Swiftly pressing his lips against her forehead, he made his way back to the bar, alone.
Chapter seventeen
Sid and Aiden were lurking outside Billy Wyatt’s end-of-terrace house at midnight. The front porch light was on and the curtains in the window at the front of the house were closed. Sid held his favourite machete in his hand and Aiden was tooled up with one of the KA-BAR knives Reggie had given him a while back, a pair of knuckle-dusters and a hammer.
“He’s a fucking scumbag. I can’t wait to cut his face open!” Sid whispered. “Dirty cunt too; he’s into all those hardcore pornos and that. Likes the kiddie stuff…”
“He’s a nonce?” Aiden was shocked.
“Yeah… my mate Ashley was telling me the other day.”
“Ashley?”
“Ashley Connor. He films sex tapes… not the hardcore stuff like that nonce in there likes…”
“Pornos?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But they’re short films…”
“Sex films, huh? Where’s he based?”
“He lives on the Harrington estate in Bethnal Green.”
“Yeah, I know it…”
“Right, shall we do this?” Sid asked with determination and a killer’s glint in his blue eyes.
It took just one dual kick to break the door open and both Sid and Aiden burst into the house to find Billy jacking up in his living room with two other men and a young red-headed female. “What the fuck?” Billy bellowed, as Sid and Aiden strolled into the middle of the room, not quite realising who they were in his hazy condition.
Billy was dressed in a blue suit, his thin blond hair was slicked in curtains and his brown eyes darted from Sid to Aiden then back to the man he recognised: Sid Foster. The girl started screaming as her eyes focused on the machete in Sid’s hand. Sid gave her a back-hander hard across the cheek, knocking her unconscious. The two men with her froze in their seats, gawping at the two large men in the middle of the room.
“You’re next, you cunts!” Sid bellowed, pointing the weapon at them.
Aiden hadn’t taken his eyes off Billy. Holding his KA-BAR knife out in front of him, he listened rather than watched in morbid fascination as both the men behind him began to whimper at his uncle’s threat. He couldn’t believe it. Not even if someone had hold of his tackle, threatening to chop it off, would he fucking cry! He’d lose the plot and start fucking fighting. As Sid dealt with them, Aiden’s blazing blue eyes narrowed.
“So you’re the cunt who keeps screwing over me uncle?”
“Fuck you!” Billy spat.
“I’ve heard so much about you lately, even your name pisses me off!” he went on. “It seems fitting that I should get to end your existence tonight, don’t it?”
Billy went to move, but Aiden raised his KA-BAR and stepped up to him. For a split second he was distracted by the noise coming from behind him and he snapped, “Shut those fuckers up, will you, Sid… their whining is doing my nut in!”
Billy made this his opportunity to locate the handgun he had hidden under the cushion of his armchair before Aiden returned his attention to him. Billy held the small gun out in front of him, his arms shaking with fear and adrenaline. Aiden was stunned by a flurry of panic then he heard the gunshot. He stumbled backwards instinctively, but as he looked up, it was Billy who was slumped in his chair, blood pouring from the side of his head.
“Well, that was close, wasn’t it?”
Both Aiden and Sid froze and stared wide-eyed at the tall, slender, coffee-skinned man standing in the doorway to Billy Wyatt’s living room, holding a small shotgun in his right hand. His accent was traditionally English, despite his ethnicity, and he was immaculate, dressed in an expensive grey suit, a crisp white shirt and grey tie and black winkle-picker shoes. He was well-shaven, his nose littered with brown freckles, and his eyes were a deep caramel brown.
With the hand that wasn’t holding his gun, he tugged a white cotton handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and took time to dab his forehead. Then, calmly placing the handkerchief into his trouser pocket, he lifted his gun once more and directed it at Sid. Sid raised his arms in defence immediately.
“Whoa, whoa! What you doing?” Aiden cried, in panic mode.
The stranger ignored him. “I assume you know who I am?” he asked Sid directly.
