by Martina Cole
Declan just shrugged his huge shoulders; he was as bewildered as Michael. ‘I was already well pissed by the time Peter Barker came to see me. I can’t condone my actions. I need a day or two so I can think things through properly. Why do you think I didn’t want the partnership when you offered it to me? I can’t think on my feet. I run the same fucking businesses I did when my brother was in the big seat. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t think of the consequences. I certainly never dreamt the fuckers would go on the trot. Fuck me, Michael, they could barely stand up!’
Michael finished his whisky in one gulp. Then, sighing heavily, he brought the whisky tumbler down on to Declan’s head with all his strength, and began beating the bloodied man viciously and deliberately.
When he was finished, Michael went into the men’s rest room and washed his hands carefully, before tidying himself up as best he could. He left the club quickly; his car and driver had been waiting for him patiently. There were also two of his doormen waiting outside. As arranged, as soon as he drove away, they slipped into the club and began the job of cleaning up the mess that Michael Flynn had left behind him.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Michael had showered, and changed into a pair of black jogging bottoms and a crisp white T-shirt. As he walked across the landing from his bedroom to his daughter’s, he could hear his wife pottering about in the kitchen below. It was a good sound, the sound of a home, of normality.
He tapped gently on his daughter’s door, before walking into the dimness of her bedroom. Her TV was on, providing the only light, but the sound was down. She was lying in her bed and, as she turned to look at him, he forced a smile on to his face.
He knelt down beside her bed. She could smell the shampoo and soap that he always used – it was a familiar scent, something that had always comforted her until now. She looked up into his face, as she had so many times before, only this time it was different. He wasn’t the dad she had loved and adored any more. He was a stranger to her. This was a man she didn’t trust.
‘You all right, Jessie?’
She nodded. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. He could feel the stiffness in her slim body, knew that she was still traumatised by the events of the last twenty-four hours. He relaxed his hold on his daughter and, settling her back on to her pillows, he sat beside her on the bed. He could see that the fright lingered, and he knew she was never going to forget what had happened. But he continued to smile down at her, as she watched him warily.
‘Listen to me, Jessie. That was never supposed to happen. It was a complete one-off. I swear that to you, darling. Burglars! Fucking creepers! They are the scum of the earth. Anyone who wants to nick someone else’s hard-earned cash is filth. Never forget that, my little darling. But they weren’t banking on your mum were they, eh?’ He was trying to make light of everything, make a big joke of it. ‘Did you see her, Jessie? With my shotgun! She looked like Calamity Jane!’
Jessie didn’t answer, and that bothered him. She had always been able to say what she wanted to him – that was part of their closeness.
‘She was only trying to protect you, darling. There are some bad people in the world, and sometimes bad things happen. But it’s over now. It’s all sorted out. Daddy’s here.’
Michael could see his daughter’s sad face, still full of fear. It was ridiculous. He was with her now – she had no reason to be scared of anything.
‘I want to go to sleep.’
Michael watched his daughter closely. Her voice sounded different, there was no inflection in it, no emotion whatsoever. She had been truly affected by the Cornels. If he could, he would happily murder the fuckers all over again for that.
‘OK, baby. But promise me you will try and put this behind you. You’re a Flynn, and that means nothing or no one can ever hurt you.’
Jessie could hear the cold arrogance in her father’s voice as he said his name and, without thinking, she said sarcastically, ‘The name Flynn didn’t seem to do us much good last night, did it?’
Michael was almost as shocked as she was by her words. He stood up quickly. She could see the anger she had caused, but she didn’t care any more.
‘There wasn’t any burglary, Dad. No police were called either – I know that much.’
Michael didn’t answer her for a while. Then, smiling sadly, he knelt down beside her bed once more. ‘You’re nearly fifteen. When I was your age I knew a lot more than people gave me credit for. So I’ll say this, Jessie – me and your mum love you more than anything in this world, and everything we do is for you. Never forget that.’
She looked him straight in the eye as she said quietly, ‘I won’t.’
He stood up slowly. Something had changed between them, and he knew that it wasn’t for the good. ‘If I could change the last few days I would, Jessie. You know that, darling.’
She did. He would do anything for her – last night’s events proved it.
‘But you can’t, Dad. No one can.’
She saw the mask slip from her father’s face; he was still very angry, she could see that as plain as day. He looked like he was going to explode, but within seconds he was smiling at her once again. The smile that she had always coveted, that had been such a big part of her daily life.
‘What I can promise you, though, is that I will never allow anything like that to happen to you or your mum again.’
She was watching him carefully, and he sensed that she was still not convinced by his promise to keep her safe. She was so beautiful – she was Josephine all over again, from the thick hair to the arched eyebrows. It was uncanny, the striking resemblance between them. But one thing he realised now, was that she didn’t have her mother’s nature. Jessie was not as warm or forgiving as the woman who had birthed her. There was an underlying steeliness in his Jessie that was reminiscent of his mother. He could be wrong; after all, the poor girl had just been through a terrible ordeal, and he mustn’t lose sight of that. But there was something else going on here, he could feel it. He bent down and kissed his daughter lightly on her cheek, aware that she didn’t respond.
