Origins- the Road to Power

by Ricky Black

  Lamont left.

  Days passed. Lamont remained indoors, everyone else coordinating to keep things running smoothly, and hunt the renegade Yardie.

  Lamont had made enquiries into where Rochelle could be, but she had disappeared. He recalled their conversation. He had ripped into her on the phone, and though he didn’t regret what he said, he wished he’d shown more patience. She could have led him to Leader.

  Pausing the Sopranos episode, Lamont went to freshen up. He was tired of sitting around. Shorty had left him a loaner, and old Peugeot that belonged to an associate of theirs. Shorty was driving Lamont’s Lexus to keep up appearances.

  Driving to the Hood, Lamont parked around the corner from Shorty’s hideout and walked in. Downstairs, all the lights were off, but Lamont could see lights coming from upstairs along with the sound of soft music.

  ‘Shorty?’ he called. ‘Are you about?’

  Knocking once on the master bedroom, Lamont entered. He heard TLC playing in the background at the same time he saw the bare breasts of Bill’s wife. She gave a gasp when she saw Lamont and covered herself. Lamont’s eyes flitted to Shorty, shirtless and grinning. No-one spoke, as TLC crooned about a Red Light Special. Lamont shook his head, but couldn’t think of the words.

  ‘I’ll be downstairs,’ he said finally, ‘when you’re done with your business.’

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’

  Half an hour later, Bill’s sheepish-looking wife had been sent home in a taxi. Shorty reclined on the sofa, smoking a spliff and looking pleased.

  ‘What did it look like?’

  ‘It looked like you pissing around and fucking things up, that’s what it looked like!’

  ‘Why are you shouting?’ Shorty frowned.

  ‘Why are you screwing the connect’s woman is a better question?’

  Shorty grinned again. ‘It just happened.’

  ‘No, it didn’t. How long has it been going on for?’

  ‘I’ve hit it twice. It’s nothing.’

  ‘And Bill? The second you get bored with her — which we both know you will, she’ll run and tell him.’

  ‘Fuck Bill.’

  ‘For a guy who loves money so much, you love to fuck with business.’

  ‘This is about business is it?’ Shorty let out a harsh laugh.

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘Business is messed up because of you. You got played by that bitch Rochelle, and now the team are chasing Yardie ghosts.’

  ‘Leader planned this. Not me. No-one saw it coming.’

  ‘You sure? Because Leader knew what he was doing. He saw that you were pussy-whipped and sent her to get you.’

  Lamont’s temper flared. He was determined to wipe the smug look off Shorty’s face.

  ‘I’ve been cleaning your messes for years. You would have been in prison years ago if I hadn’t held your hand and kept you out of trouble,’ he snarled.

  Shorty opened his mouth to reply, but Lamont’s phone rang, distracting them. Seeing Rochelle’s name on the screen, Lamont’s stomach plummeted as he answered.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I heard you’ve been looking for me?’ cackled Leader, his voice muffled on the line.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘You should have stayed at your spot then. I went to see you and you weren’t there.’

  Lamont remembered the scattered chess pieces. His hands shook with humiliation and rage. He was still furious from the argument with Shorty, and now he had to deal with this fool.

  ‘Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Stop talking. Your bitch lent me her phone,’ Leader paused and Lamont heard whimpering in the background. ‘You wanna come get her, it’s gonna cost you five hundred thousand.’

  ‘Go fuck yourself.’

  ‘That’s your choice then.’ Leader hung up. Lamont flung down the phone. He rubbed his face.

  ‘What happened?’ Shorty asked.

  ‘The joker wanted half a million for Rochelle.’

  ‘When he rings back, talk nice. Try to set up a public meeting, and we’ll take him out.’

  They sat quietly, the tension from their short argument abating. Lamont thought about Rochelle. He’d definitely heard a female in the background. Leader could have been screwing with him, but Lamont was sure it was Rochelle. He was kicking himself for not negotiating. He was incapable of staying calm and was allowing emotions to cloud his judgement.

