Liverpool Loyalty

by Caz Finlay

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘What was the point of sending you up there with them if you were going to let them run amok?’ Jock snapped.

  ‘I told them to behave, Jock. But I can’t babysit them twenty-four fucking seven. They’re grown men.’

  Jock sighed and was silent for a few seconds. ‘I have a feeling Alastair told them to shake things up a bit when they got there. But believe me when I tell you that they have picked the wrong target.’

  ‘I’m going to bollock the pair of them in a minute,’ Jerry said. ‘Then what do you need me to do?’

  ‘Keep your heads down, and get all of your arses back here as soon as you’ve got that money back from Craig Johnson. Once Jake Conlon or the Carters identify Finn and Nev, they’ll be dead men walking. Although they might wish they were dead when I get my fucking hands on them.’

  ‘Will do,’ Jerry said. ‘Later, Jock.’

  ‘Yeah, later.’

  Jerry put his phone in his pocket and walked through to the bedroom where Finn and Nev were sleeping.

  ‘You pair of fucking cretins,’ he shouted as he pulled the covers off them both. Then he launched into a tirade while they held their pillows over their heads to try and drown him out. When he had no more breath left to shout, Jerry walked out of the room and out of the hotel suite. He needed some fresh air.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After parking his Jag on the expansive drive, Jock Stewart walked up to the front door of Alastair McGrath’s house. His wife Shannon opened the door before he’d had a chance to knock. She smiled at him – all boobs, white teeth and bee-stung lips. She’d had more work done than the Forth Bridge, but she was a good-natured woman with a heart of gold.

  ‘Jock, I’ve just put the kettle on, love,’ she said as he gave her a brief hug. ‘Alastair is waiting in the lounge for you.’

  Jock walked through their thickly carpeted hallway and into the lounge where he found Alastair sitting in his favourite leather wingback chair. His boxer dog, Beryl, was sitting beside him, enjoying the remainder of last night’s leg of lamb.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Alastair asked as Jock gave Beryl a quick scratch on the head before taking a seat.

  ‘Not really,’ Jock replied.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Alastair asked with a frown.

  ‘Nev and Finn have smashed up a club in Liverpool.’

  ‘So? I told them to have some fun,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘But they didn’t just target anyone’s club, Al. They smashed up the club of Grace Carter’s son, Jake Conlon.’

  ‘Means nothing to me, Jock. Who the fuck are they?’

  ‘Grace Carter, along with her husband and their sons, run Liverpool, Al. They have the whole place sewn up. If they’re not involved in it, then they get a backhander for it. Everyone who is anyone operates under their orders, or at their discretion. I’m not talking about some cowboy outfit like those Johnson clowns. These are proper business people. Ruthless fucking business people.’

  ‘Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me about them when I was trying to make a move in Merseyside?’

  ‘I tried to, Boss. But you weren’t interested. That prick Craig Johnson had you convinced that he was the key to you getting a piece of the action. To be fair, the kid talked a good talk, but he hasn’t delivered the goods, has he? Finn and Nev have gone and picked a fight with the biggest firm in the North West, and to be fucking frank, we could do without it.’

  Alastair stared at Jock and chewed his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was deep in thought.

  ‘I’m going up to Liverpool in a few days to try and straighten this mess out. I’ve got a meeting with the Russians tomorrow that I can’t put off,’ Jock said.

  Alastair nodded sagely. ‘I’d meet Alexei myself, but…’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Jock answered. Last time Alastair and Alexei had come face to face, Alastair had tried to chop Alexei’s fingers off with a machete over a woman. They had since come to an amicable business arrangement, but it rested on a delicate knife edge.

  ‘I’ll come to Liverpool with you, though,’ Alastair declared as he stood up.

  ‘You sure, Boss?’ Jock asked.

  ‘I’ve never been to Liverpool. If this Grace Carter is as big as you say she is, I think it’s about time I met her, don’t you?’

