‘What money?’ Sensing the tension between her two grandchildren, Joanie knew she was right to have her suspicions. Something was going on and she wasn’t going to let it lie until she got to the bottom of it.
‘Oh it’s probably nothing but he was asking Nancy to pull half a mill from the company bank accounts. He asked her to do her best to cover it up that the money was gone; he was pretty adamant that he didn’t want anyone to find out about it.’
Nancy shook her head. Her father would murder Daniel for talking about his private business dealings. He’d told them both specifically not to say a word to anyone.
‘There you go again, Daniel. Proving Dad’s point about you. You’re a snake.’
‘Ahh it’s a shame you’re Saint Nancy, and not Saint Patrick then. Wasn’t he the one that drove away all the snakes, Nanc?’ Daniel said, sarcastically. Bored with the conversation that he’d stirred up, he shot them all a parting smile. ‘I’m going out. Have fun y’all.’ Scooping up a slice of garlic bread from his grandad’s plate, Daniel strutted out of the room, making a hissing sound in his sister’s direction as he passed her.
He hoped their nan did nothing but give her earache for the rest of the night, trying to dig more information from her. That would teach Nancy to always think that she was so much better than him.
Thirty-Five
Leaning his head back against the cool leather headrest as he waited for the call to come in, Marlon Jackson was buzzing for tonight’s job. He’d parked up exactly where he’d been told: down the quiet end of Tilbury Docks, in Essex, tucked away behind some old derelict warehouse.
He stared out across the dockyard, taking in the bleak view that consisted of nothing more than a few abandoned cars scattered amongst the row of huge steel containers. To his right there were a couple of old fishing boats, bobbing about aimlessly in the water at the dock’s edge. The place looked spooky as fuck. It didn’t help that a wonky street light above him swayed in the wind, causing the bulb to flicker in keeping with the lamp’s swift movement, casting eerie shadows out across the ground. It felt like there was no other fucker around for miles, which was exactly why, he guessed, they’d chosen this location in the first place.
Further down, Marlon could see the main working dock, the largest container port in the UK. Even at this ungodly hour of the morning the north bank of the River Thames was bedlam. The dockyard workers never seemed to stop. Marlon eyed the glistening lights far off in the distance, watching as the cargo ships were unloaded by the huge industrial cranes. The headlights of cars and lorries were dancing across the horizon. The flashing lights of the security and police patrolling the area as everyone went about their business.
They were further back on the South Bank, up near the old Tilbury Fort: just a couple of miles away from all the chaos, yet this place was like a graveyard in comparison.
Marlon wasn’t alone, though. Staring ahead to the white Beamer that was parked up in front of him, he tried to see if there was any sign of movement. Not only was it dark now, but the tinted blackout windows meant he couldn’t see shit. But he knew that his comrade was in there, waiting. Just as he was. Both of them sitting pretty, as they waited to strike. As soon as he got the signal, they were off. Marlon was wired tonight. They weren’t even off yet and already the adrenaline was surging through his body like electricity.
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel of the van he’d stolen especially for tonight, Marlon tried to focus on something else, thinking about the new little bird he was seeing and all the fun they’d had when he’d paid her a visit at her flat this evening.
Gina Jones. The girl had knackered him out. The fact that the girl was friends with his Mrs wasn’t exactly the brightest idea Marlon had ever had. He didn’t believe in shitting on his own doorstep, no matter how many rewards he was set to reap. He’d made an exception for this bird though. But if Jordanna found out he was playing away again she’d do her nut.
Last time had been bad enough: she’d threatened to stick his balls in a blender whilst they were still attached, and Marlon wouldn’t have put it past Jordanna to do it either. She was a full on psycho when the mood took her, nuttier than a squirrel’s turd, and Marlon knew that he was playing a dangerous game doing the dirty on her with one of her so-called mates.
His phone beeped for the second time in just as many minutes and Marlon fixed his eyes on the name that flashed up on the screen.
Gina Jones.
