‘The sooner someone takes him out the better.’
Billy shrugged.
‘You’d have to get past Abul first and then Benny himself – that’s without the rest of the Ryans who watch each other like hawks. They give a whole new meaning to the expression ‘‘tight-knit family’’.’
Billy grinned, that easy grin of his.
‘Of course, if you still want a meet, I’ll arrange it for you.’
‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up?’
Jack’s voice was low and Billy knew he had hit a nerve.
‘Well, that’s why I gave up a day’s racing, a couple of dead certs – one equine and one female – and am having to sit here and watch the fucking news, isn’t it?’
‘I want my gear back, they robbed me. They fucking burgled me, in fact.’
Jack was still smarting from the cocaine loss and it showed.
‘Three hundred fucking kilos those cunts stole and at nearly thirty grand a bar you can work that out for yourself.’
Billy wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but had a feeling that right now his humour would go unappreciated.
‘That’s a lot of dosh. What’s my cut if it’s returned? Five per cent?’
Jack swallowed down his irritation. He had guessed Billy would need a sweetener but there was no need to take liberties.
‘Two and a half and that’s a good cut, Billy, so don’t start getting too ambitious. I have only so much patience.’
He was pointing his finger in Billy’s face and Billy Mills knew when to strong it and when to take a step back.
He nodded.
‘I will concede that one, Jack. But I can’t offer any guarantees.’
Jack sniffed loudly and nodded.
The deal was struck but it was a deal that Billy knew would never come to fruition. Knowing the Ryans they would offer to sell it back and then negotiations would have to start all over again. They had taken the coke to prove a point, no more and no less. Jack was a prat if he couldn’t work that one out for himself.
But then Jack had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, whatever inflated opinion he might have of himself, and Billy had always had a good nose for a deal. He was also known to be neutral so he could do the negotiating and still live to tell the tale, whoever he ended up dealing with. All in all he was pleased with his new role as Jack Stern’s go-between. Either way, he would come out on top.
‘Can I have another brandy, Jack? They’re going to speculate on who the head could belong to after the break.’
He was rubbing it in and he knew it, but as his old dad had told him many years ago: use what you’ve got. Always find a use for what you’ve got. Never promise what you can’t deliver, and always do a deal with a smile and a friendly word if possible. That advice had served him in good stead all his working life.
Carol was pale and still under sedation when Maura came into the small private room in Basildon Hospital. She looked awful and Maura was heart sorry for the girl who had just lost her baby, and lost it in the most dreadful circumstances.
‘How are you, sweetie?’
Carol shrugged, a helpless little movement that made her seem even younger and more vulnerable than she looked.
‘Is Benny doing his nut?’
There was fear in her voice, stark terror deep in her eyes.
‘’Course not, darlin’. He’s worried about you.’
The lie came easy to Maura’s lips. Carol had enough to contend with.
‘It was such a fright, Maura, seeing that . . . the head . . .’
She was getting upset once more and Maura wished then she had Benny in front of her so she could tear his head off with her bare hands.
‘Listen, Carol, that was not your fault. It should never have happened.’
Carol nodded, clutching at straws.
‘I was silly to go through his stuff, weren’t I? I should have kept away from his wardrobe. He was always telling me to keep away from his private stuff, see.’
Her face crumpled.
‘He’s gonna kill me, Maura, this has caused so much trouble. And the baby . . . my little baby. He’ll blame me, won’t he? That’s why he ain’t been to see me, ain’t it?’
Her voice was rising and the panic was evident. She wiped her tears away with a trembling hand. Maura stroked her forehead and kissed her gently.
‘He won’t do nothing to you, Carol. I promise you that, love. But the police, they want to know about the . . . about what you found, see. They think it was something to do with Benny.’
The girl was looking at Maura warily now and she carried on with the lies, trying to make her voice sound as genuine as possible.
‘We think someone else put it there, we don’t think it was anything to do with Benny. So stop worrying, love.’
Carol, as if desperate to believe her, nodded.
‘He wouldn’t do that. He ain’t that mad, Maura, just a bit unstable sometimes. He’s got a bad temper, that’s all.’
Maura patted her hand.
Carol looked so young with her nose running and her hair plastered to her head with sweat. She was deathly white and her eyes had deep circles around them. She was still crying silently and Maura felt a strong urge once more to bash Benny’s head in.
‘You’ll be all right, I promise.’
Carol turned her face away and buried it in the pillows.
‘He’ll kill me for this, Maura, I know he will.’
She sat on the bed and cuddled the grieving girl.
‘He won’t. He’s as upset as you are about the baby but he understands, love. I promise you, he understands.’
Carol sat up.
‘Listen, I know him. He’s going to go ballistic over all this. But I couldn’t help it. When I saw it, when I saw the head . . . I was so shocked, it was so awful . . .’
Maura hugged her once more.
‘It was planted in the room, put there to make him look bad . . .’ Her words sounded inane even to her ears but Maura persisted.
Carol pushed her away.
‘We both know it wasn’t. It was put there by that mad bastard.’
‘You can’t know that, Carol . . .’