  Jock nodded. Despite being prone to occasional bouts of psychopathic behaviour, for the most part Alastair was good at making money. Perhaps they could make some kind of deal with Grace Carter that wouldn’t end in an all-out war.

  ‘I’ll get one of the lads to drive us up there,’ Jock said.

  ‘Yeah. Ask Colin. He can drive the Bentley. We might as well arrive in style, eh?’ he said with a laugh.

  They were interrupted by Shannon walking into the room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. ‘Here you go, boys. I even got the Hobnobs out especially for you, Jock,’ she said with a giggle as she placed the tray on the coffee table.

  ‘So, what are you boys up to?’ she asked as she sat on the arm of the chair beside her husband.

  ‘Just planning a little trip to Liverpool in a couple of days,’ Alastair replied.

  ‘Ooh, I’ve always fancied going there,’ she squealed in delight.

  Alastair patted her leg gently. ‘Not this time, darling. But I’ll take you next time. I promise.’

  Shannon picked up her cup of tea and stood up, moving to take a seat on the sofa. Jock could see she was disappointed, but she at least tried to hide it well. She was the perfect hostess and would never embarrass Alastair in front of guests by sulking. She had learned that from her own mother, the indomitable Ruby Shaw. Shannon’s father, Harry Shaw, had been the biggest gangster Essex had ever seen. When Alastair had met Shannon and moved to Essex, Harry had recognised Alastair’s talent and had eventually handed over the firm to him shortly before he died. Ruby had been the woman behind the great man in more ways than one and her parties had been legendary. As a result, Harry and Ruby had been a hit with socialites and gangsters alike and they had moved in the most influential of circles.

  Shannon was a lot like her mother, but, unfortunately for her, Alastair wasn’t much like her father. Whereas Harry had adored Ruby and had treated her as his equal, Alastair failed to see Shannon as anything more than something to look good on his arm. As she’d got older, despite her desperately trying to maintain her appearance to keep him happy, Alastair had replaced her with a string of younger models, but he would never divorce Shannon because she was the key to Harry Shaw’s empire. All of Harry’s properties and businesses were in Shannon’s name and it had been written into his will that they’d stay that way. When Shannon died, they would pass to their only child, their nineteen-year-old daughter Evie. Evie hated her father and the way he treated her mother, and had moved out as soon as she’d been able to. She had a modest trust fund, set up for her by her adoring grandfather, and other than that she didn’t take a penny from her mother and father.

  Alastair had all but disowned his daughter and branded her a disgrace to the family name. He had banned Shannon from seeing her, although Jock knew that the two women met up in secret whenever Alastair was out of town. He was happy to keep their secret for them. As far as he was concerned it was unnatural to ban a mother from having contact with her child.

  Jock felt sorry for Shannon. She was only fifty-two. If Alastair would just let her go, she could find herself someone who would love and appreciate her, and she could enjoy the rest of her life, instead of spending it waiting at home for Alastair to finally pay her a bit of attention.

  Jock smiled at Shannon. ‘I’ll make sure he picks you up a nice present, Shan.’

  She smiled back, although it was one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Thanks, Jock.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After picking up the kids from Pat and Sue’s, Grace had told Michael she needed to go out for an hour. She had a plan forming and she needed to test it out. After dropping them at home, she had
driven to John Brennan’s house. She was sitting on his sofa admiring the photographs of his sisters, nieces and nephews when he walked into the room, pulling a T-shirt over his large muscular chest.

  ‘Sorry I disturbed your shower,’ she said.

  ‘No worries. I didn’t expect you so soon,’ he replied with a smile. ‘What can I do for you, Boss?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about how to fix this mess with Jake and Connor. The thought that they might go down for life, John…’ She shook her head.

  ‘They won’t,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Well, I hope not. But anyway, I have an idea.’

  ‘Don’t you always,’ John said with a grin.

  ‘And as they often do, this one involves you.’

  John nodded ‘Whatever you need, Boss.’

  ‘I need you to speak to Craig Johnson for me,’ she replied.

