But the guy certainly had a whiny voice as he explained, ‘Please don’t tell us how often to inspect these premises Mr Scott. We come when we like and as often as we like. Now, when was this freezer last cleaned? It looks a bit grubby.’
The fake Kieran complained, ‘Oh blimey bruv, are you pulling me plonker? You could eat your fackin’ dinner off that floor and no mistake.’
The real Kieran smiled to himself. He watched as the two inspectors were escorted around the kitchen, making notes on their clipboards.
Perhaps, Kieran decided, he’d been wrong. The business he was in could make you a bit paranoid. But on the other hand . . . It was time to find out.
When his two visitors asked to see the bins outside, Kieran stepped in and told his pretend me, ‘Shall I do that Mr Scott? I know you’re a very busy man and you don’t want to be rummaging around in your nice suit.’
After some hesitation, his manager agreed. ‘Yeah, sure, if you wanna. You do that.’
Kieran led the two inspectors into the alley that ran down the side of the building. He checked the line of the guy’s suit but could see no sign of a firearm. He couldn’t see anything in the woman’s clothes either. She was carrying a handbag, which could contain a shooter, but Kieran decided neither of these two looked like they were in the whacking business.
The three of them stood in front of the green bins. The combover job asked him, ‘Is all the organic waste bagged before being put in these bins?’
Kieran didn’t know. So he was told to open them up. When he’d climbed the steps and done it and turned back, the woman was about ten paces away, keeping watch on the alley. The guy was standing with a pistol in his hand. Kieran bit his lip. He knew he should have patted them down. At times like these, it was important to take precautions. He was smirking. ‘Kieran Scott? You nearly had us going there. I knew the geezer who was posing as you wasn’t legit but I never thought you’d have the brass to make an appearance disguised as a kitchen porter. Clever.’
Kieran raised his hands and came down the steps, stooping slightly. ‘I don’t know who you are but you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’
Kieran was baffled. If they were there to kill him, why hadn’t they done it yet? Professional murderers tended not to get into small talk. If only because that might give the victim an opportunity to fight back. He also knew that in a situation like this you would only get one chance to kybosh the opposition and if you didn’t take it, you were dead.
‘No Kieran, it’s you who’s got the wrong end of the stick and I’m here to put your head straight . . .’
He tapped the side of his balding head with the barrel of his gun. It was Kieran’s chance. And he took it. He rushed forward at the pistol, grabbed the guy’s gun hand in one fist and screwed a punch into the man’s face with the other. Kieran could feel the bone buckle and splinter while he fell to the ground. He turned quickly to see the woman running away up the alley before delivering one kick after another to his victim’s ribs. The heel of Kieran’s shoe ground into the guy’s hand until the gun fell away from his already swelling fingers.
Mr Comb Over was gurgling. ‘I’m only here . . . to deliver you a message . . . not shoot anyone . . .’
Kieran shook him violently by the lapels. ‘Who sent you? Was it John?’
‘John . . .?’
Kieran looked up to see the woman and two more men coming back down the alley. He picked up the guy’s gun and dropped it in his pocket before delivering one final kick and heading for The Lock’s side door, which he bolted from the inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran to his office and opened the windows. There was a clear view of the alley but everyone had gone. In the distance a powerful car was accelerating away.
Bastards! Whoever thought they could come on his manor and take him on was wrong. He picked up the phone and got his manager. ‘Double security. Anyone who comes in gets searched. And then searched again, got it?’
He put the phone down without waiting for a response. Kieran realised he should have asked the guy what the message was. But he didn’t need to hear it coming from the bloke’s mouth to know what it probably was.
‘Where’s the gold?’
He gave John a ring on his second mobile phone. As soon as it clicked on he said, ‘Do you want to keep the merchandise all for yourself?’ He didn’t have time to beat around the bush.
‘Whatcha going on about?’
‘Let’s just say I had a couple of callers who don’t have membership.’
‘What? And you think it was me?’
