The Takedown

by Ricky Black

  ‘That it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Riding with a thug.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Is that how you like them?’ Fiona was still looking ahead.

  ‘Are you gonna tell me what you’re on about?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘Forget it,’ K-Bar sighed, turning the music up. Fiona immediately turned it down.

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Why are we doing this shit? Is this why you wanted a lift? So you could talk in riddles?’

  Fiona looked at him blankly. K-Bar hated when she did that. That was his thing. Giving people the vacuous stare to keep them unbalanced, unsure of his true intentions. He didn’t like it being done to him. Fiona knew that.

  ‘I asked for a lift because I’m going shopping for your child. You think I care if you want to sleep with that slag, or if you want to slip your dick into Marika Jones?’

  So that was what this was all about. K-Bar resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  ‘Me and Marika are friends.’

  ‘Me and Dwayne are friends too.’

  K-Bar scowled. Fiona and Dwayne were as on and off as she and K-Bar were. Dwayne made a slick comment once when K-Bar had dropped off his child, so K-Bar had sought him out a few days later and broke his nose.

  Dwayne had wanted to press charges but Fiona — with help from Grimer, talked him out of it. Still, it was a low shot, and they both knew it.

  ‘Why isn’t he giving you a lift then? No petrol for his shitty little ride?’ K-Bar snapped back. Fiona’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Just because he doesn’t sell drugs like you—’

  ‘Shut up about what you don’t understand,’ K-Bar snapped He was past the Arena now, approaching the Merrion Centre. He pulled to a stop outside the Yorkshire Bank, keeping his eyes out for overzealous traffic wardens.

  ‘How don’t I understand? Just remember, I was there in the beginning. I remember when you were a little tramp eating crisp sandwiches for dinner. I still loved you.’

  K-Bar couldn’t deny that. Fiona had loved him. Unconditionally. No matter what rumours she heard about he and Shorty, she’d stood by him. Until he got too deep into the game, and cheerful hailings of ‘Franklin’ and ‘Kieron’ turned into hushed whisperings of Shorty and K-Bar.

  ‘Are you gonna pick me up?’ Fiona paused with her hand on the door handle. K-Bar handed her a twenty-pound-note.

  ‘Get a taxi if you can’t get hold of me.’

  Fiona shot him an evil look, but took the money. She slammed the door and stormed across the road towards the Merrion Centre back entrance.

  K-Bar stared after her, then sped down the road. He was tired of Fiona making slick comments about his relationship with Marika. Turning onto North Street, he headed back to the Hood, passing a blue Vauxhall Corsa near Francis Street.

  Lennox noted the silver Mercedes cruising by him. He was idled at the curb in the blue Corsa, siting with Nikkolo as they staked out a red-bricked terraced house. It had an attached brown garage, and some sparse plants in the tiny garden. Though similar to the other houses, they knew it to be one of Delroy William’s spots. He had an office in the area, heavily guarded, where he conducted business.

  This house was used to house large quantities of drugs, something Nikkolo wouldn’t shut up about.

  ‘There’s gotta be kilo’s in there. Delroy only deals in boxes. I bet there’s at least fifty. We could have a team in and out of there before anyone realised, Len. Say the word and I’ll—’

  ‘Be quiet.’

  Nikkolo stopped talking. Lennox hadn’t raised his voice, nor did he need to. After a beat, Lennox spoke again.

  ‘As I keep stating, we’re building, piece by piece. Everything has a purpose, and a silly robbery isn’t part of that. This isn’t about drugs, and we’re not drug dealers. Remember that fact, because I’m tired of reminding you.’

  Nikkolo nodded, keeping his head down. The unpredictable energy in the car was unnerving, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

  ‘This spot is a weak link. We target weak links. I want you to put a man on Winston Williams. I want to know everywhere he goes, and who he associates with. Don’t engage him. Just watch and report. Understand?’

  ‘Yeah, I understand. I’ll take care of all of that,’ said Nikkolo. He sighed before speaking again. ‘Teflon’s spending more time in Chapeltown. That was K-Bar who drove by in the Benz. What do you think they’re planning?’

