Queen of Green (Queen of Green Trilogy Book 1)

by V E Rooney

  “If only I wasn’t so bloody camera-shy, eh? Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work, recoup some of the cost of that scrapped shipment, so it looks like I won’t have time for that girly chat after all.”

  The blood drains from her face. Before she can muster a response, I turn away and rejoin my brief. He isn’t impressed. “Alison,” he says in a chiding tone as we step outside the court building, ignoring the throngs of journalists, photographers and onlookers who can’t believe what’s just happened inside the court. But I’m defiant.

  “She made it personal. Fuck her.”

  36. REDEMPTION

  Our celebratory bash in honour of our unexpected freedom is held at the backroom of the Faulkner’s Arms. The atmosphere is euphoric, with Sean and I greeted like a returning king and queen, having vanquished our foes in the battlefield of Lancaster Crown Court. Hugs, backslaps, kisses and more hugs from everyone assembled. Even some low-level rival crews have turned up to pay their respects but there’s no aggro or sense of antagonism – just mass relief that we’ve got away with it.

  My relief at being set free is displaced by a rapidly growing sense of unease. I may have my physical freedom, but mentally I’m still in chains. Nobody needs to tell me that the authorities will now be keeping a beady eye on me 24/7, and their remit has now widened to our foreign places of business. I can only guess the level of surveillance that will be placed upon me now.

  Personally, I realise that our freedom hangs on very precarious threads. After Sean and I were arrested, the other members of the crew cleared out my Kirkby farm and the other hidey holes we used for drugs and cash so that these places couldn’t be linked to us. And I had to tell John, Brian, David and Ste that they should stay well away from Liverpool – and from me. I don’t want to put them at risk any more than they have been already. John and Brian have joined Ste in Spain, while David is keeping up the façade of the respectable graduate over in Yorkshire. My weed supply line to him is on hold but Ste, John and Brian are as busy as ever over on the continent, handling various tasks for us such as unloading and extracting our cargo wherever it happens to dock.

  I’m not just looking over my shoulder for the busies and the cuzzies. The trial has brought me to the attention of a lot of people who didn’t even know I existed, people who have been looking for Sean’s weak link. I’m now known as the one who handles the money and that makes me a very valuable target for some people, people who would stop at nothing to squeeze my secrets out of me. In the space of 24 hours, I’ve gone from feeling invisible to unmissable. I’m gonna have to work even harder to stay off the radar.

  My newfound notoriety, thanks to the sudden burst of media interest at the collapse of the trial, only serves to feed my paranoia even more. In the days that will follow, I will find that I can’t walk to the shops to get a pint of milk without some passer-by stopping and staring. The hushed whispers as I walk into a restaurant. The instantaneous bowing and scraping and shows of automatic deference from people after their initial flicker of recognition. Even had a bunch of scallies cheering me as I walked past them down Church Street. I’ve inadvertently become an instant local celebrity, hero, anti-hero and symbol of everything that’s wrong with modern society, depending on who you talk to.

  Because of all that, and because he knows that I am now a prime kidnap and extortion target, Sean insists on me having my own team of bodyguards. Two of Sean’s bouncers, Mitch and Colin. Sound lads. Both built like brick shithouses, trained martial artists and good for a laugh. Can snap your neck like a twig. They accompany me if I have to go out in public, such as a do or an evening out. They even do my shopping for me. They’re nice enough but they’re not Ste. I would much rather be by myself, away from all this chaos and shit and attention.

  “You know I can’t bring him back, girl. Not with all this flying around us,” Sean says as we huddle by the bar, oblivious to the raucous chants and cheers echoing around the pub. “It’s for your own protection. You’re a target now. The same way I’ve always been a target.”

  “Occupational hazard, eh?” I say with a sigh as I come to terms with my new shadows who are hovering nearby.

  “Happens to the best of us, girl,” Sean says as he downs another Scotch. “You get used to it after a while.” With that, he goes to saunter off to mingle with the revellers. I touch him on the arm to stop him.

  “What about Richie?” I ask Sean, my eyes boring into him. He doesn’t answer me at first. He looks down at his shoes, shuffles on his feet a little bit.

  “I’m taking care of Richie,” he says in a low voice.

  “Taking care of him as in put him in a box in the ground?”

