by Martina Cole
Donna was shocked at Maeve’s words and the truth of them. The thought of Ma and Pa Brunos getting a visit from Lewis’s heavies made her feel a redhot wave of pure rage; for a split second, she wanted to crush them, smash them. Never in her life had she felt like that before. Always the pacifist, always the voice of reason . . . Maeve was right. She was changing, and she wasn’t sure whether it was for the better or worse.
‘I’ll tell Georgio,’ she said now. ‘He’ll sort it out.’
Maeve smiled sadly. ‘Do you realise we’re not even pretending he’s innocent any more? And do you know what hurts me more than anything? Your acceptance of that fact. Knowing what he is now, instead of turning your back on him, you’re joining in with his wild schemes and his wants, Donna. You’re even selling this lovely house.’
She wiped a wrinkled hand across her brow. ‘Leave him, Donna, while you’re still young enough to get away. In another few years, time will have raced on. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Then it’ll be too late to follow your own road, because you’ll have followed his for so long the habit will be hard to break.’
‘Whatever he is, whatever he’s done,’ Donna said vehemently, ‘he is still my husband. He stood by me through miscarriages, upsets, and all sorts of traumas. I have to do the same for him now.’
Maeve shook her head once more. The sadness in her face was such that Donna too, felt an urge to cry.
‘He didn’t stand by you, Donna. You’re remembering with the rosy glow of a woman. He left you in on your own, he travelled the world, he carried on with his life. Every now and again he threw you a mercy fuck, and you were grateful for it. Do you know something? I was so pleased to see how devoted you were to him, I knew he had found a true love. It wasn’t until you’d been married a few years that I realised it was all one-sided. Oh, I’m not disputing he loved you, so you can take that look off your face. But he wasn’t in love with you any more. He loved you like he loved his car or his businesses. He owned you. Why can’t you see that, Donna, and get out now?’
Donna stared into her mother-in-law’s face.
‘If this wasn’t so sad, I’d laugh. All those mother-in-law jokes about how the girl isn’t a patch on the mother. How the clichés always have the mother resenting the girl who took her beloved son away - and I get you, Maeve. I worship your son and you expect me to leave him high and dry now? After twenty years of devotion you expect me to turn my back on him? If it wasn’t so terrible, it really would be a joke.’
‘He’s using you, Donna, and he’s using Stephen. God forgive me, I love the bones of him but I can see him for what he is. God only knows what else he’s involved in. Robbery and murder aren’t enough for him. He’s my son, I bore him and I know him better than anyone. He always had a sneaky way with him even as a child. Georgio goes out for what he wants and nine times out of ten he gets it. Remember that. And he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.’
Donna lost her temper.
‘I’m not listening to any more of this, Maeve. You’re obviously overwrought. Whoever visited you probably had a good reason. I’ll find out what it is and I’ll deal with it. Now will you come inside and have a cup of tea, and let’s never refer to this conversation again, OK?’
Maeve sighed heavily. ‘So, you’ll find out who visited me and you’ll deal with it, will you? You sound just like Georgio or Stephen or Davey Jackson. Even Paddy. You’re getting hard, Donna, and you’re getting in over your pretty little head. I’ll take a rain check on the tea if you don’t mind.’
And Maeve Brunos walked back to the house alone, her small body bristling with indignation and upset.
Donna watched her till she rounded the bend by the kitchen garden and then she felt the tears come into her own eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness though, she admitted to herself. They were tears of anger.
Ten minutes later, she went back inside, walked past a silent Dolly and locked herself in Georgio’s office. Here she read and re-read his letters of love and need, drank in every word on the pages and told herself that this was what she wanted. Her husband adored her and she adored him, and she would do anything to get him back with her.
Anything.
And if she was getting tougher, then that was all to the good. Softness had never got her anything. For the first time in her life she was her own woman and she was learning to fight for what she wanted.
And if fighting made men like her husband and Alan Cox sit up and take notice, then she would fight to the death.
Paddy sat opposite Georgio in the visiting room of Parkhurst and grinned.