Sid nodded, tears pricking his eyes. The man raised his eyebrows, urging Sid to confirm his identity. “K… Kamal Kakar…?” Sid stuttered.
Aiden had already assumed, but now that it had been confirmed, he felt the twist of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Was this it? Was he to die so young? It didn’t seem right. He had always banked on being more than this, being a success!
Keeping his gun pointed between Sid’s eyes, Kamal turned to Aiden, and answering his question from before, he announced, “This is retribution, Aiden,” and he pulled the trigger.
Sid flew backwards and his body slumped against the couch. The two other men present, and now the girl, were groaning. Sid had cut the men up bad, while the girl was merely in a daze, but another three shots from Kamal’s gun finished all of them off too, for good.
Aiden, the only one left standing, stared at Kamal, panic-stricken. But, as ever, overwhelmed by the instinct to fight to the death, he took two long strides towards Kamal and lifted both KA-BAR and hammer into the air. His uncle was dead not five metres away from him and Kamal had a gun pointed at his forehead. Aiden’s mind was a whirl of emotion, his heart beating hard against his chest. “Fucking come on, then?” he bellowed, spittle bubbling between his lips.
“Drop the weapons, Aiden. We need to talk,” Kamal announced calmly, and gestured to the front door with a flick of his head. Aiden stared at him in bewilderment. “You’re perfectly safe. We can use you,” he added. Aiden frowned, but didn’t move for a long moment as he attempted to register what the hell was going on. “Aiden, come.”
Kamal lowered his gun and, slowly, Aiden lowered his arms, yet his trembling fingers refused to release their grip on his weapons of choice. Kamal turned on his heels and headed for the front door. Aiden took a deep breath. He had to go with this. If he didn’t, he would be dead too and he passionately believed that that was not his fate. Taking one quick glance at his uncle’s body, he followed Kamal out of the house and headed towards a silver Mercedes parked out front.
“Lose the knife and hammer, Aiden,” Kamal instructed as another suited man appeared at his side and opened the rear door of the car. “And the knuckle dusters…”
“How can I trust you won’t blow me brains out when I get in?” Aiden asked.
“If I wanted you dead, Aiden, your body would be lying next to your scumbag of an uncle, and I happen to love this car. I am not interested in having bits of your brain splattered all over the leather interior…”
Aiden hesitated then finally handed Kamal his weapons and lowered himself into the back seat. The door was closed on him and Kamal appeared around the other side of the car and slipped in beside him, the other man getting into the driver’s side and dropping the KA-BAR, knuckle dusters and hammer that Kamal had given him on the front passenger seat. “Home, Spencer,” Kamal instructed.
Spencer turned the car around in the road and headed towards Mile End.
It was silent in the car as they crossed Victoria Park Road. Aiden glanced down the street to the location of Lily Summers’ family home. Even now, his stomach lurched at the thought of her. He’d never been in Lily’s house but he’d walked her home on a few occasions. He’d heard she was at college now…
As they moved further south, through and out the other side of Mile End, Aiden began to lose his bearings. He hadn’t been this far south before. Not by car, anyway. It took approximately fifteen minutes before they arrived at Kamal’s home, which was located at Limehouse, looking out onto the north bank of the Thames. Aiden was led to the lift by Kamal, Spencer having been instructed to park the Mercedes. Kamal hit the button for level six and they rose in silence. W
hen the lift arrived at the required level, Kamal led Aiden to the only apartment belonging to that floor, unlocked the door and gestured for him to go inside. Aiden did as instructed and found himself inside a large, open-plan lounge with a kitchenette set off to the right.
“This is modern,” he muttered as Kamal followed him in.
“It’s what money can buy, Aiden. These are brand new. They’ll be starting on Canary Wharf next.”
Aiden nodded, walking slowly around the room, taking in all its glory. Two white sofas accompanied by a matching armchair stood in the middle of the lounge area with a large glass coffee table in between. The armchair had a matching small glass table beside it. The left wall, adjacent to the kitchenette, was covered in bookshelves.
