The Rule of Fear

by Luke Delaney

  ‘What else did you hear?’ King continued.

  ‘Heard it was a rival gang or something,’ Astill told him truthfully.

  ‘Rival gang,’ King smiled to let him know he was wrong. ‘I heard it was vigilantes. Maybe you’re next on their list – if you know what I mean – unless you cooperate.’

  Astill said nothing, but the reality of his situation was beginning to dawn on him, like a patient realizing the doctor had just told them they had cancer.

  ‘No?’ King nodded his head slowly, speaking to Brown over his shoulder. ‘Davey – put the kettle on. Make sure it’s nice and full. Just in case you’re wondering,’ he addressed Astill and Stevenson, ‘it’s not for tea or coffee. Apparently there’s nothing more painful than being burnt with boiling water. Shall we find out?’

  ‘You’re fucking mad,’ Astill told him and tried to stand, but King moved too quickly, stamping on his genitals and collapsing him back onto the sofa. He lay writhing and moaning – unable to reach his injured body parts because his hands were still handcuffed behind his back.

  King pulled his black leather gloves from his pocket and made a deliberate show of slipping them over his hands. He leaned forwards and slapped Astill hard across the face, making Stevenson flinch and curl into an ever tighter protective ball. ‘All you have to do is tell me where the safe is,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.’ He went to slap Astill again, but he spoke before he could.

  ‘Wait,’ Astill pleaded. ‘How much d’you want? I can pay you.’

  ‘I’ve told you,’ King reminded him as he brought the first slap down on his face, ‘we’re not here for a pay-off. We’re here for everything. You’re finished, Astill. At least make the end easy on yourself and this wretch you call your girlfriend.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Astill appealed to him. ‘This is not how it fucking works.’ King grabbed him by the collar and gave him a short, hard punch in the eye, making him call out in pain, but King showed no mercy as he hit him again square in the nose, causing it to immediately start bleeding.

  ‘Sarge,’ Brown tried to warn him. ‘Let’s not let things get out of hand.’

  ‘Out of hand?’ King turned on him. ‘Too late for that. We’re all in this together now. There’s no going back after Butler.’ He looked again at the terrified couple and realized what he had to do. He pushed Astill onto the sofa and grabbed Stevenson by the hair on the back of her head, pulling her straight and almost lifting her from her seat.

  ‘No,’ she begged him, but his open palm was already heading towards her face – King holding her still as he hit her hard on the cheek. Her crying intensified as he pulled his hand back again.

  ‘The safe?’ he demanded.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she lied as a second later his palm struck her again. ‘Please,’ she grovelled.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Astill tried to defend her.

  ‘Well, well, well, Micky,’ he tormented them. ‘I never knew you were a man of honour. Are you a man of honour, Micky? You want to stop this – tell me where the safe is.’ But Astill said nothing, his lips trembling with the effort of remaining shut. ‘No?’ King asked. ‘Very well.’ He tightened his grip on Stevenson’s hair and turned his open palm into a clenched fist.

  ‘Maybe there isn’t a safe,’ Williams tried to stop him – growing as concerned as Brown.

  ‘There’s a safe,’ King insisted and jabbed his fist into Stevenson’s cheekbone. ‘Where is it?’ he called through her hysterical crying, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. ‘Where is it?’ he repeated and smashed his fist into her mouth, splitting her upper and lower lips simultaneously. ‘Where is it?’ he demanded again, showing her his fist that was drawn back as far as he could.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Brown interrupted and stepped forward, to do what he didn’t know – just something. Anything. But Stevenson broke first.

  ‘In the bedroom,’ she spluttered through the pain and blood.

  ‘Shut up, you stupid fucking bitch,’ Astill screamed at her, but he was quickly silenced by another kick in the groin from King who lifted Stevenson off the sofa by her hair and pushed her towards the hallway.

  ‘Show me,’ he told her and allowed her to lead him to the bedroom that mirrored the front room – some decent belongings, but otherwise squalid, dirty clothes strewn on the floor and yet more overflowing ashtrays along with the usual paraphernalia associated with smoking crack. ‘Where is it?’ he barked at her, throwing her onto the bed.