Kieran ran his free hand roughly through his hair. ‘Well was it?’
‘Don’t be fucking stupid. What would be the point of me doing that? You’re the one with the stuff.’
‘Look—’
John urgently cut him off. ‘Uncle Frank and his mate have obviously sussed that you did it. It’s just as well you called.’ He paused. ‘I’ve found a secure place for our pot of magic.’
Thirty-Three
Around eight in the evening a cab dropped Jen on The Highway at St Katharine Docks. The majestic Tower of London and brightly lit Tower Bridge loomed in the background. As she stared at the marina and the busy restaurants it was hard to believe this part of London had almost been bombed to oblivion during the war or that a generation ago some people were ashamed to admit that they came from the area.
Jen looked away from the restaurants and started to walk towards the collection of flashy yachts, excitement growing with her every step. She’d never been on a boat before, despite living a stone’s throw from the Regent’s Canal. A man who passed her gave her an appreciative once-over and she grinned, knowing she looked the part. She’d used some of the cash she’d got from Naz to splash out on new clobber. She was wearing a roomy, above-the-knee knit dress layered over metallic leggings and black ankle boots. A leopard-print jacket kept the cold out. Her clothes screamed money but she’d got the lot for under two hundred from her guy down The Roman who specialised in a bit of knock-off every now and again. It might come from the back end of a lorry but it made Jen feel like the bizz. She hadn’t felt like this in a month of Sundays.
When she reached the yacht she was pleased to see him waiting for her on the deck. She gave her full-on smile. ‘You’re a bit keen,’ she told him saucily.
‘Some other bloke’s gonna snap you up if I take my eyes off you,’ Kieran threw back.
That made Jen roar with laughter. That’s what she liked about this man, he had the potential to bring the fun back into her life. This was the first time she’d seen him since he’d given her a lift back from the memorial gardens a few days ago. He hadn’t beaten about the bush, more or less asking her out on a date after five minutes in his car. Jen hadn’t been sure at first; it was clear the bloke lived on the shady side of the street and she’d already experienced a life of misery with one of those, thank you very much. But her mother had known him most of his life, which was a big plus; it said a lot about the type of man he was. Why Babs hadn’t introduced him long ago she couldn’t figure out. But since he was so close to her mum, Jen had another reason for wanting to cosy up to him.
He got her on board and downstairs to a cabin that made Jen’s eyes nearly pop. Luxury, wood-panelled walls interspersed with the occasional porthole peeping out on the soothing water and a pyramid chandelier above a table set for two. On opposite walls, facing each other, were brilliant white leather sofas. She couldn’t fault him, he’d certainly pulled out all the stops.
‘This yours then?’
He grinned at her. ‘Let’s just say that you won’t need to worry about the rozzers turning up during your pudding.’
That made her laugh out loud again. Oh, she liked this man very much indeed. As he gallantly helped her off with her coat she couldn’t help gazing around again. To have the money to live like this must be something. To take her children on a Mediterranean cruise would be a dream come true. Her determination to get what was rightfully owed her girls kicked in.
Kieran had already finished his meal and was leaning back enjoying a whisky. ‘Born and bred. Moved there when it was newly built. All full of promise it was back then.’ He knocked his drink back. ‘It weren’t called The Devil in those days. For the folk who moved there it was paradise.’
Jen scoffed at that. ‘I can’t imagine that. That place has always been trouble.’
Kieran looked at her intently as he swivelled his drink around his glass. ‘That’s what the pointy heads want you to believe; that us lot who live on places like that are scum.’ Jen was mesmerised as he closed his eyes, lost in the past. When he reopened them they glittered with fire that made Jen almost catch her breath. ‘That’s what your mum taught me. Never, ever let anyone boot you to the kerb, that’s what she told me. You always hold your head up straight and look life in the eye.’
Jen looked him in the eye. ‘Sounds like you and Mum are close.’
Instead of answering he eased out of his seat. Jen’s heart started thumping as he pulled her out of the chair. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close. He leaned in to her ear. ‘It ain’t your mum I wanna be close to at the mo, you get me?’
