He looked out of the window.
“Straight on and take your second left.”
I nodded to Kyle.
“Second right then straight on, take your right at the tower block.”
Jamie had his eyes closed and was speaking from memory.
I looked around. Kyle had pulled up on a grass verge outside a block of flats.
“This doesn’t look like the place you told me about, Jamie.”
“It’s not. This is where we started.”
“What were you on?”
“Speedballs – coke and H, before that just the horse.”
“Dirty little junkie!” spat Kyle.
“You including your boss’ kid in with that?” Carl sank his fist into the kid’s solar plexus before I could stop him. Jamie struggled to catch his breath.
“Come on” I said, “I told you there was an easy way out of this. There’s a hard way as well - a way that’ll make what happened to you earlier seem like a steak and a blowjob on your birthday – savvy?”
He caught his breath and nodded without looking at me then he spoke.
“We jacked a car up at the Asda.”
“Which way, Jamie?” I asked.
“Go left then right and straight on.”
The Asda car park was emptying but the shop was still brightly lit.
“So…” I shifted around in my seat to look Jamie in the face.
“We spotted a woman putting her shopping in her car, silver Volvo. I gripped her up and Danny showed her an old needle. Told her he had the germ and if she kicked up a scene he’d stick her.”
Carl was looking at the kid in disgust.
“We took the ride and we headed east” - We moved off.
We went on like that until we hit the motorway and headed out into the Kent marshes. It was closing in on ten O’clock.
“So what happened, Jamie?”
He caught my eyes in the rear view mirror for a moment before he spoke.
“Just wanted to get away from it all. Take ourselves off, just us and the gear.”
“Like a junkie Withnail and I?”
Everyone looked at me in confusion and I just nodded for Jamie to continue.
“And that’s what we did.”
“If that was all that happened we wouldn’t be here would we?”
“Billy was hitting it hard. Must’ve been a scud batch. When I came to he was all blue and wide eyed.”
“Then?”
“He was my mate. I treated him proper, better than his dad would’ve.”
I saw Carl cock his fist and threw him an eye. He lowered his fist.
Kyle pulled up at a fork in the road.
“Which road, Jamie?”
“The chalet we broke into is down the left road. Billy’s down the other one.”
We took the right fork. There were less lights now and we flew through the darkness like a black arrow.
“Church up ahead.” Said Kyle.
“This the one, Jamie?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and his chin dipped down to his chest.
“Park further up and we can walk back down.”
Kyle pulled in at the far end of the wall of the churchyard. I chambered a round into the Walther and slid it back into my pocket.
“Bring a torch and a crowbar,” I said to Carl. I climbed out and Kyle pulled Jamie out onto the road.
“You carried him here yourself?”
“He was my mate.”
The kid left it at that as though it explained how a junkie got his needle mate over a seven foot high wall. No way was I going over the wall. Carl snapped the lock off the gate to the churchyard with the crowbar. I kept the torch off and we headed up the path towards a church that looked like it belonged to the set of a Hammer horror film.
“Where?”
“In the main bit.”
We skirted the church and I kept one hand on the Walther in my pocket as we walked. Amongst the weathered stone markers and marble crosses sat a small dome topped mausoleum.
“He’s in there.”
“Stay here and I’ll take a look see,” I said to the lads as I held the heavy Maglite in my left hand.
I left Jamie with his twin guardians and threaded my way through the tombstones and graves. I slipped the safety off the Walther without taking it out of my pocket as I headed towards the death house. Stepping between a pair of small pillars I pushed open the tombs metal door and switched on the Maglite.
The torches beam played around the shadowy interior of the mausoleum. Billy Cochran was laid out in one corner. He was as white and cold as the marble upon which he lay. In the weak light and shadow he reminded me of a photograph I had seen of Che Guevara after he’d been shot down - the one that reminded everyone of Jesus. There were no obvious signs of violence on the emaciated body. I played the torch across the rest of the area and then slipped the safety back on the Walther. My hands were shaking so I sparked a Marlboro as I walked back to the waiting trio.