  “Ali…”

  “Sean? He was this close to putting us in jail. Yeah, it’s great he had a sudden attack of conscience on the stand but it doesn’t make up for what he did.”

  “Ali? I know Richie. You don’t. I know what’s best when it comes to Richie, right?” he snaps.

  “You’re gonna let him off? You’re seriously gonna let him off?” I say incredulously.

  “No, I’m not!” Sean hisses at me. The veins on his forehead are bulging. Bad sign. “For fuck’s sake, Ali. Firebombing his bird’s house was enough to put the frighteners on him, I reckon. If you think I’m gonna give him a slap on the wrist, you’re wrong. Like I said, Ali, I’ll deal with Richie. Got that?” he says angrily as he walks away.

  As I look around the crowded room, I realise that I want to be anywhere but here. For the first time since becoming part of Sean’s crew, even since I was growing weed all those years ago, I question whether I should be doing this. I know it’s hard to believe but even when I was getting battered after being ripped off outside school, it never once occurred to me to walk away, to leave this criminal enterprise malarkey behind. I just viewed the occasional beating of myself, or the beatings meted out to other people, as part of the game, something you just had to put up with in order to reap the rewards. But now the game has become real in a very sinister way. When I look at the smiling joyous faces of everyone gathered here, all I can see are people in thrall to money and power. I’m no different to them, am I? I got sucked in the same way as everyone else did. I let my greed get the better of me.

  I can’t live in the Wood Street flat any more, it’s too central, ironically. And I totally refute any allegations that the memory of being raided by the busies there has anything to do with it. It’s just a location thing - I’m too close to the heat so I’m packing up and moving into one of my houses in Melling, just up the road from Kirkby, for the time being. Paul and Lee are helping me move stuff to the van downstairs, and they tell me the tale of Sean and Richie’s last meeting.

  “So we get a call off Sean, telling us to meet him down Canning Dock,” says Paul as he heaves a chest of drawers out of the lounge and into the hallway. “We get there and we see Richie already there. Sat in his motor, he was, crying his eyes out. Then Sean drives up. He gets out the car, Richie gets out of his, they start walking towards each other, right? So just as Richie gets to Sean, Richie drops to his knees, going ‘sorry mate, I’m so sorry, mate,’ all of that, yeah? So Sean’s like, ‘get up, you fucking streak of piss and don’t you ever drop to your knees for anyone ever again.’ So Richie’s like, ‘sorry mate, thought you were gonna shoot me.’ Soft twat. Anyway, Sean tells Richie that he’d let him down, he couldn’t trust him any more and that he never wanted to see him back in Liverpool. He gave Richie about 30k and told him to do one. Leave and never come back,” says Paul. “So Richie’s fucked off to Spain and all.”

  “Aw, girl, you should’ve seen the state of him,” says Lee in what I think is an attempt to elicit sympathy for our exiled compadre. “I mean, I know you and Richie didn’t get on but the lad was proper gutted, he was. Sobbing like a babe. He knows he’s fucked up big time and now he has to fuck off away from all his family and his mates for good.”

  “He’s fucking lucky, that’s all I can say,” I mutter, trying to disguise m
y growing contempt for Sean. “How could Sean let Richie walk away? He’s killed people for less. If it had been me…”

  “What? You’d have slotted him?” asks Paul, all wide-eyed. I say nothing, just carry on packing.

  “Fucking hell, girl, remind me never to piss you off,” murmurs Lee.

  After we’ve packed up and made arrangements for the next crew meet-up, I wave Paul and Lee off and leave Mitch and Colin in the van as I go to lock up the flat for the last time. As I walk around the place, my confusion at Sean’s inaction grows. I simply don’t understand it. Yeah, I know they’ve been mates since they were toddlers, thicker than thieves and all that but betrayal is betrayal. Richie sat in front of the busies and the cuzzies and gave them enough to reel us in. He could have destroyed us. And Sean lets him walk away with a scolding. What would I have done if Richie had kneeled in front of me, begging for forgiveness? Cut out his tongue and shove it down his fucking throat, that’s what.

  The porcelain mug I’m holding makes an ear-piercing screech as it slips out of my hand and smashes into a million pieces on the floor.

