by Iain Parke
‘Well you need to see Dazza about that.’
‘Dazza? What’s he got to do with it?’
‘You’ll find out,’ he said with a grin. There was no love lost there for Butcher from Fat Mick which I could understand. Still, for all his faults, Butcher had been a full patch and Fat Mick was still a striker so he ought to show some respect, ‘He’s upstairs in the meeting room, telling the guys.’
And so he was. He was being careful about the words that he actually used, we swept regularly, and there were only full patches present, but hey you never knew, but the message was clear. Butcher had been left in charge, Butcher had exceeded his authority, Butcher had used his brief to settle personal beefs and Dazza had as a result been forced to come back to take over personal control and sort things out. And no one was left in any doubt about what sorting things out meant. Butcher had crossed the line and now Butcher had paid the price.
I got fined for being late into the meeting of course.
*
She and I both know there’s some music I just can’t listen to.
It’s fairly obvious that if I start to want to listen to the Wall, or the hollowness of Bauhaus, or some Mötorhead, that I’m going into one of my self-destructive cycles.
‘What’s up?’ she asked as I killed the grinding guitars and we hit the sack.
I could see the worry in her eyes. But I just didn’t know how to tell her anything.
I knew that I had killed Billy. I don’t just mean that I pressed the button. I mean that I had been responsible for him getting killed.
Billy had known what he was talking about alright. Dazza would have got Butcher to do it.
Or me.
It was what I had been trying to, or not trying to talk to her about the previous evening. We were being used, Dazza was using our loyalty to set us up as his own personal support club.
‘Listen, you know I wanted to look something up the other night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well I found it.’
‘So?’
‘So, I wanted to tell you about it.’
‘OK, but why?’
‘Because it’s the only way that things makes sense to me.’
‘So what’s to tell from your old book that makes sense of where you are today?’
‘Well, let’s see what you think then. Have you ever heard of a guy called Cesare Borgia?’
‘Borgia rings a bell I think, something about poisons perhaps?’
‘You’re thinking of Lucretia, his sister.’
‘OK.’
‘So Cesare, who was also called Duke Valentino, he was the Pope’s son.’
‘The Pope? You mean like the Holy fucking Father? Like the Vatican?’
‘Yeah, second son actually. They think when he was twenty or so he had his elder brother knocked off to eliminate the competition although no one ever proved anything. This was way back at the end of the fourteen hundreds, start of the fifteen hundreds, things were way different then.’
‘Christ almighty! What a family.’
‘And Borgia wasn’t even one of the anti-Popes, he was the regular one, but it was all political back then, the church was a real power, and the Pope had armies and stuff just like any of the other princes.’
‘Wow, I never knew that. So what about this Valentino then?’
‘Duke Valentino. Like I say he was the Pope’s son and his dad Alexander the sixth wanted to carve out a kingdom for him in Italy. But he had a problem, he couldn’t give him one of the Church’s own states as that would antagonise too many of the other powers and he didn’t have many natural allies as none of the other princes wanted to allow the Church to get stronger by having the Pope or Cesare grab more territory.’
‘So what did he do?’
‘Simple, he stirred the shit. He did as much as he could to create turmoil amongst the other Italian states, all sorts of crap, and then gave the French king a divorce in return for the loan of his armies to Cesare so that he could make his first conquest of a place called the Romagna.
‘So then Cesare’s taken Romagna and what does he find? He thinks the people who ran it before were weak, and to a degree he’s right, in that anyone can do what they like, there’s factions, chaos, you name it. So he decides, like you do, that it needs to be pacified, so that all his subjects will obey him and he can do what he wants.’
‘So what’s he do? Go in with the big boots?’
‘No, he doesn’t. That’s the clever part. What he does is he appoints someone else to rule it for him as his lieutenant, a guy called Remirro de Orco. Now this guy is a real hardnosed bastard and Cesare gives him carte blanche, tells him do what you like, but sort it out, no holds barred. And of course he goes out and does it.
‘But then Cesare sees that not only has Remirro done enough, but that leaving him with so much authority might also be dangerous for Cesare. He also recognised that Remirro’s ruthlessness had become hated and some of that was rubbing off on him as well, so he had to do something about it.’
‘Like what?’
‘He decided to show that all the violence had been Remirro’s doing and not his, so everyone would think that everything bad that had happened had been down to Remirro. So one morning the city wakes up to find Remirro’s body hacked in half in the main square with the bloody knife left beside it.
‘Everyone was so relieved that Remirro was gone and so impressed by how brutally and effectively it had been done that they were happy to give Cesare the credit, because of course, from then on everything was peaceful because Remirro had done all the dirty work that was needed before he got topped.’
‘And you think that’s what Dazza did to Butcher? That Butcher was Dazza’s patsy?’ she thought about that for a moment, ‘But that means…’
‘That Dazza was responsible for all the deaths?’
‘Yes?’
I nodded.
‘What Tiny? And Billy too?’
‘Yes, directly or indirectly. It’s the oldest trick in the book, isn’t it? Delegate all the dirty work to someone else and keep your own hands clean, because then you can then blame them, have them take the fall when you need them to.’
