Herby Long was propping up the bar in the Olive Tree, with his old dog snoozing contentedly at his feet. As he supped his first pint of bitter, his thoughts were with Ava and Brita and his recent visit to the Hampstead house, where he’d managed to persuade Brita to return to Sweden to sort out her affairs. Now he wondered how Ava was getting along with Matilda; he held both of these women in the highest esteem. They were both dear friends. Suddenly the bar door opened which stopped his musing. He observed the young lad who’d walked in, the lad ordered a half pint of ale and made his way to a table in the far corner. It was then that Herby realised who the lad was, he could never mistake the likeness; it was Harry A’s young son. Archie, although much shorter in height, he was a dead ringer for his father. He’d only met the lad a few times; the first was at his mother Ava’s, ‘funeral,’ when he could only have been around five years old. Then there was the re-opening night of The Docket, when the lad had collapsed , when the dreadful apparition of the evil Lance had appeared. As he pondered over whether to re-introduce himself to Archie, he noticed the lad had been joined at his table by another young man. He decided to stay put, as the two young men seemed to be in deep conversation. He didn’t recognise the other man, and he studied him when he came up to the bar to replenish their drinks. He appeared clean cut and a sturdy young fella, although Herby felt he was of a different ilk to Archie. Maybe they knew each other through work, perhaps something to do with The Docket? By the time Herby was ordering his third and final pint of the evening, the two lads were making their way out of the bar. He decided to contact Crimson the next day and enquire after Ava, he was curious to know how she was getting along with his old friend Matilda……
Archie lay on top of the bed quietly reflecting on the astonishing events of the previous night, he turned on his side and hugged the pillow. There had been no particular reason why he’d called in at the Olive Tree, apart from the fact he needed to consider his next move. Which, on serious reflection he could have done anywhere. He’d walked away from his beloved sister Crimson and all his family connections, because he despised their way of life. Then Larry Waite had asked if it was ok to join him. At first they’d chatted about every day stuff, and then the conversation turned to work. After a couple of drinks Larry had offered Archie a lift home. Archie accepted, he wasn’t used to anyone paying him attention, and he’d found the man fascinating. As Larry had pulled the van up outside of the basement flat, he asked casually if there was any chance of a coffee. He’d then followed Archie down the few steps to the basement….
The flat Archie had chosen to be his temporary home, had never been on the market for public rental. The place consisted of a large room, a small kitchenette and bathroom. Since Archie had been taking care of his father’s rented properties, he’d used this flat as a dumping ground for furniture and bric-a-brac, left by ex tenants. He was the only person with keys, and the power supply meters for the public areas of the building were conveniently in the flat. There was double bed, two rather odd looking chairs and a number of small items of furniture. He’d also dumped boxes of crockery, and odds and ends really only fit for a jumble sale. He knew if he put his mind to it he could furnish the flat out suitably and bring it up to his father’s standard….However, now he had lost all interest, although he felt the firm owed him a roof over his head.
As Larry had followed him into the large cluttered room, Archie had turned on a small table lamp…the gentle touch of Larry’s hand on his cheek had sent shivers down his spine….a sensation he’d never felt before…as he slowly turned, Larry had kissed him deeply, passionately….this was wrong…though it had felt so right…he hadn’t wanted it to stop… the thrills flowing through his body had been breathtaking….within seconds they’d both been naked on the bed….as he re-lived that moment, he felt himself harden… and he longed for his lover to return….for the first time in his life he yearned for the thrill….he felt the abrupt rush of semen flow through him like a river…..
I was surprised when I opened the office door, to see my old friend Herby had called in to see me. I kissed his weathered cheek and gave him a hug. We both sat on the chesterfield sofa, which was beginning to show signs of wear. The boys were all out on jobs; Seb had a problem with one of the debtors, who owed us in access of ten grand. They were fools if they didn’t cough up, as Seb was not a man to mess with. The loan company was big business, most paid up, although this bloke was said to have done a runner. Let’s hope for his sake he runs faster than the boys…..
