Bad Blood

by Kelleher, Casey

  ‘No need, Nath, I popped over there myself. Strike while the iron’s hot and all that. Had a little chat with him over a few rum and cokes, you know? Anyway, the upshot was that he wants rid of the place as soon as possible. Said he wants to go off travelling. Said he’d been mulling over your offer, and you’ll never guess what?’

  Christopher stared at Nathan now, his eyes wide as he tried to create some suspense. ‘What?’

  ‘He only signed over the place to me right there and then. Put both our names on the paperwork, he did. It’s great, isn’t it? We are officially joint partners.’ Christopher smiled. He was so smug that Nathan couldn’t help but eye his brother suspiciously.

  Keith Ryan had looked shit scared of Christopher the last time they had paid the bloke a visit. From the off it had been Nathan that he had dealt with. Nathan had been the one that had laid the deal on the table, Nathan had been the one to approach with an offer. So why Keith would have called Christopher up out of the blue, Nathan really couldn’t fathom. Everyone knew that when it came to doing business with the Woods brothers, Nathan was the more diplomatic of the two.

  ‘Travelling? Where is he going?’

  ‘Well, I weren’t really listening to his bloody life plans. Said something about some family stuff, and that he had to leave today. Was it New Zealand he said? Oh, I dunno. Anyway, who gives a shit? The place is ours. I’ve got the paperwork here, it’s all legit.’

  Seeing the tension between his sons and betting his life that there was a lot more to it if Christopher had been involved, Harry couldn’t help but interrupt. ‘Is this the pub you were talking about the other day, The Railway on Wardour Street? That place has been a dive for years. The landlord must have been struggling. Are you sure it’s a sound investment, Nath . . . ?’ Seeing Nathan’s scowl at his words, Harry knew that he was overstepping the mark interfering in the boy’s business. But, he couldn’t help himself. He had given his boys not only his backing, but also some hefty funds to get them both up and running. Christopher was earning well from his fights, and Harry could tell that Nathan desperately wanted to find his niche too. Nathan was adamant that he wanted to get into property, and Harry respected that.

  After the lifestyle that Harry had given his kids, the fact that one of them wanted to make their own way was commendable. Nathan was astute in his thinking, and Harry got where he was coming from. Harry didn’t want to piss on the boy’s parade, really he didn’t. He just wanted him to invest his money wisely. But at the same time, what sort of a father would he be if he just sat back with his trap shut, and let them both invest their money in some shoddy venture that wasn’t going to get them a decent return? He also wasn’t sure that partnering up with Christopher was the wisest of decisions – the boy had been a nightmare lately. Still, Harry kept his own counsel on that matter. ‘The landlord must have bitten your bleeding arm off to get out of there?’

  Christopher grinned at his dad’s turn of phrase. He couldn’t have been more apt if he’d tried. The memory of Keith Ryan’s blood-soaked skin, punctured with teeth marks, was still fresh in his mind.

  If only his father knew the half of it. The rats had gnawed one of the bloke’s fingers down to the bone, and taken a large chunk out of his face too. If Christopher hadn’t woken up from his booze fuelled session when he had, the furry little fuckers would have had themselves a real feast.

  Finding Keith bitten to shit, and hysterical, Christopher had done the human thing and, using his knife, he’d kindly finished the bloke off. After he’d made him sign all the appropriate paperwork of course.

  As much as Christopher would have loved to let the rats maul the man to death, he couldn’t be arsed with the mess of it all. The greedy bastards had had more than a nibble, and that was good enough.

  Right about now, Russ Hollins, Christopher’s trusted mate and number one man for clearing up his mess, was in there doing the clean-up op. Russ was a grimy bastard. Blood, guts, shit, piss – nothing fazed the lad. His job at the crematorium just outside of London was turning out to be a real touch for them both as it happened. Russ was coining it in. By helping renowned gangsters ‘get rid of evidence’, not only was he making a shit load of wedge, but he was making a fair few contacts amongst real criminal faces.

