by Ricky Black
‘Have you two ever told me how you met?’ Jenny asked. By now they had finished eating and were in the living room sipping drinks. Lamont disappeared to complete the washing up, then sat next to Jenny afterward. Shorty and Lamont laughed.
‘How many years ago was that?’ Shorty asked.
‘Thirty, thirty-one at least. We were in Reception,’ Lamont took over the story. ‘I was nervous, trying to avoid everyone around me.’
‘I was a little shit,’ Shorty said. ‘I was bigger than everyone else in the class, and I didn’t know how to sit still. I remember seeing L sitting there, trying to read some little kiddie book, and I just started hanging around him. Stayed like that for a few years. People used to trouble him because he was quiet, and I fought them off.’ Shorty paused, reminiscing. ‘It was just like that, I guess. We lived close to each other, and I guess I liked that he was quiet. I didn’t want anyone else getting more attention than me.’
Jenny smiled. The pair continued to tell stories of things they had done as kids. Jenny noticed the stories were all light-hearted and innocent, for which she was thankful. The last thing she wanted was to hear more stories of Lamont’s criminal days.
Jenny was tempted to mention the meeting with Marika, but didn’t know how. She stayed quiet and sipped her wine.
When Jenny went to bed, Lamont and Shorty retreated to his study, taking their glasses and a bottle of brandy with them. Lamont topped up their glasses, and the old friends toasted in silence.
‘It was a good night. We’ll have to do this more often,’ Lamont started. ‘You should bring a girl next time. You got anyone in mind?’
‘Amy?’ Shorty joked. Lamont grinned.
‘They got along when they met. Amy came to visit me, and she and Jenny were talking. I think Jenny met Grace after that, but you know what she’s like.’
Shorty grinned. Grace was wary around new people, something he was sure she had picked up from him.
‘Amy’s dating now, and I don’t think we could ever go back to the way things were. I met a girl after I got out of prison, but that was just a one-night thing. I don’t even know her name.’
‘Typical you then. What about Kimberley?’
Shorty scowled. He and Kimberley had been on and off for years. The last time they had been together was the Bank Holiday weekend when Marcus died. Kimberley had gotten into an altercation with some girls, and Shorty had defended her. They slept together the same weekend, but in the aftermath of the shootings, Shorty had forgotten all about her until he was locked up. He’d tried reaching out and even wrote to her, but she never responded.
‘I’d have to try tracking her down, see what’s going on. She ducked me when I was in prison, but I could always get her to slip up one-on-one.’
The pair laughed, remembering some of the altercations Shorty and Kimberley had in the past.
‘It really is good to see you out, Shorty. We haven’t spoken much, but I never liked the thought of my best friend rotting behind bars. If shit hadn’t gone down how it had . . . you wouldn’t have stayed in so long.’
Shorty nodded, touched by the emotion in his friend’s voice.
‘How are you doing though? I bet it’s dodgy trying to get used to everything.’
‘The entire world has changed. There’s so many people I remember from before I got locked up, and they’re not even around anymore. There’s people fighting each other who I’d never have expected. Even this OurHood shit, it’s mad. Jen was telling me earlier that she knows the man behind it. Some dude called Malcolm. I’m assuming you do too.’
‘I’ve never met him,’ Lamont replied, his expression hardening. Shorty blinked and Lamont’s face was blank again.
‘Think he must have bought some flowers or something. Is that initiative affecting business?’
‘Everything is affecting business at the moment. I’m taking steps to get things in order though. It won’t happen overnight, but it’s necessary.’
‘About that,’ Shorty started. ‘Me and you need to talk, L.’
Lamont sipped his drink, topping himself up. He motioned to the bottle, but Shorty shook his head.
‘I thought we were talking?’
‘I want back in. Put me on so I can start hustling again.’
Lamont didn’t reply straight away. The silence stretched, Lamont holding his glass and staring off into space. The longer the silence, the more antsy Shorty grew.
‘Did you hear me, L?’
