A Kind of Hush

by Richard A. Johnson

'Could be a number of reasons,' said Chris. 'Maybe they thought that he could be totally trusted because he was in so deep. Maybe he kept it to protect himself if anything went wrong. He knew that if he tried anything they'd kill him and if he were to take this stuff to the Bill, maybe he thought that he would get a deal, though I'm sure that he would have to go down for what he'd been doing. Anyway, who'd think that a slime like that would have this sort of stuff, he was perfect.

  Then again, maybe Gus didn't keep this book. Maybe it's your old man's. From what you said about his filing system for photos and the like, he seems to like to keep all of his affairs in order, so why couldn't he have kept it for his own use?'

  'Sounds likely,' said Mick. 'So what do we do?'

  'I agree that it might not be a good idea at this time to involve the police,' he said. 'But that must come sometime. Anyway, you guys have a few problems that I'm sure you don't need the Old Bill knowing about, so when they're dealt with, the Bill will get to know through another party and I've got an idea on that, so I'll check it out and let you know. For now, protect Jen and Ali or they'll get them. I know you've got to do something about this Gus creep and I'd rather not know any of the details, so get it done quick. We can't sit on this shit for too long, it's far too dangerous and I've got a wife and kids to think about.'

  I was sure that he also had his pocket to care for; it was obvious, I thought, that he didn't need the police in at this time because he had seen a once in a lifetime opportunity to make a big score. If there was any money to be made, then you could bet that Chris would be at the head of the queue. I made up my mind to keep an eye on him.

  Jen was safe, but Ali wasn't, so we went to the hospital the following morning. I went in with Mick while the rest waited outside. After what Chris had told us, we were taking no chances.

  I introduced Mick to Ali then briefly explained what was happening, leaving out the gory details of course. Ali told us everything that she knew about Gus. The man we wanted was about fifty years old, short, quite fat and balding. He kept two minders with him everywhere he went and like him they were evil. He is driven everywhere in a large black Mercedes that bears the numberplate GUS 101. His car is his office. He spends more time in it with his minders than he does anywhere else. He also takes most of his pleasures in the car, she said with a shudder. She begged me to be careful, I kissed her and left.

  At the ward sister's office, I asked if she could make sure that no one but myself and Jen visited Ali, and that any mail, parcels or presents delivered for her should be held until I arrived. I then explained that the guy that had beaten her up was her father and that we had to make sure that he didn't try to get to her while she was in there. I also lied and told her that the police had been informed and were waiting until she was stronger before they interviewed her. The sister was very understanding and agreed at once. She also promised not to talk about our conversation to Ali.

  We went back to the cars. Mick was driving the Orion, I thought that I owed him that much, with Pete, Den and Wivva. I was in the Toyota with Alan, Tony and Si. We were going to Gus's place.

  We turned right out of the hospital and down towards the Archway. Gus lived in Highbury near the Arsenal football ground so the drive was only about twenty minutes. We drove along Holloway Road, past the Nag's Head, under the bridge and turned left after the Poly. We followed the road round to Drayton Park tube station and turned right. Mick slammed on his brakes, I screamed to a halt just behind him missing his bumper by inches. He then drove on for about twenty yards, pulled into a side-street and parked, I followed. He got out and came back to me.

  'Didn't you see it?' he said.

  'See what?' I asked.

  'Back down there, outside the betting shop. GUS 101.'

  'Shit!' I said. 'Let's go take a look.'

  'No, no,' he said. 'I'll go take a look, they don't know me.' And off he went with Wivva.

  They were away for about ten minutes when through my rear view mirror I saw Mick running full-pelt back to the car.

  'Start up!' he yelled. 'Get ready to go.' He rushed past and jumped into the Orion.

  Wiwa came flying round the corner, zoomed up to us, threw himself into the open door of the Orion and they screamed off closely followed by me. In the mirror I could see two big blokes running up the middle of the road behind me.

  Wivva was still laughing when we stopped ten minutes later in Finsbury Park. We piled out, keen to know what had happened and sat on the grass. Mick gave us the story.