Carol cried harder and said in a whisper, ‘It was the head of Dean Marks, Maura. It was my ex-boyfriend!’
Maura felt herself pale at the words.
‘Have you told anyone else this?’
Carol shook her head.
‘Dean went to work in Spain; he left because of Benny hassling him. You know what Benny’s like, couldn’t stand the thought of me having been with anyone else.’
She wiped her eyes once more and Maura saw that the usually perfectly manicured nails had been bitten down to the quick.
‘He wouldn’t leave Dean alone. Went to his house, his work. He dragged me over to him once in a club and started slagging us both off. Dean wasn’t a fighter, Maura, he was terrified. Especially when he found out who Benny was. He fucked off, went out to Spain to try and escape from it all.’
She was hysterical once more and Maura held her and tried to calm her.
‘Dean was such a nice bloke, a really inoffensive bloke, Maura. A regular person, you know? Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘So when did Benny see this Dean then?’
Maura’s voice was puzzled.
‘I don’t know. If Dean ever came back, I never heard about it.’ Carol wiped her face with her hands once more and then said, ‘But Benny went to Spain a while ago, on a chartered boat with some blokes from Amsterdam, remember?’
Maura nodded and closed her eyes as what the girl was saying sank in.
‘He must have done it then, mustn’t he? He had it in the cupboard and I never knew that poor Dean was . . .’
Carol was crying again, her voice too choked with emotion for her to continue.
Benny had gone to Spain deliberately to hunt down some poor young fellow, and all because he had been this girl’s first serious boyfriend. Maura sat on the b
ed and put her face in her hands. She felt the anger building up inside her then. It was so strong she wanted to explode with the force of it. He had broken a cardinal rule and taken out a civilian, and all because the other man had once been close to the girl Benny fancied himself in love with. Now because of his stupidity and rank badness the whole family found themselves under the media spotlight, and the Met might just be embarrassed enough to go after them all. Just what they needed with a turf war on their hands.
‘Listen, Carol, you must never, ever tell anyone what you just told me, right?’ Maura insisted, straight into damage limitation mode.
She nodded.
‘’Course I wouldn’t. I ain’t that stupid.’
‘Not even your mum, Carol, promise me?’
She nodded her head sadly. It occurred to Maura that even after all this she was still looking out for her nephew. Old habits were hard to break.
‘I’ll sort this, OK? You just concentrate on getting better.’
Carol looked as though she would never feel better again as long as she lived but Maura didn’t say that. Instead she arranged for a private doctor and a secluded nursing home. The policewoman stationed outside the door was helpful and Maura was very polite to her. Inside she was seething.
Benny and Abul were in a restaurant off Ilford High Street. They were stoned and they were rowdy. Abul’s uncle was not on the premises and his sons were unsure what to do with their cousin and his drunken friend.
Abul was trying his hardest to calm Benny down but he was nine vodkas up and with all the dope and the Es he had dropped he was not easy to placate. When Maura and Garry walked into the restaurant with four large black men, Abul didn’t know whether to applaud with relief or be worried.
When he saw Maura drag Benny, swearing, shouting and protesting, from the restaurant by his hair, he began to worry. Especially when the heavies, at a nod from her, dragged him into the back of a large white transit. Maura followed the van in her Mercedes sports.
Abul stood and watched the scene in consternation. Benny had finally gone too far and, as mad as he was, his family were still a force to be reckoned with.
Benny got away with murder because his last name was Ryan. Well, now it seemed even the Ryans had had enough of him.
Chapter Eighteen
Tommy Rifkind was sitting in a pub in Toxteth, Black George’s, and feeling seriously out of place. He was meeting one of his son’s old cronies and realised he had forgotten what this part of Liverpool could be like. He had grown up here, and even though he had made serious money had still come back here from time to time for women. He had long had a penchant for the locals and Tommy B’s mother had been Toxteth born and bred.
Now as he sat in the old dilapidated pub in Matthew Street he realised he had finally outgrown his roots. From his handmade suit to his diamond-encrusted watch, he felt overdressed and out of place. He knew he was being stared at by everyone, but he also knew that they were more than aware of who, and more importantly what, he was.
Jonas Crush, a young man with a very unfortunate name and an even more unfortunate heroin habit, walked into the pub twenty minutes late and as always looking as if he had just stepped out of a skip in the middle of Beirut. He walked unsteadily towards Tommy who closed his eyes in distress. Jonas, already whacked out of his box, was smiling widely, his brown teeth and furry tongue horribly in evidence.
‘Tommy! Tommy Rifkind! Long time no see!’
Everyone in the pub was staring at them both now and Jonas saw the look levelled at him by Tommy and felt his heart sink.
‘Why don’t you phone the local filth, Jonas, in case they can’t hear your big fucking mouth?’
He spoke quietly but everyone in the pub heard what Tommy had said and looked away accordingly. He knew he had been clocked as soon as he had walked into the place. His clothes were expensive and did not have any logos on them. Instead of tracksuit bottoms and a baggy T-shirt he had on one of his usual Savile Row suits and his ten-grand watch on his wrist. When Tommy B had been alive he had often met him here for a drink. Now he just wanted to get away fast, but first he had to see this disgusting piece of humanity.