The girl must be gagging for it, sending him messages, asking him to come back. Flashing another look at the white Beamer, Marlon felt like a naughty little school boy. He’d get a right bollocking for giving the girl this number, but the way he saw it, he could kill two birds with one stone. First and foremost for the job in hand tonight, but also Jordanna didn’t even know he had another phone. Marlon’s opportunities with women had just opened up tenfold now he had a way of contacting birds without Jordanna ever needing to find out about it. It was a right fucking touch.
But tonight, no matter how much he fancied getting his nuts in again, the job had to come first. Marlon had put in far too much groundwork on this job to fuck it all up now at the last minute on account of some bit of skirt.
Hearing his phone beep again, Marlon looked down at the screen expectantly. This time the message wasn’t from Gina. It was from an unknown number; the number from the passenger of the car in front, saying simply:
Show time!
Seeing the red glare of the rear lights coming to life as the Beamer’s engine started, Marlon followed suit. Chucking his phone down in the passenger seat beside him, Gina Jones was going to have to wait.
Starting the van up, Marlon cast his gaze along this strip of Tilbury Dock, till he spotted the vague twinkling of lights reflecting into the water from an incoming boat docked a few hundred yards further down.
This was it. He just hoped he didn’t lose his bottle at the last minute.
Tugging down his balaclava to cover his face, he felt the sweet combination of excitement and trepidation bubbling inside him all at once. Tonight was a complete game changer for him. There would be no going back after this, which was fine by Marlon because he had no intentions of going back. His goal was to keep moving forward, to better his life, and this job was going to change everything. Tonight it was finally payday.
Everything was hanging on the next ten minutes.
Putting his foot down, Marlon accelerated his van down the narrow dirt track, making his way towards their target who would be waiting for their arrival at the next unit much further along. Speeding through the high mesh gates that led to the derelict warehouse, Marlon eyed the lone figure standing in the distance next to his car.
Jimmy Byrne.
He was raising his hands in the air as the car and the van came hurtling towards him, to show the men that he wasn’t armed. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and that’s exactly what Marlon knew they were counting on. Jimmy had done just as they’d told him to do. He’d come alone and wanted no trouble.
The man was smart.
All he had to do was hand over the money and this would all be over in minutes.
The BMW skid to a halt, the driver jumping out, dressed head-to-toe in black, a balaclava over his face; his identity hidden as he stretched out his arm and pointed the gun that he was clutching directly at Jimmy Byrne.
Marlon followed suit. Jumping out of his van then too.
He shouted: ‘Keep your hands up. Don’t fucking move.’
Lifting up the double-barrel shotgun, Marlon fired it into the night sky before aiming it back towards Jimmy, letting the man know that they meant fucking business; so that he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything stupid.
Tonight wasn’t personal. Tonight was only about the money.
With that in mind, Marlon concentrated on the job in hand. Aiming the gun at Jimmy Byrne, he prayed that he wasn’t going to have to use it. Marlon didn’t want to have to shoot him, but he would if he had t
o.
Jimmy Byrne was all about loyalty, and Marlon had always been loyal to his boss, but tonight, for once, he was going to be loyal to the one person that mattered. The one person that, for ever a lackey, could do with a fucking break: Marlon was going to be loyal only to himself.
The genius part about their little plan, with their heavy balaclavas hiding their identities, was that Jimmy would never have a clue who they were, which in turn meant there would never be any reprisals.
They were going take his money, and then swiftly get their arses out of here.
And no one would ever be the wiser that it had been them.
Looking over at his accomplice, Marlon nodded. His mate had been right. This was going to be too easy.
Who knew that taking money from the notorious Jimmy Byrne would be as easy as taking candy from a fucking baby?
Thirty-Six
‘What the fuck?’
Seeing the car and the van screech to a halt, Jimmy Byrne’s first thought was what if this was all some sort of elaborate set-up by the Old Bill? Maybe they had found out what he’d done and had come to capture him. Swooping in to make the arrest of the decade.
