by Martina Cole
Lots of people asked him to bankroll schemes and he had financed them, for a price. He had made fortunes that way. And that was all he had done with Pippy, financed his operation. He had worked on the premise that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. How wrong he had been.
This was Pippy Light after all, mad as they came and into schoolies. He had known in his heart that he should never have had any dealings with Pippy or Jesmond, they were the scum of the criminal fraternity. But Jesmond had explained the economics of it all and it had seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.
It was the only reason he had given Sylvia what she had wanted. He knew he was not in a position to have his finances scrutinised too closely. So did his solicitor. Paulie had had a bad feeling about it from the off, but the potential for all that money had allayed any scruples or fears of capture he might have had.
And the worst of it all was, he was more frightened of being captured by his own peers than by Old Bill. Lily Law would have more chance of policing the Gaza Strip than the Internet, and it was this that was worrying Paulie so much. You could find almost anything there if you were out to prove something. Once his name was linked to known paedophiles he was fucked. Now Jesmond was dead, but who knew what he’d said?
Paulie had gone to Pippy’s tonight and got Earl to break in for him. What he had seen on the computers there had terrified him. He had smashed up all the machinery and then torched the place, after ransacking it first of course.
But like Big John his fear was that other computers around the world now held photographic evidence of children he had helped to procure. And somewhere his name just might be there along with it, on an e-mail to Rumania or the Czech Republic. Pippy was just cunt enough to say who’d funded them.
Paulie felt hot just thinking about it.
When he’d realised Kieron was also involved it had put the fear of Christ up him, but Pippy had sworn Big John had absolutely no idea about his son and he’d believed it, knowing John as he did.
But he had not known anything about Kira. Had not asked Pippy and Jesmond for updates on their clientele or their workers for that matter. He’d had no idea they were mad enough to touch local kids, had genuinely believed her disappearance was down to some random nutter - not the international paedophile ring he’d financed in expectation of a hefty return.
It was his own overwhelming greed that had led to his downfall, Paulie knew. To that and the death of the innocent child he’d fathered. His own daughter . . . his and Joanie’s. But he couldn’t think about that. He had to shut it out of his head and concentrate on saving his skin.
‘Kira.’ He found himself talking out loud, remembering her little face. The child he had denied. ‘I can’t think about you. I can’t bear to think . . . Oh, God, Kira, what have I done? Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry . . .’
Inside the breaker’s yard in Romford was a large unit used for storing car parts. The two Dobermanns, Pixie and Dixie, were used to sleeping in there between their stints patrolling the yard. Tonight their owner, an old man called Arnold Jigson, had been dragged from his kip inside an abandoned Dormobile to take them home.
He had not asked any questions, merely pocketed the fifty quid without a backward glance. He was used to the skulduggery of his boss Big John and had no desire to get involved with anything that did not have a direct bearing on him or his family. If the filth asked, he had been there all night, alone. Arnold knew the score.
Gerald poured them all a drink in the unit’s office space. Jon Jon rebooted the lap top and slipped in the disk he had been given by Big John.
As the screen flickered into life he watched the reactions of Pippy and Kieron. Pippy had the grace to look ashamed but Kieron’s arrogance remained, as if he truly believed he had done nothing wrong.
He was prominent in all the photos, far more than the ones his father had printed off, and Jon Jon quickly realised that this must be his own personal disc, one he kept for his own private enjoyment. So where did they keep the others? The ones they sold on to like-minded perverts?
Gerald and James looked ill. They were both white and sweaty.
James dragged his eyes away from the screen and stared at his little brother. But he was lost for words, couldn’t talk or even react properly so great was his shock. His father knew just what he was feeling.
‘Nice thing I bred here, eh, boys? What a fucking blinding relative. Proud of him, are you? Still want him to go home to his mummy?’
Big John dragged his youngest over by the hair and shoved his face towards the computer screen.
‘Go on, have a look. Be a last memory to take with you, won’t it?’
He was sobbing and shaking, but Kieron was quiet and passive, allowing it all to happen. He knew he was finished. There was nothing he could say to get himself out of this.
He pulled himself away from his father and straightened up, tidying his clothes, tucking his shirt in, and smoothing down his hair. Ever the dandy.
‘Where’s me sister?’ Jon Jon asked.
Kieron grinned.
‘What you asking me for?’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, tell them what they want to know, will you? Let’s get this over with.’ Pippy’s voice was high-pitched with tension. He just wanted it all to end as quickly and easily as possible.
Jon Jon turned to him.
