‘I had a call from Leo’s father …’ I began, but was interrupted by a muffled sound from said Leo.
I leaned in close to him and asked, ‘What’s that you said?’
Slowly his head came up off his chest and I found myself gazing into a pair of bloodshot eyes.
‘The name’s Leck, not Leo,’ he croaked. ‘I’ve told you that already.’
‘Sorry, sorry.’
I patted him on the shoulder, glad to see that he had enough spirit in him to worry about being given his proper name. If I’d been in his condition they could have called me Tilly the Dairy Maid and it wouldn’t have bothered me.
While this was going on, Bertie had found another of his giant cigars and was in the process of lighting it. He got it going to his satisfaction and leaned back in his chair.
‘The fact of your showing up means we’ll have to change our plans,’ he said.
‘The sign of a good general,’ I told him. ‘Being able to think on his feet. What are these plans you’re talking about?’
‘You’re not going to like them.’
‘Tell me, anyway.’
He brought the chair forward, narrowly missing hitting his chin off the desk.
‘For a while now I’ve been planning to get out of the nightclub business and try something different. But I need money to get started. As I’ve got a bit of a cash flow problem, I thought it would be an idea to burn down this building and get the insurance money.’
‘It never entered your head that doing such a thing is against the law?’
‘Well now, there you’ve hit the nail on the head. In the past a number of my other properties just happened to catch fire. And I’ve put in a few claims in my time.’
‘So, on this occasion you’re going to blame it on someone else. And who better than a crowd of Romanian gypsies, who have only recently come to this country looking for refuge?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And where do I fit in? After all, you’re not short of staff to carry out your orders.’
‘I needed someone on the right side of the law. Someone who would testify that I’d been threatened by these blow-ins. You were to be my character witness.’
‘And now I’ve gone and spoiled things by stumbling on your plan?’
‘Not necessarily.’
Bertie placed his cigar in an ashtray big enough for him to take a bath in. I didn’t like the look on his face as he opened a drawer in the desk and took out a tiny tape recorder. He switched it on and we were listening to a recording of our conversation of the day before, when he had hired me to go talk to the Polonski family.
Clicking off the machine, he said, ‘Now, this is the way it is. The club burns down and the remains of two bodies are found. One is that of the guy who started the fire, the other the one trying to stop him. In fact, Polooka here and your very self. When the insurance tossers show up, I play them the tape. Bingo, they pay up and Bertie is rolling in the readies. Sweet as a nut, don’t you think?’
I had to take a deep breath before I could answer. As a matter of fact, I had to take a number of deep breaths. And even then, the only thing that got up my nose was the smell of burning. It was probably coming from Bertie’s cigar. But it could also have been a grim warning of what was to come.
Chapter Sixteen
I decided the time had come for action, so I got up off the chair with the idea of then throwing it at Bertie. But Head-the-Ball behind me had been right when he’d stopped me from taking off the blasted cape. It hindered my movements no end.
Before I could do anything other than stand up, the guy had wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. Then one of the other thugs approached and handcuffed my hands in front of me. I was put back on the chair, the two of them standing beside me like bookends.
‘Are you sure this is such a good idea?’ Gertie suddenly spoke up. She sounded worried.
‘Yes, Bertie,’ I chimed in. ‘You’re pushing up into the big league here. Ripping off the insurance company is one thing, but murder is quite another. If they get you for this, they’ll lock you in the clink and throw away the key.’
‘But they won’t get me, will they? No one knows about it except the people here in this room. And they won’t talk.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ I looked around at the three bruisers, then at Gertie on the sofa. ‘If the boys are caught for something else, they might make a deal and give you up. And Gertie, what about her? She’s mad at you for fooling around with Denise. She might do the dirty on you out of spite. You better think long and hard before you decide to send the club, Leo and myself up in smoke.’
Once again I had to admire my companion in distress, as a muffled ‘Leck, not Leo’ came from his direction.
Now it was Bertie’s turn to gaze at each of the others. ‘Can’t you see what he’s doing?’ he said. ‘He’s playing for time. And also trying to set us against one another. It’s an old trick, but it’s not going to work here.’
He stood up, his head barely above the surface of the large desk. Then he came out around it, trailing cigar smoke.
‘Bring them along,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll stick them in the broom cupboard. Then we’ll do what has to be done and get out of here.’
‘You’re not serious, Bertie,’ I tried, one last time. ‘I’m not ready to meet my Maker. I’ve a few sins I’d like to confess before I kick the bucket. Any chance of calling in a priest? Or better still, the bishop …’
‘You think you’re funny, don’t you?’ the little man said, sticking his face up close to mine. ‘Well, you’ll be laughing all the way to hell.’
He strutted out, and Leck-Leo and myself were marched along behind him. We were thrown, none too gently, into the room beside Bertie’s office, then the door was closed with a thump. At least they left the light on. In the hope that they might also have left the door unlocked, I tried it. No such luck. It was securely bolted.
I sat down on an upended bucket and gazed at my companion. It was obvious he had been badly beaten. His face was bruised, his nose swollen, his eyes mere slits. He lay on the floor, curled up. He needed medical treatment, and soon.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked him, knowing full well that he wasn’t.