  She pointed a crooked finger at the built-in wardrobe. ‘In there,’ she told him. ‘Under the carpet in the floor.’

  King smiled and nodded before walking to the wardrobe and pulling the doors open, digging his way through the clothes and shoes until he uncovered the carpet – like a treasure seeker hitting something solid underground. He ripped the carpet back and saw the heavy metal safe, about twenty inches by ten, cemented into the floor. Without ceremony he pushed the key into the keyhole and turned it. It twisted smoothly – the sign of frequent use. The handle turned just as easily. He pulled the heavy lid up and open, letting it fall to the floor as he stared into the box. His first impression was that he was looking at far more than he’d ever expected to find at someone like Astill’s – much more.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he swore as he began to pull the contents of the safe out – spreading them across the floor next to him. There were ten- and five-pound notes mainly, with the occasional twenty, and heaps of coins all neatly placed in small plastic bank bags, as well as pound coins, fifty-pence pieces and every other type of coin too. But there was something else – another plastic bag containing, he estimated, at least fifty to sixty rocks, and yet another with about an eighth of an ounce of brown powder he assumed was heroin, as well as a smaller clip-seal bag containing a small amount of a pure white substance he guessed was cocaine – a relatively rare find in such a deprived area. Clearly he’d underestimated Astill. Evidently he was a much bigger player than they’d thought.

  He counted out the cash as quickly as he could, stopping when he got to a thousand pounds. He rolled the money as tightly as he could before pushing it into his shirt chest pocket under his body armour. He also separated out about half the rocks and stuffed them in one of the coin bags he’d emptied of small change. These he placed in his other chest pocket. He eyed the bags of heroin and cocaine before he snatched them up and stuffed them both into his trouser pocket. Finally he separated off two wads of five hundred pounds each before placing all the remaining drugs and cash into an evidence bag he’d pulled from a pouch on his utility belt. He felt eyes burning into the back of his head and turned to see Stevenson staring at him – her eyes wild with hate and disgust.

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ he told her, although he didn’t really believe it himself any more as he spiralled ever further from the man he had once been. He got to his feet clutching the evidence bag and walked towards Stevenson who flinched as he reached out for her. Grabbing her by the bicep, he pulled her from the bed and dragged her back to the front room where he unceremoniously threw her on the sofa next to the now recovered Astill, whose eyes locked onto the evidence bag – experience of a hundred drug deals telling him the bag was light. King dropped the bag on the coffee table and re-sorted the two wads of five hundred pounds.

  ‘Here,’ he told Brown and Williams, holding out the money in separate hands for them to accept. ‘Take it,’ he told them, but they just looked at each other and then back to King. ‘You’ve earned it,’ he encouraged them before pointing with his chin to the evidence bag. ‘There’s enough cash in there with the crack to send him down,’ he tried to persuade them. ‘This is your reward. Think of it as a bonus for all your hard work.’ But still they didn’t move. ‘Come on,’ he practically chastised them. ‘Don’t be so fucking naïve. You don’t think this is normal practice? The money we’re supposed to survive on – when you get the chance to make a little on the side, why the fuck not? If we don’t have it it’ll only
go back to the government to waste. No one’s going to increase our wages any time soon.’

  ‘Doesn’t seem right,’ Williams argued.

  ‘Fucking take it,’ King insisted. ‘Of course it’s right. We all got mortgages to pay – debts. Nobody’s going to help us, so best we help ourselves. Don’t tell me you don’t need it.’

  ‘What about them?’ Williams asked, jutting his chin towards Astill and Stevenson who were watching in silence. ‘They’ll know.’

  ‘So?’ King shrugged. ‘What they going to do – tell someone we took their drug money? That’s as good as admitting they’ve been supplying class A drugs. They’ll get fifteen years each. No. They’ll say what they always say – no comment. Right, Micky? They won’t admit to any of the money or the drugs being theirs. They can’t.’

  Astill’s eyes burnt with hatred as he listened to the truth of what King was saying.

