by Martina Cole
He lifted the new puppy and placed it gently at the bitch’s head. She began to lick it, pulling it out of the birth sac with the help of Jamesie and her own teeth.
Jamesie’s kennel maid stepped nearer and the bitch snapped at her, showing dangerous teeth, growling, making to lift herself up.
‘Keep back, Janet, the dog’s not herself! Go and make me a hot toddy, and one for the dog here. Put her a large drop of Glenfiddich in warm milk, it’ll settle her down. The birthing’s nearly over.’
Janet left the warmth of the kennel gratefully. She didn’t trust that bitch, never had. But Jamesie could always do what he wanted with the dogs. It was as if they felt he was one of them, as if he had the same smell.
Jamesie saw the last head appearing and grinned. Six little beauties. He was over the moon.
Ten minutes later the bitch was being fed the hot milk and whisky and he was sipping on his toddy, admiring the newborn babies, when his mobile phone rang.
He turned it on and beamed as he spoke.
‘Hello there, Alan. I’ve got six beauties here, newborn and as handsome as anything. Yes, don’t worry, everything is ready and waiting for you. I’ve got a paraffin budgie on standby just in case you change your mind. I’ve got to go, man. Speak to you tomorrow.’
He turned off the phone and stroked the bitch’s head again, settling her down.
‘There, my beauty. You just relax and I’ll be back in a short while.’
Ten minutes later, he was in the cellar of his house; it was like a military arsenal down there. He picked up an Armalite and checked it over, then he began preparing the other weapons that would be needed for the jump.
He was humming with happiness while he worked.
Jack Coyne was visiting JoJo. He listened in silence while JoJo described in graphic detail exactly what he was going to do to Nick Carvello once he was on the mend properly. Jack sighed heavily.
‘What you sighing about, Jack?’ JoJo’s voice was harsh.
He slumped even further down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. ‘Did they find your fingers?’
JoJo snorted. ‘Did they fuck! That ponce is probably having them dipped in gold and made into a necklace. But I promise you this much: once Georgio is out, I’ll pay back the lot of them, him included. He was behind all this from the off. He’s letting us know that he don’t trust us. Well, if he wants his money from the deal, he’d better start showing me a bit of respect. I never wanted to get involved, it was his idea and now he’s trying to keep my trap shut, and yours as well, in case we blow the lid while he’s banged up - and banged up with Lewis of all people. Lewis wouldn’t touch a deal like this one - he thought he was going into property, the stupid fucker! Well, I’ve lost more than my fingers now. I’ve lost face and respect and Georgio has to be made to realise he can’t do that to me.’
Jack shifted once more in the chair.
‘Will you keep fucking still?’ The patient complained irritably. ‘You’re giving me the heebie-jeebies.’
Jack rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘I don’t want any part of this any more. It’s all blown up in our faces. We should never have got involved in it. Whatever way you look at it, it’s all wrong, JoJo.’
JoJo couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes, but he said quietly, ‘Wrong it may be, mate, but at the end of the day it’s the biggest moneyspinner in the world at the moment and we are in at ground level. Once we make a killing we can walk away from it all richer than we ever believed. And it’s very nearly legal.’
Jack shook his head miserably. ‘I still don’t like it, JoJo, I never did. I should never have listened to you about it all.’
JoJo started to get worried. In all their dealings, Jack had calmly done whatever he asked. It wasn’t Jack talking now, it was that skinny wife of his.
‘Listen,’ he told him now, ‘all we ever did was put up the money. The distribution was down to Georgio. He’ll take the flak from it all once it hits the streets. No one is to know that we put up money unless Georgio tells them, and he wouldn’t do that. He second guessed us on this, knew that once he was banged up we would get worried. That’s what my hand’s all about. Nick Carvello must know something because he was quick enough to blast me. So don’t worry on that score. Once Georgio’s out he can pick up the reins from wherever he is. This stuff travels through the air, boy, you can distribute it from anywhere in the world.’
Jack realised that JoJo was trying to calm him down. It seemed he didn’t entirely trust his partner to keep a level head. That knowledge should have upset Jack.
