Dangerous Lady

by Martina Cole

Leslie pulled on his cigarette.

  ‘Only twelve years? I’d have thought we warranted at least a thirty.’ He looked at Lee. ‘Remind me to nail someone’s leg to a table. We can’t have the Krays outdoing us at the last moment.’

  Everyone laughed but Garry would not be silenced.

  ‘Yeah. And the Krays are still inside, remember that. In fact if you -’ he pointed at Leslie viciously - ‘get put on the “Island”, you might get banged in a cell with one of them. Reggie, that is.’

  Lee grinned.

  ‘Not you though, Garry, you’ll be put in Broadmoor with Ronnie. That’s where all the nutters go.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, for Christ’s sake. No one’s going anywhere.’ Maura was getting annoyed.

  Garry flicked his hair from his eyes. ‘Well, there’s one thing I can guarantee. You won’t be in Cookham Wood with the other long-timers like Hindley. You’ll be top security, girl. We’ll all be A grade. Like terrorists.’

  Before Maura could retort, Lee spoke. His voice was soft as silk. ‘Have you been reading that book again? How to Win Friends and Influence People?’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘Oh, piss off, the lot of you! The last book you’s read was Fluff and Nip.’

  Then the phone rang and Maura picked it up, chuckling as she did so.

  Terry went into the phone box and dialled directory enquiries. He asked them for the number of Le Buxom. When they gave it to him, he dialled the operator for a reverse charge call. He did not have a single coin on him. He stood in the cold with bated breath as the operator tried to connect him. Le Buxom was the only place he could think of where someone would know the whereabouts of Maura Ryan.

  He was literally praying as he heard the distant clicking and whirring of the telephone exchange.

  Maura picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ Her voice was calm and happy.

  ‘I have a reverse charge call from a call box in Essex. Will you accept the charges?’

  The operator’s clipped tones were bored and efficient.

  Who on earth could be ringing her from a call box? Maura racked her brains.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’re through, caller.’

  ‘Hello, can I speak to Maura Ryan?’

  She felt her heart stop in her chest. She would know that voice anywhere. All around her the boys were good-naturedly ragging Garry as they drank their coffee. In Maura’s head there was only one sound: Terry Petherick’s voice.

  ‘Is there anyone there?’ He sounded desperate. ‘I must speak to Maura Ryan or someone who can contact her.’

  ‘This is Maura Ryan.’ She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded.

  ‘Maura, this is Terry . . . Terry Petherick. Please don’t put the phone down.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Even as she spoke so normally she could feel the almost adolescent longing and excitement he had always created in her.

  ‘You mustn’t go near Fenn Farm. The Special Investigations Branch are waiting for you. They’re armed and ready.’

  ‘What!’ The sound of her voice silenced her brothers. They all looked at her.

  ‘I know it sounds crazy, but believe me, Maura, you’re in big trouble. We know everything about you. Everything.’ He stressed the last word.

  ‘But how?’ She sounded very young in panic.

  ‘Look, can we meet? I can’t stand here explaining it all. They’re looking for me . . . or will be when they realise I’ve gone.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Maura’s voice was scared.

  ‘Look, Maura, is there anywhere we can meet? It must be somewhere the police don’t know about. Have you a secret hideaway?’

  Maura was thinking out loud. ‘Marge’s house . . . Carla’s . . .’ Then it struck her. ‘Do you know Mickey’s old place?’

  ‘Yes. I know it.’

  ‘I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘OK.’ Terry put the phone down and went to the car.

  ‘What’s happened, Maws?’

  ‘You were right, Garry. The old Bill have tumbled us. Isaacs must have grassed.’

  Garry stood up from his seat and threw his coffee cup at the wall.

  ‘I knew it! I bloody knew it! You wouldn’t listen, would you?’

  ‘Calm down. Calm down. Shouting and hollering ain’t gonna help us.’

  Roy looked at his sister.

  ‘What’s the score?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I want you all to lie low for a while. I’m meeting somebody who knows what’s going on. Fenn Farm is well and truly out of the question. I’ll be at Mickey’s old flat. I want you all to ring in there from wherever you decide to go. All right?’