  “Holy fuck,” I say to myself. “Did I just become more ruthless than Sean?”

  Business with the Venezuelans may have been temporarily suspended, but they’re just as keen as ever to resume operations. Nunes is positively purring down the phone when I speak to him.

  “Ah, Lady Muck,” he laughs as he hears my voice. “Are you enjoying being a lady of leisure once more? I can’t tell you how relieved I am that things are back to normal.”

  “I’ve never been a lady of leisure,” I chide him. “And I’m getting itchy feet, if you know what I mean. Need to get back into the swing of things, yeah?” The truth is, if I’m not working, I’m doing nothing. And I’m no good at doing nothing. Proper workaholic, that’s me.

  “I understand perfectly. And that is the reason for my call. It would be most beneficial for both of us if we could arrange a meeting? At your convenience, of course,” he says. Even though we’re using new phones and phone lines, you can’t be too careful so details over the phone are kept to a minimum. We both know that I need to get over to Amsterdam as soon as possible to resume operations. I need to keep the Venezuelans onside, and I can only do that if I get back to business and do what I’m best at. They need to be reassured that everything is under control.

  “Not a problem, mate. Let me sort out details and I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to it.”

  But if I think Sean and I can just pick up where we left off, up pops Jimmy Powell like a persistent strain of herpes. He’s getting greedier, is Jimmy. Wants a bigger cut of the next deal, on the back of what Mr Chips told him at the first meeting. Now that the Felixstowe route is a no-go for us, we need Jimmy’s docks more than ever. So a meeting has been called between Sean, Jimmy and I (plus the obligatory bodyguards) at a hotel room in Runcorn, Cheshire. Whatever it is Jimmy wants, he’ll want to take it away from us, that’s for fucking sure.

  As Sean and I enter the hotel room, Jimmy is sprawled on the bed with his shoes on while his two gorillas (including that cunt Eddie) are sat on the windowsill. Jimmy is watching a porno on the hotel telly. Why am I not surprised? Trust him to think that I, as a mere female, would be intimidated by that. I look at the pneumatic blonde Californian porn actress who is enthusiastically bucking on top of a blond male Californian.

  “Bloody hell,” I say as her pneumatic tits are jiggling ten to the dozen. “She’ll take his eyes out with those.” I hear a snort of laughter from one of Jimmy’s gorillas.

  “Bet you wish you had that problem, don’t you, love?” sneers Jimmy, as he scrutinises my chest before returning his eyes to the screen.

  “You know what they say, Jimbo. More than a handful’s a waste. Small ones are more juicy. Anyway, I’m not the one who’ll be bent over double with backache by the time I’m 30. Fuck. Imagine having to lug those around all day.”

  “Tell you what, love. If we get this deal off the ground you can buy as many fake tits as you want. Haha!” Jimmy blurts.

  “Oh, I think there’s enough tits in this room already,” I say as I turn away from him and lean against the wardrobe.

  Sean clears his throat to signify his presence. Jimmy glances sideways at him.

  “Aye aye,” Jimmy says. “Gary Wilmot’s back in town, I see.”

  “Don’t fucking start, Jimmy,” says Sean as he turns off the telly. “Why are we here?”

  “Well,” says Jimmy as he slides his legs off the bed and stands up, preening himself. “I reckon it’s time you two started giving me some respect. Don’t you?”

  “Oh aye?” says Sean as he faces Jimmy with his arms crossed.

  “The thing is,” says Jimmy as he slowly paces up and down the room, “you two are a bit stuck now, aren’t you? Can’t be going back down south any more, can you? No. It’s a fucking ball-ache for you lot to do your bit now, isn’t it? With Customs breathing down your neck alongside the busies? Kind of restricts what you can do, doesn’t it? Looks like you need to look a little closer to home if you wanna keep moving your gear. And I’ve got a tried and tested route coming into the UK. So, surprise surprise, it looks like you need me. How much do you need me, eh, love?” Jimmy says, leering at me.

  He’s right. I can’t go for a piss in public without spotting one of the watchers from the dark side. I know Sean is being tailed as well. And we can’t move product around like we used to when we’re being watched all the time.

  “So, for things to carry on, you’re gonna have to delegate, aren’t you? Get some other monkeys to do the heavy lifting and all that,” says Jimmy.