‘I’m so pleased to see you Herby, sit tight while I grab us both a coffee.’ As I walked towards the bar I was curious about Herby’s visit, it was unusual for him to call into the office. I placed a mug of steaming coffee by his side.
‘I was wondering how Ava and Matilda were getting on lass. I haven’t called into her flat as I know you wanted to give them chance to get to know each other.’ He took a sip of his coffee. ‘And did Brita get off alright?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Herby I need to bring you up to date with events.’ After I’d explained how Brita had been snatched by the Weavers, and been mistaken for Ava, and how we’d had to move Ava and Matilda to a safe house. I could see the concern in his face, as I continued. ‘Now Archie has gone missing, for his safety I’d found him a safe house, out of London, he left a note with Fred and Patsy stating he’d had enough of the life and he was going to look for mum.’
‘No girl, if only I’d known. Archie was in the Olive Tree last night, I was tempted to go and speak to him, but he was with a friend. Well I assumed he was a friend they were in deep conversation together. Although I must say the chap seemed of a different type to your boy.’
I felt my blood run cold. ‘Oh I should have rung you straight away Herby, and told you he was missing. Please God don’t let them have got to him already.’
‘Don’t fret lass the lad looked alright.’ Herby’s face had paled and his jaw had dropped, I could see the fear in his old rheumy eyes.
As I was about to speak Johnboy walked into the office. I sighed with relief.
‘Herby it’s good to see you.’ Johnboy shook the old man’s hand.
The last thing I wanted was for Herby to worry, he wasn’t aware that Archie had gone missing. ‘Archie was in the Olive Tree last night with a friend.’ The word friend stuck in my craw. Archie didn’t have any friends, he was a loner, naïve, he never socialised. Since mothers ‘return’ he’d never been out. I could see by the look on Johnboy’s face that he was thinking along the same lines as me.
‘Lass I’d better get back over to the track, please keep me updated on the lad. And it goes without saying I’ll be watching out for him, I’ll have my ear to the wall. Goodbye to you both.’
As I opened the door for Herby to leave I kissed has cheek. ‘Thanks Herby and please don’t worry.’
‘Let’s go lass, he can’t be far away.’ Johnboy stated as we followed Herby out of the door. ‘He can’t be far away.’
Silently I prayed Johnboy was right…..
Chapter 6
George opened his eyes slowly, where the fuck was he, what was going on? He rubbed his face with his rough hands, his vision was blurry. Then panic kicked in, he could hear Harry’s voice ‘you’re already dead.’ Fear clutched at his chest…then he heard a woman’s voice. ‘How are you feeling this morning Mr. Burns?’ Burns, who the fucks Mr Burns? Then he remembered Jimmy Burns, his faithful old henchman, he’d killed him, because he knew too much and he wanted out….what was going on? Had he died? The woman’s voice was clearer now. ‘You’d better sit up Mr Burns and I’ll fetch you a cup of tea.’ He could see her now, in a nurse’s uniform. She helped him to sit up. As she moved away from his bed, hips swaying from side to side. Reality smacked him in the face. He was in hospital. He looked down at his feet, the left one was heavily bandaged, some bastard had shot him, and he had to get out of here. The name Jimmy Burns was written in capital letters on a small board next to his bed. Who the fuck had tol
d them it was his name? He slid his right leg off the side of the bed, as he tried to swing his left leg over; the stern voice of the nurse stopped him in his tracks. ‘I don’t think so Mr Burns!’ George knew then that he would have to do a bunk after dark. He had to get hold of Weaver that was urgent. Questions were racing through his head…and the fear in his lungs lay as heavy as cold mud…..Who had given his name? Who had brought him to the hospital?
He needed a piss, and until the nurse cleared off his only option would be a bottle. How the hell had he ended up in this fucking state? He knew he’d have to wait until dark when the night staff took over…then the doctor was standing at the end of his bed. ‘How are you feeling Mr Burns?’
‘Yeah I’m ok.’ George mumbled in reply.
‘As you were shot Mr Burns, the police will be paying you a visit.’