  Rubbing his face again, Lamont blew out a breath.

  ‘Shorty?’

  Shorty glanced at Lamont.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you.’

  ‘You’re my bro. Don’t worry about it. We both said shit we shouldn’t have.’ Shorty patted Lamont on the shoulder, and they settled in to wait.

  Hours passed with no call back. Shorty ordered enough Chinese to feed several families. Evidently screwing Bill’s wife had left him with an appetite, because he tore his way through the food whilst Lamont picked at his, drinking two glasses of brandy. His head was pounding from the stress. Laying on the sofa, Lamont began drifting off when his phone rang again. He answered it without checking.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘L, where are you?’ Marcus sounded worried.

  ‘I’m with Shorty, why?’

  ‘I . . . Look, I’m gonna give it to you straight. Police just found Rochelle in Harehills, with her throat slit. She’s dead.’

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Thursday 20 June 2002

  Lamont sat, drinking, hiding from the world. No matter what had transpired. No matter what Rochelle had or hadn’t done, her death had left a hole within.

  Lamont had believed he was over his feelings, but the sorrow over her death, manifested with the guilt, was driving him over the edge.

  Shorty and Marcus were out trying to find Leader, publicly slapping people around to put their point across. Lamont no longer cared. He didn’t care what people thought. He could have talked to Leader, negotiated, arranged a meeting, asked for her to be left out of it. She could have left the Hood; free to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher. It wasn’t meant to be.

  In the two days that passed since her death, the police had questioned Lamont. They’d searched her phone and seen the call to Lamont before she was killed.

  At one crucial point during the questioning — which was a medley of no-comment’s, they showed him a picture of Rochelle’s body, her head practically decapitated. The image stayed with him, plaguing him along with a single question: Was he an effective boss, or was he too weak to lead?

  Lamont kept thinking of the world he’d willingly strode into. That had been because of Rochelle too. It all related to her. The desire to be better than Reagan had led Lamont to where he was. Right now, he couldn’t stand any of it.

  Another day passed. Lamont ate food and consumed cups of of the horrible instant coffee that Shorty kept. He was going crazy sitting inside. Showering and throwing on some clothing, he made some calls and located an address for someone he needed to speak with.

  ‘L?’

  Mia gawped, surprised to see Lamont. It had been far easier to track her down than her sister. Mia had changed from the old days. The beauty was still there, but it was buried under too much makeup and clear signs of grief. Her eyes were heavy and her black clothing was rumpled.

  ‘Hello, Mia.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to give my condolences. I’m sorry about what happened to Rochelle.’

  ‘Come in.’

  Lamont took a seat while Mia made them hot drinks. Soon, they were sat in awkward silence. The living room was cosy, stuffed with furniture, kids toys and family photos. Lamont studied Mia’s partner, but didn’t recognise him.

  ‘Why is my sister dead?’

  Lamont considered what to tell Mia. The police had interviewed him, but he didn’t know if they had spoken with her.

  ‘Do you know Leader?’

>   ‘What does Leader have to do with anything?’ Mia froze.

  ‘He killed your sister. Don’t ask why. You can’t tell anyone about this, especially the police. I’m telling you because you have a right to know.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do, L? You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then not say anything! You’re talking about my family here.’

  ‘The police won’t catch Leader. He’s too clever for them. I promise you, he will be brought to justice, one way or another.

  Mia ran a hand through her hair, putting her untouched drink on the table. Lamont did the same.

  ‘Remember the old days? The four of us in that living room, talking shit and drinking?’

  Lamont nodded.

  ‘You were so good for her, L. I’m not just saying this. Rochelle was never happier than in those moments when she’d be sitting and talking with you.’

  Lamont swallowed down the lump in his throat.

  ‘She broke my heart back then.’

  Mia glanced at him, her eyes tearing.