  ‘And even if they did tell someone,’ King elaborated, ‘who’s going to believe a couple of drug-dealing crack-heads? They’d hardly be the first to make malicious allegations to try and get the cops who nicked them in the shit.’ He checked the faces of Brown and Williams and saw they were still unconvinced. ‘It’s drug money,’ he reassured them. ‘Untraceable cash. No one will ever be able to prove anything. No one will ever try to.’

  Brown was the first to step forward and snatch the cash from his hand. ‘Why the fuck not? Haven’t been able to afford a holiday since I joined this shit job.’

  ‘In for a penny,’ Williams gave in and took his cut. ‘Motor needs a new clutch anyway.’

  ‘Good,’ King nodded. ‘Now we’re all singing off the same page. Time we got what we deserve.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Astill suddenly piped up. ‘Only a small bit of this is mine.’

  ‘Aye,’ Brown smiled as he slipped the cash into his pocket. ‘Tell it to the judge, see if he believes you.’

  ‘No,’ Astill pleaded. ‘Look – I’m just a salesman. I buy what I can and sell it on. I make what I can on each deal, but this, and the cash, it’s not mine. It belongs to other people.’

  ‘Like who?’ King asked, deadly serious. ‘Maybe if you can give us a way to take them down we can overlook this. So long as you can be sure it’d be worth our while.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Astill shook his head, ‘but you don’t want to fuck with them. You steal from them, you pay the price.’

  ‘You think they’d mess with the police?’ King asked. ‘You think anyone’s going to mess with the police?’

  ‘Straight ones, no,’ Astill answered, ‘but bent ones is different.’

  ‘We ain’t bent,’ Brown snapped at him. ‘You think we do this all the time?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Astill warned them. ‘If you hadn’t taken any for yourselves they’d let it slide. Not much you can do about honest Old Bill. Losing the occasional bit of merchandise to the Old Bill is all part of the business. But if they think you’re screwing them over for profit – they won’t let it go.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Williams said slightly nervously, knowing Astill was probably telling the truth.

  ‘Who gives a fuck who they are?’ King interrupted. ‘They can’t touch us anyway. I’ll lock them up the same way I’m gonna lock you up. Round here we are the law. No lowlife drug dealer can touch us. Just let them try.’

  ‘You’re all fucking dead men,’ Astill threatened them. ‘When they find out who you are they’ll come looking for you.’

  ‘And who’s gonna tell them who we are?’ King demanded. ‘You open your mouth to anyone and I’ll hound you to your dying days.’

  ‘If you live that long,’ Astill warned him.

  ‘You’ve been watching too many gangster films, Astill,’ King told him. ‘I don’t care if this shit belongs to the Godfather. You all run scared of the police.’

  ‘Sure of that, are you?’ Astill asked.

  ‘What?’ King spat the word at him. ‘You trying to scare me? You think I could ever be scared of any criminal? As far as I’m concerned you’re all just weak-minded cowards.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Astill grinned a little for the first time. ‘We’ll see.’

  Marino entered the canteen at Canning Town and easily found King and his two cohorts silently eating dinner together, looking subdued. Marino strode over to them and took a seat before asking, ‘Mind if I pull up a chair?’

  ‘Looks like you already have,’ King answered, trying to sound relaxed, but Brown and Williams couldn’t help but tense – the money from Astill’s safe burning guiltily in their pockets. King warned them to calm down with a quick glance.

  ‘I saw you brought in Micky Astill,’ Marino began.

  ‘Correct,’ King continued, trying to sound almost flippant. ‘Possession of crack cocaine with intent to supply.’

  ‘Strictly speaking a CID matter,’ Marino reminded them. ‘He should have been handed over to us for further investigation.’

  ‘No need to bother the CID with this one,’ King told him. ‘All very straightforward.’

  ‘Custody record says he had almost thirty rocks in his possession and close to three thousand quid,’ Marino explained.

  ‘So?’ Brown couldn’t help himself.

  ‘Thirty rocks is a little top-heavy for someone like Astill, although possible,’ Marino explained, ‘but almost three thousand in cash? That’s a hell of a lot for someone at his level. Makes you wonder what he was saving up for. Did he have a big score lined up or … was he holding it for someone else? Someone bigger and badder?’

