The Crew

by Bali Rai

  ‘Tell me nuh, man. I have all de time yuh need.’ He sat back in his chair.

  ‘OK.’

  I told him everything, exactly as Sally had told it to me, and all the way through he sat and listened intently, shaking his head now and then and playing with his facial hair. At one point he held up his hand to stop me, ran his hands over his dreads and then motioned for me to carry on. At the end he sat for a while, thinking about what I had said and then he asked me some questions.

  ‘So the alley was bein’ used as a drop and pick-up point for drugs and money?’

  ‘Yeah, the man that Ellie kept seeing is some out-of-town contact that Busta was using.’

  ‘Why use a man from out a town?’

  ‘Busta thinks that the police have his whole crew under surveillance – that’s why. No-one knows this guy so they just ignore him. Well the police, anyways.’ I cleared my throat. ‘There was only ever one bag of money. It was all a scam.’

  ‘One? So why de raas is dat bwoi chattin’ ’bout a secon’ bag?’

  ‘He’s playin’ out his scam, Nanny,’ I explained. ‘Busta told his boss that two bags went missing – thirty grand in all. When we handed in the bag with fifteen grand, Busta’s boss knew what we had done. Maybe he’s got someone working for him down at the police station – I dunno – but he knew. He must have called Busta straight away.’

  ‘Seen,’ Nanny said. ‘Busta a tief fifteen grand and blame yuh crew.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I continued my story, trying to get everything clear in my head. ‘When the pick-up man told Busta the bag he’d left wasn’t there, Busta was mad, but figured he could make a raise out of it by claiming he’d left two bags. That way he got to pocket fifteen grand. Then we gave the money to the coppers. When we handed that bag in we alerted his boss, who knew exactly how much money had been handed in – not the amount Busta said had gone missing – so Busta was stuck. He had to explain where all the money was and he blamed us. Said we had kept one bag. That’s why he suddenly sent someone to put the brick through the window. He had to convince his boss that we were the thieves.’

  ‘OK, dat part me understand. But how Busta know all a dis so quick? From when we hand in bag to when we get home? How him know so fast? Him some kind a obeah man?’

  I raised my eyebrow. ‘A what-a-man?’

  ‘Obeah. It mean witch doctor man. Him psychic?’

  ‘Dunno. But his boss must have a contact at the station. Sally told me that Busta works for a real connected man. No one knows who he is but he’s using Busta to sell drugs out on the street. You know all that cheap-grade brown that killed them junkies a few months back? That’s all from Busta’s boss. Sally said that this man is trying to corner the area all for himself. And he’s got the power to do it.’

  Nanny nodded sagely.

  ‘Anyway it was Busta’s boss who suggested the kidnapping. The guy that was doing the pick-ups is some old pervert and Busta got him to do it. That way, we were bound to give the second bag back. Or so Busta’s boss thought – only we never had it and when we got Ellie back, Busta was in even more shit. Now he has to try and fit up someone else. Or give the money that he kept for himself back. He ain’t gonna do that so we’re still the number one targets. As far as Busta’s boss is concerned we still have fifteen grand of his dough. And he wants it back.’

  Nanny nodded again. ‘So, tell me how Sally know all a dis? She work fe Busta?’

  ‘No, but the other girl, Claire, is one of Busta’s girls. Claire is Sally’s best friend. She told her everything.’

  ‘And weh dis gal, Claire?’

  ‘I dunno. Sally told me that she thinks Busta has hurt her real bad. She kept telling me that Claire was dead.’

  ‘Dead? Wha’? – murder we a deal wid too?’

  ‘Well, she might be wrong, man. You know how people say someone’s dead when what they really mean is that they are in trouble?’

  ‘Might be . . .’ He thought some more and then he smiled and slammed the table with his hands. ‘Me have it! Yuh ’member de night we tek the money in?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘When we approach the desk and de lickle Babylon ring de bigga Babylon upstairs?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied, wondering where Nanny was going with his story.

  ‘When de one at de desk speak to the other one upstairs, him say, “Yes, one of them is IC3” – you remember, man?’

