Cleaning Up

by Paul Connor-Kearns

  A couple of kids were cycling down Oak towards the court of Dwayne - again, it was the two little pricks that Sonny had brought in.

  Mac tapped his index finger a few times against the window.

  ‘See that kid in the red top?’

  ‘Sure, what about him?’

  ‘That’s the little fucker who knocked on the door with the gear for June.’

  ‘You sure?’

  That got him a look that made him regret the question.

  ‘We can bag him - see what gives.’

  Mac clapped him gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Too early yet young un, we’ll end up with just the sprat. If we get lucky he’d cough up Dwayne at the most and that will be that - it doesn’t justify all the time and the expense son.’

  He told Mac that the two kids had been friends of the boy in the skip.

  Mac nodded and chewed on his bottom lip.

  ‘See what I mean Daz, it’s a fucking jigsaw with lots of missing pieces. As my friend the Buddhist monk would say - everything is connected, or was that CI Stone? I do get the two of them confused.’

  Mac laughed to himself.

  ‘I think I need a holiday Darrin, not another night of drinking more piss in that fucking dump of a pub. That’s good intel’ though son - well done. We can use it when it’s time to give the box a shake, let’s see what pops out then eh?’

  Mac gave the vista one more look and then turned away from the window.

  ‘Anyway, I’d better get it together.’

  Darrin stayed at his post and gazed into the far distance. He’d have a chat with Sonny, see if he can get something from the kid. It was time to start putting the pressure on.

  Jess had got back to the refuge around lunch - Rob was on that shift and he’d called her into the office to give her the obligatory bollocking. She was meant to be back at ten last night. Her absence had created a fair old flap, the coppers had been called and informed that she hadn’t come home. Rob read the riot act in that strangely subdued, flat way of his, like he was reiterating a shopping list; not honouring the terms of her contract; sanctions, duty of care, grounded, last warning…blah, blah, blah. Jess had relayed a lengthy gist of it to a vaguely interested Kat, whilst he’d chilled out playing a game on his mobile. Jess looked tired and quickly headed off for a shower and a lie down. She didn’t re-emerge until teatime, which pretty much coincided with the arrival of an equally jaded looking but clearly happy Neil.

  ‘Good news pets,’ Neil told them. ‘Looks like the romance is hotting up for yours truly, he wants me to move in with him and be his little wife - bless. The two of us are going to build a love nest together.’

  Kat and Jess looked swept away by the notion but he didn’t know what the fuck to say. According to Neil the guy was some businessman and he sounded well loaded.

  ‘Yes dears, no more sharing for this little bunny - Neil and Tony for ever.’

  Neil trilled at the thought of domestic bliss and Pasquale couldn’t help but smile.

  Neil leaned over and patted Jess on her shapely thigh, ‘and you girlfriend, did Daddy D see you right?’

  Jess nodded, ‘he did, well and truly - fun weren’t it Neil?’

  ‘Hmm, it was, glad you enjoyed it love, gorgeous pad eh? That view and that spa - wonderful.’ He gave her an arch look, ‘fanny sore then love?’

  ‘Bout as sore as your arsehole, you slut.’

  Neil feigned outrage, ‘well no more of that naughty stuff for me lover girl - it’s just Mister and Mister from now on.’

  Rob called them from the lounge, ‘X-Factor kids.’

  ‘Oh that’s right,’ Neil said, ‘the recovering ice addict is auditioning tonight - can’t miss that.’

  And off they went. Fuck, Pasquale thought, they could all move when they wanted to - fags scooped up and the three of them inside in a flash to claim their favourite seats.

  Kat stopped at the slide doors and asked him if he was coming in, he thought about it, recovering ice addict? Why not - that might be summat worth looking at.

  Tuesday lunch and Wendy told him that Sonny was coming round to see him about three for a catch up - she didn’t know what for but she gave him that reassuring smile of hers, ‘not to worry pet - I’m sure it’s just a catch up call.’