‘You’re looking well.’
Georgio shrugged. ‘What exactly happened with Donna and Alan, Paddy I want to know everything.’
‘What I told you,’ the Irishman said. ‘She went into his flat and came out fifty-six minutes later. She had obviously showered and changed. She picked up her car and went home.’
Georgio looked into his friend’s face. ‘Do you think there’s anything funny going on there, Paddy? I want the truth as a mate. You’ve hinted as much.’
Paddy looked into Georgio’s face and sighed inwardly. ‘I really don’t know. Knowing Donna like I do, I would say no way. That’s not her scene.’
Georgio leant across the table. ‘And you know what her scene is then, do you?’
Paddy moved away from Georgio and surveyed him steadily. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Only if you wasn’t so fucking close-mouthed over everything that’s going on, maybe you wouldn’t have had to rely on Donna to do all the donkey work. I know what’s going down and let me tell you something - I realised from the off what you were planning the moment I knew she was dealing with Cox. And if I sussed it, you can bet your arse someone else has as well.’
Georgio closed his eyes. ‘I have got to get out of here, Paddy, and soon.’
‘If you’d have brought me into everything, you wouldn’t be having the hag you’ve got now. I run your fucking sites, and believe me when I say your old woman done a brilliant job on them. She is a natural worker. I mean that and all. As for you getting out, it seems you’ve got that all sewn up as well. I watch Donna and Alan, and you watch them, and we all watch Lewis. Nothing like complicating everything, is there? You should have come to me straight off and we’d have sorted it between us.’
Georgio shook his head. ‘No way. Lewis knows we’re close. He’d have sussed immediately. The only reason you’re here now is because he’s off the Wing for a while.’
Paddy grinned. ‘But his henchmen ain’t. My visit will be all over this nick by teatime. You’re involving me now because of Donna. No other reason. You want me to watch her and Cox. Well, I have been, or at least I’ve had others watching her, put it like that. I’m still watching the house, and I have something to tell you that you’re not going to like. Three of Lewis’s baboons visited your da’s restaurant last night looking for Stephen. He’s closing the net, Georgio. If I was you I’d put your hand up and get out of the game. It’s getting too dangerous for everyone concerned.’
Paddy was pleased to see Georgio’s worried look. He was too sure of himself at times. Even banged up, in the worst trouble of his life, he still had that devil-may-care attitude and sometimes, like now, it really irked Paddy.
‘Fuck Lewis! I want to know what’s happening with Donna and Alan.’
Paddy lit a cigarette. ‘Nothing, I’d lay money on that. Think about it, Georgio. Donna is busting her arse to get you out. Don’t put everything in jeopardy because you think Alan is tumbling your old woman. It’s senseless, especially knowing what we both know. You’d leave her high and dry in the morning if you thought it would benefit you in any way, and don’t try to tell me different, Georgio. I’ve known you too long to be bullshitted.’
Georgio sighed heavily. ‘It’s the thought of it, you know. Stuck in a fucking cell, and all you can see after lock-up and lights out is your old woman humping while you’re banged up with only a right hand and distant memo
ries.’
Paddy nodded. ‘I know, but it’s something all long-timers have to get used to. She’s on the outside and you’re banged up. She can get up, do what she likes. It’s the freedom element. You assume her freedom allows her to do things she wouldn’t normally do. Like shunt Alan Cox. Stop winding yourself up, Georgio, get back in the real world and get yourself out. Then if you find out you’re right about her and Coxy, you can do something about it.’
Georgio swallowed the logic of what Paddy said, and smiled.
‘You’re a mate, Paddy. You’re right. I can’t do anything while I’m stuck in here, and if there is anything funny going on then I’d like to deal with it personally.’
Paddy nodded and stubbed out his cigarette.
‘So what’s the score then?’
Georgio looked at him intently for a few moments before making up his mind exactly how much to tell him.
