by Martina Cole
Alan really did laugh now.
‘Swearing upsets you and you want to be my number two!’ His voice was incredulous. ‘Darlin’, swearing around this gaff is like “God bless you” in a vicarage. Said all the time without a second thought. So get used to it. Now, let’s look at all this from Stephen Brunos’s point of view, shall we? I reckon he went to Georgio and said, “Right, got a bit of collateral, bruv?” “Yeah,” says Georgio, and bungs him a few grand. He’s a sleeping partner now, ain’t he? In fact, he wasn’t just a sleeping partner; if I know Georgio he was in a fucking coma! Which is exactly how I like my sleeping partners, how everyone likes their sleeping partners! That, my little love, is why they’re called fucking sleeping partners!’
Donna sat upright in her chair, her face flaming red with embarrassment.
‘I just wanted some advice—’
Alan cut her off. ‘And that is exactly what you got. And I’ll give you another bit of advice while you’re here. When we get going with this little lot, I hope you don’t intend to pull any more stunts on me like this. Checking up on me, trying to be Girl Wonder, because if you do, me and you will have a little falling out. If I tell you to jump off a cliff, then you jump. No questions - nothing. Your job is to do what the fuck I tell you and relay the messages back to Happy Harold on the Island. That’s it. I am in charge, let’s get that straight once and for all.’
Donna was shocked and hurt by his words. She did not know that Alan was worried for her. After requesting another number two, he had been given word that this woman in front of him was what he had, whether he liked it or not. She was attractive, a nice person, but for company, not for working with on a daily basis on something that could get dangerous, nasty, and already had the bad luck to have Lewis hanging over it like the Sword of Damocles.
Donna stood up unsteadily. Picking up her handbag, she turned to leave the room. Alan sighed.
‘I’m sorry, Donna.’
She turned at the door and he saw in the harsh light the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Walking over to her, he pulled her into his arms. The action made Donna really start to cry. She cried as she hadn’t since the day Georgio was sentenced. She breathed in the smell of Alan Cox, the cigar and brandy odour mixed with a hint of lemon from his aftershave, she felt strong arms around her, pulling her frail body into his, and the longing for her husband overcame everything else, everything that he had said to her, and she found herself holding him, squeezing herself into the confined space of his arms. Frightened in case he let her go too soon and she couldn’t assuage the grief that was inside her.
Alan held her while she cried, unable to understand his sudden tenderness towards her, his feeling that holding her was the right thing to do. Seeing her sitting in front of him, with her face drawn, her active mind concentrating on Stephen Brunos instead of on the job she was already up to her neck in, had angered him. Angered him because he felt ineffective. Georgio wanted her, and so she was the number two. He wanted to ask her how she felt about her husband putting her life in danger, because that was exactly what he had done. It wasn’t just a jailbreak here, and God Himself knew that was enough. It was a jailbreak under the nose of, and without the knowledge of, Donald Lewis.
He could feel her trembling, and when finally she pulled herself away from him, he was sorry. Desperately sorry. Because he was enjoying the nearness of her, the smell of her hair, her perfume.
‘I’m sorry, Alan, you must think me a fool.’
He smiled gently down into her face. Her make-up was smudged, her eyes red and swollen, yet she looked more desirable to him then than any woman had before.
‘You’re upset, Donna, and I’m not surprised. I was a bully, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’
She took a deep shuddering breath.
‘I think we were both at sixes and sevens today. Both in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not usually a crier - Georgio can bear me out on that.’
It was as if his name had opened up a gulf between them, and each subconsciously took a step back from the other, distanced themselves in case the embrace should be repeated.
‘Let’s both have another brandy,’ Alan suggested, taking charge again, ‘and then we’ll talk properly about what you came here to ask, shall we? I promise not to bite your head off.’
Donna wiped her eyes once more with her fingers and smiled tremulously. Alan handed her a large white handkerchief and she patted her face carefully, dismayed at the black streaks appearing on the snowy linen.