It didn’t.
Jack Coyne knew his own capabilities, none better. Sometimes it was the only thing that gave him the edge in the world he lived in. Jack knew he was a heavy, a bully boy, a pimp. He was good at it and it was a lucrative business. It had kept his head above water for years and eventually it had given him a lot of money and a lot of happiness. He didn’t want to endanger this life he had created because of JoJo or that bastard Georgio.
‘Listen, Jack, how about I ring up Alan and tell him he’ll have to find two other mugs to oversee things this end? We can’t be expected to watch over Calder now, not without trouble. Alan will see the sense in that. This way, we’re out of the jump and Georgio can think what the fuck he likes. Shall I do that, eh?’
Jack digested what JoJo said and finally, after what seemed an age, he smiled agreement.
JoJo relaxed. He wanted an out and now he had one. For all his big talk about Nick, he didn’t particularly want another run-in with him. What he did want was the money from the scam and to disappear off the face of the earth.
It was untold riches, and unlike Jack, JoJo had no qualms about what he was doing. He would get himself overseas, give himself a new identity, and set up the business in a big way. It was the money-making scam of the future, and whatever legislation they brought in, it was here to stay.
‘Do you think Alan will go for this then?’
Jack’s voice brought him back to reality.
‘Of course he will.’ The irritability had reappeared in JoJo’s voice. ‘How can he expect me to oversee a man who’s shot me fucking fingers off? Use your loaf, Jack, for fuck’s sake.’
Jack nodded. ‘Can I get you a bottle of Lucozade or anything?’
JoJo rolled his eyes. ‘It’s costing me over a grand a day in here. Ring the bell and they’ll deliver you a large scotch if you want one. But for fuck’s sake, Jack, never, and I mean never, order a Lucozade while you’re here. I couldn’t live it down.’
Jack sighed and lapsed once more into silence while JoJo talked on, as if the sound of his voice would grow his missing fingers back.
Alan Cox got the message from Anthony Calder and smiled into the mouthpiece of the phone.
They were ready for the off, they were ready to go. All that was left was the actual jump.
Anthony was arranging a meet with a man who could get you out of a Turkish prison, a Thai prison, or who could snatch your child off the street anywhere in the world. He was an ex-paratrooper, an ex-mercenary . . . and he knew the prison system backwards and forwards.
Alan felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He had been too long out of the ballgame. Now he was back and loving every second of it.
Once the jump was actually up and running, he could relax and enjoy the spectacle.
All he had to do now was phone Donna Brunos and arrange to meet her for dinner to explain everything to her. He could have done it over the phone but he didn’t want to. He kidded himself he didn’t trust the phones. Privately, he knew he just wanted to see her. She was part of the excitement.
As he dialled her number he pictured her in his bedroom, without the towel and without her inhibitions . . .
He wished he could envisage her without Georgio.
Chapter Thirty
Little Dicky was a seventy-year-old gay man. He was only five foot one, hence the name. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and his hair was long gone. His f
inely chiselled features had aged well, though, and coupled with very expressive brown eyes made him look like anyone’s idea of a dear old man. In reality, Little Dicky was a listener.
Instead of being paid by the police for information, Little Dicky traded with the bad boys. If you wanted to know where a scam was going down, Little Dicky was the man to ask - especially if you were the person organising it. Dicky found out all he could and reported back. That way you had an idea of who was blabbing in your organisation, and whom you could trust. Through a network of whores, pimps, gays, robbers, burglars and publicans, Little Dicky heard everything, and anything he didn’t hear about, wasn’t worth knowing. It was a lucrative business. Word on the street was that Little Dicky never talked to the filth, and that made everyone, including Little Dicky, feel safe. Dicky knew his very life depended on discretion.
He turned up at Nick’s place at five-fifteen, smiling and friendly, like a little brown teddy bear. Nick, however, knew different. Little Dicky had used a knife since childhood. It was rumoured he could cut anyone, anywhere, without even taking his eyes off the pavement. He was a bundle of hatred behind his big cheesy smile and amiable countenance. You didn’t grass on your own for fifty years without being able to take care of yourself.
