The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  'Welcome back listeners ...'

  Tom snapped the radio off.

  "He's playing the game." Jack said pursing his lips, "Mind you, I suppose he hasn't got much choice, really." Jack's mind flashed back to the scene. It still felt surreal, everything seemed to happen in slow-motion with every passing second seeming to last at least a minute. They must've killed at least a dozen people and as for the number of injured, he couldn't hazard a guess. They'd nailed Franklin, but how had they missed Briggs? Someone up there was certainly looking down on the fucker, that was for sure. Tom wanted to search for him, but thankfully he and Jimbo had managed to get him out of there. He could still hear the machine gun fire, ripping through everything before it, he'd probably take that memory to the grave with him. Yeah, his mind countered; along with your folks being roasted in their own beds until they were nothing more than pieces of charred meat.

  Tom patted Jack on the back. He went to the cupboard and fished out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

  "We'd better stay off that stuff, just in case." Jack said.

  "In case of what?" Tom asked, "You heard the man, do you really believe he's going to point the police in our direction. We have enough on Briggs to put him away for life, and he knows it." Tom clunked the neck of the bottle against the rim of one of the glasses.

  "And vice-versa." Jack said accepting his drink.

  "Exactly, he can't afford to blow the lid on this just like we couldn't when ... Well, when he had your family murdered."

  Jack nodded and took a sip of his drink. The feeling of warmth in first his mouth and then his throat was comforting.

  "I wondered why he did single you out?" Tom asked cautiously.

  "Dunno." Jack replied. “I suppose my folks’ house was a lot softer target than the estate, but then again, I think that's a measure of the man."

  "My thoughts exactly, for all his tough talking and his hard men, they’ve never had the stomach to attempt anything remotely like we did to them last night."

  Jack clinked Tom's glass.

  "Do you think we'll have any trouble from Briggs Jack?"

  Jack shrugged his shoulders, "He'd have to come after us in person, this time, that's for sure. Either that or send Dana and the kids. No, seriously, you should never become complacent, this guy’s been around a long time, but if I was in his shoes, I'd want to lye low for a while, and I think that's exactly what he will do. Here's to you John." Jack raised his glass in the air and Tom copied his gesture. "Without sounding cynical," Tom said, "I wonder who he's left it all to?"

  "You and me." Jack replied staring into space.

  "Oh yeah, I wish. You maybe." Tom didn't think that Jessop would leave him anything, well not of any great value anyway, but there was something in Jack's tone that suggested he knew otherwise.

  "It won't be official for a couple of months, but you do know that Gerald's the executor, don't you?"

  "No, I didn't." Tom said putting his glass down, "Have you seen it?"

  Jack nodded, "he looks after everyone in it. Like Christine, Ted, Molly, but the bulk of it goes to you and me; half a million each, plus I get the estate and you get the factory."

  Tom gulped, "Jesus Christ - half a million each! What about Quilter?"

  "Fifty grand, the same as Christine and Molly."

  Tom nodded, "We can fuck this syndicate malarkey now Jack, surely."

  Jack looked at Tom and shook his head.

  "Why not, for God's sake?"

  "That's exactly how I felt when Gerald showed me the will, yesterday. Before I forget, not a word to Helen about this, or anyone else for that matter. Gerald could get into serious trouble for telling me about the will before it goes through probate."

  Tom nodded.

  "We have to stay on because that's what he would've wanted, a bit like a father's son's carrying on the family business. Besides, now that we've neutered good old Eddie, there's some serious money to be made out there, and seeing as we've done all the hard work around here, I'll be damned if I'm going to let someone like Quilter reap all the fruits of our labour."

  "Yeah, I know you're right Jack, but it would still be nice to jet off somewhere and get some sun on our backs." Tom said his thoughts momentarily lost in tropical climes.

  "There's nothing to stop us doing that, once we've steadied the ship by winning the election."

  "Oh bollocks, I want no part of that Jack." Tom said draining his glass.