  I thought hard, back to that night. My memory held all kinds of useless information in an easy access bank but more important stuff just faded away. I thought about what we had said to the copper on the desk that night and then it flooded back. Nanny was right. The unseen policeman had asked whether one of us was an IC3 male.

  ‘IC3 is Babylon label fe de black man, nuh true?’

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ I agreed, recalling all those dodgy episodes of The Bill.

  Nanny looked pleased with himself. ‘Now, there was no other black man in de place so is how dat man upstairs can know that I man standing there? Unless him a . . .’

  ‘Obeah man?’

  ‘Yes, man!’

  ‘So you’re saying that the copper that interviewed us works for Busta’s boss too?’

  Nanny shrugged and then grinned. ‘Mus’ be, my yout’. Mus’ be. I man don’t see how him coulda known any other way. Dutty Babylon!’

  ‘What was his name . . .?’ I asked, trying hard to remember.

  Nanny just smiled. ‘Me know him name,’ he said. I marvelled at his feat of memory. I was shit at remembering names. Maybe, I thought to myself, I should smoke as much weed as Nanny. Certainly didn’t harm his brain that much. But then I realized I was being stupid – every spliff was probably killing like a million brain cells, man. Sack that.

  ‘From when a Babylon have such a stupid name – I man can’t forget it, y’know.’

  ‘Nanny – what was his name?’

  ‘Rat,’ he said, smiling wide. ‘Him name Ratnett.’

  I smiled myself, amused by his name. How apt.

  Suddenly Nanny jumped up shouting and cursing. ‘Raas! De bloodclaat food ruin nuh, man!’ he said, picking up a dry, burnt and smoking pan.

  twenty-eight:

  wednesday, 5.30 p.m.

  ‘AND IT WAS Busta crew dem who lock up Ellie?’ We had moved to the living room and were sitting thinking things over. I had tried calling Della but my phone was out of credits and when I tried on my mum’s land line, Della’s phone was off anyway. I tried Jas’s but his was on answer service so I assumed that they were together. I thought about calling Ellie and telling her to come round but the thought of frightening her didn’t really appeal to me. She would find out soon enough anyway, along with the rest of the Crew. For now, I was better off letting Nanny in on everything that I knew. To tell the truth it was a weight off my shoulders and Nanny was the perfect person to share it all with. If anyone knew what to do it was Nanny – he was like our ghetto superstar.

  In the background the telly was on, showing the latest instalment of Neighbours. Neither of us was watching it – there was a reggae CD playing and that took precedence over the TV. Dennis Brown was singing about it being ‘too late’ for him and his woman. The rhythm was underscored by a deep, heavy bass line. It was one of my mum’s favourites.

  ‘Nah, not his real crew, Sally said – just some man that he had working for him,’ I replied, as I tapped my foot to the beat.

  ‘And where is this man now?’

  ‘Dunno. Sally said that Claire told her he was really creepy. Kept on making nasty comments about girls an’ that.’

  Nanny shook his head in disgust before changing the direction of the conversation. ‘So Busta ah work fe Ratnett?’

  ‘I’m not sure whether Ratnett is the actual boss but he’s connected, I reckon.’

  Nanny considered this for a moment and then spoke. ‘And we only have one person word fe all a this?’

  ‘Yeah, Sally.’

  ‘So, even if we go to the police �
�� dem nah believe we. Is one gal word against one of them own, man.’

  ‘You reckon we should go to the police then?’ I asked, wondering what other possible option was open to us. This was all getting too heavy.

  ‘I man can find Busta – no problem, man. But if Ratnett involve in a dis then someone mus’ inform de police.’

  ‘Why?’

  The thought of talking to the police made the hairs on my neck stand up. I knew that Nanny felt the same way too. That was why he had said ‘someone’ should inform the coppers and not ‘we’.

  ‘Because him have all de power, Billy. Him have de law ’pon him side.’

  I thought about DI Elliot. Calling her was an option but why would Elliot believe us anyway? We were making serious allegations about one of her colleagues, without any real proof. And we had already lied to her once. Or at least not told her the whole truth. She was unlikely to investigate one of her own, regardless of her liberal copper speech. Her card was still in my pocket and I fished it out, handing it to Nan.

