Brotherhood of Blades

by Linda Regan

  One memory still haunted him: his mother’s screams when they dropped a lighted cigarette down her cleavage. When her trembling hands couldn’t locate it, Jason had rushed out from hiding and poured a jug of water over her. The dealers repaid him by smashing his seven-year-old head into the door before they left.

  He and his mum had spent the next hour cooling her burnt flesh with cold water. The only thing that relieved the pain was an injection of heroin. It was dodgy – another punishment from her dealer – and she fell into a deep coma. Jason called Gran Sals at work and she told him to ring 999. The ambulance got hijacked on its way into the estate, the paramedics were tied up and robbed, and by the time the emergency service sent a replacement, his mum was dead.

  That night taught Jason that the man with the money and the gun makes the rules. He determined then that it would be him. And as he grew up, and one friend after another got shot or bled to death from stab wounds for disrespecting another gang, he learned another lesson: you have to make your own luck; no one gives you a chance. The only thing that made his life worthwhile was Chantelle and their dream of becoming dancers. How he regretted not taking her with him on Friday. Luanne and Alysha too, before Alysha went bad.

  ‘Jason?’ Georgia’s voice again. ‘What’s going on? Why are you dawdling? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ It came out numbly. ‘I’m on my way.’

  The place was still crawling with Feds; for the moment he was safe. He heard Dawes’s voice in his ear. ‘We’re not coming any closer at the moment. When you locate Stuart Reilly we’ll move in. The police inside the estate are watching out for you. You’re safe, and we can hear you breathe.’

  People were beginning to notice him. The jungle drums were starting to bang: Expect trouble, Jason Young is back.

  ‘I’m going to Luanne’s first,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m going to warn her and Alysha to stay indoors.’

  ‘Tell them to lock themselves in,’ Georgia said.

  As Jason walked on toward the Sparrow block he became aware that the groups of two and three people watching him walk brazenly through their estate were growing into sixes and sevens. Uniformed police also began to gather in groups.

  ‘Jungle drums,’ Jason said quietly.

  ‘We can be with you in seconds,’ Dawes assured him. ‘But we need Reilly to say he gave the word on the murders; we need three confessions. Got it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  But Jason had stopped listening. He was weighing up the possibility of getting a gun and taking Yo-Yo out himself, and to hell with the consequences. He could knock at Luanne’s, and write down that he needed a gun or a shank. She knew where to go; she’d get it in minutes for him. Then he could take the bastard by surprise. He liked the idea of Yo-Yo rotting in prison, but the truth was he didn’t trust the Feds not to cock up. What did they know about estates and gang life?

  He walked toward the stairwell at the back of Sparrow block, heading toward Luanne’s flat on the thirteenth floor. His stomach churned as he reached the walkway and saw the cordons around the door. This was where Chantelle met her fate.

  Alysha answered his knock. She looked terrible. Her eyes were swollen and some of her hair extensions were loose at the root. Her dark skin was uneven and blotchy with reddish welts across it, as if it had been scrubbed with a stiff brush. Her legs wobbled, and she put out a hand to support herself on the door frame. He said nothing. He wasn’t giving the Feds more than he had to.

  Luanne’s voice sounded from inside. ‘Alysha, I told you not to open the . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she appeared in the hallway. She threw her good arm around Jason and hugged him hard.

  ‘We thought you’d been arrested,’ she said.

  ‘I got bail. How’s your arm?’

  She lifted her bandage. ‘It hurts like hell, but I got off lightly.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t believe Chantelle’s never coming home.’

  Her cheekbone was distorted and swollen, and the shiny mauve bruise under her right eye was new. Alysha too was in worse shape than when he had last seen her, but she hadn’t lost the attitude.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he asked, stepping over the threshold without waiting for a reply. ‘You look rough,’ he said as Alysha pushed the door closed. ‘Did they hurt you too?’

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked warily. ‘Yo-Yo will have you killed if he sees you.’

  ‘Alysha, tell me. Did they hurt you?’

  ‘Yo-Yo’s just had sex with her,’ Luanne said in an offhand tone. ‘It hurts for a bit the first time. She needs to rest.’

  Jason blinked. Alysha was twelve. That was it; the Feds could go whistle, he was taking that bastard out himself.

