The Takedown

by Ricky Black

  ‘I think it’s necessary. We need to root out who is working against us and playing dumb is the best way.’

  ‘I understand that,’ replied Akeem, ‘but why not bring K-Bar in on it? He’s already operating from a position of weakness. You know the messes he’s endured.’

  K-Bar had taken charge when Lamont was in hospital, but he was a soldier, and people both in and out of the organisation tried to take advantage of that.

  K-Bar was a logical thinker but not a diplomat. An argument with a small-timer who had wanted to make a name for themselves had led to K-Bar shooting him in the leg. The man threatened to press charges, but it had all been smoothed over.

  ‘You’re right, Akeem. I do, but this is better. The less he knows, the more convincing it looks. How is that other thing going?’

  ‘I’ve got my best people on it. We’ll find something. Are you sure it’s smart to go out tonight?’

  ‘A few drinks won’t hurt. Make sure one of your people is amongst the crowd. I don’t want any surprises. I need you on call.’

  Akeem nodded. Lamont drank his gin and tonic in silence. The team was still making money, but it felt less secure than in the past. Every day it seemed new crews were starting up, trying to get their piece of the money pie by any means necessary.

  Lamont had aided K-Bar in getting things back in order, but he was reluctant to divulge his full attention to regulating the streets. There was so much going on at the moment that he was playing catch-up. Having Shorty back could free him up, but he was fresh out of prison. The authorities would be furious that he had slipped through their fingers. They were likely watching him, and by extension, Lamont too. He finished the drink and wiped his mouth.

  ‘Take me home, please.’

  Shorty sipped his drink quietly, sitting in the VIP section of an exclusive club near Call Lane. Lamont, K-Bar and Maka surrounded him, sipping champagne. Lamont insisted on fitting the bill, and so far, he’d paid for everything, from transport, to the overly expensive bottles in the clubs.

  Maka kept his eyes on the crowd, not looking in Shorty’s direction. The pair greeted one another coolly, but hadn’t spoken beyond that. Shorty asked K-Bar where Blakey was, only to be told he’d moved on. When Shorty questioned why, K-Bar admitted they hadn’t seen eye to eye, and had left it at that. His dreadlocked friend was grinning, trying to get the attention of several barely dressed females, with little success.

  Shorty glanced at Lamont. He was clutching his champagne with a faraway look on his face. Shorty had noticed how distracted his friend had looked the entire time they’d been out, but it was pointless trying to get Lamont to talk. Shorty would need to do some digging around on his own. As Shorty watched, Lamont seemed to come out of some sort of trance. He stood, holding his glass aloft.

  ‘Gents, hold up your glasses, and let’s toast to the little thug we all know and love, fresh out of prison, and ready to do his thing.’

  They all toasted, their glasses clinking as Shorty grinned, despite himself. All day, he’d been thinking about Grace. Deciding to loosen up, he finished his drink and made his way out to the dance floor. VIP was cool, but he felt like an idiot sitting around as people gawped. K-Bar followed. Maka stayed where he was.

  ‘Maka, you need to talk to him and bury this,’ Lamont said. Maka nodded, but didn’t move.

  ‘It’s not that easy. I shot his family.’

  Lamont understood Maka’s position; Timmy Turner had held a gun on him the day he’d been shot, and although Timmy ultimately couldn’t shoot, Maka hadn’t known this when he arrived at the scene.

  ‘You saw a threat, and you reacted accordingly. Shorty would have done the same thing, and he knows that. Trust me, bury this early and don’t let it fester.’

  Maka nodded again at Lamont, but he seemed more animated now. Slapping hands with Lamont, he left the corded-off VIP section, leaving Lamont alone with his thoughts. He watched as K-Bar conversed with a few females, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. He seemed to be keeping his distance though, as if going through the motions. Tonight was about distracting himself as much as Shorty, yet Lamont felt more distracted than ever.

  ‘Yo, can I approach, boss?’

  A voice snapped Lamont out of his reverie. A man hovered near the VIP partition as a burly bouncer glared at him. He was light-skinned, with cropped hair and a slit in his left eyebrow. He wore a chain almost bigger than him, leaning slightly forward. A short distance behind him stood two men watching his back.