  Pasquale wasn’t worried but it meant he’d have to knock back an afternoon run. He told Junior who said he do a solo and then he’d meet up with him after tea down at the mill. They could run up the Coleshaw later and get one in, no problem.

  Sonny came in pretty much on time and Wendy called Pasquale into the office. Sonny was in there waiting for him, slightly rocking back on one of the office chairs - looking at him but without that usual easy, chilled out grin of his.

  Sonny nodded to the nearest chair. Then he looked at him silently for a couple of beats.

  ‘I’m going to cut to the chase here Pasquale because the time to be fannying about is over. I’ve been hearing some worrying whispers about you lad.’

  Pasquale rubbed his hands across his eyes just to give them something to do and looked away out of the window.

  ‘Yeah?’ he replied.

  Sonny reached over and turned Pasquale’s chair until it was square with his.

  ‘Yeah. Look at me son, not out of the fucking window please. I’m taking the time to come here and talk to you, so do me the courtesy of listening, all right. You’re up the Coleshaw I hear, running with the crowd, keeping bad company the usual shit. You’ve been seen and been noted by people who can give you a lot of grief - trust me on that one.’

  Pasquale managed to keep the eye contact but he could feel himself rapidly retreating inwards.

  ‘You’ve used up a fair bit of good will already mate. I’ll list it for you; the Centre, your school, getting you in here. It’s all work you know, other peoples’ that is. Bottom line - you don’t have any cards left to play. Next step a rehab order - maybe even juvie down the line. Does that sound like that would be a good path for you, eh Pasquale?’

  Pasquale dropped his eyes and mumbled a no.

  Sonny looked at him silently.

  ‘No, well that means you do know the bottom line then. Ultimately, it’s your call young fella. Stay away from the Coleshaw, keep your nose clean and make your mum proud of you, she deserves it.’

  He bit his tongue at that one - Sonny knew fuck all about his mum - and him too for that matter.

  Later that evening, he lay on his bed and thought it over. He’d call Junior tell him he would take a break and advise Junior to maybe do the same thing.

  The next day they met at the mill and talked it through. Junior had told Dwayne yesterday straight off after his phone call. Dwayne was pissed off but savvy enough, he knew that it was better for him to get the word early. Maybe they could ship down the Barrington and, with the necessary introductions, get on to Bazzer’s crew, get something going there. But that didn’t appeal to either of them, the thought of working for that mad bastard - no way. They were fucked then, unemployed, null and void, he’d just lost his first job. Junior talked about Haringey, maybe relocating - that would be something. He wondered who’d told Sonny, maybe his mum but he doubted it.

  Sonny had caught up with him on Thursday. There was another conference coming up on the gang initiative. This one was likely to be held in a couple of month’s time but that would be a likely clash with the possible Thailand trip with Jimbo.

  Sonny finished off his steak pie and threw the wrapper into the bin. He made to stand up then sat back down.

  ‘Planning to stay are yer Sonny?’

  ‘Love to - you’ve got such a nice place, nah, joking apart I nearly forgot Tom, I had a chat with Donna’s boy a couple a days ago. I’d had confirmation, and this is from the coppers mind you, which is a bloody worry, that he and his mate are involved on the scene up on the Coleshaw, hopefully I’ve put enough of a scare into the stupid little sod to make him see sense.’

  ‘What - you say he’s been seen dealing
?’

  ‘Yep, up there most days according to that young copper er Darrin, Darrin May. Tommy raised his eyebrows at that - not many fucking degrees of separation there.

  ‘He reckons the kid dropped off some crack to an undercover cop up the Coleshaw. Well and truly playing with bloody fire he is. He’ll get swept up when they are ready - they’ve got him in their bloody sights.’

  ‘He’s been up there the last few days - yeah?’

  ‘According to our friendly plod, yeah, regular as fucking clockwork,’ Sonny looked at him quizzically. ‘Why Tom?’