She hadn’t yet made the connection back to Gyppo but that was now firmly in my mind. I didn’t know how long it would take her to make the leap but she would soon enough.
I could see now how Dazza had always planned to use and then get rid of Butcher. It was all so obvious in retrospect. Just like Cesare he was presenting him now as a bad apple, as having been excessive in his cleaning out. By spreading the word amongst the guys that everything that had happened was down to Butcher’s personal beefs, he had ensured Butcher took all the blame for everything that had happened and then Dazza had come back in to take him out and claim the credit for restoring peace and prosperity. You could see the way his mind worked. He was brilliant.
The question was though, as she asked it, what was I going to do about it now?
‘So if he has taken out Butcher does that mean that everything’s now over?’
‘I don’t know. Possibly,’ I conceded.
‘So, should you just keep quiet?’
‘Stay out of it d’you mean? Avoid any trouble?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘I don’t know if I can do that. Not after what’s happened to Tiny and Billy.’
‘But if things are quiet shouldn’t you just let it go? After all Butcher, who’s the guy who actually did it, is dead. And you don’t actually know that Dazza actually ordered any of it. He wasn’t even there when Tiny got his was he? He was with you out in Portugal or wherever it was?’
She was right of course. Again. But I had already made up my mind.
‘You know you should never let something go just to avoid trouble.’ There was no avoiding trouble, I knew. All you ever did by not facing up to it today is to delay it until later to someone else’s advantage. Better to deal with something now when it’s small than have to face it later when
it’s bigger or more of a threat.
‘But why not just wait and see so you’re sure? Why risk trouble now for the sake of it?’
‘It’s not for the sake of it. It’s because it’s necessary. Today I have a position, today I can trust to the power I’ve got. Who knows what will happen tomorrow or the day after? Dazza might get weaker, fine, but who knows, he might just as well get stronger. In fact given the hand he’s got to play at the moment that’s the most likely scenario. And if he does, what have I achieved by waiting? I’ve just fucked up. But if I go for it now, well, we’ll just see what happens won’t we?’
No it was far better to just go for it now, and see how the pieces then fell.
There was a resigned silence, and then in a quiet voice she asked, ‘So what happened? To your bloke Cesare in the end I mean? Did he keep his kingdom?’
‘No he didn’t. He got unlucky. He did everything he could to ensure that he was secure, except that he hadn’t allowed for the chance that he would fall sick and he was very nearly on his own death-bed when his father died. So he couldn’t control who was elected as his dad’s successor as Pope and took over the Church’s armies and that was that really.’
‘It just goes to show I suppose,’ she said reflectively.
‘Show what?’
‘That you can’t always control everything.’
She was right there too. There was even a theory that his father had accidentally poisoned both of them, but I thought that was just a nice story.
*
Butcher’s pet Spud had got his patch. Dazza saw to that.
It was the first patch I ever saw awarded with a Bonesman’s badge already on it.
I guess they were Spud’s rewards. It was pretty obvious what for.
Chapter 10 – THE TALK
The cops pulled me in again, this time over Butcher getting it. I don’t know why they seemed so keen to get me in the frame for everything. I was thinking about telling them how I’d been on the grassy knoll.
‘Come on son, everyone knows that you hated Butcher.’
‘Do they really? Now who would say a thing like that? Who’s this everyone who’s so chatty?’
‘Yeah, like I’d tell you that? Let’s just stop playing games shall we? We both know something’s building here.’
‘Something?’
‘First the takeover and then all those guys kicked out. Then Tiny gets it, then someone blows your mate young Billy to kingdom come and now Butcher gets blasted. It’s not looking too clever for you guys at the moment is it?’
‘Yeah well, perhaps I’ll be able to sell the guys some life insurance.’
‘What d’you reckon Sarge,’ the younger one chipped in laconically, ‘is that enough of a motive?’
‘Listen, you little scumbag,’ the sergeant hissed leaning forward and stabbing the table aggressively with his finger to underline his points, ‘Like I told you before. Personally, I really don’t care if you lot take all of each other out, in fact nothing would give me more pleasure than to sit back and just let it happen. However sometimes unfortunately you just can’t mix business with pleasure, particularly if there’s a chance that this’ll get out of hand.’
He sat back in his chair with a disgusted expression on his face like I was something that he’d just stepped in on the street, ‘Fucking car bombs for Chrissakes. Innocent people could get hurt and I don’t want that on my patch.’
‘In fact I just won’t have it, d’you hear me, Damage? So you take a message for me. You take it to all your guys. This stops, right here, right now. Understand?’
I looked at him blankly. ‘Are you planning to charge me with anything officer?’
‘What? No. Not this time.’
‘Then I’m free to go I take it?’
‘Yes and get the fuck out of my sight. But just remember what I said.’
‘Oh I’ll remember alright officer.’
‘And remember to tell your mates?’
‘I’ll let them know we’ve had another one of our little chats.’
‘Now you do that son. You just fucking do that.’
