The Danger Game

by Kevin Brooks

  The three kids had stopped in front of me now, the older one slightly ahead of the other two.

  ‘All right?’ he said, staring dead-eyed at me. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘Pretty good, thanks,’ I told him.

  He looked to one side, spat through his teeth, then looked back at me. ‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m a friend of Mason’s . . . Mason Yusuf? I’m meeting him here in a minute.’

  ‘Yeah?’ the kid said, grinning coldly. ‘You his boyfriend or something?’

  It was one of those ‘what-you-looking-at?’ kinds of questions, the sort of question that’s impossible to answer without getting yourself into trouble. The problem is, if you react to this kind of question by not saying anything, that’s also going to get you into trouble. It’s a lose-lose situation. Which, from the questioner’s perspective, is the whole point.

  On this occasion, I decided to go for the keeping-my-mouth-shut option, and I just sat there on my bike, staring at the kid as blankly as I could, waiting to see what he’d do next. It was obvious now that my friendship with Mason didn’t hold any sway with these kids, and for a moment or two I found myself wondering why. They clearly knew who he was, and although he’d never been a big name in any of the gangs, his status on the estate had always been recognised and respected. I wondered what had changed.

  I quickly stopped thinking about it as the kid in front of me stepped closer. His hand was still in his pocket, and I could see that the muscles in his arm were tensed.

  ‘Give me your mobile,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to call someone.’

  ‘Haven’t you got a phone?’

  ‘Battery’s dead.’

  ‘What about your friends? Can’t you borrow a phone from one of them?’

  ‘Their batteries are dead too.’ He stepped even closer. ‘Are you going to give me your phone or not?’

  I glanced at his friends, checking their position. They’d moved up behind him, one on his left, the other on his right. They were both smirking at me.

  I wished now that I hadn’t stayed on my bike when I’d first seen them coming. I’d thought it would give me an advantage – I could ride a lot quicker than they could run – but there was no doubt now that I was going to have to face up to these kids, and sitting on a bike isn’t the ideal position to be in when you’re about to get into a fight.

  I rested my left foot on the bench to steady myself, and reached into my pocket for my phone. I knew that giving it to the kid wouldn’t be the end of it. He’d take the phone, then demand something else – my wallet, my watch, my bike – and no matter how much I gave into him, eventually he was going to go for me anyway. So the way I saw it, I might as well go for him first.

  I leaned slightly away from him, making it look as if I was just adjusting my balance, then I transferred the phone from my right hand to my left and held it out for him. He grinned at me for a moment, then reached out to take it. By leaning back I’d not only increased the gap between us – which meant that he had to lean in and stretch out his right arm to get the phone – but I’d also put myself in a more balanced position for throwing a punch.

  He wasn’t expecting me to hit him, so he was completely off guard when I hammered a right uppercut into his chin, and as his eyes rolled and his legs buckled, I knew I’d knocked him out even before he crumpled to the ground.

  The kid on his right was the first to react, but he was nowhere near quick enough. By the time he’d realised what had happened – and wasted precious moments gazing down in stunned surprise at his unconscious friend – I’d already jumped off my bike and raced over to him. He looked up at me, anger darkening his eyes, and reached into his back pocket. I slammed my fist into his belly, then hit him again with a vicious left hook to his head as he doubled over in pain. He fell to his knees, groaning and gasping for breath, and I turned to the other kid. He was just standing there staring open-mouthed at me, too petrified to move, and I knew I didn’t have to worry about him.

  I spun round and saw the two kids on bikes speeding across the square towards me. They looked like they meant business, and as I stepped out to face them, instinctively settling into a boxer’s stance – sideways on, left foot in front of the right, with my knees bent slightly and my guard up – I could only hope that they weren’t carrying knives or guns. I was pretty sure I could handle them in a fist-fight, but even the best boxer in the world doesn’t stand much of a chance against a kid with a gun.