  ‘Who was that on the dog and bone?’

  ‘Just a friend, Les. A good friend.’

  ‘Well, I’m off to Muvver’s. Who wants to come?’

  Leslie nodded at Lee. ‘I’ll go with you. At least she’ll guarantee some decent grub with an alibi.’

  ‘Well, wherever you all go, don’t forget to ring me at Michael’s.’

  ‘What about Richard? He might not like you just turning up at his drum.’

  Maura picked up her bag and scowled at Lee.

  ‘Fuck Richard!’

  ‘No, thanks. He’s not my type.’

  Maura laughed despite herself. ‘Come on, you lot. Let’s get a move on.’

  Richard was asleep in bed with a Filipino man he’d picked up the night before. They had only emerged from the bedroom once to have some sandwiches before they went back to bed for another session. Richard was cuddling into the man’s back when he heard the hammering on his front door. He hoped it was not that bitch Denzil again. Since Michael had died he had practically haunted him. Richard’s most oft repeated statement was: ‘Straight I may not be . . . choosy I most definitely am!’ And he had not sunk as low as Denzil. Not yet anyway.

  He walked naked into the hallway.

  ‘Who is it?’ His voice was high and cracked.

  ‘It’s me. Maura Ryan.’

  ‘Oh!’ Richard opened the front door and let her in. Since Michael’s death he had added a mortice lock to the door which was why Maura’s key was not enough to gain her access.

  ‘I never expected you!’

  Maura could hear the surprise in his voice.

  ‘Well, you’ve got me, Richy baby. Until I say otherwise.’

  She walked into the lounge and threw her bag on the sofa. Going to the drinks cabinet, she poured herself a large Remy Martin.

  Richard was in a quandary. He most definitely did not want Maura Ryan in his flat. And it was his flat. Michael had left it to him. But he was not brave enough to ask her to leave. He just stood in the doorway watching her. She was wearing a deep red trouser suit that perfectly complemented her white-blonde hair. Her large breasts were just covered by a white silk shirt. Richard could see that she was braless. He had envied her her breasts from the first time they had met. He had also been jealous of the way Michael worshipped her. The fact that he knew she did not like him had not helped matters very much either.

  He heard a stirring in the bedroom and felt faint with fright. He had completely forgotten about his Filipino friend! He saw Maura’s puzzled expression and tried to smile.

  ‘It’s a friend of mine.’ As he spoke the man came out of the bedroom and Maura could not help but stare at him. He was tiny and slim, like most Filipinos, but he had the largest organ Maura had ever seen in her life. It was like a baseball bat. She made a conscious effort not to let her mouth fall open with shock.

  ‘This is my friend, his name’s Weykok.’ Richard’s voice trailed off as Maura began to guffaw with laughter.

  ‘Well, it would be, wouldn’t it?’

  Weykok stood with his thin bony shoulders pulled back, as if trying to emphasise his enormous member. He seemed to enjoy the stir that he was creating. Richard turned to him and bundled him back into the bedroom. Maura sat on the sofa laughing her head off. She had needed something to lighten the situation and it had
come in the shape of a man called Weykok.

  Richard came back into the lounge; he was wearing a silk dressing-gown. ‘He’s leaving now.’

  As he spoke the little man came into the room, fully dressed. He held out a tiny hand.

  ‘Money, please.’

  Maura saw Richard flush. Enjoying herself, she said innocently, ‘Does he charge by the inch or the centimetre? After all, we’re in the common market now.’

  She started to laugh again and Weykok laughed with her good-naturedly. Maura went to her bag and opened it.

  ‘Have him on me, Richard. How much?’

  Weykok seemed to understand this as he said politely, ‘Eighty-five pounds, madam, please.’

  Maura pulled out two fifty-pound notes and gave them to him, saying, ‘Keep the change.’

  The little man bowed to her, and after a mumbled conversation with Richard in the hallway, left the flat.

  ‘Well, Richard, I’m afraid I’ll be invading your space for a while. Let’s try and get on, shall we?’ Her voice was friendly.