*
‘I don’t fucking believe it. Lifted again! For fucking Butcher this time! What does he think I am, Murder Inc?’
Dazza laughed, ‘Don’t worry about it mate. They’re just trying to wind you up.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Are you worried about it?’
‘Nah, course not. Just it’s a pain in the arse y’know?’
‘Yeah, it must be,’ he commiserated, ‘Still, while they’ve got this downer on you, even more need to make sure you stay clean. No sense giving ’em any excuse.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Still, I’m thinking about getting away from it for a bit.’
I’d checked the accounts, more dosh had come in, so I took a chance.
‘Sprog and Bagpuss’re still out of it. D’ya need any more post doing out my way?’
‘Nah, it’s OK thanks, I’ll get Wibble to take a trip up North to take care of it.’
‘OK, it’s just I’m thinking about taking Sharon away next week, bit of a break, y’know? So if yer gonna need me that’s fine but I need to know so I can work round it.’
‘Well OK then. Are you at prayers on Monday?’
‘Of course.’
‘Turning up on time this time?’
Now he was winding me up I knew, but all the same, there was the continual watchfulness, the hypersensitivity to detecting the merest hint of slipping commitment, a weakening of the faith and loyalty that meant I couldn’t let it go unchallenged.
‘Yeah, give us a break will ya? I’m like late one time and it’s a hanging offence all of a sudden?’
‘Well then, if I’m gonna need you it’ll be Wednesday so I’ll let you know then.’
‘Chances?’
‘Probably not, like I said, Wibble should be able to handle it this week and Sprog and Bagpuss should both be back in action next week so I’ll be back in business.’
‘OK. Cool.’
‘You going to the funeral?’ He meant Billy’s.
There didn’t seem to be any reason to deny it.
‘Yeah. He was my oldest mate.’
Dazza nodded. ‘Yeah, you ought to go whatever. Would look strange if you didn’t.’
It was another grey morning as the hearse rolled in quietly through the cemetery gates followed by a couple of cars although at least it had kept dry.
You can tell a lot from the turnout for a funeral. In contrast to Tiny’s there were only a few for Billy, and nothing and no one from the club, not even a wreath. It was a family do not a club event. Family and girlfriends. And standing at the back, me.
Dazza had put the word out about Billy’s Rebels connection, about his Glasgow trip. He was giving that out as part of Butcher’s beef with Billy. That was why guys from the club had stayed away of course. No one wanted to show up for a guy who’d been dealing with The Rebels, it was almost as bad as being a grass in some ways, not just because it was dealing with the enemy but because of the danger it meant he had been bringing everyone into. You could understand how they felt. We were ready to go to war with The Rebels as and when we ever needed to and accept whatever the consequences were. But to hear that someone in the club had risked stirring up all that kind of shit just to do some dealing of their own, well that was hard to stomach.
The family had gone for a vicar, the works. Billy’s mum and dad were standing beside the grave. She was crying. He had been staring into the middle distance as though he was a million miles away from the here and now of the grass squelching underfoot and the smell of damp earth from the grave. As the coffin was lowered into the ground she turned and buried her head against his shoulder, her body rocking with sobs as he dragged his attention around to her in slow motion and enfolded her within his arms and let her cry. I could see his mouth move but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
It was a full sized coffin they had used, all varnished p
ine and brass rail and handles. I wondered how much of Billy they had actually found to put inside it. Seemed a bit of a waste really.
As the preacher droned on I switched off and carried on thinking about the situation. Dazza’s mistake I decided was in how he had done it, he’d made the mistake of not moving to base himself at the clubhouse.
He had faced a problem in taking over The Legion. With the exception of Butcher’s cohort, we had always been a democratic club, used to being consulted, to making our decisions as a club, by vote. We had had that freedom, it was part of our club’s DNA. But then Dazza had taken over and his model was very much a top down one, of command and control, that he was in charge, that the club would work as a team and that meant we would all do exactly what he told us to.
And the problem with that was there was always going to be a potential for conflict between the way he was going to run things and what the guys had been used to. We wouldn’t forget very quickly how our club had run; within the members from the old Legion, that memory of freedom would remain strong. So if any conflict arose, a challenge to Dazza which could call on that emotion would be a powerful force that opponents would swiftly rally round. As I saw it, that was why Tiny had had to go of course, he was the obvious figure-head or rallying point for any such challenge, and so Dazza had had to have him taken out completely, whatever story he was now spinning to the guys.
Of course, to really ensure peace he should have destroyed us all in such a way that we could never threaten him again. But that was very much the nuclear option and would have meant that while he might have got the territory, he would have wiped out the resources by way of bodies that came with it. And without bodies how realistic was it to think he could hold an area that big without someone else moving in?
No, keeping most of us was a risk that he had been forced to take. But then to manage that risk it would have been best if he had based himself in the territory, changed to operating from the clubhouse so that he was very visible to the guys who were there, so he could be a living breathing, constantly visible symbol of his own authority to them, not some absentee landlord sat in his pub over in the city that unless they were part of the inner circle they only saw at every other Prayers if they were lucky.