  Russ had stuck Keith’s body in the cremation casket of some old boy in the early hours of this morning. Right about now, the unsuspecting family would probably be singing ‘Kum Ba Ya’, or something equally mind numbing, oblivious to that fact that poor old Keithy-boy was also cooking away nicely inside the incinerator with their loved one.

  Christopher had opened the cellar hatch before he had left the pub too, and smoked the place out. The little bastard rats would have shat bits of Keith Ryan all over Soho by now. He had everything covered.

  Christopher knew how much his brother wanted that pub and now, after his quick thinking, it was his.

  ‘Ahh, well you see, that’s where you’re wrong, Dad. Nath thinks it’s a great investment, don’t you, Nath . . . Said that we’re going to make a killing from the place.’

  Nathan rolled his eyes as he watched his brother ram a whole sausage into his mouth, slopping ketchup down his chin as he spoke.

  ‘Oh yeah, what’s your plan then, son?’ Harry asked Nathan, intrigued.

  Nathan pushed his plate away. His appetite was gone, what with Christopher sitting opposite him, shovelling food into his mouth like he was some kind of scavenger.

  ‘Have you seen the massive development they’ve built just up the road from the pub? Over two hundred high-end apartments. Real fancy ones too. Security gated, plush kitchens, private hot tubs. Not your average first-time buyer kind of place. The property developer on the job said that nearly all the units have already been reserved. Do you know who’s snapping them up? Single, gay men. Soho’s gay scene rakes in the money.’

  Harry nodded. Harry should have known that Nathan would have done his homework before he’d made any kind of an offer. The boy was shrewd when it came to business, just like him. Harry knew Soho like the back of his hand; it was his territory. Nathan couldn’t go wrong investing in property there. ‘So you are going to turn the pub into apartments?’

  ‘No. We are going to totally revamp the place. Completely gut it, and turn it into a swanky little wine bar, cash in on the pink pound.’

  ‘Pink pound?’ Christopher stopped eating and gave his brother his full attention. Nathan had said they’d make a killing on the place, but until now he hadn’t actually gone into detail about how. ‘You mean you want to turn that place into a wine bar for poofters? Are you having a laugh?’ This was the first he had heard about a gay bar, and he wouldn’t have been so keen to go to so much effort last night if he’d known.

  ‘I knew you’d be like this.’ This was exactly why Nathan had wanted to go it alone on this place. His brother was reacting exactly as Nathan had known he would.

  ‘Knew I’d be like what? The Woods brothers running a fucking gay bar? We’ll be the fucking laughing stock, mate. People will think we’re a right pair of fucking fairies.’

  ‘We won’t be running it, Christopher, we’ll get someone else to manage it. It’s going to be really classy. No theme nights, no gimmicks. Just a swanky upmarket bar. Look at the bigger picture: we’re investing in property, we won’t be hosting wine soirées . . .’

  ‘Soirées? Fuck me, you’re even talking like a faggot now. Are you sure there’s not another motive as to why you wanna open a bar just for benders? If you’re bored with your Cassie already you can just put yourself on one of those dating sites. Much cheaper and a lot less effort than opening up your own fucking pick-up joint.’

  ‘Oi, rein it in, boys,’ Harry ordered, just as a knock on the dining room door stopped him from further berating the boys for talking so crudely in front of Evie. Evie, who had been sitting as quietly as ever, was now staring down into her coffee cup looking uncomforta
ble, as her brothers argued about their new bar.

  Harry had made it a rule never to talk business in front of his youngest daughter. Evie didn’t need to know their business dealings, and he’d thank the boys to follow suit by remembering that.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Woods, but Raymond is here . . .’ Before Harry’s housekeeper could continue, Raymond Marks marched into the room.

  ‘Morning,’ Raymond addressed the room. ‘You got a minute, Harry?’

  ‘Of course, Raymond.’ Harry excused himself from the table. ‘Evie babe, we’ve got some bits to do this morning, but if you fancy it we can shoot over to Westfield later on? We can put a dent in my Coutts card and get you a nice dress or something for tonight?’

