by Martina Cole
The safe was empty and she wasn’t really surprised, it had been a long shot. She guessed it was one of the men who worked for him, feathering his own nest while he could. Pat’s death must have put the wind up a lot of people, especially those who depended on him for their livelihood.
The tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. She was at her wits’ end, she was going to need a lot of money to raise five kids.
She sat on the floor of the office. Cold and damp, it had the feel of the grave. She knew that nothing was ever going to be all right again. The tears were once more threatening, but she forced them back. There was plenty of time for crying in the future, now she needed to make sure her kids were taken care of.
Lenny Brewster was filled with his own self-importance; he had been like a youngster since the death of Patrick Brodie. A born-again wanker was how his enemies would describe him, though not to his face. Now, looking at the Williams brothers and Palmer, all waiting to greet him and ingratiate themselves into his life, he knew he was finally settled; he had taken what was rightfully his.
Ricky was all smiles, nodding to his brothers to make sure they understood the importance of the man before them. Lenny noticed the gesture and knew that the boy had at least a working knowledge of how things worked in their world.
Ricky was already clicking his fingers for the barmaid, making sure a fresh bottle of Courvoisier Brandy was opened and that the ashtrays and bar surface were cleaned. He knew the importance of respect and he respected the man who had just entered the bar like a conquering hero. Lenny Brewster was a legend, more so because he had always kept his head down and had never been a man to eliminate enemies without just cause. He had gathered an army around him and had never once trod on anyone’s toes. He was a gentleman, and he was respected because of that.
Ricky saw Alan Palmer hold his arms out in much the same way he had himself; this time, though, the gesture was appreciated and returned with fervour. It galled him but he knew it was still early days for the Williams brothers; they had made a statement but now they had to prove they were consistent. That had always been their bugbear in the past; they never kept anything up. They had been given chances over and over again and they had always fucked up. So he understood the men’s reticence, he would have been the same in their shoes, but it still galled him. He was now the family’s facilitator and should be respected for that alone, especially after what they had achieved for the men they were now meeting with.
Lenny was all good-humoured laughter and his usual theatrical gestures. Alan Palmer, Ricky noticed, was nervous but then he had just hit the big time at last and that was something Ricky knew about. Palmer was already laughing at Lenny’s jokes and as they raised their drinks in a salute, Ricky saw Lenny wink at Alan in a way that told him they had business between them already. He was confident that could only be good news for him and his brothers. As Ricky smiled and chatted he saw Tommy mutter something to Dave and Bernie. Then he pulled a wrap out of his pocket and, walking towards the men’s toilets, he opened the paper package up and put his tongue in the contents to check its potency. He saw Lenny watching him and knew he was not making a good impression. Even though this was a safe bar, it was still not proper etiquette to blatantly advertise any kind of drug-taking when bosses were around. Unless they started the night off with it themselves and then it was different. This was a meet though and they should all be on top form; no one trusted the judgement of a speed freak or a cokehead. It was just commonsense really and Ricky knew that Lenny was up for a lot of things, but not the Persian rugs. He expected it to be fed to his brasses; prostitutes needed the edge, everyone knew that. But he was not someone who partook of the Colombian marching gear himself. He was a drinker, pure and simple. Tommy had just made them all look like amateurs and he wished he had been more forceful when he had given his brothers their instructions on how they should behave. At times he felt like he was banging his head against a wall; this looked like amateur night on a council estate.
Alan smiled but he saw the entourage that had arrived with Lenny and he was surprised; there were five of them. He knew that Lenny was astute enough to always keep himself safe but all these goons for a friendly meet seemed like overkill and he suddenly felt intimidated. He knew Lenny was a fucking hard bastard and he also knew that he was outclassed and that it was probably his insecurity making him feel that way. But for his whole life he had relied on his instincts; any successful villain had to. It told them when they were sailing too close to the wind and when Lily Law was getting too close for comfort. It was a self-defence mechanism and his was going into overdrive for some reason. This didn’t feel right; he felt like an outsider, like a spare part. Like he was nothing. Alan swallowed down his drink and tried to concentrate on the Williams brothers and the deal that he had made with Brewster. His earlier bravado was deserting him and he wished he had arrived with a full complement of minders; it would have made him feel a lot better.