  The two kids were about twenty metres away from me now, and they didn’t look as if they were slowing down. I braced myself, watching them closely, trying to work out which one to take out first . . .

  And then suddenly they both slammed on their brakes and skidded to a halt, and I saw them looking behind me. They hesitated for a second, then one of them said something to the other, and the next thing I knew they’d swung their bikes round and were heading off back the way they’d come.

  I watched them go, confused but relieved, then quickly turned round at the sound of approaching footsteps.

  ‘Hey, Trav,’ Mason Yusuf said breezily, looking around at the two kids I’d put down. ‘Having fun?’

  12

  Mason rarely goes anywhere without Big Lenny, his devoted friend and minder, and today was no exception. Lenny’s a giant of a kid – well over six feet tall, at least eighteen stone of solid muscle, with arms as thick as my waist and a head like a blacksmith’s anvil. A lot of people make the mistake of thinking that Lenny’s some kind of weirdo. It’s an understandable mistake to make. Lenny hardly ever speaks, for one thing, and he has the oddest dress sense of anyone I’ve ever known. In fact, it’s probably fairer to say that he has no dress sense at all. Today, for example, he was wearing an old-fashioned woollen cardigan (with leather buttons) over what appeared to be a striped pyjama top (buttoned up to the neck), together with blue suit trousers and a pair of black elasticated plimsolls. But while he might appear kind of clownish – in a scary sort of way – and he may come across as a little bit strange, there’s a sense of serenity and quiet wisdom about Lenny that never fails to amaze me. He’s like a big gorilla sitting peacefully in the jungle – perfectly content with himself and his world, but equally ready to stand up and face any threat that comes his way. We’d left the two injured kids in the square – the other one had run away – and now we were heading through the estate towards Mason’s flat. There was no sign of the Vauxhall Corsa I’d seen pulling up at the end of the street, and I guessed they’d either taken off at the sight of Mason and Lenny, or Mason had had a quiet word with them. I didn’t bother asking him about it.

  There’s always an air of tension on the Slade, a sense that, at any moment, anything could happen. But tonight it was even more noticeable than usual. Even though Mason and Lenny appeared quite relaxed, I could tell they were both a bit edgier than normal – constantly on the alert, looking and listening to everything around them – and as Mason started explaining why the kids in the square hadn’t left me alone when I’d mentioned his name, I began to understand why the estate felt so uneasy.

  ‘There a lot of gang stuff going on at the moment,’ Mason told me. ‘You know the Slade kids and the Beacon crew have always hated each other, don’t you?’

  I nodded. The Beacon Fields estate was about two kilometres from here, at the other end of Slade Lane, and for as long as I could remember the two estates had been sworn enemies.

  ‘There’s been talk of a truce,’ Mason went on, ‘and some of the elders on both sides are actually considering a merger.’

  By ‘elders’ he meant the older members of the gangs, the ones who controlled the business side of things – drug dealing, protection, extortion. They’re the bosses, the ones who make all the money, and although they’re behind most of the violence on the estates, they don’t usually get involved in it themselves. Not on a street level anyway.

  ‘The idea is that if Slade and Beaco
n get together,’ Mason explained, ‘the combined operation will have more resources and more manpower, and both crews will save a lot of time and energy by not being constantly at war. Which, in business terms, makes a lot of sense. But for some of the top guys who’ve been around for years, there’s a lot more to it than just business. It’s like a family thing for them, it’s all about loyalty and tradition. They’ve been Slade or Beacon all their lives, they’ve been fighting the other side for decades, they’ve lost friends and family to them. So, to them, the prospect of joining forces is simply out of the question. It’d be like Arsenal going into partnership with Spurs.’

  ‘Or Millwall teaming up with West Ham,’ I suggested.