“It’s him. Let’s take Jamie back to the car and call the boss.”
Carl and Kyle got Jamie into the back seat and then got in themselves. I lit another cigarette and made the call.
“Yes?”
“We’ve found him, boss.”
“Is he…”
“I’m sorry, Mister Cochran.”
The line was silent for a moment.
“Where?”
I rattled off the address of the church.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Boss, I can deal with this.”
“No. I’m doing this for my boy. One hour.”
The call was cut. I stared at my phone. I couldn’t imagine the boss leaving his fortified mansion in Hayes. But then blood is blood. Carl was looking at me and I gestured for him to drop the window.
“He’s coming.”
“What? The boss?”
I nodded.
“Listen I want you to drive the kid around. Being parked up here might draw attention we don’t need. I’ll call you when it’s time to come back.”
“Are we gonna…” He gestured towards the back of the car, at Jamie, with his head.
“I’d have thought so.” I replied.
“Where are you going?”
“Going to walk into the village and see if I can catch last orders.”
Carl nodded and put the window back up. I buttoned up my Burberry and headed down the lane into the village.
A fog began to come down and made the lights of the village appear dim and dirty.
*
“Large brandy.”
The red faced landlord gave me a look that said he didn’t know me and shouldn’t have to serve me. I gave him one back that told him he didn’t need the trouble. He turned to the optics and got me the drink. I looked around the pub; two old boys in flat caps with pints of bitter, a sad looking dog and a middle aged woman with too much flesh on display were the only other patrons.
“Anything else?” asked the landlord.
“No thanks.”
I passed him a tenner. If this was the good life in the country then they could keep it. I took a bite out of the brandy and thought about the red head I’d left at the bar in Angel. She had had the kind of figure that would’ve warmed me up as well as the brandy I was drinking.
The landlord rang the bell for last orders and I grabbed another brandy. My phone rang as I raised the glass to my lips. The landlord tutted and continued to polish the beer taps.
“I’m here.”
“I’ll be there in five, boss.”
I nodded to the sad looking dog, downed my brandy and headed back out into the night.
The bosses Jaguar was parked close to the gate of the churchyard. As I approached the driver’s door opened. The man who emerged wore an open necked shirt and blazer straight off Savile Row which were at odds with the severe military haircut. The well-tailored blazer failed to disguise the bulge beneath the drivers left armpit. I kept my
hands away from my sides as I approached.
“Hello, Connor.”
He nodded in response. Connor had served two tours in Helmand before he came to work for Mister Cochran. His skin was still dark and his eyes were marked by the harshness of the land in which he had served.
The back door opened and the boss climbed out.
“You want me to call the others back?”
“Not yet. I want to see Billy first.”
He headed off into the churchyard. Connor reached into the car and grabbed up a torch and a roll of black fabric.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Body bag.” he replied flatly as he locked up the Jag. “You carrying?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Course.”
He looked around.
“Relax, Connor. Just us here.”
“If the Fletcher’s knew the boss was out here or the Hasan brothers or the fucking Russians.”
“I know, Connor. But they don’t. No one knows we’re out here.”
The ex-soldier grunted and adjusted the pistol in his shoulder rig.
“Are you two fucking coming?” hissed the boss from out of the shadows and we hurried through the gate after him.
When we reached the mausoleum we stopped.
“In there?” asked the boss.
“Yes. He’s in there.”
“Connor, you stay here. Form a perimeter or something.”
I stayed behind Cochran and lit the way for him with a Maglite. When we were inside I kept my lips together like a frigid girl’s legs. The boss didn’t say a word at first. He just stared at the body.
“That’s it then. Stupid little bastard… You got a fag?”