  'Gus was in there putting on a bet,' he said. 'His two boyfriends were with him. I stood beside them reading the sheets while they studied form and talked to each other. He chose a horse, wrote down his bet, nice pen, and as he was going to the window to place it, one of his goons said, "If we don't hurry Gus, we won't get to the hospital before your meet with Danny." Well, Wivva and me thought ho ho, he's going after Ali, so Wivva told me to get back to the motor, start it up and be ready to go, so I did and that's all I know. Wivva knows the rest.'

  'It was simple,' said Wivva with a big innocent look on his face. 'I thought I had to stop him going to the hospital, so I lobbed a brick through his windscreen.'

  Everyone fell about.

  'It was fucking close though,' he said when he came up for breath. 'For big blokes, those two were bloody fast.'

  We all collapsed again.

  We cruised past his house twice that day. The first time one of his boys was picking bits of glass out of the front seats, and the second, a new windscreen was being fitted by one of those mobile replacement services. But he didn't go to the hospital.

  I went back to see Ali that night. The sister stopped me on the way in and said that someone had telephoned to ask how Ali was. She said that she didn't confirm that Ali was there and also that she couldn't give out any information on any patients without knowing who the caller was. She said he wouldn't leave his name and hung up. I thanked her and after a short visit with Ali, I went back to Mick's and we started making plans.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was six o’clock in the morning and everyone was asleep except me. The fucking armchair that I had slept in had given me a crick in my neck. Why was it that they could sleep and I couldn’t? I thought. I looked at them one by one.

  Mick was in one of those chairs that slide back and magic up a foot-rest. His arms were folded across his chest and there was a silly grin on his face. I thought of that advert saying, ‘In your dreams you too could be in Tunisia’. I wondered where he was and if she was worth the dream.

  Pete and Den even sleep alike, I thought as I looked at them. Even their bloody hair looked like it had been messed up in the same way. They were both on the settee, one at each end. Both had a leg hanging over the side and both had an arm wrapped around their head. I wondered if they dreamed the same dream.

  Wivva slept as hard as he lived, never giving anything away. He was sitting in the corner on a big cushion, knees drawn up, arms folded on the top. His head was lying on his arms with his face turned to the wall. The back of his head had a big ‘V’ cut into his quarter-inch hair - Vinny Jones was his hero. His knees were spreading the tops of his arms in a way that made it look like his already well-developed muscles were even bigger. Even in his sleep he was saying, 'Don't truck with me man.'

  Si was curled up in a sleeping-bag by the fireplace. He was sucking his thumb and still sniffing even in his sleep. He's a kid, just a kid, I thought. I wondered what would be happening to him if we weren't about. To be honest, I think we all saw a little bit of ourselves in Si, you know, that scared kid bit. It was almost as though we needed him to be around, to remind us of what we once were, or still are.

  Tony was lying on his stomach by the window, his arms stretched out above his head. His mouth was wide open and he was softly snoring. His eyes were going nineteen to the dozen so the dream he was having must have been very busy. He talked a lot about his mum last night, calling her names like 'slag' and 'bitch', but we all saw that
he didn't really mean it. He still loved her lots, but he just couldn't bring himself to admit it.

  Alan? Well Alan was just that, Alan. He was always there, just like the furniture. He rarely spoke, never seemed to have an opinion about anything, but he made you feel fucking comfortable when he was around. I looked at him stretched out in his armchair with his feet crossed and his arms clasped across his stomach and wondered if he ever dreamed at all. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me. I smiled and mouthed the word 'Coffee'. He nodded, we got up quietly and crept into the kitchen.

  I suddenly realised that I had never really been alone with Alan and for a second or two wondered why. No answers came to mind.

  I poured the boiling water into two cups, Alan got the milk and sugar.

  'One or two?' he said, holding up the sugar bowl.

  Two please,' I said. We took the coffee out on to the balcony to drink and looked at the view. We were fourteen floors up and it was amazing.

  I asked Alan how he felt about all that was happening.

  'Like what?' he asked.

  'You know,' I said. 'All this with Jen and Ali.'

  'I don't think about it,' he said.