George gulped, and almost choked on his own saliva, the very thought of the filth coming to speak to him filled him with horror. Faces and the law don’t mix….Later on in the day he noticed a bloke coming into the ward; his guise was screaming ‘rozzer,’ quickly he turned on his side and faked sleep, this couldn’t be fucking happening! As he closed his eyes he could see Jimmy Burns staring at him. The nurse’s voice seemed distant… ‘Maybe you could return in the morning officer, Mr Burns is resting after the anaesthetic.’ As he heard their footsteps moving away, he opened his eyes and the apparition of Jimmy Burns was staring at him, from the foot of his bed…… He couldn’t shrug off the stare…he recalled how callously he’d murdered the man who had been a loyal mate…nevertheless he felt no remorse…emotions were for fools…the sceptre faded….
For the rest of the day George kept his head down, a physiotherapist had left crutches by his bed, saying he would show him how to use them the following day. How fucking difficult was it to use crutches! He kept quiet, no point in winding the idiot up…He could see his clothes were on top of the locker, at the side of the bed, finally the lights went out, and the night nurse was at her desk. He waited, the sounds emanating from the ward reminded him of Regents Park Zoo…eventually the nurse left the ward…her break, he hoped. Most of the beds were curtained off for the night which made it easier. Grabbing his clothes he started to dress. The left leg of his trousers was stiff with dried blood; he struggled to pull them on. Keeping one eye out for the nurse…he had to get out…if she returned he’d deck her. He stumbled with the crutches, cursing under his breath….a porter stopped him in a passageway, George swung the crutch around his head and the man fell to the ground. The strain of walking had sapped his strength, once outside he sat on the low wall and waited for a cab to pass. He was frozen; he’d had to leave his overcoat, as it had proved too heavy, with using the crutches. On the point of collapse a cab pulled up, once inside the cab he laid his head back, there was one thought on his mind…Weaver….
‘Thank goodness it’s you lad.’ Matilda sounded relieved.
‘What’s wrong Matilda?’ Johnboy asked with concern.
‘When I rang before one of the other boys answered, they don’t know me like you lad. So I said it was a wrong number.’
‘I’m on my own now Matilda, so tell me what’s worrying you.’
‘I need you to go to my flat lad, because we left in a hurry the other night I didn’t pick up my address book. As you know Daley Malone’s going to contact me. You know where I keep the book, will you ring him for me lad and put him in the picture.’
‘Of course I will, so don’t worry.’ Johnboy assured.
‘If there’s any letters will you open them lad and make sure everything’s ok?’
‘No sooner said than done Matilda, I’ll go today.’
‘Don’t take our girl with you, as they’ll be watching for her, I fear dangers close, stay by her lad.’ Matilda said with concern.
‘I always do Matilda so don’t worry, how are things going with Ava?’
‘She’s beginning to open up; she loves this house we’re staying in. I’m sure it’s because Harry had originally chosen it for their retirement.’ Matilda confirmed. ‘Janet bought me a tape recorder, Ava doesn’t know about it, I can record our conversations that way nothing will be missed, such a great idea.’
‘That sounds ideal.’ Johnboy agreed. ‘Are you sure you’re alright, nothing else bothering you?’
‘I’m ok now I’ve spoken to you lad, please tell Crimson I’m thinking of her.’
‘I’ll pass the message on, and I’ll contact Daley. I’ll ring you soon, look after yourself.’ Johnboy added. He missed his old friend, she’d become a big part of his life. A grandmother that he’d never had the luxury of having. Most henchmen, who dedicate their lives to the underworld, seldom show emotions. That changed for Johnboy when he became close to Crimson, then again with Matilda. Billy had married Janet; Rudy was a loner, probably because of his unbalanced upbringing with George and Nancy. Jack appeared to be a loner; maybe life in a kid’s home had had some effect. As for Seb, he was dedicated to the life; Harry A had been his protagonist. He admired him, as much as he respected Crimson; although he believed the underworld was a man’s domain…The office door opening brought me back to reality.
‘You look as though you were miles away.’ I asked.