  "No Tom, we are going to get elected, not because we inherited the bulk of John's money, or even because we slaughtered Eddie's army. We're going to get elected because we are the right men for the job. But we either do it together or not at all."

  Three months later, in January of 1963, Jack was elected the new Chief Officer of the Burnley Boys Syndicate with Tom as his deputy.

  TOM.

  1

  Two years later ... April 1965

  T om Ford walked proudly into Sounds’ nightclub which had been acquired by the syndicate three months earlier. To Tom, the nightclub was like a new toy. Although he'd no need to he had taken on the responsibility for the club's refurbishment himself. Another fortnight, and they'd be re-open, he thought, touch wood tapping his index finger on the club's shiny new bar. Jack thought he was being a bit overindulgent, but let's have it right, the new manager; Jeff Crompton couldn't start until next Monday, so someone had to keep the ship afloat, besides, these days, he was beginning to feel more and more like a spare part as far as Jack was concerned. Maybe, that was a bit unfair on his best pal, but even so, Jack was more than capable of running the show on his own, and in reality, he often did. Not on purpose mind, it was just his way.

  "I'll be in my office Cheryl."

  "Okay, Mr Ford." Cheryl said adjusting her glasses. "Your first appointments in ten minutes, would you like a cup of coffee before you start?"

  "Yes please, that would be lovely."

  The phone rang; "Oops." she said stepping backwards. "I'll just get that first." she giggled.

  Tom smiled; she wasn't a bad kid, he thought, even if she was a bit scatty.

  "It's Mr Emerson for you Mr Ford, I'll put him through."

  "Thanks Cheryl ... Hi Gerald, how are you?

  "Not bad Tom, thanks, and yourself?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine, what can I do for you?"

  "It's about the factories accounts, the final quarter, remember you asked me if I'd have a look at them for you?"

  "How are they? Better than the last quarter, I hope." Tom said leaning back in his swivel chair.

  "No Tom, unfortunately, they're worse."

  "Shit!" Tom said sitting upright. "How much worse?"

  "The companies lost another eight thousand pounds, I'll have to inform Jack, Tom"

  "Jack, what the fuck as it got to do with him. I own the factory, not Jack, do you hear me Gerald?"

  "That's as maybe Tom, but the mill's performance has far reaching consequences on all of us. I'm going to advise him to make you an offer for it."

  "Listen to me, you pompous asshole, I asked your advice on the accounts because I thought you were a friend, not because I thought you were going to go running to Jack about it - Thanks Cheryl" Tom said breaking off whilst Cheryl placed his coffee in front of him. She left his office and closed the door behind her.

  "Mr Ford's just on the phone, if you'd like to take a seat, I'll inform him of your arrival shortly." Cheryl said to the blonde-haired girl who had just arrived for her interview.

  "Tom, Tom, please calm down. Like I said the mill's performance affects all of us, and I know you've got your hands full with the new nightclub. If I was in your position, I would much rather let Jack sort it out rather than having to air it all in front of the whole syndicate. That's all I'm saying."

  Tom sighed; "Okay, I'm sorry for shouting, what do you put the mill's loss down to?

  "Well, if you like, we can go through it tomorrow. I know Jack's away all day."

  "Alright, is one o'clock at the mill okay?"
>
  "One o'clock is fine, but I'll come to the club."

  "No problem, I'll see you tomorrow."

  As soon as Tom dropped the phone's receiver into its cradle it rang again. "Mr Ford, your first appointment is here."

  Tom checked his list, he was no longer in the mood for interviewing bar staff, in fact he was no longer in the mood for anything, apart from a stiff scotch. "Margaret Townsend?" he muttered.

  "Yes."

  "Okay Cheryl, send her in."

  A knock came to the door. "Come in." Tom said straightening his papers. When the door opened, Tom got the surprise of his life. "Hello Margaret, or should I say Maggie? Come in and take a seat." he said getting up and shaking her hand. "Please excuse the state of the place, things are a bit chaotic around here at the moment."