  ‘This de woman police yuh a tell me about?’

  ‘Yeah – the one that said she was on our side. Believe that,’ I replied with a layer of sarcasm.

  Neighbours had segued into the news and as we sat I looked at the screen, not really paying it too much attention. Then a headline for the local news caught my attention.

  ‘Nanny! Turn down the CD, man.’

  ‘Wha’?’

  ‘Look – the telly! It’s the community centre.’

  On the screen an Asian reporter was talking in the foreground while, behind her, policemen searched the area to the side of the community centre – the car park where Will and I had argued with two of Busta’s crew. The report switched to an interview and my stomach turned somersaults as I saw DI Elliot on the screen, her face downcast, a serious expression on it. I turned it up and listened, hoping that whatever had happened wasn’t connected to us in any way. The thing was, I knew deep inside that it would be. It couldn’t be just another coincidence because that would have been one too far.

  ‘. . . appealing for any information regarding this murder. The girl in question is too young to name but I can reveal that she was known locally as Claire. She may have been involved in prostitution and we believe she also had links to a local drug gang.’

  My stomach turned again and I ran out of the room into the kitchen, retching into the sink over and over. Nanny followed me and held my arms as I puked my guts out. When I stopped he guided me to the table and sat me down. I was shaking and shivering and my head was spinning.

  ‘Jus’ cool, Billy. Jus’ cool,’ said Nanny.

  There was a knock on the back door and Della came hurrying in. When she saw how pale my face was she sat down opposite me and started to rub her hands together.

  ‘You seen the telly then,’ she said matter of factly.

  I nodded and then cleared my throat. ‘Yeah – it’s her – it’s Claire. The girl who was with . . .’

  ‘Ellie? Yeah, I know. Me and Ellie have just seen the report on the news. Billy, we’re in serious shit, man.’

  ‘I know, Della.’

  ‘We gotta call the police. You still got that card?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s in the living room. Can you get it for me? And where’s Ellie?’

  ‘Next door – she’s well upset. I might get her to come round.’

  ‘That’s probably a good idea. And phone Jas and Will to warn them too.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘I’m gonna call DI Elliot.’

  ‘Wait nuh, man!’

  Della and me both turned to look at Nanny, wondering why he wanted us to wait. He was standing by the door with a serious look on his face. He came over and stood between the two of us. ‘We need to give the Babylon somethin’ to believe in nuh, man.’

  Della shrugged her shoulders, and looked at me. ‘Like what?’ she asked.

  I remembered that she didn’t know what Nanny and I knew so I filled her in on Sally’s revelations. As I spoke, Della sat and played with her hands. The longer my story went on, the more she fidgeted. It was a nervous reaction that I had seen in her before. She did it whenever she spoke about being a kid and what life with her parents had been like. She was scared. So was I.

  Nanny stood, his chest wide and his chin up. ‘Busta,’ he said in a whisper. A whisper full of menace – not normal for Nanny. He was angry. I could tell.

  ‘What you on about, Nanny?’ I asked, confused by what he meant.

  ‘I man will get de yout’ to talk,’ he replied, again in a whisper. ‘We jus’ need to find him firs’.’

  ‘We?’ Della and me spoke in unison.

  ‘Yes, we, man. Call Jas and Will – mek we go find dat bwoi.’

  ‘And then we’ll call the police?’ asked Della.

  ‘Nah, man, just give we until midnight, princess. Tell the woman police to be here by then.’

  ‘What if we don’t find Busta?’ I said. ‘And even if we do – why is he gonna come along?’

  Nanny smiled a sly smile. ‘Yuh jus’ leave dat to me, my yout’,’ he replied, his smile changing into serious intent.

  I shivered slightly. Nanny was the calmest man I knew but I had never doubted his ability to be badder than the rest. I decided that I wouldn’t swap places with Busta for a million pounds.

  Not tonight.

  twenty-nine:

  wednesday, 6.30 p.m.