He stepped over to the large window opposite the front door, which stretched across a majority of the living space. There was a balcony beyond and he could see the faint glimmer of a star-lit Thames in the distance.
“Drink?” Kamal offered from the kitchen.
“Yeah, something strong,” Aiden replied. Kamal smiled to himself and poured a glass of neat vodka over ice for his guest. “You know, it wasn’t Sid’s fault… what happened…” Aiden added as he continued to assess his surroundings.
“If you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you know the whole story, Aiden,” Kamal replied, screwing the top back onto the vodka bottle and placing it back in the cupboard.
“Oh, yeah?”
“We’ve been monitoring your uncle for months…”
“We?”
Kamal didn’t answer. He went on, “He’s been screwing with our plans over several jobs of late. The diamonds were the last straw…”
“That was Billy Wyatt,” Aiden retorted.
Kamal walked around the breakfast bar and back into the lounge. He handed Aiden the glass and gestured for him to sit on the sofa. “You know only half the story. But I’m not going to waste our time giving you all the details, Aiden, because I think you know that your uncle was a slippery fucker.” Aiden didn’t answer and Kamal took his silence as his agreement and went on to say, “We think you can work for us…”
“There’s that we again… you appear out of nowhere and start running the show and you expect me to believe that you work alone with just those two brothers I keep hearing about?”
Kamal leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. Aiden noticed he wore a single golden band on the finger next to his pinkie but on his right hand. Staring directly at Aiden with animated caramel eyes, he said, “You are lucky to be alive tonight. I’d suggest you keep your theories to yourself and listen to what I’ve got to offer you…”
Relaxing back on the couch, Aiden replied, “Go on, then… what is it, exactly, that you think I can do for you?”
“You’ve got a killer instinct, Aiden. You need better experience, but tonight convinced me further that you’ve got what it takes to become a real enforcer… not just some hard-man debt collector. I had just killed your uncle, I had a gun pointed at your head, and you still opted to fight me.” Kamal opened out his arms and added, “I’m impressed…”
“You’re lucky I didn’t cut your throat,” Aiden retorted fervently.
Kamal smirked. “There’s a huge difference between wanting to cut someone’s throat and actually doing it…”
“So, what’s the offer?” Aiden intervened.
“You come and work for us, and we’ll pay you £3K a month plus a percentage on whatever you make from the job in hand. The more you impress, the bigger the job and the more money you earn. It’s as simple as that.”
“And what about my other businesses, my current plans?”
Kamal relaxed back in his chair and picked at the material on the knee of his trousers. “As long as they don’t interfere with anything you do for us, you’re free to do whatever you wish, within reason, of course. We expect our associates to be loyal to our firm. We do not tolerate mixers. You will not associate with any other firm in or outside of London. Understand?”
“And if I refuse your offer?”
Kamal inhaled a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He stared Aiden directly in the eye and replied, “If you refuse, Aiden, you don’t get to leave this room.”
Aiden, for the first time, raised his glass to his lips and he drained its contents in one. He placed it down on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “Looks like I don’t really have a choice then, doesn’t it?”
Kamal subsequently stood. “No, Aiden, you don’t. But you will be paid handsomely for your inconvenience.” Kamal held out his hand and Aiden shook it. “I’ll see that Spencer gets you back to Hackney. Good doing business with you, Aiden. And you might not believe me to be genuine, but I am sorry about your uncle. You’ll learn in time that it’s just business, nothing personal.”
Chapter eighteen
Roy was on the phone when Gina walked into the flat. He looked perplexed and she dreaded to hear about what it was he’d got himself into this time. When Roy found her in the kitchen a few minutes later, he announced abruptly, “You’re gonna have to get a job.”
Gina turned and stared at him in bemusement. “I have a job… I got one the other week. You don’t listen to me, do you?”
“Well, you’re gonna have to get another job,” he retorted snidely.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes narrow and accusing. “What you done now?”