  Maggie smiled and sat down.

  "I thought I hadn't seen you around Ray's for a while, I take it you no longer work there."

  "Yeah, I left a couple of months back."

  Tom raised his eyebrows.

  "In hindsight, I was stupid, I got what I thought at the time was a lot better offer. It was a place uptown."

  "Well there's nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself."

  "That's what I thought, but I didn't know exactly what the job entailed when I started it."

  "What did it entail, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "I'd rather not say Tom, sorry Mr ford, I could get into a lot of trouble."

  "Maggie, whatever you say to me goes no further, you have my word on that." Tom said putting his hand to his chest.

  Maggie looked at him with her blue eyes. "It's just my word against his ..."

  "Whose?" Tom prompted, to which Maggie flinched. "I'm sorry." Tom said realising his impatience had startled her.

  "Bill Caffery, the owner."

  "What, was he getting fresh with you or something?"

  Maggie nodded, "He said if I told anyone, he'd just say that I led him on."

  "He didn't ..."

  "No, I don't think he has it in him, the fat bastard. Excuse me for swearing, it just makes me so angry. I wish I'd never left Ray’s; I was happy there and the people were great."

  Tom tapped his pencil on his desk for a moment. "I'll tell you what I could do, I could give Ray a call, tell him that I bumped into you on the street. I'd tell him you didn't know I was ringing ..."

  Maggie raised a hand, "No, thanks for offering to do that for me Tom, but I don't want to go back there with my tail between my legs. I decided to leave, so it's up to me to sort something else out."

  Tom nodded; he could empathise with what Maggie was saying. "You'd be working a lot longer hours here you know."

  "Yeah, but it'd be better than split shifts."

  Tom agreed, he'd always had a soft spot for Maggie, and he couldn't deny that he was attracted to her, he liked how she wore her blonde hair cut just above shoulder length. "What was Ray paying you?”

  "Twenty pounds a week, plus tips."

  "And, this other guy?"

  "Twenty-five, plus tips."

  "Okay, we pay thirty, plus tips. How does that sound?"

  Maggie smiled, "That sounds great." she said.

  "And you'll have no trouble here with wandering hands, I can assure you."

  Maggie blushed slightly.

  "The Manager's an old friend of my father's and he's as straight as a dye, you'll like him."

  "Oh," Maggie said in a surprised tone, "I thought you were the manager."

  "No, I'm one of the directors, I'm just getting the place up and running, Jeff starts on Monday."

  "Oh right, I see."

  Tom clapped his hands together, "The job's yours if you want it Maggie."

  Maggie paused and then said; "Yes, I do. When can I start?"

  She was obviously delighted, which in turn made Tom happy about giving her the job. "Well, we're recruiting three extra staff, including yourself, so how about Monday?"

  "I'm really pleased because I thought that I might have to go and work in a factory or something. Oh sorry," Maggie said putting her hand to her mouth, "didn't you used to work in one?"

  Tom nodded; "I still do, unfortunately." he said sighing deeply. "Listen, if you want you can start tomorrow. It's all day work at the moment though, eight until five, until we open on the twentieth. It's up to you."

  "Yeah, that'd be great, I do need the money." she said a little self-consciously.

  "Okay, don't come dressed up mind, it's all pretty messy work at the moment, jeans will be fine."

  "Okay, thanks again for the job." Maggie said getting up. She held out a hand and Tom shook it.

  "See you in the morning," Tom said with a smile, "Cheryl will show you out."

  "See you in the morning." Maggie said turning back and giving him a quick smile.

  When the door closed, Tom shook his head. He opened his desk drawer and took out his scotch and poured a measure into his empty coffee cup. His phone rang again. "For fuck sake, give me a break Cheryl." he said to himself before lifting the receiver. "Yes Cheryl."

  "Your next appointment's here Mr Ford."