  ‘Are you in some kind of trouble, Maura?’ Richard was serious.

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘In that case I’ll do all I can to help. Not for you but for Michael. I know that’s what he would have wanted me to do.’

  He said the words simply and with an innate sincerity that made her feel guilty for her earlier jokes at his expense. She was reminded that she needed him. Needed him badly.

  ‘Someone will be coming here soon to see me.’

  She saw his face fall and hastily reassured him. ‘Don’t worry, Richard, there’ll be no violence or anything like that.’

  She saw him relax and for a second felt sorry for him. She sat back down on the sofa and patted the seat beside her.

  ‘Come and sit here, Richard. We need to talk.’

  Terry Petherick was in Dagenham. He parked the car he was using in the car park of the Ship and Shovel public house. Leaving it there, he went out on to the A13 and flagged down a passing mini cab.

  ‘Bloody hell! You in the TA?’

  As Terry sat beside the minicab driver, he remembered that he was still blacked up.

  ‘Yes, actually. I’ve been on manoeuvres and my car broke down.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ The man’s voice was gravelly as if he needed to clear his throat. ‘Where you want droppin’ off?’

  ‘Could you take me to Knightsbridge, please?’

  ‘Yeah. Course, I was in the TA, you know. Went to Germany once . . .’

  Terry closed his eyes. This was all he needed, a ‘weekend warrior’ for a cab driver.

  Maura was chatting to Richard, trying to make friends with him. She knew that she needed him, desperately. She could not help noticing that all around the room were pictures of Michael and Richard, laughing and with their arms around one another. It was only Richard’s association with her brother, and his fear of her, that was keeping him from throwing her out, she knew that.

  ‘I needed somewhere to meet someone important. Where no one would think of looking for me. I know this is a cheek, Richard, but it was the only place I could think of.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Well, it’s yours for as long as you want to use it. Now, can I make you something? Tea? Coffee?’

  Maura smiled. ‘Coffee would be great.’

  She looked at the large cuckoo clock on the wall. It was nearly a quarter to seven. She bit her lip. Where was Terry? Roy was sitting at home with little Benny. He was nervous and worried. He would ring in to Maura at seven. Give her a chance to sort herself out. He looked at Janine. She was lying on the couch half drunk. He suddenly felt a tightening sensation in his bowels. For the first time in years he was scared.

  Sarah was watching the three boys surreptitiously. They had all turned up together to visit their father, but they were not right somehow. They were all taut as bowstrings, as if waiting for something to happen. Garry got out of his chair.

  ‘Can I use your phone, Mum?’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  He went out into the hallway and rang Maura. While he was doing it, Leslie and Lee kept Sarah in the front room chatting. Both were nervous under the plaster gaze of the holy family and the various saints that stood around the room. It seemed every time they visited her a new statue had been added to the collection.

  Sarah sat with them while they chatted to her and Benjamin, but still had the bad feeling in her side. The dragging feeling that seemed to be increasing as the day wore on.

  At six-thirty Marsh realised that Terry Petherick had gone missing. Busy as he was getting everything set up, he had not given him a thought till then. Although Terry did not know it, he was going to be silenced along with the Ryans. Oh, they would not kill him. Not unless they had to . . . He was going to be named as the person who had shot Maura Ryan on her entry into the barn.

  Now Marsh knew that somehow Terry had cottoned on to what was going to happen and had driven one of the unmarked cars out of the farmyard. He was fuming. There had been two cars outside, both to be driven away before the Ryans were due to arrive. In the commotion, as everyone got ready and set up the barn for the meeting, Terry had just got into one of them and driven off. God knew where. Personally Marsh hoped it was not to the newspapers. While Maura Ryan was alive and kicking they dared not touch her. She could open her mouth about things that would smash open the Metropolitan Police force and West Midlands Serious Crime Squad, and she also knew things about docklands and other prime areas of development that could bring down the government. He shivered. She had them literally by the bollocks.

  Now there was another thing that he knew for definite. Maura Ryan was not coming anywhere near this barn or even this county. Terry Petherick had jumped fences today. In either camp, whether it was the police’s or the Ryans’, Petherick was a dangerous man.