  'But I killed my old man the other night,' I said, and it hit me for the first time. 'Fucking hell! I killed him,' I said.

  I hadn't thought about it. You crush a cockroach and you don't think about it, it was the same with the old man. Bloody hell, if someone had told me that one day I would top someone and it wouldn't have any effect on me at all, I would never have believed them. But it meant nothing to me, just like the cockroach. He was here and now he's not and I feel nothing.

  'I killed him,' I said.

  'So what,' he said. 'If you hadn't I would have. So would Mick or Wiwa or any of 'em. He was scum, he had to go.'

  'And what about Gus?' I asked.

  'If it happens, it happens,' he said. 'People like that put people like us where we are and no one seems to give a shit but us. If that's what we've got to do to stop them, then fine, I'm game and so are all of the others. We talked about it when you went to see Ali. If we get caught,' he went on, 'what can they do? Send us down, that's no worse than we've been used to is it? And if we do get caught, we'll be fucking heroes. Bollocks to them, that's what I say. And the sooner they're all out of the way the better.'

  I was flabbergasted. That was the longest that I'd ever heard Alan talk and what's more, there was nothing he said that I could argue with.

  There was a noise behind us and we turned. Mick was standing in the doorway hugging a can of Special Brew and coughing over his first smoke of the day.

  That goes double for me,' he said between chokes.

  Chris arrived at about twelve. He looked very serious as he sat down.

  T spent the whole day yesterday on this bloody book,' he said, 'and it kept me awake all bloody night. Some of these names are very powerful people.'

  'We know that,' said Wivva sarcastically.

  'Right, but do you know what it means?' said Chris, leaning towards Wivva. Wivva went quiet and we all smirked.

  'What it means is this,' and off Chris went.

  'Twenty per cent of the people in this book are powerful enough to stop any investigation. If you want to get them, then you have to catch them at it. It's not enough that their names are in the diary, anyone can write down names, but it wouldn't necessarily stand up in Court. I got that from my brief.' He looked up at us. 'Don't worry, he can be trusted. It's just that he's seen too many cases fail because of unsubstantiated evidence.' He went on, 'My brief knows a tame copper. For those that don't know, that's a copper who thinks before he acts. Someone who's not going to barge in regardless, but is

  willing to wait until the evidence is properly provided. He's also a good friend of my brief.'

  He continued, 'Another way to get the evidence we need is to find what's called a weak link. That's someone who's worked inside with them for a long time and is willing for some reason to give evidence against the names in the diary. What I'm saying is, that the diary's not enough on its own if we want to make sure that these bastards go down.'

  'Leave it with us,' said Mick. 'We'll think of something.'

  'I thought you might say something like that,' said Chris, 'so I brought you a present that I thought you just might need.' He opened up a sports bag that he'd brought with him and took out a sawn-off twelve-bore and a box of cartridges.

  'Brilliant!' yelled Wivva. 'Shooters are brilliant, bags I use it,' and he made a grab for it.

  'Hang on,' said Mick, taking it before Wivva could get there. 'We'll sort out who uses it and why later.'

  'I picked it up when I did the Watford house that Si told you about,' said Chris. 'I thought that one day I'd maybe use it on a proper job, but then what with the new baby and all and the business going so well, it just stayed in the loft.'

  'Nice one,' said Mick, 'Thanks Chris, I've a feeling that this could come in quite handy.'

  'I don't know what the bloke used it for,' Chris added. 'So make sure if you use it, or if you're stopped, that you don't get caught with it. You don't want all of his shit on you as well. And please, please, take care eh?' He looked very concerned.

  Thanks, mate, we will,' said Mick.

  Wivva picked up the gun and started polishing it with his sleeve. 'It's nice Chris,' he said. 'Very nice.'

  It was near eight o'clock and we'd just finished yet another takeaway, curry this time. We were getting ready to carry out the plans that we'd been making all afternoon when a terrific bang came from the kitchen and bounced all the way through the flat.

  'What the fuck!' yelled Mick as we all piled out of the room and rushed to where the noise had come from.