Alan Cox and Anthony Calder waited patiently for Donna’s arrival at The Barking Dog public house in Barking High Street. They sipped Guinness and chatted amiably, smiling now and then at the women with their parcels and children enjoying a quick sandwich or a burger after a hard Saturday’s shopping. Donna walked in at just after five past two. As usual she looked immaculate and Alan watched as Anthony and three men at the bar openly admired her as she walked towards them.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’
The two men stood up.
‘We haven’t time for a drink, love, we’ll have one when we reach our destination.’
Two minutes later Donna was in the back of Anthony Calder’s black Cosworth and they were on their way to Ilford. The men were silent until they pulled up outside a house in Mortlake Road.
‘This is a safe house, Donna. We’re meeting the man who’s going to be the brains behind the jump. Keep your mouth shut and your head down and listen carefully to everything he says. He will not repeat himself.’
She got out of the car, her stomach quivering with what she wished was excitement but acknowledged to be deep fear. Even Alan and Anthony were subdued. Whoever this man was, he was obviously someone to be respected.
Alan opened the door with a key and the three trooped into the dim hallway. To the right of them was a doorway and Alan tapped gently on the door before opening it.
‘Eric? Hello, mate. Long time no see.’
Donna followed Anthony into the front room of the house. The room was comfortable if not luxurious. It was obviously used by people in transit; it had the look of a furnished flat or rented room. A smell of cooking fat underlay the hint of furniture polish, giving the room a stuffy feel. In a chair by the window sat a man of indeterminate age with short grey hair, massive shoulders and an easy if unwelcoming smile. He had steely grey eyes and he wore a cheap Tesco tracksuit.
‘Alan, it has indeed been a long time.’
Donna was taken aback by his cultured tones.
‘This is Eric. Eric, Donna Brunos. Anthony you already know.’
Anthony shook hands and they all sat down. Donna noticed that Eric, whoever he was, didn’t afford her so much as a glance. Instinctively she took the seat nearest the door and let Alan and Anthony sit nearer to him.
He poured out three vodkas and handed them round without asking if anyone wanted a mixer. Donna placed hers on a small table by her chair and licked her dry lips. Never before had she felt such strength in a person, such a sense of danger.
‘So, now you’ve got me, what exactly do you want?’
Anthony sat forward in his chair. ‘We are organising a jump. So far we have the facilities, the armoury and the manpower. What we need is your expertise in the planning and execution.’
Eric linked his fingers together and placed them across his chest.
‘It’ll cost you.’
Alan smiled; this was talk he understood.
‘We’ve got the dosh, Eric, don’t worry about that.’
Eric smiled faintly. ‘I’m glad to hear that. I’m not a charity.’
The room was quiet as if everyone was letting this little gem sink in.
‘Where’s the jump from? As if I need to ask with dear Georgio’s wife here.’ For the first time he smiled at Donna and she smiled hesitantly back.
‘How is your husband?’ he went on smoothly. ‘It’s a long time since I had any dealings with him. I’d offer you my deepest regrets, but Georgio was always a man who would one day be locked up. It stood to reason.’
Donna didn’t like the way the conversation was going. She looked towards Alan for support, but he was listening intently to what Eric had to say.
‘So the jump’s from the Island. Is it only Georgio we’ll be taking or is there more on the agenda? I had that happen to me a few years back in Turkey. I sprung a young drug-dealer, you might remember him from the papers - Kirkson. He was found with his throat cut outside the prison gates. Foolish boy. I could have had him home and dry within twenty-four hours. He tried to tuck me up, as you cockneys say. Biggest mistake he ever made. If I had been informed he wanted his girlfriend sprung with him, of course I would have obliged. But for a fee, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Alan’s voice was nearly jovial.
Eric knocked back his vodka and immediately poured another large measure for himself.
‘So, have you any thoughts on how you want him outed?’
Anthony shrugged. ‘We thought of helicopters—’
Eric interrupted him. ‘No chance, not on the Island. Since the jump from Durham there’s not an ounce of spare space in any of the four maxis. All wired. No chance for chock’s away. Choppers no good, chaps.’
He looked at Alan and Anthony as if waiting for more bright ideas.