  ‘Come on, Jason, you know the score,’ Luanne said wearily. ‘Chantelle and I lost the stash of drugs we were holding for him, so we owe three times their value. He’s decided he wants Alysha earning for him on the streets. It’s either that, or more beatings until I pay the debt.’

  ‘Luanne, she’s a kid!’

  Luanne put her good hand to her forehead. ‘I can’t take this no more. We’re shitting ourselves. He’s killed Chantelle, and he’ll be back for us. We owe him big time.’ She turned away. ‘We are way in his debt, man, and it’s all down to Haley. She flushed the stash.’

  ‘Is that why he had Haley killed?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘I want to do it,’ Alysha butted in, flicking her plaits like a thirty-year-old diva. ‘I want to go on the street and earn. I wanted to lose my cherry. I wanted Mince to do it, but he wouldn’t.’ She pouted. ‘But Yo-Yo stuck it up me, and it bloody hurt.’

  Jason felt an urge to cry. She actually sounded pleased with herself. She was going wrong in a big way, and there was no one to stop her.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’ he asked her. ‘Apart from . . . you know?’

  She shrugged bravely. ‘Yeah, a bit.’

  ‘But that’s Yo-Yo,’ Luanne added.

  Jason looked Luanne in the eye. For the first time he was delighted that he was wearing the wire. ‘She’s twelve years old,’ he said. ‘They call it statutory rape. Where I’ve just been, guys get cut up for that.’

  Luanne pulled a face. ‘Like anyone cares.’

  ‘I care. Where is the bastard?’

  ‘He’s sorting Mince out, for disobeying him and not doing Alysha.’

  ‘I wanted to do it,’ Alysha protested. ‘I can go and earn money for us now. And it’s none of your business.’

  Jason ignored her. ‘Where? Where is he sorting Mince out?’

  ‘In his mum’s flat, ground floor of Eagle block. Why? Are you going to take them all on single-handed?’ Luanne asked. ‘Face it, man, Yo-Yo rules around here. Don’t get yourself killed over something you can’t do nothing about.’

  Jason put his hand on Luanne’s good arm. ‘Chantelle’s dead,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t really care if I get myself killed. But he ain’t getting away with this, and he ain’t gonna hurt you two no more. When we’re done with this you’re both coming away with me.’ He looked across at Alysha. ‘Where did you get the shank you gave me on Saturday?’

  ‘Mince gave it me. I’m his Younger, and I’ve done good.’

  ‘And the gun? Where did you get the gun you put in the shed?’

  Luanne shrugged. ‘I got it from them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘What’s got into you?’ Luanne demanded. ‘You know who.’

  Jason sighed softly. ‘I need you to say it.’

  Alysha’s chocolate-coloured eyes widened. ‘Hey, are you in with the Feds or something?’ She blinked, and he knew she had him sussed. ‘He’s wearing a wire,’ she said to her sister. ‘He didn’t get bail. He’s got no money.’

  Alysha was the brightest and most streetwise of them all, Jason reflected ruefully. He nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Careful,’ said Georgia’s voice in his ear.

  ‘Is that why they let you out, so you’d grass for them?’ Luanne asked.

  ‘
I’m gonna bring the Brotherhood down,’ he told her. ‘You’ll never have to be scared again.’

  ‘I ain’t scared,’ Alysha said. ‘I’m going on the streets, and when I’ve got my own money I’ll run the drug business and really earn. I’ll be running this estate one day, and I’ll be rich. Tell that into your wire.’

  ‘I’m taking you away from here,’ Jason told her. ‘We’re gonna find a better life.’

  ‘You’re really scaring me now,’ Luanne said, pushing him towards the door. ‘Get out of here, will you? I ain’t gonna take the rap for you being a grass.’

  ‘Drugs ain’t good news,’ he said to Alysha. ‘They catch up with you, and take you down. Either that or you get sent down. Let me tell you, prison is not fun. It’s cold and lonely and scary.’ He looked at them, aware his words were falling on deaf ears. He tried to lighten his tone. ‘You don’t deserve to end up there, but if you carry on working the streets and selling crack for Yo-Yo, that’s what will happen.’ He hesitated. ‘That’s if Yo-Yo don’t get you first.’

  Luanne was looking nervously at Alysha. She was getting the message. He carried on.

  ‘Look at what he’s done to you – your arm and your face.’

  He could see Luanne was trying to hide her fear.