  Unable to hide her excitement, Evie grinned. ‘Tonight? Really, Dad? What, you mean I can come?’ Harry could see that Evie was made up that he was letting her come to Christopher’s big fight tonight. Normally he’d have no intentions of taking her to a boxing event held in a dingy nightclub, but seeing as she was home from school two days earlier than expected, and after everything she’d been through, he could hardly leave her behind.

  ‘Yes, really, sweetheart. But remember, when it gets nasty you can always leave, okay?’

  Then, leading Raymond and Nathan across the hallway to his office, Harry wanted to finally get down to some business. He could tell by Raymond’s face that something had happened last night.

  Taking a seat in the office, Harry sat back in his chair and stared at Raymond. ‘So, did it all go to plan?’

  Leaning forward in his chair, Raymond rubbed his chin. ‘Terry got a capture.’

  Harry sat forward now too. His huge frame mirrored his friend’s as he spoke, this time quieter. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Your man Mansell rang me first thing, gave me the heads up. Terry’s been placed under police arrest, and taken to Broomfield Hospital, over in Chelmsford.’ Raymond was tense. He and Nathan had made it back from the job in the early hours, and he’d told Nathan to go home. That he’d wait for Terry. He had a sneaky suspicion that Terry had taken a tug, but until he’d got the call from Harry’s guy, he hadn’t been a hundred percent certain.

  Staring at Harry now, Raymond wondered how his friend managed to stay so calm, because unlike him, Raymond had a really bad feeling about all of this.

  One word out of Terry’s mouth and they were all going to be up shit creek without a paddle. The man had taken a massive gamble by letting Terry do the drop, and Raymond had tried and failed to share his reservations with him.

  ‘He won’t talk,’ Harry said, as if reading Raymond’s mind.

  Raymond nodded but he wasn’t so sure.

  Harry was treading a very dangerous line. Terry knew too much.

  ‘He won’t,’ Harry said again, this time with conviction. ‘He knows he’ll be a dead man walking if he does.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘The only reason I didn’t come down there, babe, is so that you wouldn’t say something that would land yourself in even more trouble.’ Pulling a handful of toilet roll out from the dispenser on the wall, Kelly had waited all day to hear from her husband, hoping that somehow he would manage to call her. She knew he’d have the hump with her for not going straight down to the hospital to see him, and she wanted to explain. Though typically caught out by Terry’s bad timing, her phone had finally rung while she was sitting on the bog in the nightclub’s toilets with her knickers around her ankles.

  Kelly had already had a heads up on Terry’s predicament. Her dad had called her first thing this morning to tell her Terry had been caught. He wanted to put her mind at rest that he would get it all sorted and that she wasn’t to worry, but Kelly had been left fuming after she hung up.

  One bloody job, and Terry couldn’t even do that right. It was like the man was destined to fail. Terry had fucked it up. She should have bloody known.

  Her dad had promised her that he would sort it, and Kelly had no doubt in her mind that he would. Her dad was a man of his word after all. He’d told her that it was all in hand, and that she wasn’t to worry. So she’d taken her dad’s advice and steered clear of visiting Terry. He was right, if she went down there she’d only be giving Terry the opportunity to incriminate himself. He had a right temper on him, and if he had spouted off when she got there about being caught, he might drop her dad and Raymond in it. That was too much of a risk. As long as Terry didn’t open his mouth, the situation was salvageable. Trying to explain that she was only staying away for his sake was proving near on impossible. Terry was raging with her and she was struggling to get a word in.

  ‘Of course I want to see you, Tel. But I’m doing what’s best for us both. Don’t get the hump . . .’

  ‘The hump?’ Terry laughed incredulously. ‘Are you having a bloody laugh, Kel? Did you hear anything I just said? I’ve been holed up in hospital with my neck in a cunting brace. They’re sending me down for an MRI scan in a minute. And to top it off the Plod reckon that they’re going to throw the bleeding book at me. Five years they reckon I could get. I’ve been here for sixteen fucking hours, and where the fuck is my wife? Nowhere to be fucking seen, that’s where!’ Terry shouted now, and Kelly could imagine her husband’s face, contorted with rage as he gritted his teeth in anger.