‘Where is she, Pippy?’
He shrugged.
‘It was him.’ He flicked his head towards Kieron. ‘It’s happened before.’
A coughing fit overtook him then. One eye was swollen and bloody and his lip was split from the beating the brothers had given him.
Kieron laughed contemptuously then looked at James as he said, ‘You better get those knuckles looked at. They’re all scraped and bleeding. Must have hit his teeth. Bet that hurt.’
He grinned as he continued, ‘And he’s HIV, did you know that?’
That was the catalyst.
Picking up a crowbar they used to lever open the crates of contraband that regularly hit the yard, James smashed it across his brother’s skull. The sound was sickening. Kieron slid to the floor.
‘Pick him up and sling him out in the yard. This carpet’s nearly new.’
Big John sounded like an affronted housewife. Jon Jon couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. His laughter was infectious and Gerald joined in.
‘Don’t know what you lot are laughing at. I might have AIDS!’ James said, affronted.
‘Shut up, you tart!’
Kieron levered himself up on to his elbow and gasped, ‘Look at you, all standing there looking so righteous. I used scum, like you lot do. They loved it once they knew what we wanted. Your little sister would still be around if she hadn’t been so fucking stubborn! ‘‘Oh, no . . . Please . . . I want me mum.’’ ’
Everyone looked at him appalled as he playacted the scene. None of them could believe just what they were hearing, a dying child’s last words as this man brutalised her.
He rambled on, knowing he’d caught their attention. He knew he would die tonight but he had something to tell them first. He believed that everything he had done was entirely justified.
‘They were all accidents waiting to happen. That Bethany, she couldn’t get enough of it, the drink and the drugs, being the centre of attention . . .
Kids like being with us, we love them. Really love them.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’
This was from Gerald, his absolute shock and disbelief evident in his expression and his voice.
‘What the fuck is going down here, Dad?’
He knew that his brother really believed what he was saying, that was the hardest thing of all.
‘Get him out! Get him out of my fucking sight.’
Kieron groaned as they went to lift him up. He rolled to one side and looked up at his father.
‘Thanks to the Internet we ain’t alone any more. There are millions of us worldwide, and one day we’ll be able to be open about what
we do. You ignorant bastards have all thought about it, you just ain’t had the guts to do anything.’
‘If they legalised noncing in the morning it would be too late for you, cunt,’ growled Big John. ‘Now shove him in the boot of one of the cars and we’ll dump him in the crusher. He won’t be the first to go out like that in this yard and I daresay he won’t be the last.’
He turned to Pippy Light.
‘You better open your trap, son, then we’ll make it easy for you. But him . . .’ He pointed to his son. ‘He is going in conscious and fully aware of what is happening.’
Pippy knew when he was beaten. He nodded.
‘Can I ask one thing before I go?’
‘You can ask. Whether you get it or not is another thing entirely.’
‘Don’t let me mum know about any of this. Don’t let anything be found, please? It would kill her.’
Jon Jon could not get over the irony of Pippy’s words.
‘She’d be a bit like my mum then, wouldn’t she? Broken, devastated, destroyed? You’ve got some fucking nerve, largeing it up here and asking us to protect your family! What about my family? What about the families of the other kids, eh?’
Pippy swallowed.
‘I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’
‘Fucking right you will.’
James and Gerald dragged their brother from the office, slapping and kicking him as he tried to escape their clutches.
‘Come on then, Jon Jon, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’
He nodded.
The screams and pleas of Big John’s youngest son, now retribution was on hand, affected them not one iota. But they served to make Pippy more eloquent than he otherwise might have been. Jon Jon killed him in the end. One way or another, Big John had meant to make a murderer out of him tonight and, when he finally pulled the trigger, Jon Jon found he felt nothing but relief.
Paulie finished what he was doing and lit himself another cigarette. He had sent Earl home. Now he waited patiently for his Nemesis to arrive. It was nearly dawn when Jon Jon finally came into the office above Angel Girls.
‘I knew I’d find you here,’ he said.
It was Paulie’s newest toy, the one he’d been proudest of, and he had always valued things above people. He had aged overnight, though, looked almost ancient, and Jon Jon felt a stirring of pity for him. But he forced it deep down inside himself.
Paulie gave him a twisted smile.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in saying sorry? Kira getting involved . . . that was never meant to happen.’
‘Too late for that, Paulie. What does Earl know?’
‘Nothing. I was going to leave that up to you. He’ll swallow it. You’re the business as far as he’s concerned.’