  ‘Exactly.’ Mason paused for a moment, stopping in his tracks as a low-slung car cruised across a junction up ahead of us. Lenny halted next to him and put out his arm to stop me. There were four hooded figures in the car. None of them looked our way as they passed by, but I got the feeling that Mason and Lenny knew who they were. We waited a minute after the car had gone, then we started moving again.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mason continued, ‘the Slade’s pretty much split into two different groups at the moment. There’s those who want to join up with the Beacon crew, and those who don’t. It’s tearing the whole place apart. I mean, it’s not actually a civil war situation yet, but it’s not far off.’

  ‘Which side are you on?’ I asked him.

  He sighed. ‘I wish I didn’t have to be on any side, but unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. Staying neutral isn’t an option.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, it’s kind of complicated, but basically it’s all about respect. At the moment, everything’s in the balance, but it’s not going to stay like that for ever. One side’s going to come out on top in the end. And if you’re not on the right side when that happens, you’re going to be nothing. I mean, you’ll survive, you’ll still be around, and eventually – if you work hard enough – you might get accepted again, but in the meantime you’re going to be nothing.’ He looked at me. ‘It’s tough enough being something round here. There’s no way I’m going to be nothing.’

  ‘So who’s going to come out on top?’ I asked.

  ‘Money always wins,’ he said simply. ‘It’s a fact of life. If a Slade/Beacon merger brings in more money than the combined profits of both, which it will, then that’s what’s going to happen.’

  ‘So you’re with the group that wants to join forces.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve told you about Dee Dee, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, he’s the main guy pushing for the merger, and that’s another reason it’s going to happen. Dee Dee’s not just brutal, he’s smart as hell. It’s a winning combination all round.’ Mason sighed again, and I got the impression that while he accepted that this was how it was, he wished in his heart that it didn’t have to be. ‘The guy leading the other group is an old hand called Joss Malik,’ he went on. ‘Malik’s been around for ever, so he knows what he’s doing, but he’s no match for Dee Dee. The kids who came after you in the square were some of Malik’s boys.’ Mason looked at me. ‘That’s why they didn’t leave you alone.’

  We were approaching the block of flats where Mason lived now. It was a squat, grey, rectangular building, three storeys high. Lights were showing in most of the windows, and although it was a cold and miserable night, there were plenty of people hanging around on the cluttered balconies outside the flats at the front. There were quite a few people milling around the block too – young kids on bikes, older ones gathered in groups around cars.

  ‘So anyway,’ Mason said, ‘enough about my problems. What was it you wanted to see me about?’

  ‘Maybe it’d be better if we wait until we’re inside,’ I said, glancing at a couple of young kids who were riding along beside us on BMX bikes.

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ Mason assured me. ‘This is Dee Dee’s territory. We’re on home ground now.’

  I hesitated, wondering if I should just tell him that it was Dee Dee I wanted to see him about. After what he’d just told me, I wasn’t even sure if he’d want to talk to me about Dee Dee at all, let alone while we were out in the open, smack bang in the middle of Dee Dee’s home turf.

  I could see that Mason was a bit perplexed by my uncertainty, but instead of making a big deal about it – as some people might have done – he just put his arm round my shoulder and ushered me towards the block of flats.

  ‘Come on then,’ he said warmly, ‘let’s get inside.’ He grinned at me. ‘Jaydie’s dying to see you.’

  13

  Jaydie was a year younger than me, and although she was a great kid and I really liked her a lot, she sometimes made me feel kind of awkward. I don’t think she really meant to embarrass me – not most of the time anyway – it was just that she had a bit of a crush on me, and she wasn’t one to hide her feelings. She was always giving me hugs and holding my hand and stuff like that. I didn’t really mind – in fact, to be honest, it was kind of nice – but I knew she wanted us to be more than just friends, she wanted us to be girlfriend and boyfriend, and I didn’t want that. I don’t know if it was because I just wasn’t ready for that kind of thing in general, or if I simply didn’t think of Jaydie in that way. But whatever the reason, it made me feel a bit rotten sometimes. What made it even worse was that Jaydie was so good about it. She didn’t get upset or sulky or anything, she didn’t lose patience or give up on me, she just kept going. It was almost as if she’d accepted that getting me to be her boyfriend was a long-term project, and she was going to keep working on it no matter how long it took.