‘Yes.’
He moved until he was sitting with his back to the wall. His long black hair was matted with blood.
When he could get his breath, he said, ‘We have to get out of here. Boyer means what he says. He is a wicked little man.’
‘I know, I think I can already smell smoke.’
I examined the room and its contents. There was the bucket I’d been sitting on, a number of mops and brushes, the battered hoover and some containers of cleaning fluid. Glancing up, I saw that there was a small window with a grille over it, in the back wall, above our heads. Spiderman might be able to get to it, but not a fourteen stone, over the hill ex-Wexford hurler. No, if we were to get out of there, it would have to be by some other means. And the faster the better, for this time not alone could I smell smoke, but I could see it as it curled in under the door.
Chapter Seventeen
The sight of the smoke frightened the living daylights out of me. I picked up one of the brushes and threw it like a spear at the high window. The brush missed, then fell back on poor old Leck-Leo’s head, adding to the pain he was in already.
I turned my attention to the door, beating on it with my handcuffed hands and shouting for help. I got a nice echo going, but it was only my own voice answering me. The smoke, which had started out as little wisps, was now billowing in, thick and black and choking. I could also hear a crackling noise, and it wasn’t Bertie taking the cellophane off another of his cigars. It was obviously the sound of flames eating into the wood and timbers of the nightclub building.
Because my hands were tied in front of me, I was able, finally, to get out of the yellow cape. I wrapped it around my companion, covering his nose and mouth. Then I tore off my shirt and covered my own face with it.
I attack
ed the door again, kicking at it as hard as I could. When I stopped for breath, to my surprise the kicking sounds continued. Was it the effect of the smoke, or was there someone on the other side, trying to get in? Now why would anyone want to get in when we were so eager to get out? I asked myself. Then the crazy notion came to me that we were being rescued. Some good person was out there, trying to break the door down. My guardian angel, perhaps? Emily, with her toy hammer? Bertie and his goons, after a change of mind? What the hell did it matter, so long as he, she or they managed to get us out?
I put my ear to the panel and heard a voice telling me to get back. I did so, dragging Leck-Leo with me. We stood against the back wall, the room now so full of smoke that it was difficult to see anything.
The thumps on the door became louder. Then, as the smoke suddenly cleared, I saw an axe head appear through one of the panels. It knocked out the top part of the door and, for a moment, I expected the actor Jack Nicholson to stick his head through and shout, ‘Here’s Johnny’. Instead I could see an even more sinister figure, wearing a crash helmet and holding an axe, peering in.
Whoever he was, he made short work of the rest of the door. He came in, followed by another couple of bikers. They picked up my companion and ran out with him. Then the guy with the axe pushed me along after them.
Flames were licking along the ceiling of the corridor and the heat was terrific. I could feel the skin of my face starting to sizzle. The window by which I had gained entry was now completely smashed. I was pushed from behind through the gaping hole. I fell on my face and rolled about on the wet pavement.
Rain was still falling, hard and steady. I lay on my back and let it soak into me. Never in my life had I been so glad of the showery Irish climate. And never again would I complain about it. Let it pour, spring and summer included!
Chapter Eighteen
I didn’t have much time to roll around on the ground. I was pulled roughly to my feet and pushed down a side street, away from the blazing inferno that had been the Purple Pussy nightclub. My last view of it was of the wooden figure of the cat over the door. It was outlined in flames and falling onto the street below.
The alleyway led to a wide square, where a large van was parked. Stencilled on the side were the words, ‘Polonski and Son, Builders and Decorators’. Now the rescue was beginning to make sense. And it became totally clear when the figure with the axe pulled off his helmet, revealing the face and moustache of Abraham Polonski.
‘Boy, am I glad to see you,’ I told him, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously.
‘No time for that,’ he responded. ‘We must get away. The fire brigade, the police, they will all be here soon.’
‘Who are those other guys?’ I asked him, nodding at his companions. They were in the process of mounting their motor bicycles.
‘We Romanians stick together. When one is in trouble, we are all in trouble. I called in my cousins, my uncles, even my father is here. I could not leave you to find Leo alone.’
‘You’re like the Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all.’
‘Enough talk. Get in the van. We will go to our warehouse in Santry. There are things to be done.’
‘Leo needs a doctor,’ I said, as we both climbed up into the cab of the vehicle. ‘He’s been badly worked over.’
‘They are taking him to hospital as we speak.’
‘It was Boyer and his thugs …’
‘I know. That is why we are taking them to my warehouse. They must be punished for their deeds.’
‘You’ve got them? Where are they?’
‘In the back of the van. When we arrived, they were escaping down the alleyway beside the club. We will make them very sorry for what they have done.’
Polonski had started up the van as he talked, and we were soon out on the quays and heading north. The roads were clear, and we made good time. In spite of the rain beating against the windscreen and the chill of the air, my face still felt as if it had been lightly toasted under a grill. I opened my mouth and worked my jaws, feeling the skin stretch. I reckon I now know how a lobster feels, when he’s thrown into a pot of boiling water.