  Lennox knew Lamont’s intentions. He’d sat idle for too long, and the reputation of his firm was dwindling in certain circles. Lennox was sure that Lamont would now rectify that and get things straightened out. Nikkolo was waiting for an answer, so Lennox gave him one.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What about Shorty? He bust case on that murder charge and he’s out too. Is him being out gonna affect anything for us?’ Nikkolo froze at the ugly expression on Lennox’s face. It was the dark eyes that held an icy glint that worried him, and Nikkolo wondered if he had gone too far.

  ‘I’m not worried about Shorty, and you shouldn’t be either. If he involves himself, I’ll break him.’

  Chapter Six

  Monday 16 February 2015

  Lamont sulked for a while after his argument with Trinidad. He saw where Trinidad was coming from, but didn’t appreciate him trying to put all the blame on Lamont. Chapeltown’s problems had been there long before Lamont was around, and they would be there long after he went.

  The most irritating thing for Lamont was the guilt he felt. People were looking at him differently, and he didn’t like it. The old woman avoiding his path was only the start. When he went to local takeaways, or to buy things from local shops, he felt the angry glares. He needed to shrug it off and focus.

  Driving into the city centre, Lamont parked, took his ticket, and headed towards a little restaurant near Albion Street.

  ‘Can I get you anything else, sir?’

  Lamont shook his head, tucking into the grilled chicken breast. He didn’t think much of it, but kept his expression neutral, letting the conversation swirl around him.

  ‘What does Kingsford think then?’ His business partner, a doughy, bespectacled man named Martin Fisher asked whilst shovelling fillet steak into his mouth and washing it down with wine. The third, a diminutive hook-nosed man with balding hair and a five thousand pound suit, picked at his salad, arranging it on the plate. He sipped a glass of sparkling water.

  ‘He thinks nothing. He’s out.’

  ‘How can he be out, Levine? I’m not sure if you remember the talks from last year, but he was our best bloody friend then! What’s changed?’

  ‘The climate, Marty. I’m just your solicitor, but I’ve plenty of contacts in the Kingsford camp. People have been whispering in his ear for months about Lamont’s background, and with his unfortunate incident, and all the publicity, he got cold feet.’

  Lamont didn’t even raise his head. Martin still believed they could salvage a deal but Lamont saw the writing on the wall. From a business standpoint, he was damaged goods.

  After his recovery, Lamont had looked over some news coverage from the shooting. He’d received near national exposure, with talk relating to the fact the shooting was tied to drugs.

  With Timmy dead at the scene, and eye-witness reports of multiple shots being fired, the press were desperate to unlock the secret of who exactly Lamont Jones was, and why people wanted to kill him.

  Thanks in part to the machinations of Levine, the story died down, but the men Lamont was in business with had long memories.

  ‘Commitments were made and I — rather, we, want to see something for it, Levine. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.’

  ‘I’m only here to counsel and dispense advice. Reach out if you feel it’s necessary. Don’t be shocked if you receive a cold reception, however. That local initiative is making a lot of developers wary about treading into Chapeltown.’

  Martin, now
red-faced, stabbed his fork into the remains of his steak. The loud clinking sound had heads turning in their direction.

  ‘L, I know you’re not enjoying the chicken that much. How about a little input here?’

  Lamont glanced at his business partner. ‘No one is forcing the Kingsford’s. If they want out, I say we leave them to it.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Levine.

  ‘That means leaving the potential to make a lot of money on the table,’ argued Martin.

  ‘If we can finance the housing initiative, we’ll have an excellent foundation. The Kingsford’s are formidable, but they’re not the only game in town.’

  Martin shook his head, but didn’t reply. He could be short-sighted, but Lamont knew he would have to accept that the Kingsford’s had been spooked. He checked the time on his watch.

  ‘I’m going to have to leave you two. I have another meeting.’

  ‘With whom?’ Martin demanded. Lamont stared him down, silently imploring Martin to relax.