Jon Jon was relieved. He’d have hated to have to take this fight to Earl as well.
‘You know everything now, I take it?’ Paulie continued.
He nodded again, unable to say all he wanted to say to this man. Words weren’t enough to express the depth of the betrayal he felt.
‘I never knew. It was all about money, see,’ Paulie faltered.
‘Always is, ain’t it? Where you’re concerned.’
Jon Jon could not keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice.
‘How’s Big John?’
‘In bits when I left him. He wanted to come here but I said I’d sort it.’
Paulie laughed.
‘I always knew I could rely on you.’
He opened the desk drawer and took out a small hand gun. He saw Jon Jon stiffen at the sight of it and said quickly, ‘It’s all right, mate, this is for me. I have only one stipulation: keep my name out of any shit that comes up, will you?’
Jon Jon’s face was grey with strain, his eyes shadowed.
‘I can’t guarantee it but I’ll try, Paulie. Big John and his boys want it kept quiet, but then they would, wouldn’t they?’
‘What are you going to tell Joanie?’
Jon Jon shrugged.
‘I really don’t know and that’s the truth.’
Paulie bowed his head.
‘All the relevant details are in that blue folder there.’
He pointed to it then downed the last of his brandy at a gulp.
‘OK. I’ll sort it all out for you, Paulie.’
‘Good lad. By the way, I’ve owned Baxter for years.
His Chief Constable too. They’re yours now if you need anything.’
Paulie’s smile was ghastly.
‘I never thought it would all end like this, son, but there you go. Life has a habit of kicking you in the teeth when you least expect it.’
Jon Jon didn’t answer. He knew that far better than this wreck of a man sitting before him but forebore to point that fact out.
‘I suppose there’s no chance that Big John . . .’
‘No chance at all. Either you do it or I do, Paulie. The choice is yours.’
Paulie sighed. It was what he’d expected. Why delay the inevitable?
‘Goodbye then. Be lucky.’
Jon Jon turned away and went to the window. He stood watching the regular people below, going early to work, struggling to pay the bills and maybe have a holiday.
Normal people, living normal lives.
The gunshot was loud, but he wasn’t too bothered about the noise. Paulie owned the whole building. And anyway, he had topped himself, hadn’t he?
Assisted Murder might be a better description, but that was all academic now. Paulie Martin was dead, leaving Jon Jon to pick up the pieces. He felt absolutely nothing.
He wiped his fingerprints from the door handle then took the folder downstairs and sat in the deserted reception area, going through all the papers Paulie had left for him.
Half an hour later he was gone, hailing a cab and getting inside, wondering what the hell he was going to tell his mother.
Joanie sat up all night waiting for Jon Jon to come home. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Bethany was still asleep. Joanie had left a few messages on Monika’s mobile but had not heard anything, nor did she expect to. Monika would emerge from her pit around lunch-time as usual, none the wiser about the whereabouts of her daughter, as was also usual.
Joanie sipped at her tea. The front door opened and she saw Jeanette coming in.
‘All right, love?’
Jeanette smiled tightly.
‘You’re early. Want a cup of tea?’ her mother said placatingly.
‘Please, then I better get off to school.’
Joanie did not think she had a laugh left inside her, but hearing that statement from Jeanette proved her wrong.
‘Are you having me on?’
The girl sighed and walked through to the kitchen.
‘Nah, I feel like going to school today.’
Joanie was pleased. It was a start anyway.
‘Bethany’s asleep in your room by the way. Don’t wake her, will you?’
‘’Course I won’t. She’s the last person I want nattering on at me.’
They both turned to the doorway as they heard Jon Jon come in.
‘All right, girls?’
‘You look fucking awful, Jon Jon. What have you been up to?’
Jeanette’s voice was loud with curiosity as she took in her brother’s ruined clothes and drawn face.
‘Get ready for school,’ he told her tersely.
Jeanette, for once, did what she was told, much to the amazement of her brother and mother.
‘Sit down, Mum.’
Joanie was busy making him some tea and toast.
‘Paulie was looking for you last night. Came in here like a bear with a sore arse—’
‘Paulie died, Mum. He killed himself an hour ago.’
Joanie stopped what she was doing and turned to face her son.
‘He what?’
‘He shot himself. It’s been on the cards for a while now. He had a lot of hag going on . . . his divorce, business worries.’
He was amazed at the way the lies tripped so easily off his tongue.
She looked at her son closely, saw the fine lines around his eyes and mouth.
‘What’s really happened, Jon Jon?’