  ‘Okay.’

  Grace smiled. One of the things she admired so much about John was that he never asked too many questions, always trusting that she knew what she was doing. He was loyal to a fault and to someone like Grace, loyalty was everything.

  Grace left John’s house half an hour later. She climbed into her car and dialled Faye Donovan’s number. Faye answered straightaway.

  ‘Hi, Grace. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Well, as fine as can be expected. I was wondering if you could look into something for me though, or at least have that new PI you use do it? I need to find someone, and quickly.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be quicker to have one of your people do this?’ Faye asked.

  ‘Possibly, but the guy who I’d trust with this is on something else for me. I’d ask Webster but I don’t want the police anywhere near it. I know he’s discreet but I can’t chance it.’

  ‘Okay. Let me grab a pen and give me the name. I’ll get him to put a rush job on it.’

  ‘Thanks, Faye. I’ll pay him whatever he needs.’

  A few seconds later, Faye returned to the phone. ‘Go on,’ she said.

  Grace gave Faye Bradley’s name and address before hanging up the phone. Faye’s new PI was an ex-NCA officer. She’d only had him working for her for the past few months, but Faye had told Grace that he’d already proved himself to be very skilled at tracking down people who didn’t want to be found. John Brennan would usually handle that sort of work for Grace, but he was going to be tied up with other things.

  Grace had a suspicion that finding Bradley Johnson could be the answer to all of their problems.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Michael was busy making a late lunch when Grace walked into the kitchen. Their youngest, Oscar, was drawing pictures at the kitchen table. She kissed him on his cheek before making her way over to Michael.

  ‘Did you do what you needed?’ he asked.

  She leaned over him and took the lid off the saucepan, inhaling the scent of the pasta sauce and smiling her approval. ‘Yes. And I spoke to Faye. She’s going to have her PI find Bradley Johnson for us.’

  ‘And what are we going to do when we find him?’

  ‘Hand him over to McGrath or his brothers. I haven’t quite decided yet. It depends on a few things.’

  ‘Do you think getting involved with the McGrath fella is wise?’ he asked as he picked up the packet of fresh pasta and began opening it.

  ‘I don’t know until we meet him. Maybe it would be good to have a connection in Essex. I think he’s trying to get a foot in the door up here. Why else would he be working with the Johnsons? And if he does, it’s better that we manage him than someone else, don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t know, Grace,’ he replied. ‘I thought we were trying to take a step back from all this, not get sucked further in.’

  ‘Well, it’s kind of been taken out of our hands now, hasn’t it? I don’t particularly want to work with Alastair McGrath, and we might not, but his right-hand man is on his way here and I intend to meet with him to see what the hell he wants and why he allowed his employees to smash up Jake’s club.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Jake yet?’ Michael asked, changing the subject as he poured the pasta into the saucepan of boiling water.

  ‘Not yet,’ she replied with a sigh. ‘Every time I phone him it rings and goes to voicemail. I think he’s avoiding me.’

  ‘I think he’s avoiding everyone. Connor couldn’t get hold of him either.’

  Suddenly, Grace’s stomach dropped through to her knees. ‘Oh God, Michael. What if something’s happened to him?’

  He put his arms around her waist. ‘He’ll be fine. Connor said he was wasted last night. He’s probably still in bed sleeping it off.’

  ‘I need to go over there and see him.’

  ‘Can it at least wait until after dinner?’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Grace barely touched the food as she watched her husband and Oscar tucking into theirs. She was so worried about Jake she couldn’t face eating. The likelihood was that he was fine and would be sleeping off a hangover in bed, but even that was a worry to her. Until recently, Jake had never been much of a drinker, and he’d never done drugs much, despite selling them. But lately he seemed to be permanently drunk or off his face on drugs. She saw so much of his father in him sometimes that it terrified her. She could see her beautiful boy slipping away from her and it felt like there was nothing at all she could do about it. It broke Grace’s heart and she knew that the longer he stayed on this road to self-destruction, the harder it would be to get the old Jake back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Grace walked along the corridor of the apartment building on Liverpool’s waterfront. Since his split from Siobhan, Jake had moved back into his old place. He’d put their beautiful four-bedroomed house in Woolton on the market because he said it was too big for him, but Grace suspected it held too many painful memories. The flat had two bedrooms so he could have his daughter Isla staying over, although, from Grace’s conversation with Siobhan earlier in the week, who knew when that was likely to happen again.