  ‘She broke her own heart too. Now, she’s dead.’

  Lamont held Mia as she cried, determined not to shed his own tears. The need for vengeance grew. Leader was responsible for so much sorrow. Levi had ended up in prison, Craig and Rochelle had lost their lives because of him. Lamont made a silent vow to end him by any means necessary. It had gone far enough.

  ‘Nice to see you again. Heard you had a bit of trouble with the police,’ said Delroy as Lamont sat down in the office. Lamont nodded. His face was drawn, and he was in no mood for small talk. Delroy recognised this and straightened up.

  ‘I want Leader’s location.’

  ‘We’ve been through this already. I want—’

  ‘Help my people find him, and I’ll buy exclusively from you instead of my current supplier.’

  Delroy took his time replying, a telltale gleam in his eye.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Do you agree?’

  Delroy scratched his lip.

  ‘Wait there, let me make a few phone calls, and we’ll talk numbers.’

  ‘He’s in there.’

  Lamont was in the back of the car, Shorty next to him, Marcus and K-Bar in the front. They were parked down the road from a terraced spot in Keighley.

  Delroy had acted swiftly, finding Leader’s location and stressing that he moved around a lot, so they would need to hurry. Lamont rounded up his people, and they had put the plan into place.

  No-one replied to Marcus’s redundant statement. This time, there would be no escape.

  ‘Should be any minute now.’

  As Marcus spoke, a black van pulled to a stop outside the spot, and four men surged toward the house. From their spot, they heard multiple bangs and loud noises, then watched as they dragged Leader from the spot, struggling. Lamont’s jaw tensed. He wanted to jump from the car and attack the man that had caused so much trouble, but he waited.

  ‘Drive to the spot. We’ll meet them there.’

  Lamont didn’t like the fact that Leader wasn’t scared. They were in the basement of an out-of-the-way spot that Marcus had set up. It was soundproofed and packed with weapons and tools designed to coerce information from people.

  The floor of the basement was covered in plastic. Leader was trussed to a chair, his glittering eyes focused on Lamont.

  ‘You got lucky.’

  Shorty smacked Leader in the face, the hit making a dull slapping sound. Leader’s head jerked back, but he kept smiling, showing blooded teeth.

  ‘Does the truth hurt?’

  ‘Maybe I need to hit you this time.’ Marcus stepped toward Leader, but Lamont stopped him.

  ‘You’re going to die.’

  The room was quiet, all eyes focused on the Yardie killer. He stared insolently at Lamont, blood trickling down his mouth, staining the t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms they had found him in.

  ‘I don’t fear death.’

  ‘I think you’re lying. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. These lot are going to rip you apart, and you’re going to know that it wasn’t worth it.’

  ‘I took what you loved. That makes it worth it. Teflon . . . the love-struck boss, happy to fuck Shelly after so many years. You loved her, but her pussy belonged to me. Nothing can change that.’

  When Marcus moved forward this time, Lamont didn’t stop him. The power of his uppercut toppled Leader’s chair. Leader jerked on the floor, coughing, moaning in pain as K-Bar and Shorty steadied his chair before punching him multiple times in the stomach.

  The tools came out. Lamont was desensitised to the sounds of Leader shouting in pain, or the retching sounds. He didn’t care. The image of Rochelle’s battered body was prevalent in his mind.

  ‘Stop.’

  Leader hunched over now, saliva and blood covering his clothes, his right eye closed and his lips bust. He glared at Lamont, no longer speaking.

  ‘When you die, the world will forget you. Straight away. No one will avenge you. You killed the woman who loved you. Your team betrayed you. You got the better of me, but I still won the game. Enjoy your last few moments.’

  Signalling to the others, Lamont stepped back as they pulled guns. Leader’s screams were louder now, yet drowned out by the sounds of the bullets. They shot him in each leg, then Marcus put his gun to Leader’s stomach at point-blank rage, firing twice. Leader’s body jerked, then he was still. With a glance to Lamont, Shorty put his gun to Leader’s head, and pulled the trigger, ensuring the job was finished.