  Tommy exhaled, fuck it.

  ‘Donna - she told me that she found a big wad of cash in his room. He admitted to her that he’d been running gear down to the Barrington.’

  Sonny looked at him a lot harder than he usually did. ‘Tommy! You covered for that little prick?’

  ‘Yeah - I guess I did.’

  ‘Fuck me, Tommy!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah Sonny, I know, I know.’

  This time Sonny did stand up and then he stayed on his feet, pacing the room for a full minute, imperceptibly nodding to himself as he did, working it all through.

  ‘Well good thing for the kid I warned him off then - if he pays heed to it that is.’

  ‘Sorry Sonny, I know that this puts us in an invidious position.’

  ‘Don’t know Tommy, the cops were holding back on it because of some op they’re running. This could be another way of sorting it out. Pull the kid and his mate - maybe their supplier too. I’ll have another chat with Darrin.’

  Tommy asked him the question with his eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry Tommy. I’ll say I got an anonymous phone call from a concerned citizen.’

  Tommy thanked him and Sonny clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘The things we do for love eh bro?’

  ‘Love!’ Tommy snorted, ‘more like a fucking bouquet of barbed wire.’

  Sonny looked at him, more than a little surprised at the invective.

  ‘Ah come on Tommy, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’

  Tommy nodded at him but he wasn’t too sure.

  He was seeing Donna that night. He already knew that the refuge had called and had told her about Sonny’s chat with Pasquale.

  She had seemed resolved to it all. He needed to learn, she had said, maybe it would be better if he took the fall. But, truth was he didn’t buy it, he knew that she was probably just talking the talk and he decided that he would keep the conversation with Sonny to himself.

  He’d entered the maze, he thought, passively complicit and compromised to the point of shame and, unlike Pasquale, he didn’t even have the excuse of youth.

  Darrin had taken a little time off from the Quays although Young had called to let him know that they now had all the names from the car registrations. Pillars of the community one and all; a building company owner, a textiles importer who had rumoured connections with the Saltt crew, a guy who owned a chain of hair dressing salons, a couple of money boys and a well known lawyer - wife and kids at home and firmly ensconced in the closet.

  Sonny had told him about the chat with the kid and Darrin had mixed feelings about the way it was being handled. In his opinion it was more of a break than the kid deserved, but Mac had reassured him that the kid would be nailed.

  ‘He’ll fuck up soon enough and then he’ll have to learn the hard way, do him good too, he’s an arrogant little fucker, kid or no kid. He looked at June like she was a piece of shit.’

  He was rostered on with Johno for foot patrol on the Thursday late shift. It was a warm evening and it was pretty busy around the precinct and the High Street. The pedestrianised strip was full of swarming late night shoppers and plenty of ‘get it in yer’ revellers. Then a call came through at about eight o’clock that there had been an incident down near the Barrington. Some kid had swiped a woman’s handbag just as a patrol car had turned into the street. The patrol had given chase and a house painter’s Transit, which was coming in the opposite direction had side swiped him. He was put out for the count with a shattered left leg - both the major bones well and truly fucked up.

  The kid was known to them and was thought to be one of a network of two-wheeled couriers and look outs that were operating on the Barrington. Word was quickly out about the incident and a mob of hooded youths had gathered near the Barrington shops, setting a couple of wheelie bins on fire. All units were called back quickly to the station and within half an hour there were a couple of dozen coppers up there facing them off.