  ‘I’ve lost my mum, my gran, and now Chantelle. You’re all I’ve got left. I’m not going to lose you.’

  Luanne raised her voice. ‘Will you get outa here!’

  ‘Yo-Yo’s not in a good mood,’ Alysha said as he opened the door and came face to face with the cordons that marked the place Chantelle died. ‘He’s got his dogs down there to sort Mince out.’

  ‘You’re doing well,’ Georgia said as Jason walked back down the stairs. ‘We can already arrest Reilly for sex with a minor. But you still have to get him to hold his hands up to the three murders. We’ve moved on to the estate. You won’t see us, but we’re within eyeball of the Eagle block.’

  ‘There are dogs in there,’ Dawes said. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘The dogs scare me more than Yo-Yo,’ Jason said, heading for the rubbish-strewn pathway that led to the Eagle block. As he turned up the hood of his sweatshirt against the piercing wind, the sound of barking halted him. There were voices too, raised and angry.

  ‘That’s Yo-Yo,’ Jason said quietly.

  ‘Second flat along. No lights on, but they’re in there. Knock on the door.’

  Jason hesitated. How he wished he was holding a gun.

  ‘We’re right here,’ Georgia assured him. ‘And CO19 are on standby. We just need to hear him say that he authorized the killings, and we’ll come straight in. End of.’

  ‘Yeah, end of my life.’

  Jason took a deep breath and walked down the path.

  The front door opened before he had time to knock. Yo-Yo stood in the doorway. His dark T-shirt was stained with perspiration, and other stains marked the front of his jeans.

  ‘So. The snake crawls back.’ Yo-Yo crossed his tattooed arms. ‘I heard you were around.’ His dark, cropped hair stood erect, making the veins in his temples look more prominent. His eyes bored into Jason’s.

  If Jason had had a knife, he would have stabbed him right there. He wanted to shoot him between the eyes and kick him in the bollocks as he lay bleeding on the ground. But with neither knife nor gun, he had no choice but to play it out as he’d been told.

  ‘You’ve got front, I’ll give you that,’ Reilly said. ‘You’re on my territory. What d’you want?’

  ‘You put my girl on the streets, after you gave her a taste for the brown. And you beat her to death this morning.’

  ‘Your girl?’ Yo-Yo said. One side of his cruel mouth slid into a humourless smile. ‘She wanted drugs.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘A habit has to be paid for, and she was fuckable. I tried her out to be sure, then I sent her out to earn.’

  Jason’s eyes searched around for weapon: a stick or a piece of broken glass, anything. He was going to give this bastard a beating, no matter what the consequences. There was a piece of concrete like a small rock within his reach; he took a step toward it.

  ‘Steady.’ Georgia’s voice in his ear halted him. ‘Don’t lose it. You’re doing well.’

  A crowd had started to gather. Word had gone round that two rival gang leaders were facing up, and everyone wanted to see who would come out alive.

  That half-smile still played on Reilly’s face and his hand stroked his pocket. He was tooled.

  ‘You had my gran shot too. Why d’you do that?’

  Yo-Yo raised a hand. ‘Don’t pin that one on me, sonny. You did it yourself.’

  Jason swallowed hard. Yo-Yo pushed open the door of the flat. ‘If you got a bone to pick, come inside. And leave the stone where it is. My dogs don’t like no one having a pop at me.’

  The snarling and barking grew louder as Jason approached. He stopped. ‘I ain’t going in there.’

  ‘If they bother you I’ll lock them up.’

  ‘I don’t trust you. I ain’t going in there.’

  ‘Like you got a choice. You wanna talk to me, you come inside. Out here there’s too many ears.’

  Jason hesitated.

  ‘Go ahead,’ said David Dawes’s voice. ‘We’re within yards of you.’

  ‘You get a five-minute truce,’ Yo-Yo said, turning towards the building. ‘After that, you’re off my territory, or you leave in a box.’

  Jason followed him inside.

  Yo-Yo kicked the door shut and pulled out a revolver. ‘In there!’ He pushed Jason into the kitchen. Jason stumbled over Mince Delahaye, who lay bleeding and barely conscious on the floor.

  Jason knelt down beside him. ‘You need to call someone,’ he said. ‘You’ve shanked him and he’s bleeding hard. He could be dying.’