The bar was slowly emptying and it was a while before anyone noticed that Ricky had gone to the toilet after Tommy and, after giving him a coating, had returned to the bar and found Lenny leaning in and talking to Palmer. It had suddenly occurred to Ricky that most of the clientele had gone. The only people left was a small crowd of men in the outer bar. They were large and they were all wearing sheepskins and they were talking quietly to each other. He knew they were tooled up but in this place that wasn’t so unusual. Most people he knew had a baseball bat in their car, a gun in their house and a cosh of some description about their person. Knives and guns were an everyday item to these people but he knew that their heavy sheepskins were hiding the fact that they were tooled up. As Ricky walked back to the bar he knew in his heart what was coming.
Lenny watched Ricky as he approached and he smiled, then ordered another round of drinks. As Alan went to pick his drink up, Lenny shanked him quickly and neatly; he aimed for the liver and when Alan turned to face him, which was a natural reaction and expected, Lenny aimed once more, this time for the heart. Alan’s minders watched it all without any kind of emotion.
Ricky saw Tommy, Bernie and Dave finally cop on to what the night was really about. Lenny smiled at him, a friendly and open smile that belied the psychotic personality it had always camouflaged.
‘You must have known the score, Ricky? You and Palmer had to have known I couldn’t trust any of you? You wiped out Brodie and as much as I appreciate that, you took a fucking diabolical liberty. People like you, scruffs and fucking numbskulls, taking it on yourselves to wipe out someone like Brodie? You didn’t honestly think that would go unpunished surely?’
Lenny started to laugh then, a sarcastic laugh, a laugh full of derision and triumph. Ricky knew that they were finished and he also knew that this was not going to be a good hiding, no, a serious lesson was going to be taught here. The lesson was actually for the people who would hear about it, who would know that they had been lured to their deaths on a fucking muppets’ bus pass. He was sorry then. Sorry for their mother; she had buried enough children. Sorry for himself and for his brothers.
The barmaid had disappeared and Ricky hadn’t even noticed. The bar itself was well-decorated for the kind of establishment it was. The wall lights were throwing an eerie glow on Palmer’s body and it was a second or two before they realised he was still alive. His breathing was ragged and loud, wet-sounding from the blood that was filling his lungs.
‘Fucking hell, he has a strong constitution for a cunt.’
Everyone laughed and Ricky saw that the men from the outer bar were now walking through to join them, taking off their heavy coats and making themselves comfortable. As they rolled up their shirtsleeves he knew this was going to be a long night.
‘Here, Johnjo, come and sort these out, will you?’
The name was all that was needed to tell Ricky that they were going to be despatched with the maximum of pain and torture. Johnjo Milligan was a name that denoted terror; he was one of a family of Irish pikeys
who had a legendary reputation. Few people had met them; they kept a low profile and spent most of their time on the fairgrounds. They were used for a number of jobs, but mainly for torture. Johnjo was a handsome individual with a lilting Dublin accent. He had a way with the ladies and a way with the police. They could never place him anywhere because he had a network of relatives all willing to swear blind that he was with them when it was necessary.
‘What are you doing this for, Lenny? We fucking opened the door for you, we made this happen. You can’t fucking do this . . .’
Lenny was smiling again. Ricky saw his brothers’ faces; they were looking at him to rectify this situation, to make everything all right.
‘I can do what I want, young Ricky. Thanks to you and your brothers I am the only sweet left in the shop. Now I have to make a show of my disgust. Show people that I can’t let scum like you run riot and take the law into your own hands. I have to show my contempt for your actions and for Patrick’s death, which, by the way, was a fucking liberty. I can’t let people think they can do that to a fucking ganger and get away with it, can I?’
