by Ricky Black
Lamont had known Lennox Thompson through Marcus. He refused to sell drugs, but moved guns and loaned money amongst other things.
Lamont recalled him committing robberies all over the country, including targeting drug dealers. He’d done some time in prison, but had kept a tight grip on his crew.
Natty Deeds was a well-known drug dealer who had come into further prominence while Lamont was recovering. He couldn’t argue with Delroy picking any of them. Delroy scratched his chin, mulling over Lamont’s words.
‘He’s the one I believe’s responsible. He’s crafty enough not to come out and say he did it.’
‘I think you’re reaching. The police aren’t stupid, so there’s always the chance they just ran surveillance and got lucky.’
‘Raids are nothing new, L. We both know that. I’ve never lost that amount in one sitting though. It wasn’t about taking the drugs, otherwise he could have robbed me. I think he was sending a message, and I think if it pops off, Winston won’t be able to deal with him. You can.’
Lamont sighed. ‘I’m not heavy like that anymore.’
‘I know about Kev, and I know people have been scrambling around trying to get money because Teflon came out of hiding and demanded repayments. You’re ramping up for something. We can help each other.’
‘I want to ask you something else,’ said Lamont, disregarding Delroy’s statement.
‘Go ahead.’
‘What is the deal with Akhan?’
Delroy didn’t speak for a long time, tapping his fingers on the desk before smirking.
‘Why?’
‘I’m curious.’
‘He turned up the heat on you, didn’t he? That’s why you’re stepping up. You’re moving against him.’
Lamont didn’t reply, waiting for Delroy to continue.
‘L . . . You’re talking about an entirely different sort of power here. Those Asians are embedded, with shooting crews and men all over the place. He’s a warlord, and he’s got direct links to people abroad that will murder you and your entire crew in your sleep. How can you go up against that?’
‘I never said I was.’
Delroy rubbed his eyes. ‘You know he was the reason I backed off, don’t you?’
‘I worked that one out.’
‘So, what does that tell you?’
‘It tells me you take him seriously, but you haven’t told me anything I don’t already know.’
‘Then let me tell you this; don’t engage Akhan. Just keep working, making money, and let me know about my proposition. Stay in touch.’
‘What do you think then?’
Rigby took a long swig of coffee. It was again late in the office, and he and Murphy were hunched over Rigby’s desk, looking over files and making notes. Terry’s information had been sparse, but it was enough for them to pay more attention.
‘I think Teflon was definitely behind it. We know that Kev owed him money, and there aren’t many people who could take him out without a backlash on the streets. Kev was definitely behind the shooting of Marika Jones’s house back in 2013. That’s been corroborated by several other informants. Kev was even a suspect in the murder of Marrion Bernette, who was also originally from Manchester. There’s a definite connection here. Plus, there are those rumours from back then. You know which ones I mean.’
Murphy did. The time after Lamont Jones was shot was tumultuous. The police were terrified that there would be retaliatory shootings every day, understanding Lamont’s power and the control he had over his crew. They had tried to penetrate the crew multiple times over the years, but Lamont and his men were smart and difficult to pin down.
The rumours were that shooters from Manchester had attempted Lamont’s life, and that there was beef between the two cities.
‘Exactly. There is a definite Manchester connection. Add in the fact that Shorty avoided a life sentence for murdering three other shooters from Manchester, we’re definitely looking in the right direction.’
Murphy grinned. He’d wanted to lock up Lamont Jones for years and potentially recapturing Shorty was also appealing.
‘Do we think Shorty was the triggerman?’
‘I’m not sure. Reports suggest that’s he’s been lying low since his release. There’s definitely enough for us to approach the higher ups though. We need to get an investigation into Teflon going, and then we need to take him down for good.’
Chapter Nine
Monday 2 March 2015
‘Why are we doing this?’
Darren Lyles paced around his living room, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke with his girlfriend. The argument was a familiar one that he had never learned how to navigate in the two years he’d been on and off with Clarissa.
‘Because it’s not enough. I thought you’d be done with what you’re doing by now, and I’m sick of waiting around for you to give me more.’
Darren resisted the urge to swear. It was the second argument of this magnitude he’d had with Clarissa in the past week alone. He’d missed a dinner she’d set up because he was working with Maka, and she had thrown a fit.
Darren couldn’t help it. Like others in the crew, he’d come from nothing, and he had the opportunity to live a certain life if he focused. That would mean he missed a few dinners now and then.
‘Babe, I can’t make you wait around, but you need to understand I’m doing this for us.’
‘You’re doing it for you. I see you posing for photos in town and popping bottles. You like the lifestyle, not me.’
‘It’s not about that. I make appearances with my people, but that’s it. You’re my girl, and you’re the only one I care about.’
They went back and forth for another thirty minutes before Darren told her he had to go. He wiped his face, annoyed with Clarissa and her antics. Times like this he wondered why he even bothered. She’d stuck by him though, he swiftly reasoned. Clarissa only acted as she did out of concern for him.
The streets were deep, and the more entwined Darren became in the game, the more dangerous it became.