  "Okay, give me five minutes, and then send them in." Tom remembered the first time he'd ever laid eyes on Maggie; he remembered the blue eyes and cute smile. He was switched on back then, he was going places, now all he was, was Jack's lacky, someone who used to work in a factory. Tom smiled to himself, but he wasn't laughing. A knock came to the door. "Come in." He said draining his coffee cup.

  2

  Gerald Emerson had been living at the estate for just under a year, ever since Jack had sold it to the syndicate. Jack had agreed to sell at a favourable price on condition that Gerald was placed in sole charge of the land and buildings. In return Jack had purchased Gerald's property. However, unbeknown to the syndicate, Jack had paid Gerald double the market value for it. The whole deal had cost Jack a considerable amount of money, but it had succeeded in liquifying his biggest asset, and got him out of the godforsaken place in the process. The deal had included Gerald returning to the syndicate full time in his old post of director and treasurer, thus Jack had got his eyes and ears on the inside of the estate.

  Gerald pulled into Sounds' carpark. It still didn't look much, he thought as he got out of his BMW. A workman nodded as he made his way to the entrance and Gerald returned the gesture. Experience had taught him that things did have a habit of coming together at the last moment, but what he couldn't fathom is why spend all this money on a place that was barely five years old. He just hoped that this wasn't going to be another business venture that Tom would have to be bailed out of.

  "I'm looking for Mr Tom Ford." Gerald said to a young girl with shoulder length blonde hair. The girl smiled at him getting up and dusting off her hands. "I'll take you across to him, what's your name sir?"

  "It's Gerald, Gerald Emerson."

  "Okay, if you'd like to come this way Mr Emerson." the girl said making her way out from the bar area.

  "Everything coming together then?" Emerson asked conversationally.

  "Well I think so, I only started this morning though."

  "Oh, I see." Christ, he appears to have done something right for once Gerald thought sarcastically.

  "It's just this way." the girl said knocking on a door.

  "Come in." Cheryl said.

  "Hi Cheryl, I've got Mr Emerson here to see Mr Ford."

  "Thanks Maggie, come in Mr Emerson take a seat.

  "Thanks." Gerald said turning to Maggie who gave him another smile before closing the door.

  Maybe he's not such a bad judge of character after all Emerson thought taking a seat whilst Cheryl contacted Tom Ford on the phone. He had to admit, this part of the building wasn't looking too bad.

  The adjoining door opened, "Hi Gerald come on in." Tom said. Once Gerald had entered his office Tom pulled the door closed behind them. The clock on the wall moved on to one o'clock.

  Gerald took off his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He p
ushed up his glasses and sat down. He reached down to his side and unclipped his briefcase. He removed a cardboard file from it and placed it on Tom's desk. "We'll go through the figures first shall we." The light in the room was a little dim for his liking, but he didn't complain.

  Tom nodded placing both his elbows on the table and twiddling his thumbs. An eight thousand deficit in one quarter, he thought. God this was going to be unpleasant.

  An hour later Tom's head was spinning. If Gerald had now proceeded to tell him that the moon was made out of gorgonzola cheese, he would've accepted the fact just to get rid of him.

  "It's not quite as bad as it all sounds actually Tom."

  "Thank God for that." Tom quipped.

  Gerald smiled; "You've got two fundamental problems. Firstly, your manager's not managing, and secondly; your workers aren't working. That's it in a nutshell. Your order book's fine. In fact, I'm amazed so many of your customers have stuck with you."

  Tom nodded, "A lot of them are old friends of mine." he sighed.

  "Well thank the Lord for small mercies." Gerald said with just a hint of sarcasm which Tom failed to pick up on.

  I could do with a drink, Tom thought, but not now, not in front of Gerald.

  "The way I see it Tom, is that I could cut you some slack, as far as the syndicate is concerned that is. I totally agree with what you said yesterday about whose business the factory is, and if I came across badly then I apologise."

  "Me too." Tom said.

  "I’m going out on a limb a here, but I could juggle the figures a little, and hide the eight-grand."