  ‘Nikkolo, how have you been?’ Lamont nodded to the bouncer who let Nikkolo through.

  ‘I’m good, man. Just sampling some of these ladies in here. You need to get out there and make summat happen, bro!’

  Lamont smiled tightly. ‘My lady wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Anyway, how’s business on your side?’

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Lamont replied, his tone neutral.

  ‘I heard people are leaving your camp.’ Nikkolo’s eyes danced with glee as he spoke to Lamont, but he couldn’t get a reaction out of the kingpin.

  ‘I don’t get caught up in rumours. Say hi to your boss for me.’ Lamont shook Nikkolo’s hand, then left the VIP section. He did not notice Nikkolo glaring at his back.

  Lamont made his way to K-Bar, still surrounded by women. The space was cramped, people moving and dancing all around. One of the women, a slim Asian woman with short black hair, smiled at Lamont. He smiled back, not wanting to be rude.

  ‘L, lemme introduce you to my new frie—’

  ‘I’m leaving, K. Here,’ Lamont handed K-Bar a stack of notes. ‘Watch out for Shorty.’ Before K-Bar could protest, Lamont left.

  Shorty closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the body pressing against his as he swayed to the beat of the music. He was sure his dance moves were out of sync but it was the last thing on his mind.

  The girl he danced with had tried talking to Lamont earlier, but had gotten nowhere. Being spurned had hurt her confidence, and Shorty hadn’t worked hard to get a dance out of her. As the DJ switched songs, she grinned against him, whispering in his ear.

  ‘Let’s go outside.’

  Shorty didn’t need any persuasion. He followed the girl, unable to keep his hands to himself, kissing on the back of her neck as she giggled against the thumping tempo of the music. All those months on remand meant Shorty was backed up and in serious need. He was tempted to get a taxi home with the girl, but didn’t think he could wait.

  The pair stumbled around the corner, Shorty pressing the girl against the wall and roughly kissing her, letting her feel just how erect he was. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, causing Shorty to jerk away from the girl just as he heard hurried footsteps.

  ‘Yo, give it up,’ a gruff voice sounded. Shorty faced the pair, two men. Furious with himself for getting caught out, he glared, causing one to take a step back.

  ‘S-Shorty?’

  Shorty peeked at the trembling man. He held a knife, wearing a black jacket, trousers and trainers. His face was half-covered by a bandanna like some wannabe bandit. Shorty recognised the younger man with a sudden jolt.

  ‘Jerome?’

  Jerome was a friend of Timmy’s. A delinquent from an early age, constantly getting Timmy caught up in his foolish schemes.

  When Timmy set Shorty up, Shorty went after his cousin through Jerome and another friend. Shorty had mercilessly beaten the pair with a gun, demanding to know Timmy’s whereabouts, which the pair swore they didn’t know. He’d beaten them into unconsciousness before fleeing.

  When he was arrested, Shorty presumed the pair had snitched, but they never said a word to anyone.

  ‘You know this guy?’ Jerome’s accomplice snapped. He was around Shorty’s height, with a slim frame, his entire face covered by a balaclava. He too had a knife, still pointing it in Shorty’s direction. The girl had disappeared. Shorty knew the scheme. She’d meet them later to collect her share, but she would be disappointe
d.

  Shorty had never allowed anyone to rob him, and he wasn’t starting now.

  ‘You don’t know Shorty from Chapeltown? He’s a killer.’

  Years ago, Shorty would have smiled at the obvious fear in Jerome’s voice, but he simply felt hollow.

  ‘I don’t care what his name is. He needs to give up the money and jewels before I poke him.’ The other would-be thief wasn’t backing down an inch. Shorty kept his eyes on Jerome, ready to hit him first. Jerome’s eyes widened, and he ran just as K-Bar and Maka rounded the corner.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here?’ K-Bar lunged for the robber, hitting him in the nose and causing the knife to fall from the man’s hand. Maka sailed in, smashing his fist against the kid’s jaw.