‘You try and get some sleep.’
Jessie watched her dad as he left the room. A part of her wanted to call him back, wanted to tell him that she knew what he had done to that man, and she still loved him. But another part of her was reeling from what she had seen him do. At least her mum had tried to be honest with her. Her lovely mum, who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, who everyone thought was as soft as soap, but who was far stronger than anyone would have believed. Her whole world had been stripped bare, and she had been left with nothing. Her life had been a sham, built on nothing more substantial than lies and deceit.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Josephine was sitting at the kitchen table, a large glass of white wine in her hand and a cigarette between her lips, when Michael finally joined her.
She could see from his expression that his visit with his daughter had not gone well. She should have warned him, but she had not wanted to cloud his thinking. She could see Jessie had been seriously affected by the events of the previous night.
Michael sat down wearily, and she poured him a glass of wine. ‘I made you a few sandwiches, Michael. I can cook you something if you want? A bit of egg and bacon?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘These are fine, mate.’
He grabbed a cheese and pickle sandwich and bit into it eagerly. He was hungrier than he had realised. He took a large sip of his wine, and savoured the crispness of it.
‘It’s still early days, Michael. She’ll come round.’
He nodded his agreement. ‘I hate that she had to go through that. I hate that you did! For fuck’s sake, Josephine, those fuckers got right the way to our door. I will never forget it.’
Josephine smiled weakly at her husband. She hated to see him like this. She always made sure that she never let him see her own fears. She was still shaking inside but she could never let him know that. It had
taken everything she had to face those men and defend her home.
‘I just want to forget it, Michael.’
‘I should be in the West End now. Salvatore wants to be wined and dined every night. I’ve had to send young Alex Martin in my place. He’s going to take him clubbing. He’s a good lad. He’ll keep him out till the morning, and give me a bit of breathing space.’
‘Did Cecil tell you how they knew about the Colombians?’
‘Did he fuck! He was clueless. Jack was the brains of that outfit, and that’s a contradiction in terms, I can tell you. That Cecil was as thick as shit. I have never in my life met someone as dense as him. He made Trigger look like a fucking applicant for Mensa.’
Josephine laughed despite herself. ‘Your mum turned up today. You know her – she’s like a bloodhound. I had her out the door in record time though. She sussed that there was something going on.’
He finished his sandwich, not bothering to answer. The fact that someone like Jack Cornel had managed to get so close to him had really thrown him. It had shown him just how vulnerable he was, even now when he was such a major player. He had been foolish to think that his name was enough to guarantee his safety, but he had not allowed for nutters like the Cornels. The last few days had shown him the cracks in his armour, had forced him to re-evaluate everything he had believed in. Patrick Costello had once said to him that there was nothing lonelier than being a success. How true that was.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Natalie Childs was looking at her oldest and best friend in abject amazement. ‘You can’t be serious, Jessie!’ Her voice had risen until it was almost a screech, she was so shocked at her friend’s words.
‘Oh, yes! I’m very serious, Nat.’
Natalie was still reeling from the shock of Jessie’s latest revelations. Jessie Flynn had become a completely different person recently. The girl she had known and loved was long gone. This girl – the new Jessie – was not just without shame, she was brazen. This new Jessie was already getting a name as a whore, and she seemed to relish it.
‘If you don’t watch it, Jessie, you are going to end up in so much trouble.’
Jessie just shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I don’t care, Natalie.’
Natalie was scared for her friend; she couldn’t understand what had happened to Jessie or why she was suddenly acting so strangely. ‘Your mum and dad will go apeshit if they find out.’
Jessie could hear the bewilderment in Natalie’s voice, and she felt a moment’s sorrow for her friend. But Natalie could never understand her life, no one could. Unless they lived in her family’s chosen world, it was impossible for anyone to understand. She looked at her friend’s lovely face, so full of concern for her, and she wanted so much to set her mind at rest, but she couldn’t do that.
‘How the fuck will they find out? If you do what I ask, and say I am with you, nothing can go wrong, can it?’
Natalie wasn’t sure. She didn’t like all this lying and scheming. It wasn’t a part of her life and, up until a few months previously, it hadn’t been a part of Jessie’s life either. Now Jessie lied about everything.
‘What if your mum rings the house to talk to you? She’s friends with my mum, remember? Have you thought of that?’
Jessie just laughed; she didn’t care either way, that was obvious. ‘So what if she does? If it was left to my mum and dad I would never leave the house without an armed guard. If I get busted, that’s my problem, Nat, not yours. Anyway, if my mum did decide to ring, she would ring me on my mobile.’ Jessie busied herself lighting a cigarette; after pulling the smoke deeply into her lungs, she said dismissively, ‘I really don’t give a flying fuck, Natalie. If I did get a capture, you know I’d take the flak – you wouldn’t be dragged into anything. If that’s what’s bothering you, then forget it. I don’t need anything from anyone, mate.’