  ‘It’s personal, not business. Levine, I’ll call your office in a few days and we can iron out the details.’ Shaking hands with both men, Lamont left two fifty-pound notes on the table, ignoring the protests he didn’t need to. He always paid his own way.

  Jenny and Kate met for drinks after work. They headed to a bar they remembered from years back and ordered cosmopolitans. The music was low and the bar still fairly empty, meaning they didn’t struggle to hear one another.

  ‘So, what’s new?’ Kate sipped her drink, looking around the room before bringing her dark eyes back to Jenny.

  ‘One day at a time. Martha’s helping a lot. She wants me to face the fact things won’t be the same, and roll with the changes.’

  ‘So, basically the same thing that I was saying all along?’

  ‘Yeah, Kate, you’re great and always right. Can we move on now?’

  Kate grinned. Jenny stirred her drink with her finger, listening to the music for a few minutes.

  ‘Do you know much about Chapeltown right now?’

  ‘Are you going to be more specific?’

  ‘That OurHood Initiative. Do you know much about it?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘I’ve heard of it, but not in much detail. Why?’

  ‘I was speaking to the guy that runs it. He came into the shop a few times, and he was telling me about the work they do. He’s really involved in fundraising and organising events to raise awareness. He does a lot of writing and blogging about social issues. I was checking out his website and some of the articles are insightful. You should read them . . .’ Jenny trailed off when she saw the speculative look on Kate’s face. She’d seen the look too many times before, and it never turned out well. ‘What?’

  ‘You said he’s come into the shop a few times?’

  ‘Customers do that sometimes, Kate. So what?’

  ‘And you spoke with the guy enough that he told you all this information about an organisation and interested you enough to the point you checked out the website yourself?’

  ‘Yes, Kate. Are you going to get to a point soon?’

  ‘I’m just asking questions, Jen. Don’t be so defensive. What does he look like?’

  ‘Why? I don’t know. He’s tall. Really tall. Looks like he trains, and he’s black with these really dark eyes . . .’ Jenny again trailed off as Kate giggled.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush there, Jen. You went from don’t know to describing his build pretty quickly.’

  ‘You asked, and I answered. Malcolm’s an attractive guy, but it’s not like that. He’s just interesting. I enjoy interesting people. Must be why I’m friends with your crazy self.’

  ‘You’re friends with me because I liven you up and give your life meaning,’ Kate stuck out her tongue. ‘How’s L?’

  Jenny sighed. Lamont was a tricky subject. They were happy around one another, but there was an undercurrent of forced interaction they were both aware of. Sometimes the most difficult thing was to sit at the table, or at a restaurant and make conversation. It used to come so naturally, yet now they seemed to have to try much harder. Even before they became a couple, they could always talk and bounce off each other.

  Jenny hoped that the disconnect didn’t continue, because she loved Lamont, and wanted nothing more than to be happy with him.

  ‘He’s not one hundred percent. Hasn’t been since it happened. I don’t know how to help him, I mean, I’ve suggested he visit my counsellor but he won’t even consider it.’

  ‘You know what L’s like. He just wants to deal with it all and get better by himself.’ Kate’s voice was full of warmth. She’d always had a soft spot for Lamont and had helped to get he and Jenny together. ‘He nearly died though, and that’s gonna change anyone, especially an alpha male like Lamont. When you think about it, you two haven’t been together long, and you’ve dealt with so much. I guess you just need to wait it out, even if that’s not what you want to hear.’

  They sat in silence. Jenny contemplated Kate’s words, grudgingly admitting that her friend was probably right. She and Lamont had been together for under two years, and they spent a year of that time dealing with Lamont’s recovery. It wasn’t enough time to get a full understanding of each other.

  Jenny sensed when she began seeing Lamont that he was guarded, but of his own accord he eventually let her in on his pain and inner demons. Maybe he would do the same now if she remained supportive.

  Feeling a sudden warmth in her stomach, Jenny smiled and finished her drink.

  ‘Hey, smiley girl. Have you seen who’s just come in?’