  “Jimmy?” I say, mindful of where this may be going. “I think your definition of delegate is gonna be very different to ours.”

  “Hold your horses, love, I haven’t finished yet,” he says, scowling at me. “You’re not the only ones who can sell this gear, you know. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been doing pretty well for myself on that front.”

  “Selling to a few smackheads? Piece of piss, Jim. Anyone can do that,” says Sean. “Selling our gear? Different game, lad. You don’t have the contacts that we do. You don’t have the network that we do.”

  “And the way that you do business on the street is definitely not how we wanna do it,” I add. “Low profiles, yeah?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me, love. You’re not the only one with contacts. The fact remains that you lot are still handicapped and out of action. I’ve got more freedom than you lot have. Doesn’t it make sense to play to my strengths?” Jimmy says.

  “And what strengths would those be, Jimmy?” I ask impatiently.

  “Logistics,” he says, bending down to meet my eyes. “I’ve been bringing gear into the country for years. Makes no difference to me whether it’s coke or smack. If it needs shifting, I can shift it. And I’ve got the readies available to pay for it upfront.”

  “What makes you think we haven’t?” Sean says.

  “Oh, I know you’re not short of cash, mate,” chuckles Jimmy. “It’s just that the moment either of you two goes back to any of your usual haunts for this deal? Customs will be following you. Tapping your phones. Once they get you in their jaws, you’d need a crowbar to get them off. They’ll be tracking you two until they get you. They won’t give up. You can take that to the fucking bank.”

  I know he’s right about that as well. He’s had enough confrontations with the cuzzies to get a first-hand insight.

  “What I’m proposing is that you do the deal through me. You know, kind of like an ambassador doing the business on your behalf,” he says with a shrug. I hear Sean burst into laughter next to me.

  “You? A fucking ambassador? Of what? Shit for brains, that’s what,” says Sean.

  “I’m not the one who was banged up in fucking Strangeways for months, lad. Maybe if you hadn’t been so sloppy with your last shipment, eh?” Jimmy retorts. Here comes the pissing contest.

 
“Fuck you, arsewipe,” spits Sean.

  “Nah, fuck you, you fucking Toccy toe-rag,” replies Jimmy.

  I jump up and push them apart before they start swinging at each other. Jimmy’s fucking bodyguards are just sat there, watching the show.

  “You know what?” I snap as I look at Sean and Jimmy in turn. “The world would be such a brilliant place if it didn’t have so much fucking testosterone in it.”

  “You what?” says Jimmy, genuinely not understanding what I’ve just referred to.

  “The more time we spend arguing, the less time we spend on business,” I say. “That’s what we’ve come here for. Jimmy? What do you want? And spell it out this time. You can even use numbers if you want.”

  Sean and Jimmy retreat to their respective corners. After some moments of silence, Jimmy pipes up.

  “I want 40% on this deal. In exchange for that, you get to sail your little ship into my docks. I’ll handle unloading of the shipment at the docks, and your lot can collect it. You’ll still be handling the Venezuelans at their end so no change there but I’ll be doing more of the legwork at this end. It’s a win-win for all of us.”

  “40 fucking percent,” Sean laughs. “What’s the matter, mate? Why you so hung up on 40%? Can’t you count any higher or lower?”

  “It’s a fair trade for a fair price. You heard what the big fella said,” Jimmy says, referring to Mr Chips. “He’s prepared to go smaller so that I can go bigger. That was the deal, remember? You’re not gonna go against the big fella, are you Sean?” Jimmy is throwing down the gauntlet.

  “Fuck your 40%,” says Sean, his voice beginning to growl. “We don’t need your fucking help, Jimmy. I’ll speak to the big fella. You can go fuck yourself if you think you’re getting another penny off me.”

  “You’ve just fucked yourself, mate,” says Jimmy, pointing at Sean. “Big fella will tell you exactly the same thing I’ve just done. You know why? Because that’s what’s best for business. You lot have brought more fucking attention on us than we’ve ever had before. And now everyone’s having to mind out for the fucking busies and those twats in Customs. That was all your doing, Sean. I’m offering you a way to bypass all that. But go ahead, mate. Go have a chinwag with the big fella. But your eye’s getting wiped, I’m telling you.”