‘I’ve been chatting with Matilda; she wants me to go to her flat tonight, as she’s expecting contact from Daley. Because they all left in a hurry the other night she forgot her address book.’ Johnboy explained. ‘Best I go alone; I’ll wait until after dark.’
‘Shall we look for Archie again?’ I asked anxiously. They’d been everywhere they thought he could possibly be; however the same questions kept rearing their ugly heads. Was he local? Who was the ‘friend?’ the only valid decision they’d made, if Weaver had his grubby hands on Archie, they would have heard by now…..
As Johnboy regarded this beautiful girl’s face, it saddened him to see the strain she was under, she was courageous and strong. Nevertheless he’d learned that she’d die for the safety of her family. He’d do anything to take away her distress, a draft of anger and deep hurt trailed her like a disease…. ‘Ok let’s search again lass, today we may find him.’
‘It’s about fucking time!’ Stan Weaver yelled down the phone. ‘What kept you?’
‘I ended up in hospital; fuck knows how I got there. ‘George replied cynically.
‘I dropped you off outside you wanker, or you might have bled to death.’
‘What d’you mean outside?’ George said wryly.
‘I left you near the main doors. Why?’
George decided to end that part of the conversation; he didn’t want to mention the name he’d been booked in as. Weaver knew nothing about Jimmy Burns, or his visits from the dead, if he did he’d think he was screwball.
‘Where are you now?’ Weaver pressed. ‘We need to talk.’
‘At my club.’ George responded coldly.
‘I’m on my way over.’ The line went dead…..
After Weaver and George had spent time at Clouds, and George had relayed everything he knew about Crimson, Archie, the Hampstead house and The Docket. It was only a matter of time now before Ava was handed over to George, and he’d be the new Face at The Docket! It was working like a dream….and tonight he’d clinch the deal……
‘Johnboy left The Docket just after six o’clock, Crimson was catching up with the accounts, and he knew Seb and Rudy were around. He parked a short distance away from Matilda’s flat; he had to use the front entrance as he knew the kitchen window was locked. Once inside, he collected the mail that was strewn across the hallway floor. Switching the light on he started to check all was ok. Matilda’s sitting room was filled with her accumulation of treasures, preternatural, her love and devotion to the mysterious phenomenon’s of her world…..So Johnboy eyed her valuables carefully, as they were all priceless to Matilda. Using her paper knife he slit the few envelopes open, the letter from Daley was brief, the writing was sloppy, almost childlike. As he felt none of the other mail was important,
he left the opened letters next to the phone, and dialled Daley Malone’s number. He waited a few moments, as he knew Daley was nowhere near as sprightly as Matilda, although both now in their eighties. ‘Hello there Daley, this is Johnboy, Matilda’s friend.’ He hoped the old man would remember him. There was no immediate response. ‘Oh hello lad is Mattie alright.’ He asked with concern.
Johnboy defined the situation, assuring him Matilda was safe and well. They spoke for several minutes; Johnboy confirmed he’d pass on his best wishes to Matilda. As Johnboy replaced the receiver he was trying to digest the old man’s news. We were all aware that Sean McRoy was moving back to London; however Daley had just disclosed that Sean had put a bid in to purchase ‘Scrubs.’ After he’d questioned the fact that the Weaver mob were living there, Daley assured him it was correct. Weaver was only renting the gaff; the actual owner had put the club on the open market. Sean had jumped at the chance of buying, he intended to modernise the place as he felt it could be a good earner. Johnboy had asked if Weaver was aware of the club being up for sale, Daley had laughed and stated that Weaver didn’t have a pot to piss in…..although he’d added for Johnboy to ‘keep it under his hat.’ He couldn’t wait to enlighten Crimson and the boys…. Daley had also mentioned that Weaver had three sons, the two youngest were a waste of space and had both recently done a stretch. Evidently he relied on the oldest son Cliff, by all accounts he was said to be a hard bastard.
While Johnboy was soaking up this latest revelation, he dialled the Denham house to speak to Matilda. He was surprised that she answered the phone and not Billy. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you lad, no time to talk now, the girls in real danger, you must go to her!’ The line went dead….Johnboy left the flat like a bat out of hell…….
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