‘I think you should stay under the radar for now. The police might still be watching you, and the last thing we need is to give them a reason to look too closely.’
‘I know the game. I know how to hustle low key. The money is running low, and I need to step up so I can fund my kids. You know that.’
Lamont smiled. ‘Shorty, you’re my brother, and you never have to worry about money. I’ve more than got you covered with everything you need.’
Shorty felt his hands twitching as he tightened his grip on the glass
‘Listen, I’m not Rika. I don’t need a handout. I can earn.’
‘It’s not a handout. I want to help you, and I don’t want you getting yourself in any trouble.’
‘Then you need to have some fucking faith in me. It’s a handout if you wanna keep giving me money and not have me work for it.’
‘Do you not understand where I’m coming from, Shorty? You just got released from a murder charge. You weren’t worrying about money when I was paying my solicitors small fortunes to defend you.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
Lamont rubbed his face, his jaw tight.
‘It means that if you hadn’t been so foolish to get yourself arrested, I wouldn’t have needed to protect you. You should have left the Manchester situation alone. I told you to be careful, but you didn’t listen. You never do, and that’s why I have to be careful before I put you back in.’
Shorty let out a harsh laugh. ‘Protect me? What could you protect me from? You couldn’t even protect yourself when you got dropped in the street like a coward!’
The tense silence that followed Shorty’s words was palpable, both men scowling. After a while, the ringing of Lamont’s phone punctuated the silence. He answered curtly, his expression changing as the person on the other end spoke.
‘I’m on my way.’ He hung up and leapt to his feet.
‘What’s happened?’ Shorty asked. Lamont rubbed his eyes as he drained his drink.
‘It’s K-Bar. We need to call Akeem and go. Now.’
Chapter Eight
Wednesday 25 February 2015
K-Bar winced, gritting his teeth, his hand wrapped around a bottle of the worst-tasting whiskey he’d ever tried. He wasn’t in a situation to be picky, resisting the urge to touch the bandages that swathed his upper body. He closed his eyes as footsteps bounded up the stairs of the safe house. K-Bar resisted the urge to go for the gun under his pillow as Lamont burst in, followed by Shorty. Both froze when they saw K-Bar’s condition.
‘What the hell happened?’ Lamont found his voice first. K-Bar sighed.
‘Things were dicey.’
‘Dicey how?’
K-Bar took a swig of the whiskey, making another face.
K-Bar watched the surroundings from the passenger seat of the Ford Focus, wearing his all-black killing gear. In the driver’s seat, Maka slouched, devouring a packet of crisps as he stared at his phone. The loud chewing was irritating K-Bar, but he shut it out. He needed to be in the zone.
They had been tracking Kev for days, eventually tailing him to a spot near Armley. They were parked nearby, monitoring the house.
K-Bar hadn’t fired his gun in a while and was trying to slip into his mode of focus. The last time, he’d gotten into an argument a few months back with a cocky crew of knuckleheads. They were causing trouble, throwing their weight around, trying to make a name for themselves.
K-Bar had set up a meeting to get them to calm down. When the crew took his
soft words and tone as weakness, they flexed and began threatening him. K-Bar had cleared his gun and shot the loudest one in the leg. While he was rolling around on the floor, K-Bar aimed the gun at the others, who now looked terrified. Eventually he’d called someone to see to the man he’d shot, warning all of them about the dangers of running their mouths.
When Lamont found out, he was furious with K-Bar, saying it made them look weak and out of control. He told K-Bar that if he was going to run things, he needed to learn to keep his temper.
Annoyed, K-Bar had taken the rebuke in sullen silence. The word was out though, and his actions had thrown the crew under a spotlight.
If K-Bar was honest, it was likely part of the reason people were stepping away from dealing with their crew.
K-Bar took a deep breath.
‘Oi, put the phone away and make sure you’re ready, okay?’
Maka nodded, wiping his mouth and slipping the phone into the pocket of his combat trousers.
‘Make sure you’re on point. If anything goes wrong, make sure you finish the job and get clear.’
‘Got it, K. I know the drill.’