I fumbled for my Marlboros. The boss slipped one between his lips and I lit it for him. As the flame sparked movement blurred in the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see Billy sit up, a silenced pistol aimed straight at his father. The muzzle flash blinded me for a second. I felt the boss fall against me and then what felt like a punch hit me in the ribs and dropped me to my knees. I blinked the muzzle flash away and as my vision returned I took in the boss lying on the floor next to me, half his head gone. I looked sideways at Billy as I struggled to take a breath.
“Toss your piece.” He said in a voice that sounded as though his throat had been cut.
I took the Walther out between my thumb and index finger and threw it into the shadows. Shoe leather slapped on stone and Connor stepped through the doorway. Two more muzzle flashes and the ex-soldier fell back onto the floor.
“Shit…” I felt my side and my hand came away dark with blood that appeared black in the half-light thrown by the torch. I sat back and picked up the cigarette that I had lit for the boss. I stole a drag and bit down the pain.
I heard more footsteps at the door. Billy’s arm kept the pistol aimed straight. Jamie appeared and grinned down at me. He dropped two heads into my lap. Carl and Kyle wouldn’t have been happy – their orange perma-tans had been replaced by the pale marble pallor of death. I took another pull on the cigarette.
“I hope you boys are getting well paid for this.”
Billy smiled and lowered the gun. Then he spoke again in that cut-throat voice.
“The Hasan’s reckon they’re getting a bargain. Hundred grand for the head of the mighty Jimmy Cochran. Course when they come to the pay-off they’ll be getting a little surprise as well.”
Billy stood up – pale, naked, risen. He walked past me and clapped Jamie on the shoulder.
“Be all ours, Jame. Whole fucking city.”
I take a last tug on the Marlboro, burnt down to the filter. I flicked it away into the dark.
“Go on then,” I start to cough and for a moment I can’t stop, when I finally catch my breath again I continued “Get it done. Two in the head like your dad please.”
Billy leans down and I can smell the scent of death all over him.
“Not for you. We need you.”
Then I’m being lifted by hands that seem too strong for a pair of junk hounds.
“What for?” I ask when they’ve got me stood up.
“What you do best. Supervise, ease the transition.”
I see the glint in Billy’s eye and realise he’s as bad as his old man. Jamie takes my weight and helps me towards the door.
“Get you patched up old man. Course you try anything and I’ll take a lot more than a couple of fingers.”
I laugh and that just ends up with me coughing again.
Borrowed Time
Four men murdered me but I’m still here. Four men took my life but I’m still alive. As the purple clouds spread like bruises in the dusk sky I know that I only have till morning to try and dig my family from out of the pits that the four men have prepared for them.
Murphy comes out of the bookies on Webber Street counting his roll. He’s got a dumb pleased look on his face. He might have been lucky on the horses but he’s already as dead as I am. He’s been throwing his money around, like the others, and has drawn attention, my attention, to himself. I come up out of the car fast, keeping the Webley tight in against my thigh, just another punter in a rush to place a bet. The Webleys barrel catches him hard and fast across the cheek. The second before the revolver hits him I see a look of questioning recognition cross his eyes. I slam the revolvers grip twice against his temple and propel him towards the back of my Ford Focus. He slumps against the car and I hold him up while I pop the boot. He struggles when he sees where I’m going to put him so I push the Webley into his face and cock back the hammer. His body goes slack with compliance and I push him in.
The lock up garage is bare; a bulb hangs from the ceiling and the floor is a layer of cracked concrete. Murphy lies at my feet bound up with plastic ties like a sacrificial victim. I’ve gagged him but his eyes are screaming at me. I wish I’d blindfolded him. They’re eyes that I have seen a thousand times in better days but they’re two of the eight eyes that killed me.
“You should have been smarter Murph.”
I cock back the hammer, think of Gemma and the kids and close my eyes. I squeeze the trigger and when I open my eyes the bare floor has turned red. I leave the garage door open when I leave; they’ll find him by dawn. I head back to my car. I’m like a shark moving through the reefs of south east London; I need to stay in perpetual motion or I’m gone.