Alan poured them both more drinks. Opening a box on his desk, he took out a cigarette and lit it, handing it to Donna as she once more seated herself in her chair. She took it gratefully, pulling on it hard, drawing the smoke down into her lungs as if it was oxygen and she was dying for lack of it.
‘Drink your brandy.’ Alan’s voice was still low. He could feel the electric charge in the room and knew that Donna Brunos felt it as well.
‘I’m afraid I had what is known as a shitty day today, Donna, and you came in on the tail end of it—’
She interrupted him. ‘No, Alan, you were right in all you said, really. I should never have come here asking your advice like that. You have known Stephen a long time; this is your patch here, Soho, your way of life. I turn up like a silly schoolgirl asking stupid questions on a whim - and it was a whim, you know. Nothing concrete, just a gut feeling.’ She laughed gently as she spoke, feeling foolish once more. ‘I’ll ring Stephen tomorrow and apologise to him. He must feel like I have taken his kindness and kicked it back into his teeth. He really was a boon when Georgio was sentenced. So please . . . don’t apologise. It’s me who should be apologising, for bothering you in the first place.’
Alan grunted. If only she wouldn’t be so bloody humble!
‘Look, Donna, I don’t mind you asking me questions, honestly. It’s just that today I was a bit overwrought, that’s all. Now as to what you said about Stephen, I think it would be best for all concerned if you left him to run Talkto. OK? Just leave him doing what he knows best. Really, Donna, it’s the only thing you can do. I have set the ball rolling for the other business and believe me when I say, once we get our tongues around that lot, there won’t be time for a shit, a shave or a shampoo.’
Donna laughed at him. She felt as if she had somehow been reborn. He was right, of course, she had no reason to try and tell Stephen how to run his businesses. He had done perfectly adequately without her. Who did she think she was anyway? In her mind’s eye she had a vision of what Georgio would have said to her regarding Talkto and was uncomfortably aware it would be along the lines of Alan Cox’s advice.
‘Drink your brandy, ducks, and let’s relax for a moment. Just through that doorway there is a bathroom. When you’re ready, go and wash your face, you’ll feel much better.’
Five minutes later he was listening to the taps running and cursing himself for what he had done. But he also told himself that as much as he had upset her, and he knew that he had, she would be much more upset by the time she was through with the next step of this operation. She had cried tonight because he had told her off. How would she react to people like Anthony Calder? And poor old Tony was one of the good guys!
Alan hoped deeply and honestly that before too long Donna Brunos would retire from the fray and let him get on with it his own way. As it was she was becoming a liability. Not least because he felt a bit too much for her, and at the end of the day, as he told himself over and over again, she was Georgio Brunos’s wife, and Georgio had done him more than a few favours.
As she walked out of the small bathroom he smiled pleasantly at her, all the while planning a visit to Georgio to try and talk some sense into the man. Once he had decided that, he felt better.
Donna, for her part, was still embarrassed and humiliated. Even though she accepted that Alan Cox was right and sensible in what he had said about Stephen she knew deep down that there was more going on with Stephen Brunos than met the eye - and she was d
etermined to find out exactly what it was . . . Alan Cox was right to an extent, as she had just realised. Her name was down on Talkto. If she was a partner, silent or otherwise, and if Stephen was doing something illegal, surely that affected her? So she made up her mind to carry on looking into Talkto’s businesses, even if Alan, and Georgio if he could have, advised her to stay away.
The couple sat opposite each other, both scheming, both smiling, and both glad of the other’s company. Both hoping to forget what had taken place, because it had affected them more than either would have liked to admit.
Chapter Eighteen
Georgio and Timmy sat at a small table eating cheese omelettes and salad, made for them by Sadie.
Timmy shovelled half the omelette into his mouth on his fork. He chewed noisily, unaware of the faint look of revulsion on the faces of both Sadie and Georgio.
‘This is handsome, Sade, do us another one.’
Sadie tutted and left the cell to go into the kitchen once more and resume cooking.
‘She ain’t a bad old stick, my Sade, is she, Georgio?’
Georgio smiled. ‘No. In fact, she’s all right really.’