  For a few minutes, no one spoke. Lamont kept his eyes on Leader, waiting, hoping the image of his destroyed body would replace Rochelle’s, but it didn’t. Finally, Marcus spoke.

  ‘K, take L home. We’ll clean up here. Make sure someone is watching his spot, then we’re all gonna lay low after this.’

  Monday 24 June 2002

  Lamont lay on his sofa staring up at the ceiling when there was a knock at the door. Lamont opened it, surprised to see Xiyu. He carried a six-pack of Red Bull energy drinks in one hand, and two bottles of water in the other. Lamont led him into the house. Xiyu handed Lamont a drink, opening one himself. They drank silently for a moment.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Xiyu asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t need to lie. I spoke to the guys. I know about Rochelle, and I know she meant a lot to you.’

  ‘I got her killed.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘I should have negotiated with Leader.’

  ‘Leader would have killed her, regardless. He wanted to get to you. Rochelle knew what she was doing.’

  ‘I slept with her and it was magical. To me, anyway. It felt real, everything about that night. The emotions. All of it. When I think of her acting through all of that, it makes me feel sick.’

  Xiyu was quiet for a moment.

  ‘Maybe she was being real. I don’t know the specifics of why she dealt with a man like Leader, but things could have played out differently. This might have been Rochelle’s way of being with you again.’

  Lamont thought about that. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but it sounded good. For the first time since it all started, Lamont felt himself smile.

  ‘You know what’s funny?’

  Xiyu shook his head. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘It’s amazing how much of my life revolves around women.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘There is something I need you to do.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ said Xiyu.

  ‘Set up an information network. I want it to be as intricate as possible. Pay whoever you need to pay, but put something in place so that in the future, we’re not playing catchup, or forced to make deals. I want to know everything about everyone. No matter the cost.’

  Xiyu surveyed Lamont for a long moment before he replied.

  ‘I’ll handle it.’

  Epilogue

  Friday 5 July 2002

  Lamont scanned the room as if through someon
e else’s eyes, hands clammy.

  A single thought resonated around his head: What would he have become if he had gone into Rochelle’s house that day?

  Lamont had often tried to put himself in that mindset, trying to wonder what would have happened if Reagan hadn’t looked at him like dirt on that day, reminding Lamont that he was superior. Teflon’s future had begun that day. It was as if that was where the tape had started and no matter how robust his efforts, Lamont couldn’t look past that.

  And now he didn’t need to.

  Leader’s death was a story for a while, but rival’s quickly filled the void he left behind, carving up his interests and manpower. No-one approached Lamont about the murder, but the right people knew what had transpired, even if they didn’t know why. It had boosted Lamont’s reputation, giving him and his team more street credibility.

  Outside, a horn beeped. Splashing cold water on his face, Lamont tidied himself and sprayed aftershave before leaving. A new model BMW 4x4 idled at the curb. Even before he reached the ride, Lamont heard the pulsating music.

  ‘Yes, Tef!’ Shorty said over the music. Marcus slouched in the passenger seat smoking a large spliff. He nodded at Lamont, then closed his eyes.

  ‘Are we ready?’ asked Lamont as the driver set off.

  ‘Everyone’s waiting for us,’ said Marcus. Satisfied, Lamont looked out of the window as the whip rumbled down Spencer place. Lamont recalled the days when he had struggled to sell drugs around this very street. He saw the scuzzy women on the game strolling, trying to entice passing cars to stop.

  Nearby were other local pushers. They seemed younger than Lamont had been when he started. They were dressed similarly; dark hooded tops, tracksuit bottoms, and expensive trainers.

  Lamont could see the hunger in their eyes as they eyed the Beemer. He wondered if any would ascend, or if they would stay on the bottom rung forever. He rubbed the scar on his chin, wondering what level he would finish at.