  ‘There you go, you see,’ King tried to end Marino’s hypothesizing. ‘Like I said, a straightforward case. He had the money and the drugs in decent enough quantities to sink himself. No need for the CID.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Brown ignored King – Astill’s warning ringing around his head. ‘Why the fuck would a major player give someone like Astill that much in drugs and cash to hold for them?’

  ‘It happens,’ Marino shrugged. ‘Custody record says you found the cash and gear in a floor safe?’

  ‘Aye,’ Brown answered. ‘So what?’

  ‘Maybe Astill’s supplier gave it to him, so he could use him for safe storage. If they were Astill’s regular supplier he’d have no choice but to do as he was told.’

  ‘Yeah, but why would they do that?’ Brown continued. ‘Why trust a scumbag like Astill with that much cash?’

  ‘Sometimes they don’t have a lot of choice,’ Marino explained. ‘A reasonably major dealer’s gonna be cash-rich, but it’ll all be in small notes and coins. They can’t bank it because the banks have to tell us and it’d put us on to them. So they use the likes of Astill to stash cash for when they need it or can get it out to the British Virgin Isles or Switzerland and get it into the banking system there. They can’t risk keeping it in their own homes or in one place in case they get hit in a raid and lose the lot or get turned over by a rival firm. Difficult business being a drug dealer.’

  ‘So the drugs and cash we took could belong to a proper firm?’ Brown asked, the concern tangible in his voice as he remembered Astill’s words of warning – a warning he hadn’t really believed until now.

  ‘That amount?’ Marino pulled a thoughtful face. ‘Probably.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ King interrupted, managing to sound genuine, ‘but Astill’s already been interviewed and charged. He’s in court in the morning, when he’ll be remanded. If he ends up in the shit with a serious firm who cares? Just life catching up with him.’

  ‘As it does with all of us,’ Marino warned them, giving them a few seconds to consider his words. ‘By the way – any particular reason why you processed him so quickly? Looks like he was interviewed and charged before the ink on his custody record was even dry.’

  ‘No need to drag it out,’ King answered. ‘We’ve got plenty of other stuff to get on with.’

  ‘Sure it wasn’t to stop CID getting our hands on him?’ Marino asked bluntly – incre
asing the tension between them.

  ‘Why would we want to do that?’ King managed to reply.

  ‘Not sure,’ Marino played along. ‘Maybe he had some information you didn’t want him sharing with us?’

  ‘Information?’ Brown jumped in. ‘About what?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Marino told him. ‘About his supplier perhaps?’

  ‘You think we’re using Astill as an informant?’ King smiled. ‘Trying to keep him for ourselves?’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t want to share a decent snout with the CID,’ Marino reminded him.

  ‘Very unprofessional,’ King shook his head. ‘Look – we pumped him for information but he wasn’t having it. We told him if he didn’t want to speak to us we could have a suit come see him, but he told us to get fucked. Astill doesn’t want to play the game, so we interviewed and charged him. Job done. No need to waste any more time on him.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Marino shrugged once and stood to leave before halting. ‘I almost forgot – how did you manage to get past Astill’s security grid? Custody record didn’t say anything about any damage being caused?’

  ‘We took him out on the street,’ King explained. ‘He had a few rocks on him so we nicked him and did a Section 18 search of his flat. He had the keys to the grid on him when we stopped him. Made it nice and easy for us.’

  ‘Micky Astill on the street while he was holding?’ Marino questioned. ‘Never thought he’d make a stupid mistake like that.’

  ‘First time for everything,’ King told him, trying to stay calm.

  ‘Guess you just got lucky then.’ Marino seemed to let it go.

  ‘Guess so,’ King answered.

  Suddenly Marino began to look all about the canteen, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. ‘Jack. I need a word with you in private. Something I need to tell you.’

  ‘I have no secrets,’ King told him. ‘You can speak in front of these two.’

  ‘No,’ Marino insisted. ‘This is for your ears only.’ With that he got up and walked across to the far corner of the canteen where a small area for watching an old TV was set aside, with a random arrangement of scruffy but comfortable seats. King rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders before standing and heading off after him.