  ‘You think you can rob our boy? Are you crazy?’ K-Bar snarled, throwing the kid into the wall next to Shorty. He slid to the floor, bleeding, Shorty looking at him in disgust. He yanked the balaclava from the kid’s head, but didn’t recognise him. He was lighter than Shorty, with curly black hair with blonde tips.

  ‘Let him up. Get him out of here,’ Shorty said. He couldn’t help but think about his cousin. These silly robberies were the kind of thing Timmy used to do to get his rep up. As K-Bar slapped the kid and warned him not to show his face again, Shorty sighed, wondering if it was all worth it.

  Chapter Three

  Friday 16 January 2015

  ‘How has it all been going?’

  Jenny looked around the office, procrastinating as always. It was how their weekly meetings started but she was never prepared.

  The office was compact, Jenny perched on a neutral blue sofa. Amanda’s chair was a murky brown colour and seemed less comfortable than Jenny’s, but the woman’s chocolate brown eyes projected their usual warmth. If there was any discomfort, it didn’t show.

  Jenny had been visiting Amanda for over a year, after the nightmares from Lamont’s shooting became too frequent. She was referred by her GP, willing to pay the additional fees to speak with the councillor.

  Opening up wasn’t easy; the idea of being privy to an attempted murder didn’t seem real. Jenny had witnessed someone die, and the fact Lamont nearly died from his injuries was a trauma Jenny hadn’t known how to navigate. They filled a lot of the early sessions with gaps of silence that took time to overcome. There was a familiarity now and Jenny respected the elderly woman, but they weren’t friends. She was paying for her time, and that loomed over each session.

  Jenny took a deep breath. ‘It’s old ground we’ve trod repeatedly. It always comes back to being there in that moment. Me and my partner had everything to look forward to; he was getting away from negative influences, and then it happened.’

  ‘How much influence did you have over your partners decision; did you pressure him?’

  ‘I don’t think I did. I just wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with me. He said I saved him. And then suddenly there were men with guns. He was terrified, yet still told me to get away.’

  ‘Why didn’t you listen?’ If Amanda was aware she’d asked the same question a dozen times, it didn’t show.

  ‘I froze. I’ve never been in that position. I never want to be again. I guess I hoped it was all a bad dream.’

  ‘It wasn’t though.’

  Jenny ignored Amanda’s remark, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Nothing is improving, that’s the problem. He was shot, and I saw it, and I was covered in his blood, and I thought he was dead. After all this time, after all the effort he put into getting stronger, it remains as distorted as ever.’

  ‘Do you think it’s possible you’re stuck in the past because you don’t want to embrace the change?’

  ‘Of course I don’t want to embrace it. We went from real happiness, to this tentative awkwardness.’

  ‘Do you love your partner?’

  ‘I do. The problem is that we don’t know how to act around one another anymore. We’re walking on eggshells and won’t admit it.’

  Amanda paused. ‘You said that you spoke to Lamont about seeing someone?’

  ‘He shot the idea down,’ Jenny scoffed.

  ‘Why do you think that is?’

  ‘Because he thinks it’s a weakness to let people in. He didn’t even want to let me in.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jenny shrugged. ‘Childhood, I guess. I don’t know. All I know is that we’re stuck.’

  ‘Other than your relationship, how are things going?’

  ‘Work is still a massive slog. I lost a lot of clients, and I’m struggling to get myself out of the hole.’

  ‘Why do you feel you have to do this alone? Your partner is a man of means, is he not?’

  ‘That’s irrelevant. It’s my business, not his. I don’t want his help.’

  They sat in silence, Amanda watching Jenny’s every move. Jenny stared back at the picture of competence sat in front of her; from the steel grey hair to the cream sweater and demeanour, it all spoke of tranquillity. Jenny remembered wearing a cream sweater the day of Lamont’s shooting. She choked back a sob at the memory, tears streaming down her face. Amanda handed her a tissue.

  ‘It will get better, Jenny. That I promise you. You need to embrace the possibility that things will not go back to how they were, and work with the changes.’