But as the two masked men jumped out of their vehicles, dressed in black and donning balaclavas, Jimmy registered that these men were not amateurs. They knew exactly what they were doing.
Throwing a fleeting glance at the clapped-out old banger that he’d parked up along the warehouse’s entrance, the opposite side of the dockyard, Jimmy hoped that Jack Taylor was keeping well out of sight. He was counting on his friend to help him get out of this tonight. There was no way that Jimmy was going to let two cunts just rob him of half a million pounds.
He could feel his gun digging into the back of his waistband, but now that he was faced with the gunman he decided to not even think about trying to go for it; especially when one of these robbing fuckers was aiming a double-barrel shooter right at his head.
‘I said, don’t fucking move. Keep your hands in the fucking air!’ the man standing next to the van shouted as he fired a single shot into the air, eager to show him that he meant business, and Jimmy didn’t for a second doubt it.
‘All right! All right!’ Sensing the immediate danger, Jimmy Byrne did as he was told.
Praying that he had made the right decision in going ahead with this tonight, he felt guilty for not telling Alex that he’d agreed to his blackmailer’s demands. The bloke would have only talked him out of it anyway. Besides, Jimmy wasn’t in a position to ask the man for advice and favours. Alex was barely talking to him as it was. Despite saying that he’d help by doing some digging and finding out who these fuckers were, Jimmy had yet to hear fuck all from the man. Alex was clearly still furious at Jimmy’s blatant betrayal.
So Jimmy had decided to sort his shit out himself, once and for all.
This was his mess.
He’d been given a week to get the money together, and in that time, he’d been told in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t pay up then these two cowboys in front of him were going to make public the recording that they had of him.
They’d sent Jimmy a full list of addresses that they intended to send the recording out to which contained every contact that Jimmy had ever worked with. Every police officer with a grudge to bear; every judge that had been forced to let Jimmy off over the years. The evidence they had on him would crucify him, and Jimmy wasn’t about to take that risk.
Only now, standing across from these fuckers, staring down the barrel of the gun, Jimmy couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was still to come. He was anxious. Call it intuition, or some sort of a sixth sense, Jimmy felt deep in his gut that there was going to be some sort of a major fuck up.
‘You got the money?’ the man standing beside the van, wielding the shotgun, shouted.
‘I’ve got it.’ Jimmy nodded.
The first gunman by the Beamer stepped forward. The silent assassin. Still not speaking, the man held out his hand, his instructions blatantly clear: nodding towards the boot of Jimmy’s car. He wanted the bag of cash.
Clenching his fists, consumed by anger at the liberties these two numpties were taking, Jimmy knew that for now he had to play along. Nodding in reply as he eyed the two gunmen disdainfully, he quickly debated what his options were. They were fuck all, that’s what they were. What else could he do?
It would take two seconds to reach for his gun, but it was two seconds that he didn’t have with these men watching his every move. Jimmy had no idea if the gun-toting madmen in front of him had the bollocks to actually shoot him, but it wasn’t a risk that he was prepared to take.
The fact that they had planned all of this meticulously, that they’d come here tooled up, concealing their identities from him was more than enough to let Jimmy know that whoever these two pricks were, they meant business.
That and the fact that they knew what Jimmy had done to Gavin Hurst. That was the most shameful thing about this whole ordeal. These fuckers knew things about him that he had spent a lifetime trying to hide from the rest of the world and this was the price he had to pay to keep it that way. Half a million pounds of his hard-earned cash and these fuckers just thought they could take it.
As the vein in the side of his temple throbbed, anger bubbling away inside him, Jimmy did the only thing that he could. He complied. He had no choice but to cooperate.
Reaching in and grabbing the holdall, he reached down into the concealed floor of his Range Rover’s boot and slid the metal tyre jack up inside his jacket sleeve.
‘Get a fucking move on!’ the man standing further back by the van shouted, the atmosphere rife with tension as he jabbed the shotgun in the air towards Jimmy.