A firm knock at the door jolted Darren out of his thoughts. He jerked to his feet and stomped to the door, flinging it open. The words on his tongue died as he looked at Akeem’s inscrutable expression.
‘We need to talk.’
Jenny was sipping coffee in her office when there was a knock on the door.
‘Hey, Nadia,’ Jenny smiled warmly at her employee who stood in the doorway. ‘Is everything okay?’
Nadia nodded. ‘That man is here to see you again. Malcolm.’
Malcolm was browsing the flowers when Jenny out. Smoothing her hair, she headed towards him and shook his hand.
‘Thank you for the mention on your site,’ she said.
‘Thank you for the email response. I’m glad you saw it.’ Malcolm wore a navy blue sweatsuit and white trainers. His hair appeared damp and Jenny presumed he’d gone to the gym before coming to see her.
‘It was sweet of you. You didn’t have to do it.’
Malcom shrugged. ‘I often do what I’m not meant to. I was wondering if you’d let me take you for a quick coffee?’ Jenny opened her mouth to refuse. ‘Nothing nefarious, I promise. Just conversation.’
Jenny mulled it over a moment. ‘Okay.’
After letting Nadia know, Jenny climbed into the passenger seat of Malcolm’s Range Rover. They drove to a coffee shop in silence, the sounds of Slum Village providing the melodic soundtrack.
Jenny thought about Lamont, wondering if he would mind her being with Malcolm. She didn’t think he would, and she didn’t intend anything to happen.
When they parked and headed inside, Malcolm ordered two coffees and they took seats. It was after eleven, and the coffee shop was fairly empty. A couple sat at a far end, and one other person pounded away on a laptop. Jenny noticed Malcolm watching the writer.
‘Tell me about your business,’ he said as he turned back to her. Jenny smiled.
‘I don’t know what to say about it,
really. I like flowers, and I always wanted a career where I could develop it, and here I am.’
‘What’s the next step? Expansion?’
Jenny shook her head. ‘I need to fix the business first. It’s not going so well at the moment, so that means more hours and less profit.’
‘What caused the switch? Having seen your demeanour, and having purchased some of your products before, I can speak for the quality. Is it your marketing plan?’
‘My partner was involved in an accident. I put everything on hold until he recovered, and the business suffered.’ Jenny gauged Malcolm for his reaction to her boyfriend.
‘He must feel bad about that.’
‘He offered to give me money to re-grow the business. He even offered to invest, but I turned him down.’
‘Because you wanted to do it all yourself? I’m sure you know he was likely offering because he wanted to help, not because he assumed you needed it.’
‘His heart was in the right place, but what happened couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t his fault, and the business is mine. He runs his own business, and I stay out of that.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s an entrepreneur.’
‘Sounds vague,’ remarked Malcolm. Jenny flashed another tight smile.
‘He wouldn’t like me talking about his business. He’s very private.’
Malcolm chuckled. ‘How long have you been together?’
‘Nearly two years.’
‘And you live with him?’
Jenny tilted her head to the side. ‘This is sounding suspiciously like an interview.’
‘I have a curious nature, and I like to ask questions.’
‘Understandable, with what you do for a living. There’s not much to say though. We love each other, but I guess we just struggle to communicate.’ Jenny paused, frowning, unsure why she had shared this information with Malcolm. If Malcolm noticed her hesitation, he didn’t comment.
‘I understand. Personally, I struggle in relationships because I can never switch off, and my work keeps me busy. Makes it harder to form connections.’
‘How did you get started with that work? I was checking out some work on your website, and the pieces are engaging.’
Malcolm smiled. ‘I tried to write fiction novels about people from the streets, but I could never seem to make them work. It depressed me for a while, then I started writing poetry and taking part in readings. I studied to be a copyeditor, got my degree, then ended up working a few free-lance roles. After that I stumbled into social commentary and blogging, I even co-produced a podcast and Internet show for eighteen months.’
‘That’s impressive,’ Jenny admitted. Malcolm chuckled again.
‘Sounds over the top, like I’m at an interview, but I enjoy my work and make a good living from it. I grew up in Chapeltown, and all my life I saw the good overshadowed by the bad. I decided to bring about change with the tools at my disposal, and here we are.’
It took Jenny a moment to realise Malcolm had stopped talking. She had become so enthralled in his speech and the passion behind it that it was overwhelming. It was a similar feeling to the one she experienced reading Malcolm’s words online.
The most jarring thing for Jenny was that she saw elements in Malcolm that reminded her of Lamont. When Lamont spoke, you paid attention to the words, and they resonated with you. Malcolm was the same. She sipped her coffee, her brain alight with thoughts.
They spoke for a short while longer, then Jenny had to leave. Malcolm drove her back to the office, but stopped her before she could climb from the ride.
‘I know you weren’t interested last time, but there’s a community meeting this evening at the church on Chapeltown Road. You don’t have to speak, you don’t even have to contribute. Just listen and we can discuss your thoughts another time. Bring your partner.’
Jenny mulled it over. She didn’t have any plans, and she was curious about Malcolm’s narrative and what he might say.
‘Will you message me the details? If I can make it, I will.’