A thrill went down Jen as his lips kissed the side of her neck. This was nothing like the mauling at the hands of that pot-bellied businessman. Kieran was so gentle, so caring, like she was the most precious thing in his life. Years back Jen would’ve fallen into this and not thought of anything else, but she wasn’t the same dumb, innocent woman she’d once been. Sure, she loved what he was doing to her, but Kieran was her way of getting to her mum. Making Babs see sense.
Jen pulled away and then recklessly swept her arms across the table sending dishes, food, glasses flying onto the wooden floor. With a hot gleam in her eye she turned back to a stunned-looking Kieran.
‘What’s the matter?’ she almost taunted him. ‘I thought you wanted to get close.’ She leaned back on the table and hitched up her dress. She could’ve almost laughed at the gobsmacked expression on his face when, after she’d seductively rolled down her leggings, he clocked she wasn’t wearing knickers underneath. A minute later he was screwing her like she was the dish of the day.
Although Jen was thoroughly enjoying herself she didn’t forget what she was really about. As soon as he came she panted in his ear, ‘I need you to ask Mum something for me . . .’
‘What?’ His voice was breathless and slightly dazed, his body still shaking with the aftershocks of sex.
Jen pushed at his shoulders so that she could make eye contact. ‘My greedy sisters are trying to cut my kids out of their inheritance. I don’t know if Babs told you about the two houses she owns, but it’s only right that my girls get what’s due to them. Will you have a word in her ear? Make her see sense? Babs thinks the world of you, she’s bound to listen.’
The muscles of her fanny squeezed around his cock, milking him dry. Kieran groaned as she smiled up at him.
Jen couldn’t help whistling as she floated into her flat. She’d had such a smashing night out. She’d forgotten what it was like to be with a fella – no, a gentleman – who knew how to treat a woman like a lady. Wined and dined, that’s what she’d been tonight. Plus Kieran had said that he’d talk to Mum about cutting Courtney and Little Bea into the houses.
Seventeen-year-old Sonia from next door was with the girls in the sitting room. She watched Courtney and Little Bea when Jen needed her to and, bless her young heart, she wouldn’t take a penny. They were all glued to a video of an episode of The Apprentice, which Jen hadn’t got around to watching yet. Courtney and Sonia were glued to the screen as one of the contestants did something really, really naff. Little Bea had half an eye on it, the rest of her attention on the book in her hand.
‘Alright Mum.’ Poor Little Bea’s voice sounded so sleepy and her eyes were drooping.
Courtney didn’t smile and used her hair to cover her face like a veil, but Jen knew her daughter was watching her alright.
After Sonia had gone Jen tucked up her daughters in bed. She pulled the blankets securely around Courtney’s chin. ‘So, did you enjoy speaking with your counsellor?’
Courtney’s huff turned into a full-blown yawn. ‘You already asked me that earlier. It was nuthin special.’
Jen didn’t take the bait. ‘Well, it won’t be long before you’re seeing Sally again.’
‘Foxy,’ Courtney corrected, ‘she likes being called Foxy.’
Jen smiled; so her girl had been taking notice in this first session.
She hoped hard that this counselling would work. If it didn’t she didn’t know what she would do . . .
At two in the morning Jen was startled awake by screaming. She rushed out of bed and belted into her girls’ room. Courtney was huddled in a corner of her bed with tears streaming down her eyes. Her face . . . Jen felt like weeping herself. Courtney’s face was devoid of blood and her eyes sunken into her head. Her baby sister was right beside her, stroking her arm soothingly and whispering, ‘It’s gonna be alright. Gonna be alright.’ But her little face told another story. She looked like the worst day of her life had arrived.
When Jen reached Courtney, her daughter flung herself into her arms. Tears burst from Jen’s eyes, but she made no sound. She clutched her child tight. This was breaking her heart. She didn’t know what was going on. And that’s when she prayed like never before; that Foxy would be able to cure her darling daughter.