Roy ran a hand through his slicked hair. “Billy Wyatt’s dead… he was found a few days ago. Shot to the head. A bit of a massacre, apparently.”
“So? Everyone said he was a nonce anyway… I’m sure he deserved all he got.”
“You’re a heartless cow, Gina, just like your mother!”
Gina instinctively knew there was a reason for her father’s concern over Billy, a man he’d slated many times in the past, but she couldn’t bear to know what kind of association he’d had with him. She’d heard enough about Billy Wyatt to know that whatever relationship he and her father had, it would have had something to do with making money. And the perplexed look on her father’s face convinced her that Billy had died owing him some, if not all, of it!
She went to leave the room, but Roy grabbed her by the arm. “I’m in deep shit, G.”
Gina stared at him. She wanted to feel sorry for him – he was her dad – but she couldn’t. Dad or not, he was an arsehole. “After all the shit you give me, why do you think I’d care?”
“Because you might find your old man in a dumpster if you don’t think of a way to make some money…”
“How much debt have you got us into?” she asked, perplexed.
Roy was suddenly angry. “Never you mind. I don’t have to answer to me own daughter.”
“You do if you’re asking her to bail you out again!”
“Watch it, you!” he spat, pointing a stiff finger in her face.
“If it’s more than five hundred then I’m gonna have to borrow it.”
Roy sighed irately and walked into the living room. Gina followed on his tail and halted at the door as he slumped onto the couch. “Five grand,” he muttered.
Gina’s eyes widened. “What?” She was completely bowled over. She should have asked where he’d got five grand from in the first place, but she didn’t dare – for the sake of her sanity as well as her safety.
“It was supposed to go towards some diamonds. It was kosher… I was gonna make at least 15K.”
“FIVE GRAND!”
Roy wiped a hand over his face. “Fuck!” he muttered.
“You’ve really done it this time, you absolute idiot!”
“Mind who you’re talking to, girl!” Roy bellowed. Gina held her tongue. There was only one way she was going to sort this. She would have to ask Aiden for the money. Oh, that would be fun! But she couldn’t tell her father. He’d rather them be murdered in cold blood than admit to Aiden that he needed him.
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” she said, storming into the hallway and slipping on h
er jacket.
“Yeah, well, look for a job whilst you’re out!” Roy yelled from the living room.
“I’VE GOT A FUCKING JOB!” she screamed over her shoulder, slamming the front door on the useless bastard.
************
Gina waited anxiously at the front door of the Fosters’ flat. When the door swung open, it was Kate who stared out at her with an expression of disinterest. “Is Aiden in?” Gina asked.
“Aiden!” Kate called from the door. When he appeared, Kate walked away, giving Gina no further acknowledgement.
“She still likes me, then?” Gina muttered.
Aiden didn’t answer. “Why are you here?”
She took a deep breath. “I need a favour…”
He regarded her for a moment then stepped aside to let her in. “I’m off out in a sec. Come up, I need to get ready.” He led her up to his bedroom and closed the door. “So, what is it?”
“I need money.”
Aiden turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “How much?”
Gina gulped hard and lowered herself onto the edge of his bed. “Five grand…”
He sighed loudly and pulled off his t-shirt to reveal his bare chest. Gina couldn’t help but take him in. Aiden noticed and said jovially, “Oi, we’re meant to be talking money?” and threw his t-shirt at her. She caught it and grinned, absorbing every ounce of his jollity. Sliding on a white shirt, he pressed, “You know I ain’t got that kind of money at me disposal, G…”
“I know, but if you could get it…”
He sat beside her on the bed and began buttoning his shirt. “And you know what I’m gonna ask next, don’t ya?”
Gina closed her eyes and sighed. “I know.”
“And?”
She opened her eyes and, distracted by Aiden’s struggle to do up his buttons, she brushed his hands out of the way and began the task herself. “I can’t say.”
Human Conditioning Page 13