The first gunman standing nearest to Jimmy, the one that still hadn’t spoken a word, nodded to the ground, not chancing any funny business from Jimmy.
Doing as he was told, Jimmy placed the bag down on the floor in front of him, before kicking it out with his leg towards him. All the while Jimmy’s eyes never left the masked man’s. Scrutinising him, Jimmy wondered if perhaps that’s why this one wasn’t talking. He wondered if he knew the fucker. He wondered if this was an inside job. Someone from the firm; how else would they know about this place? This dock was Jimmy’s little gem. It was where he did all his drops. Import and export business, but only of a very sought after, illegal variety.
This place was where Jimmy made all his real money these days.
Unless this really was the Old Bill? A couple of bent coppers that Jimmy had on his books. That wouldn’t surprise him at all. That lot were so corrupt it was unreal. Working all their lives for a minimum wage, they’d kill to earn the sort of money that Jimmy regularly brought in. He wouldn’t put it past those fuckers to get greedy and pull a stunt like this, somehow getting wind of the drop tonight and fancying their chances at having a go at taking on Jimmy and his men. He had half the local plod on his payroll as it was. A pig in your pocket, as Jimmy liked to call them.
The only copper he really trusted was Jack Taylor and that was because the man had stuck by his side since day one. Digging him out of all kinds of shit. Even now, crouching down in the car over by the back wall. Waiting for his signal.
The man always had his back.
Or maybe Jimmy didn’t know these men at all. Maybe he was just being fucking paranoid and they were just a couple of greedy little cunts that Gavin had used to set Jimmy up, and now they were seeking revenge for their friend.
Whoever these fuckers were, there was one small detail that they’d clearly overlooked when they’d planned this attack: Jimmy Byrne was never ever going to allow them to get away with this.
It was a good thing that they seemed to know the value of money, but there was one thing much more valuable that they stood to lose and Jimmy intended on making these two fuckers pay him back with that ultimate price: their lives.
Keeping his eyes locked on the first gunman as he picked up the holdall and walked backwards towards the Beamer, Jimmy w
aited for the man to open the boot to place the bag inside.
His eyes flickered away for just a fraction of a second.
But it was only a split second that Jimmy needed.
He shouted. Alerting his men that this was their cue.
A motorboat shot up along the side of the dock, the white light beaming from it startling the two masked men, just as Jimmy had planned it would. Not one to give up without at least trying to fight, he had no intention of letting these fuckers get the best of him tonight.
He had it all planned out. One of his main men, Kieran Dobbs, had been waiting on the motorboat that had been moored up just out of sight, watching from the sidelines until he got an opportunity.
Firing his gun at the two masked gunmen, all havoc broke out, the gunshot echoing loudly around the dockyard as the bullet flew past the first, silent assailant.
‘FUCK!’
Kieran Dobbs had missed his opening shot. The sudden rush of the waves as the boat jerked to a stop in the water caused him to throw his aim.
Alerted now of the impending attack, the masked men were forced to fire back. Kieran Dobbs fired again. This time his aim was on point, but his target moved, ready for the next shot, throwing himself down on the ground behind the Beamer.
Kieran aimed at the other target: the man by the van, rigid with fear, as he held the double-barrel shotgun out in front of him, too fucking frightened to use it. Pulling back the trigger of his gun, Kieran didn’t get to fire it. He hadn’t spotted the first gunman getting back up on his feet again. Firing one single perfect shot.
The bullet tore straight into Kieran’s chest with such precision and velocity that he could only scream out in pain, before he dropped into the murky waters of the Thames.
Eyeing the car at the back of the docks, Jimmy didn’t have time to wait for Taylor to make his presence known. It was every man for himself right now and Jimmy Byrne needed to look after himself. He ran at the first gunman – the taller man nearest to him by the Beamer – raising the wheel jack above his head ready to strike out, his other hand going behind him to the waistband of his jeans for his gun. He had one chance.
The Betrayed: A shocking, gritty thriller that will hook you from the first page Page 24