. You’re invested in a few businesses, and they’re steadily making a profit. The barber’s especially has taken off over the past year. But, is it worth the risk?’

  Lamont wasn’t sure. He understood Martin’s position, but he’d had the idea to invest in property over a year ago, and he’d taken his time, doing his research, imploring Martin to do all the legwork. Now, he could do so.

  Lamont was investing over two hundred thousand pounds. This was a large portion of the money he had earned in his life as a drug dealer, and if he lost it, it would cripple the way he currently led his life. Martin was right to be cautious.

  ‘Yes. It’s worth the risk. If it works, it’ll set me up for everything else I need to do. Is the company in place?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve registered the company, and the office space and address are all sorted. Levine has looked over the figures and paperwork, and you can’t be touched on this. Have you spoken with him about your plans to invest?’

  ‘He’s my solicitor, not my money manager,’ Lamont replied. He had in fact spoken with Levine, and like Martin, the man felt that he shouldn’t invest his money in such a manner. It concerned Lamont that two of his pillars were so against him doing it, but he had to try.

  ‘Okay. I’ll get the ball rolling and start buying up houses.’ Martin wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Lamont slid to his feet and patted the man on his damp shoulder.

  ‘Stay in touch.’

  Lamont left the office, saying goodbye to Martin’s secretary. The suit he wore was too tight, but he liked to make the right impression when he went to see Martin, and blending in was essential.

  When Lamont left the premises, he took o
ff the suit jacket, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. A woman walking by smiled at Lamont and he returned it.

  The rest of Lamont’s day was free and clear. He needed something to distract him from Martin’s warnings, deciding to get a drink. Heading to a nearby coffee shop, he ordered an iced tea and took it outside. He’d taken a seat at one of the coffee shop tables when he glanced to his left. He froze.

  Layla was walking along the path, hand in hand with a smiling man. Layla hadn’t seen Lamont, too busy giggling at her partner and leaning into him.

  Lamont felt a rage take over him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in years. He forced himself to stay seated, keeping his head down and gritting his teeth as Layla floated by. He knew she had someone, but seeing it firsthand was something different. He wondered if seeing her was a sign he shouldn’t invest his money. Layla had moved on, and Lamont fully knew that he could have made her his woman if he’d asked. Layla had liked him, but Lamont had been in too much of a funk to see what was right in front of him. Now it was gone.

  He glanced up at them, watching them walk down the path, icy rage still filling his veins. Lamont’s jaw clenched, and he sipped his drink to distract him. Nothing worked though. Layla was more beautiful than ever, and he didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t have her that he felt this way, but there it was.

  Finally gaining his composure, Lamont dialled a number, holding the phone to his ear.

  ‘Shorty? Wanna go out tonight? I need to drink. A lot.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Friday 17 May 2002

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, L?’

  Lamont sipped a glass of champagne and smiled at Martin.

  ‘Yeah, I’m good.’

  Martin smiled nervously, drinking his own drink.

  ‘Good. Tonight is all about you.’

  ‘No. This is your thing,’ Lamont insisted, taking another sip. He wore a light grey shirt with trousers and expensive shoes. His hair was neatly lined up, and he was clean shaven, save for his tapered sideburns and moustache. Lamont was the poster boy for a man who had made it. He had on a Rolex he had treated himself to, and some Calvin Klein aftershave. He felt fresh, but out of place.