  NANNY KEPT A list of important phone numbers written on the inner sleeve of a Gregory Isaac LP, Night Nurse. He had two copies of it, on vinyl rather than CD, and had pulled the one that he required from the racks of LPs in the cellar. My mum had converted the cellar – an area the same size as the ground floor and with a high ceiling – a few years earlier and it was like Nanny’s den, the place where he kept his things. He had a sound system down there, part of a bigger set that he used to take around community centres across the country when I was younger. He had been part of a Rastafarian crew called Jah Steppers and his vinyl collection was massive.

  Despite the number of records in the racks he knew exactly where everything was kept and it took him only moments to find the LP. He came back upstairs and started to ring round a few people, most of whom I didn’t know. I waited until he had finished on the phone and then I spoke to Jas and Will. Will came straight round but Jas was at kick boxing and told us he would meet us later. I said that I’d text him with our whereabouts.

  My mum got in around half-six. She had heard the report on the radio and was busy arguing with Nanny in the living room while the rest of us, minus Jas, waited in the kitchen. My mum was adamant that we had to call the police and risk the fact that they might not believe us. Her argument was that DI Elliot had already spoken to us about Claire, after Sally had been taken to hospital, and that she wasn’t stupid. She would put two and two together soon enough, if she hadn’t already.

  Nanny had explained his reasoning to her, emphasizing the point that one copper wouldn’t act on the word of a bunch of kids and a working girl. He told her that he could get Busta to talk, which was the best way to get the police to take us seriously. It wasn’t like in the movies, he said. ‘T’ings nah work so, baby,’ he told her, as she went mad.

  I was worried about them arguing but I was more concerned about Ellie. She looked scared and a couple of times I put my arm around her and tried to reassure her. She was worried that we’d get hurt going after Busta and wanted us to call the police straight away. Her parents hadn’t yet heard the news about what had happened to the young girl, Claire, and she had decided not to tell them. Not until we had sorted out what we were going to do. All they had to do was turn on the TV and they’d find out soon enough, anyway.

  For my part, I didn’t have a clue what Nanny had planned but I knew that it involved some of his contacts, the people he had phoned. I had learned a few things about Nanny over the past week or so – some of them that maybe I wish I hadn’t. I suppose we all have a history, hidden or not, but I wasn’t ab
out to hold Nanny’s against him.

  Will sat at the table, letting a cup of coffee go cold, fidgeting. I could tell that he was excited and apprehensive at the same time. I was too. The situation was reaching what my crime novel heroes would have called ‘critical mass’. Breaking point. I was scared about going after Busta without telling the police but I was also ready to help Nanny. Busta had it coming and I was angry that it had been him who had been responsible for holding Ellie captive in that horrible old house. Over something that had nothing to do with us. Livid because we had spoken to him when we were looking for her and he’d just laughed. And that didn’t even take Sally into account. Or Claire. Innocent working girls caught up in a stupid scam over money that had resulted in one of them ending up in hospital and the other one dead. I mean, how was the money worth someone’s life? No amount of money equalled the life of a person. No amount. I got myself so worked up that I lit a fag.

  ‘Them things are gonna kill you, Billy,’ said Will.

  ‘Sod it,’ I replied, looking at Della, who shook her head in disgust at me.

  ‘You ain’t being big or clever,’ she said, supporting Will. Normally it was Della and Will that were having a go at each other.

  ‘And you’ll end up smelling like an ashtray,’ added Ellie.

  ‘For f—’

  I didn’t finish my sentence, instead getting up and chucking the cigarette out of the kitchen door. The phone rang as I shut the door. I walked over to the wall where it hung and answered.

  ‘Yeah, is Nanny there?’ enquired the caller, a man whose voice could best be described as gravelly.

  ‘He’s in the other room. Who is it?’ I wasn’t in the mood to be polite.

  ‘Ronnie. Tell him it’s Ronnie Maddix.’

  I let the phone hang and wondered how and why Nanny knew the caller. Ronnie Maddix was the biggest gangster in the city. The man that was behind everything, from doormen to cocaine. His was the kind of name that made people pay up their debts and leave town. He was a nutter. I went into the living room and told Nanny who it was. As soon as I mentioned the name he let out a groan, not because of who it was, but because I had told him in front of my mum. My mum’s reaction confirmed it.