  Akeem and Lamont reclined in Lamont’s office at the barbers. Akeem had swept the room for bugs and locked the door. He sipped a bottle of water as Lamont ate some cornmeal porridge they’d picked up on the way, waiting for Akeem to speak.

  ‘I’ve done some analysis,’ the man began. ‘I assessed the strength of the crew, and we’re weak in certain areas. We’re still recovering from 2013, and we lost a lot of key personnel. We ramped up with younger, less skilled soldiers and runners. Police activity has increased, and more of our people are being arrested. They don’t know enough to implicate anyone, but it’s an inconvenience.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Lamont valued Akeem’s opinion. He had known the man for five years, meeting when Lamont visited London to see an associate, Vincent. Akeem worked for Vincent and specialised in problem solving. When Vincent mentioned Akeem wanted a move, he’d taken the fixer into his team.

  ‘We, and by that I mean you, need to decide what’s going on. You’ve been out of sorts, and it’s causing confusion. K-Bar isn’t pleased with the running of things, and he has sway over the younger guys. They don’t know you. They saw you very little before; they see you even less now. You need to placate K-Bar if you want to survive.’

  ‘And the people wanting to do other business? You had thoughts on that the other day.’

  Akeem shrugged. ‘Replace them with new customers. We have the best product. The game is changing and making it harder though, so we need to change with it.’

  Lamont thought of the man he’d seen in the club. He knew who Nikkolo worked for, but he wasn’t aware it was public knowledge that he’d lost customers. Lamont hadn’t mentioned it to Akeem, but he wondered if Nikkolo was sending a message. Akeem was right though. The money was lower than it had been in years, the morale terrible.

  Lamont was in the game, whether or not he wanted to be; he needed to find his form.

  Jenny sat in her work office, staring into space. Since Lamont had left the hospital, and they moved in together, it felt like they’d lived under a protective bubble. Everything had been idyllic. Lamont hadn’t directly spoken of his plan, but Jenny knew he was leaving the life and she welcomed it.

  Lamont had more than enough money. Marcus had been murdered. Xiyu (Chink as Lamont and the others called him) had been murdered in what police called a botched home invasion. Shorty had been arrested and accused of murder.

  Jenny didn’t know much about Lamont’s business, but she knew they were the cornerstone of the illegal empire he had built. Now, Shorty was out, and Jenny had no idea what that would lead to.

  The conversation with Shorty flitted to Jenny’s mind. He seemed so different from the vicious, fiery man she’d glimps
ed in 2013. There was an air of unpredictability around him then, but now he seemed haunted. Life appeared to have caught up with Shorty and quenched the flames of rage. Jenny didn’t know how to feel about that, or about Shorty’s presence in Lamont’s life.

  After a while, Jenny heard the ding of the door announcing a customer had walked in. Giving herself a moment, Jenny headed out to the front, smiling widely at the man standing there.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Are you looking for a particular arrangement?’

  The man returned her smile. ‘I am. Maybe you could give me a few pointers?’

  ‘What’s the occasion?’ Jenny slipped into worker mode. The man studied her for a moment. It was a speculative gaze and though not a leer, Jenny felt the look.

  ‘I wanted a nice arrangement for my mum. Maybe with a nice card. Do you do cards?’

  ‘We do . . . Is it your mother’s birthday?’

  The man shook his head, ‘I just thought it might be nice. She likes roses, so the arrangement could include those.’

  Jenny ran a hand through her hair. The man looked to be around her age. His face was clean-shaven, aside from a moustache and some stubble around his chin. His eyes were dark. He smiled widely, wearing a black lightweight jacket over jeans and a grey t-shirt. The outfit was casual but Jenny had a trained eye. She could tell it was expensive, yet he wore it with a disdain that intrigued her.

  The man slightly adjusted his shoulders. He was broad, towered over her, and looked like he worked out. Jenny coughed discreetly, focusing on the task at hand.

  ‘We have roses in different colours. Red is the most popular. Does your mother have a favourite colour?’

  ‘We both like purple,’ the man replied. His words were as smooth as his skin, clipped with the slight hint of authority.