‘I think the expression you are looking for is, to make an example.’ Johnjo spoke with a quiet dignity that always put people off their guard on first encountering him. He was a huge man with thick black hair and a white-toothed smile that always caught ladies’ eyes. But he had a quirk in his nature, he had no feelings for anyone outside his close-knit family circle. He would wound anyone for cash and it had made him a force in his own right. He never worried about any comebacks, there were too many Milligans about for that and they were all like him: loyal and easily insulted.
The Milligans were fighters, bare-knuckle and extreme. Johnjo had been an extreme champion since he was fifteen years old. He had fought all over the world and earned a fortune. Extreme fights meant the opponents could use anything they wanted to win the bout. From biting and scratching to using the stools they were supposed to sit on between rounds. Johnjo was a one-off and his talents had been useful over the years; he was called in when a point needed to be made. It wasn’t only his violence, it was his penchant for torturing his victims that was required, and the exorbitant price he charged for these services was what made people widen their eyes with respect. If you used Johnjo Milligan you meant fucking business, and no one in their right mind wanted him towering over them with a pair of pliers or a soldering iron.
‘Now, Mr Brewster, Mr Palmer is still on the oxygen; would you like to do the honours or shall I?’
Lenny nodded, as always impressed with Johnjo’s understatement of the facts and his quiet way of talking that was totally out of place considering the circumstances around him.
Alan was moaning in pain but his open eyes told the men around him that he was more than aware of what was happening. Lenny walked over to the snooker table and picked up a cue. It took five good blows to Alan’s head before everyone was satisfied he was dead.
Alan’s body was dragged to the doorway by a couple of Lenny’s blokes. Unlike the Williams brothers, he was just being outed. In fairness he was a name in his own right and so he just needed to stop existing. The story was already being relayed everywhere that he had financed the Williams brothers to do the dirty on Brodie for his own ends. Lenny would come out of all this as the person who had avenged Pat’s death and honoured the man by taking out his murderers. He would be the hero of the hour and he would also get the fucking lot for himself. A win-win situation for him.
‘Tie their hands and feet, but strip them first, please.’ Johnjo spoke to no one in particular, but his henchmen rushed to do as he asked. It didn’t take long; the brothers put up a good fight but there were too many opponents. On the floor, with the dirty carpet scratching their bare skin and the stench of cigarettes and lager in their nostrils, the fight finally left them. Ricky looked up at Lenny and his cronies; he had already got Alan Palmer’s firm safely on board and with the Williams brothers’ departure he would be hailed as the fucking Messiah.
‘You cunt, you fucking treacherous slag. Do your fucking worst; you can’t even do the honours yourself, you fucking coward.’
Ricky was screaming out at Brewster; he was determined to go out with at least some kind of dignity and he wouldn’t beg for his life off this scum. He had taken a chance and it had not worked out, simple as that. He wasn’t about to fucking cry over it. They were already dead men, all four brothers; it was just a matter of seeing how long it took for them to die.
Lenny Brewster kicked him in the face and shouted down to him, ‘Shut the fuck up, you ponce. You slaughtered Brodie in front of his family. How the fuck could you believe that such a fucking outrageous act, such a fucking shameful display, would be tolerated by anyone, would be seen by anybody as fucking acceptable behaviour? You stepped over the line, mate, and you are going to pay the price for your obscene act. Anyone with a family wants you lot dead; anyone with a scrap of decency wouldn’t fucking countenance you in their company, you fucking scum.’
Johnjo had taken his shirt off and his muscular body was a reminder to the brothers of his strength, and his calmness was a reminder of his reputation as a cold and ruthless torturer.
Johnjo signalled for Lenny to move away from the men on the floor.
‘Get back now. You don’t want to be too close to these fecking eejits when I start me shenanigans.’
Everyone in the room laughed but there was an undercurrent of excitement as well. None of the men present had seen the Milligans at work before, but they had heard the stories about them. They had wondered at the truth of them sometimes as they were so extreme; even making allowances for natural exaggerations and the need to make a story interesting, the rumours had been outrageous.