Pleased with Georgio’s answer, Timmy shoved the other half of the omelette into his mouth and chewed on it noisily.
‘Didn’t anyone ever learn you any manners, Timmy?’
The big man shrugged. His mouth full of food, he mumbled: ‘Nah, what for? I ain’t going to be eating with the Queen, am I?’
Georgio grinned. ‘I think we can safely assume you’re right there, Timmy. Honestly, you eat like you ain’t eaten in months.’
Timmy picked his front teeth with his fork.
‘Well, it’s good scram, ain’t it? I don’t know why you’re always going on about the way I eat, the way I smell and everything. I’m a man, ain’t I? Men are a bit . . . well, manly.’
Georgio pushed the rest of his omelette on to Timmy’s plate.
‘Just because you’re a man don’t mean you can’t have a wash or eat with your mouth closed, Timmy,’ he said good-humouredly. ‘Christ Almighty, how far do you think Sylvester Stallone would have got if he ate like a pig and smelled like a poke of devils? It’s like torture in this cell some nights with the hum of you. Honestly, Timmy, I’m telling you as a mate.’
Before the big man could answer, Lewis walked into the small cell. ‘You should listen to him, Timmy. Our Georgio likes his men to smell nice. He’ll have Sadie off you if you’re not careful.’
Timmy carried on eating, ignoring the man in front of him.
‘I think it’s about time you went into the kitchen with Sadie while I have a little chat with my friend here.’
Timmy picked up his plate and walked towards the cell door. Lewis called after him.
‘By the way, Timmy, I want you showered night and morning. You stink. You offend me.’
Timmy nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Mr Lewis.’
Taking out a clean handkerchief, Lewis dusted off the chair Timmy had used and sat down.
‘I don’t know how you stand it locked up with him. I’ll get him moved in with Sadie for you, OK?’
Georgio sipped his coffee. ‘And then who will you put in with me?’
‘A little mate of mine called Chopper Harris.’ Lewis grinned, a feral, nasty grimace. ‘You know my Chopper. He’s as sweet as a nut.’
Georgio put down the coffee cup. ‘I like sharing with Timmy. The guy’s all right.’
Lewis shook his head. ‘Sorry, Georgio, I have spoken. Chopper it is. He will be in this afternoon. Timmy will be informed in due course.’
Georgio felt his hand squeezing the thick white mug hard. It was pointless saying anything, as Lewis had just told him. He had spoken. And when Lewis spoke, people in this place jumped, whether they wanted to or not.
‘But I’m quite happy with Timmy.’ He tried one last time.
Lewis laughed softly. ‘Surely you wouldn’t stand in the way of love’s young dream, would you? It gives the screws a laugh watching them try and get it together. They’ll have to look elsewhere for their amusement now. I’m sorry, Georgio, I have already cleared it with everyone; you haven’t any say in it.’
Georgio nodded. He was beaten and he knew it.
‘You remember Chopper, don’t you?’ the insinuating voice went on. ‘They’re shipping him here from Durham for late this afternoon. He will be working for me while he’s here. Me and Chopper go way back. I’ll enjoy seeing him.’
Georgio stared at the table.
Lewis stood up and glanced at him.
‘You’ll like my Chopper. He’s doing a twenty. Murdered two men, both villains. He cut one bloke’s head right off. Nice bloke, old Chopper. You and him should get on like a house on fire. He’s a scouser, my Liverpool boy.’
Georgio heard Lewis’s laugh as he walked along the wing towards his own cell and gritted his teeth in rage and frustration. He had to get out, and soon. Now that Lewis was banging him up with one of his trained gorillas, the need to escape was becoming more urgent by the second.
Alan and Donna were sitting in Joe Allen’s eating Eggs Benedict and sipping ice-cold white wine.
Donna’s appetite was fading by the second as she listened to Alan talking.
‘The thing is, Donna, we need to get up to Scotland at the weekend. That’s where we’ll be meeting with Jimmy Mac. He will then take us through his armoury, which will be imperative if we’re to spring Georgio.’