  The order was to go in hard, nip it in the bud and the mob had scattered when they’d charged at them with their batons drawn. But they were up for the fight and there had been a steady return of the mob to both flanks of the assembled coppers. A few of the crowd had grabbed the wheelie bin from behind the estate’s much-loved off-licence, had tipped all the bottles out and then missiled them at the police cordon. Darrin was close to the middle of the line with Johno on his left and big Chev to his right. Most of the bottles fell short and, in the lull, Sergeant Proctor gave them the word to steam in to the bottle throwers. The Barrington lads scattered again and fell back towards the little park in front of the twin high rises. This time Proctor gave them the word to hold their position, they put the vans at both ends of the tatty shopping strip and that was pretty much that for the next three or so hours. Three hours of tension and curdled adrenaline listening to the baying profanities and threats echoing out from the park. The pricks had taken time out to mindlessly set the park’s swings on fire. A couple of community leaders and a church Minister were called up to the estate to try and calm it down. Sonny was also brought in as he had the Barrington as part of his patch as well as the Coleshaw.

  Darrin clocked Sonny in action - well and truly earning his money was our Sunil, he was up there at the playground trying to talk some reason into the young fellas. By two o’clock it had all died down, the mob had retreated into the shadows and Sonny and the responsible few had wearily beaten a track to wherever their cars were parked up. He watched the colours of the fire engine’s lights sweep and arc around the tower blocks as the fire boys did a precautionary dousing down of the melted, smouldering set of swings. It was just what the place needed - less facilities.

  Saturday and Darrin was back in for the afternoon shift, the station was busy, absolutely broiling with activity and tension. As a precaution extra bodies had been pulled in, just in case they had to deal with any more flare-ups.

  It wasn’t good news on the kid, he was still out of it and it looked like he might even lose the leg. There had been a couple of roaming packs on both of the big estates during the late morning and the early shift had already moved on groups of bad intentioned young lads from the High Street area and the Mall. Throughout the day various pillars of the community had been coming in and out of the station and the brass had had a meeting with a group of them round about noon. Sonny and his crew were out there again, trying to douse it all down but it was tense and everybody’s fingers were tightly crossed hoping that it would eventually prove to be the storm that would not find landfall.

  Within ten minutes of arriving at the station, he was back out on the streets teamed up with Johno, no time for a brew a catch up or a bull shit with his crew. They were on patrol on the High Street and before they left the station Sarge Thomas told them that, once they were out they were out. Riot teams were on stand by and it was all hands on deck. Sarge Thomas was out on the pavement too, involved in the coordination, busily keeping in contact with the teams assigned to the Coleshaw, the Barrington and the Mall. They were keeping an eye on Leeside too just in case a race element crept into it. There were still a few grudges to be settled down there.

  They had cleared away a little would be mob in the late afternoon and, according to the Sarge, it was still fairly quiet on both the Coleshaw and the Barrington. Plenty of the community were knocking about on Leeside, being seen in order to keep the peace - so nothing up there yet either. By the late afte
rnoon, the tension had begun ratcheting down slightly. Maybe the pricks had got it out of their systems the night before.

  Then the news came through about six - the kid had died. Sarge Thomas taking the call and relaying it on, the Sarge as grim as fuck, the implications etched on his face. The kid had never woken up, internal injuries too much bleeding - and gone.

  Within an hour the crowds up on the Coleshaw and the Barrington had re-gathered. A few burning bins and the usual goading - the lads stationed up there were holding back this time, they were worried that they didn’t have the numbers to take them front on.

  The centre seemed OK, though they had taken the precaution of getting the riot gear on, but the mob they’d cleared away hadn’t returned and it was now just the usual Friday night piss up crowd. Families, shoppers, business owners and their staff were all out of there as per usual by teatime. Then, in the blink of an eye, there they were. Darrin scoped fifty or so of the fuckers coming south from the top end of the by-pass. They were holding back, animatedly gathered at the top of end of the High Street, malevolently marking time about three hundreds yards away from their positions.

  The Friday night crowd were now glancing nervously up the street - that mob looked like nobody’s idea of a good time. Darrin saw the owners of Piccolos approaching Sergeant Thomas for a quick word, both men looking anxious. After a briefing from the Sarge they quickly headed off to their bar and a minute later they were pulling the shutters down over the bar windows and shooing out their compliant early bird customers.