Johnjo looked at Ricky with disgust and he swallowed down a large brandy before saying softly and sadly, ‘You never touch children, boy, never do anything in front of them; it’s the eleventh commandment. The slaughter of Pat Brodie, a good friend of mine, by the way, in front of his kids will ensure I take a greater pleasure than usual in my work tonight.’
Then he doused them in brandy, soaking their hair and skin. The others all sat down to watch the performance and Ricky and his brothers cursed them all to hell.
Then Ricky saw Johnjo’s cousin, Toby, lighting a blowtorch and he felt the tears roll from his eyes. Within minutes he was doing the one thing he had not wanted to do; he was begging not for his life but for his brothers’ deaths. He begged for them to be put out of their pain. But he was forced to watch them die slowly, screaming in agony, before the Milligans turned their attentions to him.
A month after Patrick’s funeral, Lenny Brewster sent a message to Lil saying that he wanted to see her. She knew she had no choice but to do as he asked of her.
‘How are you coping, Lil?’ His voice was calm and had the right inflection of sorrow and the expression on his face was one of genuine sympathy.
Lil shrugged elegantly and Lenny noticed the hollows in her neck and the way her breasts were straining against the material of the dress she wore. Her hair was freshly washed and styled and her make-up was flawless. As Lil crossed her legs he felt the heat rise up inside him.
‘I need money, Lenny, simple as that.’
He knew then that she was on to him, that she knew how he was feeling and was willing to go along with it if necessary.
He had made a point of making sure certain rumours had reached her ears, and had seen to it that no one offered her any help; he had assured the general populace that he was taking care of everything. Lil was at her wits’ end and he knew it and he would use it against her to get what he wanted.
‘I need a job and I need it soon. I used to run the clubs for Patrick and I was good at it. He relied on me as I am sure you know.’
Lil watched the changing expressions on Lenny’s face and hated him with every ounce of her being but he had made sure she had no one and nowhere to turn to. He was the only game on the street and she knew she had to do whatever he wanted.
‘Why would I want you working for me?’
He was belittling her and she swallowed down the urge to walk out on him, to tell him what she thought of him. But the boys needed shoes, the girls needed clothes and the new baby needed everything. She needed to put food on the table and pay her bills. No one, it seemed, was willing to help her and she knew that was because this man had made sure she was left hanging. Even Spider had abandoned her. Lenny was a hero for what he had done to the Williams brothers, but she knew he had an agenda and she now knew that she was a big part of that.
So Lil smiled her best smile and shrugged gently once more. ‘Because I am good at what I do and I would be an asset.’
Lenny stood up from behind his desk and walked towards her casually; he was well-dressed as always but he was running to fat now and he had a paunch that was clearly evident, even in his bespoke suit.
Leaning on the edge of the desk, Lenny stood in front of her chair and grinned. ‘How far are you willing to go though? How much energy would you be willing to put in, I mean, if I were to give you a job?’
Lil gritted her teeth and took a deep breath before answering him. ’As much as was needed, of course.’
Lenny grinned then. He had her and he knew it.
Unzipping his trousers, he pulled out his cock and massaged it until it was erect; he looked at her stricken face and knew he had to have her no matter what, by force if necessary.
Lenny stared into her eyes and Lil saw the want there, and the need, and she knew this was an act of violence inasmuch as it was designed to bring her down, and to break her spirit. Through her, Lenny wanted to shame Patrick. He needed to dominate her because he had never had the guts to take on her husband himself.
She smiled then and he saw the whiteness of her teeth against the red slash of her lipstick. Then she was guiding him into her mouth and he couldn’t believe the heat of her tongue as it snaked around him. He felt her pull on his skin as she sucked him into her mouth and then she was moving her head quickly back and forth. Immediately, he felt the release and the satisfaction of ejaculating into her mouth and the shock as she swallowed his semen. She slowed down the movement of her head, sucking him lightly now, and making his orgasm last longer, bringing him back to earth with a gentleness that only made it all the more exhilarating.