  Wivva was standing by the kitchen window with a look of absolute amazement on his face and the now smoking shotgun in his hands.

  'It just exploded,' he said. 'I just pointed at this pigeon sitting on the balcony, pulled the trigger and bam! it was gone. Just fevvers, lots and lots of fevvers, hundreds of the fuckers. It was brilliant.' He started to laugh, we all joined him.

  'Nothing like starting a new job with a bang,' said Mick as he took the gun and playfully cuffed Wivva around the head.

  The phone killed the moment. It was the hospital. Someone had left a parcel for Ali.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a shoebox, wrapped in gold foil, with a big red bow on it. Mick and I took it to one side. I opened it. Inside, lying on the top of a layer of white tissue paper was a card. It read: 'Remember Brighton' and was signed 'Love G'. I lifted up the tissue paper.

  Underneath was a used condom and a picture of Gus and his two goons with Ali and Jen. They were all naked. A note with them read: 'Stewart will listen to you sweetheart. If he doesn't, well . . . Brighton was nice wasn't it.' I thanked the ward sister, stuffed the box under my arm and we slipped out without Ali seeing us or knowing that we had been there.

  'Bastard!' I growled. 'Fucking stinking bastard!' We headed out to Highbury to meet up with the others.

  Tony was at the end of the street by some trees, watching the house as we pulled up.

  'His motor came back twenty minutes ago,' he said. 'He's got four blokes with him now. Two of them are sitting in the brown Granada outside.'

  'Must be expecting something then,' said Mick. 'Better not disappoint him, had we?'

  The others joined us, they'd been sitting in the car around the corner. We split troops again. Mick took Alan, Pete and Den in the Orion and I had Wivva, Tony and Si.

  We cruised slowly past the house making sure that the two outside knew who we were. We carried on around the block. When we turned back into the road again, we saw that the Granada had gone. We tensed, ready for action. 'Looks like this is it,' I said.

  Just as I said that the Granada came screaming up on us from behind, headlights ablaze. It roared past me and sideswiped Mick's Orion, slamming it into a parked VW. Mick's engine stalled. The Granada did a high speed handbrake turn and started back. I s
wung my car hard over to the right as the Granada again spanked the Orion on the side and sped past me; it stopped at the end of the road and started to turn again. I looked at Mick, he was still trying to start his engine.

  We heard a loud crunching noise and watched with wonder as the rear door of the Orion was forced open from the inside, ripping up and out most of the metal covering the rear wing. Out stepped Alan holding the shotgun. He stood as calm as could be in the middle of the road facing the oncoming car; he looked massive. I swear his face had a smile on it.

  'Charles fucking Bronson or what!' screamed Wivva. It was without a doubt the most exciting thing that I had ever seen. Alan was at that moment, I'm sure, everything that any of us ever wanted to be.

  We all began to scream, 'Shoot the bastards, shoot the bastards!'

  He fired both barrels and reloaded. The first two shells smashed into the front of the Granada creating clouds of steam. Alan fired again, this time hitting the windscreen. The nose of the car scraped the ground as the brakes were slammed on and it started to skid out of control. It screeched past me and caught Alan low on the leg spinning him into the air. The car then careered off into a tree and exploded into flames, no one got out.

  We ran to Alan who had landed some fifty feet away from where he had been hit. He was a mess. His right leg was twisted crazily underneath his body, blood was pouring from so many places that it was hard to see how best to stop it. Mick was kneeling beside his head, he looked up and said, 'Don't bother, he's dead. His neck's broken.'

  We fell quiet.

  A screech and a roar came at us from behind, we all turned and dived for cover. The Merc sped past hitting Alan again, smashing him into the kerb, then it roared off down the road.

  'After it!' screamed Mick as we all piled into our cars and sped off, Wivva grabbing the gun on the way.

  We lost the bastard at the bottom of Blackstock Road.

  'He must have doubled back up by the Arsenal,' said Wivva.

  We couldn't hang about, we could already hear the sirens of the Old Bill. So keeping to the back streets where we could, we limped home to Hackney. Not a sound was made by any of us. No speaking, no coughing, no moaning, nothing.