‘Hello, Dicky boy. How’s things?’ Nick’s voice was normal. He knew Dicky too well to play the game with him.
Little Dicky shrugged, a charming, graceful gesture. ‘OK, man. Yourself?’
Preliminaries over, the two of them sat in Nick’s kitchen and shared a bottle of white rum.
‘What do you want to know, Nick? Is it about JoJo or Jack Coyne?’
Nick Carvello chalked one up mentally to Dicky. ‘News travels fast.’
Dicky laughed. ‘Tell me, man, what the fuck did you do with his fingers?’
Nick chuckled with him, softly, as if they were sharing a huge joke. ‘I flushed them down the crapper.’
Dick grinned, showing surprisingly white teeth capped with gold. ‘Best place for them if you ask me.’
Nick stopped smiling. ‘But I’m not asking you, am I? What you’re here for is to tell me what you’ve heard about me, JoJo, Jack, or King Street fucking Charlie. Spill it, Dicky, I ain’t got all day.’
Little Dicky sipped at his white rum and shrugged.
‘Well, everyone knows about the shooting, except the police of course. But that’s how it should be. And what I hear besides is this: you’re planning a jump for someone and that someone is assed off with JoJo. So you sort of done him a favour, without realising it. I also hear that there’s a few people down south who want to know what’s going on and they’re willing to pay a lot of money to find out. That’s what I hear, Nick. Care to enlighten me further?’
Nick ran his tongue slowly across his teeth. ‘Who told you this?’
Little Dicky smiled again, his biggest, whitest smile.
‘Now you know I can’t divulge that kind of information, Nick. That’s what’s kept me alive for so long. Little Dicky never opens his mouth about anyone. You of all people should realise the sense in that.’
Nick nodded. ‘Listen to me, Dicky, this is a big one, but you already know that. Now listen to me good. I’ll put you on a retainer, working exclusively for me, just until all this is over. If anyone offers you a cent you refer them to me, through the grapevine of course. I’ll pay them a visit personally, you don’t have to soil your hands. I’ll watch your back, and I’ll set you up, but I need your word you’ll only work for this baby. Any double crossing and you’ll be found minus your head, tongue and cock. Do you get my drift?’
Little Dicky sat for a few seconds as if thinking over the proposition. Both Dicky and Nick knew he had to accept it. Nick was the undisputed King of the Gays and owned too many people. Little Dicky respected the fact he was pretending to ask him. It cut ice with the older man, afforded him a measure of respect. He knew how to play the game and he played it.
‘OK, but I want five grand up front and I want your assurance I ain’t got to deal with Albie. That boy gives me the creeps.’
Nick grinned now, a friendly grin.
‘You’ll get three grand up front and you’ll suck Albie’s cock if I tell you to. Now first things first. Anything you hear on the street comes straight to me. I’ll give you my mobile and car numbers - I want everything hot off the press. Anything else you find out, no matter how irrelevant, I want to know about. Any big scams going down, anything where guns or a crew are involved, especially if it’s down south. I want to know when JoJo O’Neil shits and eats, I want to know all about his businesses, I want to know what size bra Jack Coyne’s old woman wears, where he’s been seen, who he’s talked to. In short, I want to know everything.’
Dicky nodded. ‘Does that include Alan Cox?’
Nick laughed at the older man’s innocent expression. ‘I also want to know why you know all this already! Who’s the weak link, Dicky? Tell me that now and I’ll give you the other two grand up front.’
‘It was Jonnie H.’
Little Dicky watched Nick’s face fall and then grinned. ‘But don’t worry, Jonnie hasn’t said a word. It was just something I overheard in a club. Jonnie H. had a visit from a big man and a good-looking woman in a flash car. It didn’t take me long to suss out who it was, with all the other talk going round. When you been listening as long as I have, you don’t need much to make up two and two. Cox was a fool. He should have known better than to visit on the Clyde. Christ, someone paying their milkman two weeks on the trot is talk over there! I ain’t heard Cox’s name mentioned anyhow, so stop worrying. Your secret’s safe with me. I also heard that Jonnie H. was looking for the McAnultys. Knowing Jonnie, he found them. I hear everything, man, everything, and if I don’t hear about it, then it ain’t worth knowing.’