Tommy looked at a table full of young men, all clocking him with interest.
‘Had your fucking look, sonny?’
The biggest of the men looked away and the others followed suit. Tommy was still heavy duty in Liverpool. For the moment at least.
Benny was in the back of the transit with Garry, Lee, and Tony Dooley Junior’s brother Bing. He was lying on the floor and with Bing’s large foot planted on his chest. The van was moving at speed and as he looked up at his uncles and Bing he knew he was in deep trouble.
‘Get off me, Bing.’
‘No fucking way.’
Bing’s voice was disinterested. He was following orders. Benny turned his head so he could see his uncles who stared down at him, looking bored.
‘Is this some kind of fucking joke?’
Garry said quietly, ‘Shut the fuck up, Benny.’
Benny knew he should shut up. He had a feeling it was the wisest thing to do. But he tried once more.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll find out.’
Garry lit a cigarette and Benny could smell the smoke. The combination of it with vodka, skunk and Es was suddenly too much in this enclosed space and his curry and rice left his stomach without a second’s grace. As it pumped out of his mouth all over the floor of the van Bing started laughing.
‘Scared, Benny?’
Even Garry and Lee laughed at the expression on their nephew’s face.
Tommy looked up into Lizzie Braden’s eyes. Even though he had not expected to see her tonight he was glad he had.
‘Hello, Tommy boy.’
It was what she had always called him, and it was what she had called his son.
‘Hello, Lizzie, you look well, love.’
It was a kindly lie and they both knew it.
‘You do, you mean. I look like shit.’
She signalled to the bar for a drink.
‘What brings you here, as if I didn’t know?’
He was ashamed and it showed.
A young barmaid with green hair and a nose ring brought a large Bacardi and Coke to their table. Lizzie downed the drink in three gulps and immediately signalled for another.
‘You want to lay off that, Liz.’
She laughed nastily.
‘Like you ever gave a fuck about me . . . or your son, come to that.’
He saw she was already well out of it and swallowed down his annoyance.
‘That’s not fair, Lizzie, and you know it.’
Her drink arrived with miraculous speed and she downed it once more. Jonas watched them warily. He could feel the antagonism and wished he were back in his flat with a nice hot spoonful of H and a can of Tennent’s.
She laughed again. Her teeth, always one of her best features, were yellow now and Tommy watched her with a feeling of sadness. Lizzie had been a beautiful girl in her day and now she looked old before her years. She had been seventeen when she had given birth to Tommy B so she was only just forty now but seemed much older. When he compared her to Maura Ryan, or even his Gina at that age, she was a non-starter. He knew he had ruined her life; she had spent it waiting for him to come back to her though she had known as well as he did that it would never happen.
But every now and then he had sought her out, whispered tender words, then after he had made love to her he would disappear again for months, even years. Consequently he had kept her on the boil, and he knew that had been wrong. He knew now how very wrong it had been. He could have taken her and young Tommy B away from here at any time but he hadn’t. He didn’t fully know why he had left them to rot but he had. Tommy B had worshipped him when in reality Tommy had never really seen him as his own child even though he undoubtedly was. Maybe it was because he was illegitimate; maybe it was because he had always felt guilty about Gina knowing about the boy, he
wasn’t sure why. All he knew was he had only pretended love and care, and now the boy was dead he had to deal with that. The fact he had been murdered smarted, though. Tommy B was still his flesh and blood after all.
‘He hasn’t got a headstone, Tommy. There’s nothing to say he was ever ours.’
Lizzie’s eyes bored into him as she said the words and he looked at Jonas, still watching warily, and sighed.
‘Not now, Lizzie.’
‘I saw Gina’s stone by the way – beautiful. ‘‘Loving wife and mother . . .’’ It fair made my heart sing. When we all know it should have read, ‘‘Gina Rifkind: turned a fucking blind eye for years and brought up a snob who will get all his father’s money even though he hates him’’.’
She was signalling for more alcohol and Tommy sat there wondering why the fuck he was even listening to this shit. But he knew she needed to get it out of her system and the sooner she cunted him, the sooner she could start feeling better about herself. His legitimate son had not even contacted him since his mother’s death; Tommy had not seen the grandchildren he adored in two years.
‘Shut up, Lizzie,’ he hissed.
She snorted noisily and leant forward in her seat.
‘Can you imagine how I am feeling, Tommy? Can you imagine what I go through every day? They cut him up, for fuck’s sake. They took my beautiful boy and butchered him.’
She grabbed at her replenished glass and took another deep drink before continuing. ‘You didn’t see him, Tommy. I couldn’t locate you. But that’s nothing fucking new, is it? I had to identify him from his body parts. I see his little face every day of my life. Every night as I try to sleep, I see my boy butchered on a mortuary slab. And it was because of you, Tommy. You used him and you didn’t care what happened to him.’
She drained her glass again.
‘You are a piece of shit and I never realised that until I saw my boy dead. You were everything to me, Tommy, you and my baby. You were the only people I ever wanted in my life.’
He took out his wallet. Removing a wad of fifty-pound notes, he placed them on the table.
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