Natalie knew when she was beaten and, as usual, she would do exactly what Jessie wanted her to. It had been like that since they were little kids. Jessie had always been the boss of the relationship and Natalie had never minded until recently. Now all Jessie wanted from her these days was an alibi. Unlike Jessie, Natalie had no interest in pubs or clubs, in meeting men who were far too old, and who expected far too much in return for the drinks they provided.
Jessie Flynn was getting a real reputation, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She was fifteen years old, but with her make-up and her clothes she looked at least twenty-five. She also had a way with her that belied her youth; she seemed so much older than her years. Everything about her friend, though, was an elaborate act. No matter how much Jessie tried to pretend that she was a grown-up, Natalie knew different. But she was still her friend, and that counted for a lot more than Jessie realised.
‘OK. So who are you meeting this time?’
Jessie grinned mischievously. She had got what she wanted. Stretching her whole body slowly and luxuriously, she laid herself across Natalie’s bed like a cat. Every movement was sensuous, dripping with her youthful sex appeal.
Natalie had always been envious of Jessie; she had developed very early, and now she had a body that any woman would kill for. She was high-breasted, with a slim waist and long legs. With her good looks and her amazing hair, it was a dangerous combination.
Natalie was pretty enough, but she knew she wasn’t in Jessie Flynn’s league. Men had been watching Jessie since she was thirteen, and who could blame them? She was stunning.
‘Come on, Jessie, spill!’
Jessie stretched herself once more, a deliberate, sexual movement that made Natalie feel uneasy. It was too calculated, too deliberate.
‘His name is Bill, and he is a builder. He is really good-looking, Nat.’
Natalie was intrigued despite herself. ‘How old is he?’
Jessie pouted sexily. ‘Late thirties. I’m not really sure, to be honest.’
Natalie looked suitably scandalised, and that pleased Jessie. It was exactly the reaction she had wanted to create.
‘You will be careful, Jessie, won’t you? Promise me.’
Jessie laughed in delight. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m always careful, Nat.’
Natalie Childs shook her head slowly in disbelief; she couldn’t believe her friend was so willing to take such chances, knowing the trouble it could cause. Everyone knew her dad wasn’t a man to cross – not that she would ever say that to Jessie outright, of course. Her family’s name and reputation had never been spoken of outright, but it had always been there between them. Jessie’s father was a dangerous man, and if he found out what his Jessie was getting up to, Christ Himself only knew what the consequences would be. Jessie just didn’t seem to give a damn.
‘You’re mad, Jessie. You can’t keep all this up for ever.’
Jessie laughed, a deep husky chuckle that sounded far too old and knowledgeable for her years. ‘You’re probably right, Nat, but I really couldn’t give a fuck either way.’
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Terence Brown was not a tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. He spent a lot of time in the gym, and his body showed that devotion. He wore clothes to accentuate his build. He wasn’t a handsome man, but had an interesting face, and he looked very amiable and friendly. People assumed he was approachable – his countenance led people to think he was willing to open up a dialogue with them. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Terence Brown was a man who could pick a fight with a novice nun if the mood was on him. He saw the majority of the people in the world as no more than an irritation, none more so than the people who insisted on attempting to engage him in pointless conversations. He made his living by collecting outstanding debts; they were always for huge amounts of money, and employing Terence Brown was the last resort. He could track any debtor, no matter where in the world they might have travelled to. He was like a bloodhound. He could sniff the fuckers out, and track them down with an ease that was as fast as it was unexpected.
; His reputation was his greatest asset, and he used it to his advantage. He took thirty-five per cent of the monies that he collected, plus the ten grand up front he insisted on, to be paid whether he collected the debt requested or not. It was for his expenses and his time, and he saw that as his due. He was known and respected as a man who did the job required of him, not only quickly but, more importantly, quietly. If Terence Brown arrived on a doorstep, the person concerned made sure that they found the money needed as quickly as humanly possible. He was known to dispose of anyone who was unable to pay him. He saw failure to pay as a grave personal insult to him, and his retaliation as a reminder to anyone he might call on in the future. Terence Brown had carved a good life for himself, against the odds, and it was something he was proud of.
He glanced around the pub. It was Friday night, and it was packed out as usual. He paid for his drink, and sipped it carefully as he scanned the bar. It was just after ten and the place was buzzing – the music was loud and the conversations were louder. A bird he hooked up with occasionally was already walking towards him, and he smiled widely at her. She was a great-looking girl, all blond hair, minimal clothes and fake tan. She was also a good laugh. That was the main attraction for him – so few people caught his attention, but her sense of humour impressed him. She was looking for a Face, he knew. He wasn’t going to get caught up in that shite, though. If, and it was a big if, he ever did decide to marry, it wouldn’t be to someone who had lain down with anybody who bought her a few drinks and paid for the odd meal.