We journeyed along to the sound of thumps and yells from the back of the van. Bertie and the boys getting their lumps? The thought made me feel much better, and I was in high spirits when we arrived at the Polonskis’ warehouse in Santry.
The building was large and well lit inside. Building materials were neatly stacked and there was a sense of order about the place. A stairs led to a glassed-in office, and I could imagine Abraham Polonski sitting up there, keeping an eye on things.
We moved down towards a far corner of the building. Bertie, Gertie and the three thugs were marched along in front of us. The Polonski cousins and uncles all had sallow skin and huge moustaches. There was no doubt that they were related to Abraham. I was introduced to his father, a little dried prune of a man who appeared to have very little English. His moustache was so big that it looked as if he were hiding behind a bush. I wondered if Annie would like me more if I grew whiskers like his. They say you’ve never been kissed till you’ve been kissed by a man with a moustache.
Chapter Nineteen
It took a guy with cutters only a matter of minutes to remove my handcuffs. I admired his skill, but I still counted my fingers when he was finished, just to make sure they were all there.
Bertie and the three thugs were lined up against the wall of the building. A huge can of paint was tied to each of their right ankles to stop them from running away. Gertie was allowed to sit on a stack of wooden planks. It seemed strange to see her with nothing to eat.
Facing them on straight chairs were the Romanians, like a jury of good men and true. Abraham’s father was obviously the judge, for he was placed to one side on a high stool. Would he have the power to give the death sentence if Bertie and his chums were found guilty? The thought made me uneasy. I didn’t want to be a party to a lynching. Or maybe a chain-saw blood bath.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ I asked Abraham, who was standing beside me.
‘Get them to admit their guilt. Then punish them.’
‘Punish them, how?’
He shrugged and rolled his eyes, as much as to say I’ll give you three guesses.
To be fair to Bertie Boyer, he was still game. His suit was torn, his shirt stained, and there was a purple swelling under his right eye. But he had the look of a little bantam cock as he said, ‘You guys better let me go and fast. Otherwise my solicitor will sue you for everything you’ve got. Kidnapping is still illegal in this country, you know.’
‘You should have thought of that when you took my son,’ Abraham Polonski said. ‘And beat him up.’
‘Have you any proof that I did that. As I hear it, your son got drunk and fell down. I can’t be held responsible for that.’
‘Oh yes you can, you little shrimp.’ Gertie suddenly spoke up. ‘This is payback time for the way you carried on with that Denise. And don’t think you were fooling me with talk of it being about business. With her draped around you like a wilted wall flower.’
‘Keep your trap shut, you big bag of lard,’ Bertie snarled. ‘Otherwise …’
‘Otherwise what?’
Gertie stood up, and there was an admiring intake of breath from the Romanians at the sight of her curves. She winked at them, before turning to glare at Bertie.
‘You’re caught like a mouse in a trap, and I’m the cheese that’s about to put you there. I’ve taken enough of your insults about my size. See how the boys here admire me.’
She turned to the Romanians and made a bow, and they broke into applause. Bertie took on the appearance of someone who’d been hit over the head with a mallet. The three mugs lined up beside him shuffled their feet and looked uneasy.
After a little more discussion, Gertie agreed that she would give evidence that Bertie and company had set fire to the Purple Pussy nightclub, with the Polonski boy and myself still inside. She would also bea
r witness that five thousand euro was due to the family for decoration work.
I, for my part, said I’d ring Superintendent George Quinlan, and give him a version of what had happened that night. He could then come with his merry men and collect the guilty parties.
While we waited for the police to arrive, the Romanians amused themselves by stripping Bertie and the three hoods naked and painting them purple.
Chapter Twenty
It was a week later and Annie, Emily and myself were on our way down to visit the Polonski family in their Parnell Street flat. The rain had finally stopped, and it was a crisp October day with just a hint of winter in its breath. I had used Bertie’s two hundred pounds to get my car patched up, but it still coughed and rattled all the way there.
I rang the bell of 49A and stood back. Sure enough, when the door opened the labrador sprang out, ready for battle. Before we left, I had made sure that Emily had her toy rubber hammer. She hit the dog a hefty wallop on the nose with it. That immediately put manners on him. He backed off, his tail between his legs, a look of sorrow in his big brown eyes.
The same old lady, who turned out to be Abraham Polonski’s mother, invited us in. The living room was crowded. Father Polonski was there, Abraham and his wife, and a host of uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces and cousins. Leck-Leo introduced me to his partner, Alice, and to their baby son.
‘We have named him Patrick, as he was born here in Ireland. He is the first Irish-Romanian in the family.’
We were served hot sweet tea and various types of spicy, garlic sausages. Also dishes of tripe. Annie and I did our best with this food, but Emily showed her displeasure by throwing the tripe at the wall. Later, the women went into an another room and Abraham broke out the rum. In fact, it was Romanian brandy. After a few snorts of it I found myself doing a Cossack dance across the floor.
I don’t remember much about the rest of the evening. I know I woke up the next morning feeling that Emily was beating out the Irish national anthem on my head with her rubber hammer.
An Accident Waiting to Happen Page 4