It was after ten when Big-Kev lumbered from the house. He was a mountain of a man, standing well over six-feet-tall with the weight to match. Even from his vantage point, K-Bar noticed his chins wobbling as he struggled to move forward. He had to be at least twenty stone.
‘Right then, show time.’
K-Bar slid from the car. Kev was paying little attention as his accomplice rambled on about something, waving the keys in his hand excitedly as the Range Rover clicked.
K-Bar’s black boots clumped over the frosted ground, making little noise. He raised the gun when he was close by, satisfied neither man had even noticed him. His finger caressed the trigger as Kev stopped short.
‘Shit, forgot my—’
K-Bar’s gun whistled, silencing the rest of Kev’s words. His hesitation saved his life, K-Bar aiming for where he expected the man to be. The bullet whizzed past them as his accomplice yelled. Kev trudged back towards the house as his accomplice reached for something, but K-Bar was far quicker, a bullet lodging into the man’s chest as he flew backwards.
K-Bar hurried after Kev, the large man already out of breath after a few yards. Three shots slumped into his back and Kev fell face-first to the ground with a grunt. K-Bar put his gun to Kev’s head and pulled the trigger, finishing the job.
As he turned to find Maka, he was stunned to see a flash of metal, then felt the searing pain of the knife slashing against his chest. The accomplice he’d shot bore down on K-Bar, holding the blooded knife, his face contorted with pain. K-Bar could see the red patch on the man’s sweater, but it didn’t seem to hold him back. K-Bar tumbled over Kev’s dead body and fell to the floor, the gun slipping from his hand. The accomplice raised the knife to finish the job, and K-Bar cursed himself for not making sure the man was dead.
Three shots rang out, and now the man was lurching towards him, the knife tumbling from his hand. K-Bar leapt to his feet, fumbling for the gun as Maka dropped his own smoking weapon.
‘Come, man; we need to go!’
Maka helped K-Bar, and they stumbled towards the car.
‘Why didn’t you finish him in the house?’ Lamont’s eyes seared with fury.
‘We didn’t know how many people were in there. We figured we’d get him when he came out. It would have worked if he hadn’t hesitated.’
‘You should have made sure his guy was dead the first time, K,’ said Shorty. ‘You know to always clean your plate. You nearly got finished because you were sloppy.’
‘I know, Shorty. I don’t need to hear this shit right now though. My fucking chest is killing, and I just wanna drink until the pain goes away.’
‘Did anyone see you?’ Lamont asked.
‘I don’t know. I was too busy trying not to die,’ snapped K-Bar. Lamont’s expression softened.
‘Fair enough. At least he’s dead. That’s one thing at least. I’ll send word to the Manchester links that he’s gone. Did you leave any blood at the scene?’
‘I honestly don’t know. There was no time to call anyone to clean up, but the Fed’s won’t be able to prove it’s me, anyway. It was dark, and we burnt out the car we used. It’s cool.’
Lamont nodded, sharing a look with Shorty.
‘I’m gonna send Akeem to see if there’s any possibility of a cleanup, but I doubt it at this stage. For now, lie low and speak to no one. I’ll send word when it’s cool to resurface.’ Lamont swept from the room, with Shorty following.
‘I expected better from K,’ Lamont admitted, as they climbed into the ride. Akeem motored away.
‘These things happen, L. He did the job regardless. If anything pops off, K-Bar will ride it. He’s not gonna roll on us.’
Lamont shrugged, thankful that K-Bar’s mission had distracted Shorty from their argument. He wasn’t ready to let his friend back into the fold yet, but it was growing harder to keep him at bay. Lamont needed to sit down, think, and reinforce his next move.
Detective Inspector Rigby slumped, wiping tired eyes as he pored over a succession of papers on his cramped desk. It was late in the office, and very few were still working, other than the night shift.
Sipping his stone-cold coffee, he ran a hand through his greying hair as someone approached.