Alan grinned. ‘We thought of getting him on a laydown. ’
Eric grinned back. ‘That’s more like it - except you can’t guarantee when the laydown is going to be. No, we need to know exactly when Georgio is going to be on the road itself. That’s the only way. Unless you can get news from inside as to when Section 43 is being put into operation, of course.’ He looked at the three blank faces. ‘Even the prison Governor doesn’t know until twenty-four hours beforehand, the Home Office are fuckers for that. It’s all the terrorists, you see, not the blaggers, that’s who it was brought in for. Barbaric rule if you ask me, but there you go. Pity Amnesty doesn’t shout a bit more about what goes on here instead of whining about south America all the time.’
Alan sipped his vodka. ‘Can you find out when a laydown is to be brought forward?’
Eric shook his head. ‘Not a hope in hell, Alan, old man. They’re very secretive about all that, I’m afraid. I have a contact in the Home Office, but he wouldn’t know himself until the day before. No one knows except the Chief and his close staff.’
Alan looked resigned.
Anthony finished his vodka and held out his glass for more. Eric filled it nearly to the brim.
‘The thing is, even if we knew, could you get the men in place in time? I don’t think so. That much activity would be noticed, and also we couldn’t guarantee what the posse with the sweatbox would be like. It could be one or two outriders and a Rover, or it could mean helicopters, the works. What we need is a day, an exact day, and then we’ll plan accordingly.’
Donna could contain herself no longer. She said loudly, ‘But how could we know that, unless we could make it happen?’
Eric began to laugh. ‘Astute girl here, chaps. That’s exactly what we would have to do. Make it happen.’
Alan frowned. ‘But how?’
Eric stood up. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, my dear? I can see my vodka isn’t to your liking.’
Donna shook her head. ‘No, really, I’m fine.’
Eric picked up a large canvas bag and took out an Ordnance Survey map.
‘I’ve already planned the route. All we need is him outside on the road. On a laydown, they always take them to Wandsworth from Parkhurst. The roads are left open, the local police are brought in. Oh, you all know the scenario. But e
very now and again, there’s a quick move. A laydown that is at the prison Governor’s discretion. That’s how we are going to spring Georgio. We’ll never get him out of Parkhurst, never. It’s far too tough a nut and we’d be fools to attempt it. While he’s inside he can do nothing but stay there. Outside, however, is a different matter. Outside, we can pick him off like a cherry from a tree.’
Donna was listening raptly, fascinated by the man’s knowledge and the way he imparted it.
‘What do you mean, the Governor’s discretion?’ she asked.
Tapping each end of the rolled-up map with his short stubby fingers, Eric looked at the three faces around him. Grinning widely he said, ‘We’ll get him out of there on a GOAD.’
Anthony and Alan laughed with delight.
Donna, not sure what they were laughing at, said, ‘What’s a GOAD?’
‘Good order and discipline is what it is, young lady. And we’re going to use it to get your husband home to you.’
‘But how? How will that bring Georgio home?’
Eric grinned at the three expectant faces. Picking up his glass of vodka, he held it high in a toast.
‘Because, my dear,’ he announced in ringing tones, ‘your husband is going to shit up the Governor of Parkhurst!’
Chapter Thirty-One
Donna listened to the almost manic laughter of the three men and swallowed down her annoyance.
‘I wish someone would explain to me what you’re all laughing at.’
Eric wiped his eyes. Sitting once more in his chair, he looked at Donna fully.
‘If you’re in prison for a long term, or you’re A grade, you are treated like a subversive - and of course eventually that is what you become. You live your whole life trying to get the better of the system. It’s an Us and Them situation. So naturally we have to use this to our advantage. If, for example, a man on the SSB wing decided to organise a work strike, or better still a riot, then the prison Governor could have him removed from the premises at his discretion. That means your husband, dear lady, would be moved with only a sweatbox and probably one Rover car to supervise it. Exactly what we need. The best way to guarantee the out is to accost the Governor. That’s where “shitting up the Governor” comes in.’