  ‘That ain’t none of your fuckin’ business,’ came the reply. A kick from Yo-Yo’s steel-capped boot knocked him to one side.

  Jason looked cautiously round to check for an escape route. There was none. Winston ‘Scrap’ Mitchell stood in the doorway with two Rottweilers, which looked ready to tear into someone as soon as he gave the word. In the hallway another Brotherhood member held a flat-headed dog, which was trying to pick a fight with Scrap’s two. He kicked it in the balls until its eyes moved so far into its head that only the whites were visible.

  Terror suddenly seized Jason. If these dogs attacked him, his dancing career would be over before it began.

  Yo-Yo’s menacing smile had spread.

  ‘He needs an ambulance,’ Jason repeated, jerking his head at Mince.

  Yo-Yo folded his arms. ‘Now see, you’re like your gran. She wouldn’t have it that I make the fucking rules.’ The smile disappeared as fast as it had come. ‘I say who gets punished, and I say who gets an ambulance. Got it? Mince has been punished, and you’re gonna be next. But you know all that, don’t you, Buzzboy?’

  The dogs were still spoiling for a fight. One word from Yo-Yo and his throat would be torn out. Question was, would the Feds realize how much danger he was in, or would they only go in when he got them their evidence? Was this the end of the line for him?

  ‘I ain’t a Buzzboy,’ he said quietly. ‘I ain’t running the Buzzards no more.’

  ‘None of them to run, my old son.’ Yo-Yo cocked the gun and pointed it at Jason’s face. ‘Those that ain’t been shot are serving time. Ain’t that the truth, Buzzboy?’

  ‘You gave me your word,’ Jason said. ‘A five-minute truce.’ He dropped his head a little closer to the mike inside his vest. ‘You don’t need to point a gun at me.’

  ‘He’s got a firearm,’ he heard Georgia’s voice. ‘Make the CO19 call. I want the building surrounded.’

  Dawes’s voice spoke in his ear. ‘Hold it together. Push him on the murders.’

  The dogs had started fighting, and hair and flesh was flying. The gun bothered Jason less than the snarling animals; they were seriously unnerving him.

  Yo-Yo kicked out at one of them. ‘Shut your fucking noise.’ Th
e dog leaned on his front paws and whimpered, then eased itself down on to the carpet and became quiet.

  Jason leaned over Mince again to check his wound. ‘This is bad, man,’ he said. ‘What did he do to deserve it?’

  ‘None of your fucking business,’ came the reply.

  Jason persisted. ‘Why did you stab Haley?’

  Yo-Yo opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Mince struggled to raise himself to a sitting position. His hand clutched the bleeding wound in his stomach and he spoke with difficulty. ‘I want my mum, you hear what I say now?’

  Jason had seen more knife wounds in his time than he wanted to remember: enough to know that this one was serious. Mince might have been a rival gang member, but right now he was a vulnerable boy who needed help.

  ‘Man, that needs seeing to,’ he urged Yo-Yo.

  ‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’ Yo-Yo shouted, moving toward him with the gun pointing at his belly. ‘What are you, some sort of reformed freak?’ He grabbed the front of Jason’s sweatshirt and hauled him to his feet. Then he froze as the penny dropped.

  Yo-Yo slowly raised his eyes and looked Jason in the eye. After a second that seemed like an eternity, he said quietly to Boot Ripley, ‘Hold his hands. He’s wired.’

  He laid the gun on the kitchen table and pulled a knife from his pocket, holding Jason’s eyes with his own. Jason waited, still as a statue.

  Yo-Yo used the edge of the knife to lift the hem of Jason’s sweatshirt and the T-shirt underneath. The cold steel prickled against Jason’s bare skin and Jason fought not to flinch. Yo-Yo’s lips widened into an ugly sneer. He turned the knife so the sharp edge touched Jason’s chest, then pressed it against his heart, where the wire was secured with duct tape. Jason closed his eyes, counting the seconds of life he had left.

  The pressure eased and there was a sound like a zip opening. He opened his eyes to see Yo-Yo slowly run the knife from the tail of his T-shirt right up to his neck. The thick black tape was now in full view.

  The knife cut into the wire and a warm dribble of blood rolled down Jason’s stomach. His life was in Yo-Yo Reilly’s hands.

  ‘He’s found the mike,’ Dawes whispered to Georgia.