  When Mason led me into his flat that night, Jaydie’s reaction to seeing me was as bubbly and over-the-top as ever. She was sitting on a settee watching TV when we came in, and as soon as she saw me, she jumped up and ran over to me, a big beaming smile on her face, and before I’d had a chance to say hello, she’d thrown her arms round my chest and was squeezing the life out of me.

  ‘I can’t breathe, Jaydie,’ I mumbled after a while.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, grinning as she let go of me. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages, Trav.’

  ‘Yeah, I know . . .’

  She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too,’ I muttered.

  ‘You’ve missed yourself?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘No, I meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant.’ She stood back and looked me up and down. ‘You’ve got taller since I last saw you. And you’ve let your hair grow. It looks really nice.’

  ‘So does yours,’ I said, admiring her braids.

  ‘You’re just saying that.’

  ‘No, honestly,’ I told her. ‘I like it a lot. It really suits you.’

  As I stood there gazing at her, I couldn’t help noticing that it wasn’t just her hair that looked different, it was everything about her. She was still the same bright-eyed and naturally pretty Jaydie she’d always been, and she was wearing the same plain but stylish clothes she usually wore – black T-shirt and leggings – but there was definitely something different about her. I couldn’t quite pin it down, but she somehow seemed a bit more grown-up, a bit more graceful maybe . . .

  It was kind of strange, to be honest.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  ‘I can go, if you want,’ I heard Mason say.

  I looked at him. He was grinning.

  ‘Shut up, Mase,’ Jaydie said, punching him playfully on the arm. ‘Why do you always have to be such a moron?’

  ‘I’m just trying to be tactful,’ he said, grinning at me again.

  ‘Just ignore him,’ Jaydie said to me. ‘He’s an idiot.’

  I smiled awkwardly at her, trying to think of something to say. But it was one of those moments when your brain seems to disappear and all you can do is stand there looking stupid.

  ‘Is Mum back yet?’ Mason asked Jaydie, thankfully changing the subject.

/>   Jaydie shook her head. ‘Sit down, Trav,’ she said to me, indicating the settee. ‘Can I get you anything? A Coke or something? Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘No, I’m all right, thanks,’ I told her, going over to the settee and sitting down.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  I still hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime, and I was actually really hungry, but for some reason I found myself shaking my head and telling Jaydie I was fine. I think I was probably just too confused and embarrassed to eat.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a sandwich or something,’ Mason said.

  ‘Don’t let me stop you,’ Jaydie told him, sitting down next to me.

  He gave her a look, then shrugged, turned off the TV, and sat down in an armchair across from us.

  I gazed around the flat. Although I hadn’t expected it to be very spacious, I was still surprised at how small and cramped it was. It seemed to consist of one main room, a little kitchen, and a hallway leading off to what I assumed was the bathroom and bedrooms. The main room was about half the size of the front room in my nan and grandad’s house, and from what I could see of the kitchen, it was barely big enough to walk around in.

  ‘Right then,’ Mason said, settling into the armchair, ‘let’s hear it, Trav. What can I do for you?’

  I was still a bit worried by what he’d told me about his connection with Dee Dee, and it had crossed my mind that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk to him about the tanning salon after all. But I was here now, I told myself. I might as well give it a go. And besides, what was the worst that could happen? If Mason really didn’t want to talk about Dee Dee, all he had to do was tell me. And if that was the case, I’d just say fair enough, and leave it at that.

  So, with that in mind, I just got on with it.

  ‘Have you heard of a place called Tanga Tans?’ I said to him.

  I’d always known that Mason had a scary side to him, and I’d seen the effect he could have on people just by looking at them, but until that moment I’d never experienced it myself. But as his face turned to stone and he fixed me with an ice-cold stare, I suddenly knew exactly how it felt.