  Grace knocked on the door and waited for an answer. When none came, she knocked louder, using the side of her fist.

  Eventually, and much to her relief, Jake answered the door. She could smell the whisky on him as soon as he did, the stench seeming like it was seeping out of his pores.

  ‘Mum!’ he snapped, bleary-eyed and only half awake. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Well, what do you expect when you haven’t been answering your phone?’ she answered. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Now’s not a good time,’ he said sheepishly.

  ‘I don’t care who you’ve got in there with you, Jake. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ he said with a sigh as he held his door open wider.

  Grace walked into the room and noted the stale smell of alcohol, weed and unwashed bodies. ‘Jesus Christ, can you crack a window in here?’ she said as she walked towards one of the large windows overlooking the river and opened it.

  ‘Well, I was asleep,’ Jake complained. ‘If I’d known you were coming over to do an inspection, I’d have tidied up a bit,’ he added sarcastically.

  ‘Who was it?’ Grace heard a voice coming from the bedroom and looked up to see a naked man walking out.

  ‘Oh, God, sorry, Mrs Carter,’ he said as he bowed his head and ducked back inside. She recognised him as one of their bouncers, although his name escaped her.

  Jake looked at her, waiting for a reaction, but she didn’t have one – not to that at least. She was glad he had some companionship after losing Paul.

  ‘Did he tell you what happened at the club last night?’ Grace asked.

  Jake frowned. ‘No, he wasn’t on last night. Why, what happened?’

  ‘Two fellas turned up with machetes and baseball bats and smashed a couple of mirrors and the doors. One of the bouncers had to go to hospital with a concussion, but other than that everyone is okay.’

  ‘Do we know who they were?’

  ‘
Two lads from down south. They work for someone called Alastair McGrath. Ever heard of him?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘Should I have?’

  ‘I suppose not. But, he’s a big gangster from Essex, apparently.’

  ‘So what were his lads doing in my club?’ Jake asked.

  ‘We’ve spoken to Alastair’s right-hand man, at least Nudge has, and he swears the incident was nothing to do with them. He says they were just here to collect on a debt.’

  Jake nodded and sat back in his chair, the glazed look returning to his face. Grace frowned. A few months ago she’d have been hit with a barrage of questions from him, about who these men were and what the hell they were doing in Liverpool, as well as his plan to deal with them. Now, Jake just sat there, looking detached and vacant.

  ‘Jake,’ Grace said.

  He blinked rapidly. ‘What?’ he said with a scowl.

  ‘I’m worried about you,’ she said softly.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mum, I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine,’ she replied.

  He looked down at himself and Grace noticed that he’d lost some weight. Then he looked back up at her but he stared right through her, and he looked so much like his father that she felt winded. How many times had she watched Nathan after a heavy night, sitting looking like a dribbling mess. Well, it wasn’t going to happen to her son too.

  ‘Jake,’ she shouted. ‘You look like shit. You spend your days and nights drinking and taking God knows what, and it’s affecting everything. Do you know Siobhan doesn’t feel safe leaving Isla with you any more? You think you’re invincible, Jake, but you’re not. You’ve lost your edge and sooner or later someone is going to take advantage of that fact.’

  He glared at her and she wondered if he was about to give her a tirade of abuse. She wouldn’t mind if he did – it would be better than the pathetic figure she was looking at right now. At least it would prove that he still had some fight in him. But he didn’t. Instead he put his head in his hands. It was only when she saw his shoulders moving up and down that Grace realised he was crying.