  ‘Five years? Have a laugh, Terry, you’d have had to have tried to murder someone to get five years . . .’ Kelly tried to calm him down. He really was making a big fucking fuss out of nothing. She’d never known a bloke to be such a drama queen – talk about melodramatic. ‘What have they got on you? Speeding and failing to stop?’

  Aware that the nurse was looming a few feet behind him and probably earwigging at his rant to his wife, Terry lowered his voice to almost a whisper. ‘You do know that when your dad asked me to pick up a few packages for him, it wasn’t a fucking audition for Postman Pat’s postal round, don’t you? He needed mules to do his dirty work. The police found three kilos of cocaine on my bike, Kel, they are trying to do me for possessing with intent. Do you know what that fucking means? They think I’m some big time fucking dealer.’

  ‘What?’ Kelly’s head throbbed as she tried to make sense of what Terry was telling her. ‘Are you sure? My dad isn’t involved in drugs. Why would he be? It’s not like he’s short of money.’ Thinking about it, when Kelly had asked what they’d be picking up when they did the job, her dad had swept over what the items actually were. She’d been so caught up in the money, and the fact that Terry had been given an in, that the smaller detail had somehow become irrelevant. Import and export, he’d said.

  ‘Use your loaf, Kelly. I’ve seen palm trees less fucking shady than your old man. Flash Harry had us on a drugs run,’ Terry whispered, snarling.

  Kelly could hear Terry growling in frustration at the other end of the phone but she didn’t let his anger deter her from continuing. This was going to be okay. Her dad had promised her.

  ‘Look, there must be a mistake.’ Kelly was sure that Terry was wrong. Her dad had assured her that he was going to sort it, so Terry just needed to calm down. ‘My dad said that he is sending his solicitor down to the station as soon as you get there. Some bloke called Paul Davis. He’ll fill you in on everything once he gets there.’ Pulling her knickers up, Kelly held the phone against her shoulder with her jaw so that she could open the door to the cubicle.

  ‘He’d better be good, Kel, cos unless the bloke can pull a magic wand out of his fucking arse, I’m looking at doing a stretch inside.’ Terry gritted his teeth.

  ‘According to my dad he is meant to be the best brief in the business.’ Walking over to the sink, Kelly pressed her free hand under the soap dispenser only to find that it was empty. Eyeing the scum around the top of the tap, she grimaced, settling on holding her hand under the running water. This place was a shithole. ‘Just sit tight until you speak to him, yeah?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Terry mutter
ed. He was done with trying to argue the toss with Kelly. The woman didn’t have a clue what sort of a nightmare he had ahead of him.

  It was all well and good telling him to calm down, but Kelly’s dutiful caring wife act wasn’t fooling him; all she cared about was the money, he wasn’t stupid. Flash Harry had dished out twenty grand and Terry knew full well that she didn’t want him to blab his mouth off in case he jeopardised it.

  Drying her hands on the last paper towel, Kelly moved aside as a group of young women burst into the toilets, laughing and joking loudly, clearly all merry from having a few too many. Kelly placed her fingers over the mouthpiece to muffle the noise so that Terry wouldn’t hear.

  ‘What the fuck is that racket?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Oh it’s nothing, babe, just some crap on the telly. Listen, you just keep positive, babe, okay? You’ll be home before you know it.’ Kelly tried to change the subject.

  Silent at the other end of the phone, Terry listened to the sound of squealing girls echoing in the background. He could hear the thumping bass of music in the background now too. Un-fucking-believable!

  Here he was laid up in hospital and that bitch was out on the fucking lash.

  ‘Listen to you? Are you fucking taking the piss or what? It was listening to you that got me fucking where I am now.’ Terry was fuming.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Terry, will you calm down?’ Aware that the girls were eavesdropping at the sound of her husband bellowing down the phone at her, Kelly kept her cool by rolling her eyes at the group of girls, making out that she was more than in control of her conversation.