‘Figured I’d find you here.’ Murphy took a seat next to Rigby and glanced at the paperwork. ‘This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘There was nothing to go home to.’ Rigby shrugged. Murphy grinned, showing yellow teeth.
‘Guess I’m staying here with you then. What do you have?’
‘This Kev thing.’
‘What about it?’ Murphy had been placed on the case of the dead criminal, with Rigby and a few others. The name was one they knew. Big-Kev was a nasty man known for throwing his weight around and taking liberties with people. Murphy wasn’t enthused about having to catch his killer, but it was better than the cases they’d had recently.
‘It stinks, to be honest.’
‘He was a scumbag everyone hated. Course it stinks,’ Murphy pointed out.
‘That’s my point; everyone hated him, but no one ever made a move. He was a big deal, and he had a lot of connections, so no one could touch him. What changed?’
‘I dunno, Rig. I don’t see why you think it’s so important.’
Rigby shook his head. James Murphy didn’t get it. He had lost that desire for police work two marriages ago. Rigby still believed in the work they did, even in a sparse department, almost threadbare from the redundancies and recent cutbacks.
‘Because it’s an important part in everything that’s happened recently. We’ve seen more murders in the past four years than the last ten years before that. Doesn’t that shock you? Even when we had all the mess between the Yardie’s and the local kids, it was never this bad. We need to pull the threads and follow them while we still have a city left to protect.’
Murphy wanted to argue, but held his tongue. It was hard to stop Clive Rigby when he was off on a tangent. He was the sharpest detective on the unit though, and as annoying and convoluted as his thinking could be, it bore results more often than not.
‘Do you have a plan?’
Lamont washed and dressed the next day, ate a quick breakfast with Jenny and then left with Akeem. They had spoken earlier, Lamont calling Akeem from his PGP phone. Akeem was quickly mired in traffic.
‘I’m assuming we couldn’t get people up to Armley in time?’
‘The police had the area cordoned off. Someone got close enough to see that there were two bodies. We should be okay though. Doesn’t look like K-Bar left much mess behind and it was late, so it’s less likely someone saw anything.’
Lamont was satisfied, for now. K-Bar was in hiding and would remain there until things calmed down. Lamont had used the situation to get Shorty to agree to back off. He wouldn’t be able to keep him at bay forever, and he wondered to himse
lf why he didn’t want Shorty involved.
It wasn’t a question of greed; Lamont paid his people well, and Shorty received a larger share than anyone other than Lamont himself. Skill-wise, Shorty was in a different league. He could shoot and maim enemies, but had the charisma to make people want to be around him; an essential trait for the role he’d held.
Lamont wanted Shorty to be safe though. The police loathed people getting away with murder, and Lamont didn’t want them trying to put Shorty down for good. It wasn’t the time to think about it though. He had work to do.
They reached their destination. Akeem led the way, Lamont following. The garden was unkempt. Weeds lived where flowers once rested, and the gate wailed as they pushed it, its rusty shell creaking. They knocked at the door, waiting.
‘L?’
A powerfully built, dark-skinned man loomed over them. He wore a rumpled white t-shirt, grey jogging bottoms and was barefooted. His sleepy eyes brimmed with obvious confusion.
‘Hello Sharma.’
Lamont didn’t have many memories of Sharma. He, along with another soldier named Victor, did the running around of Marcus Daniels. Victor had lost his freedom trying to protect Marcus when he was shot. He was serving time. Lamont made sure he was looked after, but money was nothing compared to freedom.
Lamont realised this now more than ever.
‘Come in, fam.’ Sharma shuffled to the side to let them enter. Sharma had never made big money rolling with Marcus, and it was clear he was making even less with Marcus’s death. There was a sofa in the middle of the room that looked like it had been left outside someone’s house, some splinter-ridden wooden chairs and a TV. The floorboards creaked under the weight of the men.
Sharma hung near the door, suddenly abashed.
‘Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company.’
‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m getting by. Juggling here and there. You know how it is.’
‘Definitely,’ agreed Lamont. It had been years since he’d needed to scramble around to make money, as everyone present knew. He went along with it though.