‘But you can also keep a secret, can’t you?’
Little Dicky finished off his rum and poured himself another.
‘Like the grave, man, like the fucking grave. Especially when I’m getting paid up front. A lump of money is a good hearing aid, know what I’m saying. It also helps me to remember what I heard and who I should be telling it to.’
Nick wasn’t offended by the older man’s speech. He had always respected the power of money. Without money you were powerless; with it, you could at least have an inkling of what was going to befall you.
‘I’ll bring the money to your place tonight,’ he promised Little Dicky. ‘Keep your ear to the ground, boy, and remember - you’re listening just for me.’
Maeve arrived at Donna’s beaming and carrying a chocolate cake. Dolly let her in and their loud voices penetrated into Georgio’s office where Donna was going once more through all his papers. Sighing, she walked from the room, plastering a large smile on her face as she entered the warmth of the kitchen.
‘Hello, darlin’. I was just passing and thought I’d pop in.’
Donna smiled. There was no way anyone just passed her home. The three women knew this and all played the game.
‘I’ll make a pot of tea.’ Dolly began preparing it and Maeve stared into Donna’s face and inclined her head towards the back door. Donna frowned.
‘I heard the house was up for sale. Any takers yet?’
Donna shook her head. ‘No, but there’s a couple coming to look later on today.’
Maeve nodded. ‘How’s the garden looking?’
Dolly turned to answer this one. ‘It looks good as always, the gardener sees to that. Donna hasn’t the time these days, what with everything else.’
Maeve walked through the utility room and opened the back door. She stepped out into the garden and Donna followed her cue.
‘Give us a shout when the tea’s ready, Dolly.’
The two women disappeared and Dolly watched them follow the small pathway to the tennis court.
‘What on earth is all this cloak and dagger stuff about, Maeve?’ Donna asked.
The older woman sighed. She sounded depressed. ‘I heard about you and Stephen.
I didn’t want to mention it in front of Dolly. She hears too much as it is.’
Donna frowned as she listened to Maeve’s sullen voice.
‘I think Stephen’s in trouble. We had a visit last night, to the restaurant. Three men. And let’s just say they weren’t respectable businessmen. They said to tell Stephen that Donald Lewis sent them.’
Donna felt her face drain of blood. ‘Lewis? But what would he want Stephen for?’
‘You tell me, love. There’s something happening, something going on, and I can’t seem to get to the bottom of it. I mentioned it to Mario and he just shrugged, told me that Stephen could take good care of himself, but I’m not so sure. I had a feeling it was to do with Georgio. He is my son, but God forgive me, Donna, sometimes lately I find it hard to carry on loving him. Whatever he’s involved in, Stephen’s in it too, up to his neck. Why didn’t they look for Stephen at his offices or his flat? Why did they come to the restaurant? That’s what worries me. It’s as if they came to our home knowing it would worry Stephen more.’
Donna thought for a moment. ‘What did they look like?’
Maeve made a face. ‘Big galoots with expensive suits and faces like a madman’s arse! Typical of Georgio’s friends if you like.’
Donna grasped Maeve’s hand. ‘Did they threaten you, actually threaten you?’
Maeve heard a steely note in Donna’s voice and she sighed. ‘You’re getting just like Georgio and Stephen, do you know that? A year ago you’d have stood and worried with me. Now you feel you want to make them pay. I can hear it in your voice, see it in your demeanour. Listen, Donna, get out of all this while you still have the chance. Let Georgio run everything from his prison cell. I’ve even lost the yearning to have him home. Don’t let him make you like he is, like Stephen is, like Donald Lewis is. That’s why they’re inside and we’re out here.’
‘Stephen’s not inside.’
Maeve shook her head. ‘Not yet maybe, but I know it’ll come. If not this year, then next. Stephen is like Georgio, an accident waiting to happen. Make sure it doesn’t happen to you.’