I cruise down St. Georges Road towards the Elephant and Castle where the new beige paint job on the shopping centre can’t hide the lurid pink that lurks beneath. I turn towards Walworth at the roundabout and put my foot down. Eventually I pull the Focus to a stop outside of Liam Og’s and watch a couple of drinkers stumble out. I tuck my revolver into the waist of my jeans, beneath my jacket, and head into the pub. A quick scan of the pub and I can’t see Trevor. That doesn’t phase me - I know where he’ll be and I head for the toilets. There’s a guy taking a piss so I stand at the hand basins and wash my hands till he leaves. Only one of the cubicle doors is locked so I slap it with the palm of my hand. A voice emerges from beyond the door.
“You wanna fuck off?”
It’s Trevor.
“It’s me you mug.”
“Paul?”
“Yeah.”
I hear the lock slide back and Trevor opens the door with a smile. The pupils of his eyes look the size of penny pieces.
“You killed me, bruv.”
His smile drops away like a TV dropped from a high rise and I smash the Webley down on the bridge of his nose. I move in quickly and batter him to his knees. Once he’s stunned I grab at his sweatshirt and yank it up over his head. I bring my knee up into his face and pull the sweat shirt off him. As he lies on the piss stained tiles I begin wrapping the sweatshirt around the front of the Webley. Trevor spits out half a tooth and looks up at me.
“What the fuck man?”
“You thought I wouldn’t hear about how many grams you bought? How many drinks you’ve been buying?”
“Nah, Paul, listen...”
I kick him in the face and stand on his neck. My foot crushing his neck distorts his voice.
“Paul listen... it ain’t that bad...”
Not that bad? This mug has murdered me and that’s not so bad? I pull the trigger and the bullet hits him in the left cheek. I step off his neck and put two more rounds into his chest before I unwrap the sweatshirt which is beginning to smoulder from muffling the shots. I toss the smoking cloth into the toilet bowl where it lands with a hiss. I need to move quickly now. Some drinker will be in for a piss soon and while I want Trevor found I want to be out of the pub before that happens. Pulling his body up I sit him on the toilet and push the cubicle door to. I check myself in the mirrors and replace the gun into my waistband. Moving through the pub quickly I keep my head down till I’m back on the street. The fresh air hits me like a house brick and I suck it in and feel glad to be alive. Then I’m into the Focus and cutting through to the Old Kent Road. Two more stops and then I can rest. The night flashes by like old memories and I turn on the radio to kill my thoughts.
Melchiot is going to be harder to get at than the others. For one thing he’s always carrying – a knife at least but more likely the chrome 9mm he loves so much. I park up near his estate and walk the rest of the way in. Outside his block is a new VW Golf with blacked out windows – subtle. Luck is with me and someone has jammed the blocks security door open with an empty Coke can. I take the stairs and reload the Webley before I step onto Melchiot’s landing. There is a wrought iron gate over Melchiot’s door. I kneel in front of it and take out the newspaper I’ve brought up from the car. I press the pages into balls and lay them in front of his door. From inside my jacket I take pieces of foam that I stripped out of my sofa earlier. I squirt lighter fluid atop the paper and spark it up. The paper catches and then the foam. I wrap a scarf around my face as smoke begins to pour off the foam. I bang twice on his door.
“Fire! Fire!”
Then I step back against the wall of the landing and draw the Webley. Thirty seconds later I hear the door open. A key goes into the gate lock and a figure bursts out through the smoke. I follow it and fire twice, aiming at the body mass, the figure falls and stays still. I keep the Webley aimed at the prone figure and move in. Something moves on the other side of the smoke and as I turn I hear the shot. The bullet catches me just below my right collar bone and throws me back against the wall. I fire all four rounds that remain in the revolver through the smoke and then hurl myself through the doorway.
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