He was interrupted by the waiter who replenished their glasses. Donna smiled tightly at the handsome young man, swallowing her food with difficulty.
Alan carried on talking.
‘We’ll need to know exactly what we’re going to use. We’ll go to the Island tomorrow and see what we can suss from there. I reckon it’ll have to be done by helicopter. Parkhurst is one of the hardest jails to escape from, but like most so-called fortresses it’s got its blind spots. It’s our job now to look for them.’
Donna placed her knife and fork neatly in the centre of her plate.
Alan chuckled. ‘Lost your appetite?’
She could hear the sarcasm in his voice and pursed her lips. ‘Not exactly. I’m interested in what you’ve got to say.’ She wondered, not for the first time, why he always managed to put her back up.
‘Well, as I was saying, we need an idea of where to take him. Myself, I think we should try and get him when he’s off on a laydown, or else get him to play sick and be moved to a civilian hospital. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For the moment we’ll just go and have a reccy.’
Donna lit a cigarette. ‘Have we any way of getting a plan of Parkhurst?’
Alan grinned. ‘I’ve already got one, love, and a plan of Durham, just in case. Normally on a big one you go to either Durham or the Island. So in case they decide to move him before we’re ready, I’m not going to take any chances. Durham might be a better bet in a lot of ways, but it’s swings and roundabouts. Either place will be hard to get out of.’
‘Parkhurst looks pretty formidable to me.’
Alan wiped his mouth with a napkin.
‘It is. For a start off, you’ve got a twenty-five-foot wall around the place. It’s rounded and smooth at the top, you’ll never be able to get a rope up there no matter what. Then inside that you’ve got a twenty-five-foot electric fence with tremblers all over it. Anything over seven pounds lands on it, the alarms go off. On top of that is three lots of razor wire - no one is going over that! - then there’s the cameras. They are everywhere, plus floodlights, dogs, the whole shebang. The only way out is straight up. That’s where a helicopter comes into it. So as you can see, it’s a big operation.
‘Once he’s out, we need to remove him quickly. Now he ain’t going on the ferry, is he, so we need a boat of some description, then a secret destination for the boat to take him - a place where he can be picked up and subsequently helped to disappear. I think Southern Ireland’s a good idea. Everyone else legs it to Spain. Ireland’s a small place, but there�
��s plenty of places to hide away until we can ship him off properly when the heat dies down.’
Donna sat listening to Alan in dismay. Now it was actually happening she felt a cold hand grip her heart. Pulling herself together, she stubbed out her cigarette and said: ‘So once he’s out of Parkhurst itself, we arrange a boat to Ireland?’
Alan shook his head. ‘No. We arrange a boat to take him along the coast. Then we change him to a vehicle of some kind. We make our way to Scotland, and from there he’ll go to Ireland. They’ll be looking for a boat, won’t they? If we sink the boat they’ll still be looking for it. No one will guess he’s in Jockland for a good while. When someone escapes they keep a look out on a fifty-mile radius. It’s very rare for someone to be on the trot for any length of time. It’s normally luck that stops them getting caught at once, but the luck usually runs out after a couple of days.
‘What we need is to be well-prepared for any emergency. Have a back-up plan in case anything goes wrong, and to keep level heads. Georgio is depending on us now. He knows the ball’s been set in motion and is trusting us to deliver the goods for him. What I need to know is, after hearing all this, are you sure you can handle it?’
Donna smiled, a tight, deliberate smile.
‘Don’t worry, Alan, I can handle anything you throw at me.’
She regretted her words immediately as she heard his answer.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that, love, because you’ll have more than a bit of mud thrown at you before this lot’s over, starting on Friday in Scotland.’
Picking up his wine glass he toasted her silently and Donna was hard-pressed not to slap his smug smiling face.
‘Scotland?’ Dolly’s voice was high. ‘What on earth are you going there for?’
Donna tensed irritably. After listening to Alan Cox telling her in no uncertain terms that he thought she wasn’t up to helping him, she now had to get the third degree from Dolly.
‘I’m going for a weekend break, what’s wrong with that?’