Malcolm grinned, exposing dazzling white teeth. ‘That’s not a problem.’
Darren sat in the passenger seat, wondering what had transpired to lead to this meeting. He’d kept his head down, focusing on business and avoiding the politics.
The crew was in a transitional period, and Darren wanted to be involved in the next steps. Teflon was back in the driver’s seat now, and he’d already made moves, collecting unpaid debts, and wiping out Big-Kev.
Darren snuck a look at Akeem, who remained as unflappable as ever. He wiped his hands on his trousers, trying to look in control.
As they pulled up to a spot, Darren looked at the house. It was nondescript and white-bricked, a small garden and driveway leading onto a garage. Anyone could have lived here, which Darren supposed was the intention.
Akeem led the way into the house, and they entered the living room. This was much nicer than the outside, the floorboards varnished and immaculate. There was a Television that took up most of a wall, a few books and some magazines. Darren also noticed a chessboard hidden amongst various paperbacks and bits of paperwork.
In the room, Teflon assessed Darren from an armchair. He wore a pair of reading glasses and had a selection of papers resting lazily in his lap. Darren’s mouth was dry, hands jammed into his pockets. He hadn’t expected to be face-to-face with the boss.
‘You know who I am?’ Teflon motioned for Darren to come closer.
‘You’re Teflon,’ replied Darren, his voice hushed. Darren had grown up in the same Chapeltown streets Teflon had, living with his mother in a small home with not much money coming in. His older brother Lucas was in the life of crime and as Darren got older, he wanted to do the same. School was pointless. No one learned anything there. The streets were where it was at; people could grow rich overnight, turn themselves into legends and drive around in the fanciest cars.
Darren wanted all of that. Lucas had too, but when police caught him with drugs, they had sentenced him to years behind bars. He kept his mouth shut, and he was looked after. Because Darren was his family, he too was brought into the fold, working under the tutelage of Maka, and later K-Bar. Darren kept quiet, soaking in everything around him, and was eventually promoted to run his own team, receiving a percentage.
Now, he was stood in the same room with the legend who had cheated death.
Everyone knew about Teflon’s shooting. He had been shot at close range. The people behind it were all dead. Teflon was still here, probably richer and more powerful. He looked so normal, Darren thought to himself. He was dressed similarly to Darren in a white long-sleeved top, jeans and trainers. His hair was unruly. The eyes and stature were powerful though. They assessed Darren with consummate ease, and Darren felt far more self-conscious than before.
‘Call me L,’ replied Lamont, holding out his hand. Darren shook. ‘I’ve heard good things about you. There are things in the works now, that I want you to be part of. I want to ask you a few questions though. Cool?’
Darren nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
‘You grew up in the Hood, didn’t you?’
‘Leopold Street. Lived there pretty much all my life.’
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’
‘For now.’ Darren made a face.
‘What’s happened?’
‘She’s stressing. She knows what I’m doing, and she’s worried that something will happen to me.’
Lamont smiled. ‘Shows that she cares though. I guess you need to look at the positives.’
‘You’re right, but I’m doing this for me and her; so we can stack money and establish ourselves. This is all I know how to do, and that might seem shit, but it’s all I want to do, and I think I’m good at it.’
‘I do too. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. For you and your girl, I guess you need to spend some time with her and let her know where your heart is. If she’s gonna stress, at least let her understand the situation.’
>
Darren shifted, thinking about Lamont’s words. He was buoyed at the fact that Lamont had received positive feedback about him. Lamont seemed to want to get to know him. Darren would be patient until he could figure out why.
‘Back to you. You wanna stack money, and I can appreciate that. What’s the endgame though? Are you trying to rise?’
‘Definitely.’ Darren didn’t hesitate. Lamont rose from his seat more fluidly than Darren would have expected. He also noticed for the first time that Akeem had left.
‘Do you play chess?’
‘I haven’t in a while, but I used to when I was little. My uncle taught me.’
Lamont smiled. ‘We’re going to have a game.’ Lamont grabbed the chessboard and spread it out on the table. They positioned themselves on either side, and picked colours, Lamont white and Darren black. They played in relative silence, Darren making his moves quicker than Lamont, wondering why he was being so cautious. Before long, his pieces were routed, and he was swiftly checkmated. Lamont laughed as Darren stared at the pieces in disbelief.
‘How the—’
‘Chess is no different than life, Darren. Stay as many moves ahead as you can, and you’ll be fine.’
Darren considered the advice and found he liked it. He didn’t like to lose, but at least he’d learned a lesson. Lamont was light years ahead of anyone Darren had encountered, and the longer the meeting went on, the more Darren realised this. It was everything; the effortless panache with which he dressed. His expression. All of it banded together to make him what he was.
‘I have a job for you.’
‘What is it?’
Lamont paused, assessing Darren for a long moment.
‘I need you to get close to someone. An Asian kid with solid connections. I want you to become his friend.’
‘Okay,’ Darren replied. If this would get him to the next level, he would do it.
‘Don’t agree without considering the facts. The man in question is connected. I’m talking power on a different level. Do you still agree?’