  Terry knocked on the door of Michael’s flat and Maura let him in almost immediately. They stood in the hallway staring at one another for long moments, both drinking in the other as if they were dying of thirst.

  Maura was the first to speak.

  ‘Come through, Terry.’

  He followed her into the lounge.

  ‘This is Richard, an old friend of my brother Michael’s. He lives here now.’

  Terry held out his hand and Richard shook it.

  ‘I’ll make some more coffee, shall I?’

  ‘I could certainly do with some.’

  Richard smiled at Terry and went to the kitchen.

  ‘Sit down.’

  They sat on the sofa together, nearly touching, and Maura felt the heady sensation of being close to him for the first in years. She savoured it for a few moments to try to commit it to memory. Terry was doing exactly the same.

  Finally Maura spoke. ‘So, what’s going on?’

  ‘You’re not going to like what I have to tell you, Maura.’

  ‘I know that, Terry. But I still have to know the score.’

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘Your brother Geoffrey kept a file on you and Michael.’ He watched her large blue eyes open wider. ‘When he died it came into your mother’s possession. It had details of the gold bullion robbery, even the route map - which incidentally had your prints all over it. It had the names of every high-ranking official in the government, police and law courts, how much you paid them and what you paid them for. Maura, it had everything.’

  She was absolutely dumbstruck.

  ‘Your mother rang me and asked me to meet her. I did.’ He swallowed deeply. ‘She gave the file to me and I passed it on to the SIB.’

  Maura shook her head in disbelief. ‘The Special Investigations Branch? I see.’ Her voice was small. ‘So between my mother and yourself, I was well and truly ...’

  ‘No, Maura. No. I know how it sounds but we wanted to help you.’

  Even as he spoke he knew it sounded lame.

  ‘Come off it, Terry! I’m not as daft as you seem to think. You and my mother wanted me put away. N
either of you thought about all the so-called “goody two-shoes” wankers on my payroll. It never occurred to either of you that they were abusing their positions. Oh, no! You two just wanted me sent down, out of harm’s way. Well, let me tell you something. If it hadn’t have been me and Michael buying them bastards off it would have been someone else. This bloody country is rotten to the core, mate. Everything has its price, whether it’s a small backhander to get a bit of planning permission or a large donation to the appropriate political party for a development. Like docklands . . .’

  ‘I know now that what you’re saying is right.’

  ‘Oh, shut up! Shut up!’ Maura was shouting now and Richard was listening to everything that was being said.

  ‘You was always an idealist, Terry . . . like some sort of bloody knight errant. Always wanted to get the bad guys, didn’t you? Well, let me ask you something. What’s happening to the people we’ve been buying off? I bet they aren’t being given a twelve-gun send-off, are they? Are they? Of course not. They’ll walk away as they always have done with an OBE or a golden handshake. No one must ever know that Sir Godly Goodly, who just happened to go to Cambridge with most of the other scum from the higher echelons of British Society, is on the fucking take!’

  Her mouth was flecked with spittle and she ran her hand through her hair in agitation. ‘Why aren’t they after the real criminals? The rich and pampered criminals. Why must we take the fall for them? You answer me that.’

  Terry stared at her, knowing that all she said was true. He was aware from the day that Marsh had told him what was going to happen to the men on Maura’s payroll, that it was unfair. That the Ryans were going to carry the can for them so that Joe Public never knew what was really going on. He felt a fool. He had betrayed her. After all he had done to her in the past, he had betrayed her again because he’d thought that what he was doing was right. And now he knew that there was no such thing as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ any more. Was it right that judges could sit on a bench and put away men for being a danger to society at large and then acquit other men who were a much bigger danger, just because they were being paid to do so? Was it right for the top police who were financing their gambling or other hobbies to be retired when in reality they should be doing time? No, it was wrong. Maura Ryan was a criminal but she had never pretended to be anything else. She did not shield herself with the mantle of a good education and a law degree. If what she did was wrong, at least she did it without pretending to benefit the nation.