Thirty-Four
The storage place closed at six. John had arranged to meet Kieran there at half five on Monday evening to transfer the gold to John’s care and ship it to its new hiding place. Kieran arrived early and parked up next to a motorbike on the forecourt. He got out to stretch his legs, then leaned against his car and smoked a B&H. It was a matter of trust. And the truth was he didn’t trust John anymore. Perhaps he never had. It was nothing personal against his old mate. But the underworld is just like any other business: it’s all about the money. He wouldn’t expect John to turn the situation to his advantage, but you could never tell. He’d heard about many a deal done between friends that had ended in betrayal. His mouth twisted as he imagined Dee egging on her old man to do the dirty. He knew how much Dee hated him. John was pretending that he hadn’t told Dee about the gold but that wasn’t believable either.
At half five a large anonymous van made its way up the slip road with three men in the front. Two were heavies and sitting in the middle was John. The van swung round and then backed up to the shutters. The men climbed out and Kieran sauntered over. John was full of the joys of life. ‘Alright mate?’
‘Yeah, good.’
John put his hand on Kieran’s shoulder. ‘Good boy. Let’s get in the office, do the paperwork and get the stuff loaded up. Sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get the ball rolling and the sooner you can get your share.’ Share? It was his fucking gold. ‘I hope you’re not planning on following me to my destination. Don’t forget, the folk I’m dealing with don’t want all their secrets out in the open.’
Kieran let out through gritted teeth, ‘But it’s my gold.’
‘I know that and I’d feel the same in your situation. But you’ve been around long enough to know how it goes.’
Kieran gestured at the Mini with his thumb. ‘I couldn’t follow a push bike in that anyway.’
The second hand furniture was loaded up in the van and the doors closed. John added a large padlock to make sure nothing fell out. Kieran looked around. There seemed to be no sign that John had brought any other vehicles to act as outriders but Kieran guessed they’d be joining him on the motorway. He sat back against his Mini. It was John who took the wheel this time. He leaned out of the window. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Kieran watched the van go down the slip road towards the motorway. When it was out of sight, he opened the boot of the Mini and took out a crash helmet. He climbed on the motorbike next to the car and set off in pursu
it. If John really figured he was going to let him waltz off with his loot without knowing where it was being taken he was living in La-La Land. He soon caught up with the van, which had been joined by an SUV just behind. Kieran hung back about half a mile so he was in sight but keeping a low profile.
John didn’t seem to know where he was going. He was doing a steady fifty in the slow lane. From time to time, he left the motorway at an exit and then doubled back in the other direction but he didn’t seem to realise he was being followed. Finally he left the M25 and headed down the A12 towards the Blackwall Tunnel. At the Hackney turn-off the SUV left the little convoy and was replaced at the Mile End one by another. Kieran expected John to turn before the Tunnel – south of the river wasn’t really his thing – but the van went through. Kieran stayed well back until they reached the other side. But at the A2 junction, John came back round again and began heading northwards back towards the Tunnel, still at the same steady fifty.
‘What’s he playing at . . .?’
As they approached the northbound entrance and the three lanes narrowed to two, there were a number of cars between Kieran and John’s van so he was out of sight. As the traffic slowed to a crawl, Kieran watched the van disappear, heading for the East End. Then he heard a squealing of brakes and the thumping and crashing of metal. Right at the entrance to the tunnel, two cars had crashed into each other. Alarmed, Kieran weaved between the halted vehicles and tried to pass but the knackered old saloons were at right angles to one another, blocking the road. There was no way through. The two drivers got out, both shaking their heads and looking at the damage. One shrugged his shoulders at Kieran. ‘Sorry mate, I lost control of the steering wheel.’
The other one swore. ‘Looks like they’re closing the Tunnel . . .’
In front of them, red lights were flashing and a gate was coming down to block traffic.
Kieran jumped off his bike and stepped around the men. Shit.
Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series) Page 20