  Jenny followed Kate’s eye, surprised to see Marika Jones and a few of her friends. She hadn’t seen Lamont’s younger sister since they’d spent tear-filled nights sitting by Lamont’s bedside in the hospital. Lamont had still been unconscious, loaded with powerful painkillers and recovering from surgery. By the time he was coherent, Marika had stopped coming.

  ‘Should I speak to her?’

  ‘Yeah, go say hi. I’ll get more drinks.’

  Jenny slid to her feet and walked over to Marika, who was in conversation with one of her friends. Jenny didn’t recognise the woman, but she was hard-faced and looked ready to break a chair over someone’s head. She eyeballed Jenny and when Marika noticed, she turned, noticing Jenny. They stood awkwardly for a second before Jenny found her words.

  ‘Hey, Marika.’

  ‘It’s been a while, Jen. Everything good?’

  Remembering the tight, skimpy outfit Marika had worn when Jenny saw her at carnival two years ago, her new outfit was almost prudish in comparison. She wore a blue blouse and grey jeans with heels, her sparse makeup allowing her natural beauty to shine through. It was weird being around a family member of Lamont’s that looked so much like him. The eyes were similar, the facial features, the way both could stare through a person. Their personalities were different though.

  ‘Yeah, just went for a drink after work with my girl. Is everything okay with you?’

  ‘I work part time now, which I’m kinda enjoying. It’s good to get out and be around people sometimes. How’s L?’

  It was a loaded question. Marika hadn’t spoken to her brother since before the shooting. Things had been said during heated moments that both struggled to recall. Lamont had implied that Marika was a leech, relying on him financially because she didn’t want to do anything for herself.

  Marika had let herself be manipulated by her ex-partner Marrion into thinking Lamont had tried to kill her. Even after all this time, they hadn’t found their way back to one another.

  Jenny knew that Lamont missed his sister, and especially his niece and nephew, but he didn’t say much about it.

  ‘He’s good.’

  Marika’s smile was tight and didn’t extend to her eyes. ‘I’m glad he’s doing well.’

  Jenny thought for a second and came to a decision.

  ‘Would you be open to making peace with him?’

  Marika hung her head, ‘I
don’t think it’ll be that easy. The things we did to each other, you can’t really come back from. I don’t know if there’s anyway back,’ she smiled now. ‘Take my number though, and me and you can talk. I should make a better effort to get to know my sister-in-law.’

  Darren yawned as he sat in the backroom of a hangout spot, watching his runners playing on the Playstation. The stench of weed hung heavily in the air mingled with the smell of fried chicken and dumplings.

  ‘D?’

  Darren glanced around, startled at hearing his name. One of the youths handed him a phone, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Yeah?’ Darren held the phone loosely to his ear.

  ‘Meet me outside in half an hour.’

  Recognising K-Bar’s voice, Darren hung up, hoping he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  ‘You weren’t waiting long were you?’ K-Bar asked. He and Darren were in a rented black Alfa Romeo. K-Bar wore a black bomber jacket over some dark jeans and a pair of black boots. His dreads spilled freely down his back, his eyes darting around the streets, always on the lookout.

  ‘Nah,’ lied Darren. K-Bar was an hour late, but it would be pointless bringing it up.

  ‘Meeting ran on longer, but I think you’ll like what you’re hearing.’

  ‘Are we talking here?’ Darren gestured to the car. K-Bar cocked his head and smirked.

  ‘Nah, we’re going to a spot.’

  Darren asked no further questions, listening to K-Bar speak about random Hood politics until they pulled up to a spot in Seacroft that Darren had visited once before. It was a ramshackle red-bricked terraced house crumbling stone steps leading up to a pale door. They headed inside, slouching into chairs in the makeshift kitchen.

  ‘First up, here you go,’ K-Bar reached into his pocket, slapping a wad of notes on the kitchen table. ‘Enjoy.’

  Wordlessly, Darren scooped up the money, thumbing through the twenty-pound notes with an awestruck look on his face.

  ‘What’s this for?’