by Kerry Kaya
“Brandy, no ice.”
Taking the brandy, Danny took a sip, enjoying the kick to the back of his throat. “Cheers, I needed that.” With both Tommy and Jimmy in front of him, he was reminded once again of how alike the two brothers were—how alike all the Carter boys were.
Silently, he studied Tommy, his mind beginning to race. Gulping at the brandy, he placed the empty glass down on the bar. “Sorry, mate, I’ve got to go. I’ve just remembered I need to be somewhere.”
“What? You’ve only just got here.” To say that Tommy was astounded was an understatement.
“Sorry, mate, I’ve got to go.” As fast as he could, Danny walked from the pub. Outside in the car park, he blew out his cheeks. He knew he’d seen the kid from the Underground Club before. He looked back toward the pub and wiped his hand across his face. He was Tommy Carter’s son.
Climbing into his car, Danny sat there for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. “What the fuck?” he muttered underneath his breath. He started the ignition and sped out of the car park. He needed to speak to Moray, and fast.
* * *
“No way.” Sat behind his own desk above Ritzy’s nightclub, Moray shook his head.
“I’m telling you, Moray, that kid at the club is Tommy Carter’s boy.” With his hands placed down on the desk, Danny looked Moray in the eyes. “I told you I’d seen him somewhere before.”
“Yeah, but Tommy’s son? I just don’t believe it, mate.” He threw up his arms. “You know how much of a tight rein he holds over those boys. There’s absolutely no way one of them could be involved in something like this.”
Danny began to pace the office; he stabbed his finger in Moray’s direction. “You know how much Freddie loathed Tommy. He would have got a kick out of having one of his boys. It would have been the ultimate punch in the gut.”
“But even so,” Moray paused, screwing up his face as he did so, “I just can’t see it. How would he have even lured the boy into it in the first place?”
“The same way he lured the others, I suppose.” Danny spat out the words.
“Nah, the others are all runaways, street kids. Tommy Carter’s boy already has money, and he has a home, remember?”
“Well, I don’t fucking know.” Danny threw up his hands. “But what I do know, is that that kid is definitely Jake Carter.” He took note of the expression across Moray’s face and pulled the sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “Look, JC,” he said, tapping his finger against the name that had been written down by Matty Payne. “JC, otherwise known as Jake Carter.”
Moray sighed. “I dunno, Danny. It could just be a coincidence.”
“C’mon, Moray. You know full fucking well it’s no coincidence. The Carters are all walking clones of one another, and I know what I saw.”
“All right, so if this kid is Tommy Carter’s son, what do we do about it, eh? Do you wanna be the one to tell Tommy that his son is parading around a stage looking like a fucking bird? And God knows what else he is getting up to behind closed doors, because I know I certainly fucking don’t.” Moray watched Danny’s reaction closely. “No, I didn’t think so. So, what do you suggest we do with this information?”
Slumping down into the seat, Danny chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I dunno. Find the kid, put the fear of Christ into him and drag him home by his fucking hair if we have to.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Moray stated, his tone serious. “We have to find the little bugger first.”
* * *
For a whole week, Jake Carter had been on the missing list. Worried sick, Sadie looked around the club. It could be no coincidence that Ronald Browning hadn’t stepped foot inside the venue either.
Winding his way around the tables, Sadie stopped to chat to the customers. Perching himself on the edge of the tables, he allowed the slit of his sequined dress to reveal a flash of thigh. With a smile plastered across his face, he dropped Jake’s name into conversation, hoping against hope that the boy had been seen, maybe at one of the other clubs. To his dismay, no one had seen head, nor tail of him—only heightening Sadie’s concern.
Deep in thought, Sadie made his way toward the bar. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, but ordered himself a whiskey and cola all the same. If he was going to turn up at Ronald’s apartment unannounced, then he was going to need the alcohol for Dutch courage.
He gulped at the alcohol and swallowed it down quickly. “I’ll have another,” he instructed the barman. Lifting the filled glass toward his lips, Sadie paused. From the corner of his eye, he watched two men enter the club—the same two men the boy had initially ran away from.
Watching as they manoeuvred their way around the tables, Sadie silently slipped off of the stool and out of the club. Whatever it was the boy had got himself involved with, he took a wild guess that it was something not only big, but dangerous. It didn’t enter his head that they could be there to take him home.
* * *
Filled with misery, Karen Carter had consumed enough chocolate ice cream to sink a ship. Curled up on the sofa, she dabbed at her tears with the cuff of her sweater. Jack’s absence had hit her hard, and listening to love songs on the stereo only heightened her pain.
She switched off the stereo and stretched her arms above her head lazily. She sat up and immediately slumped forward on the leather chesterfield. She felt drained, emotionally and physically drained.
She heard her parents arriving home and screwed up her face. She hated her father more than ever.
“You okay, Kal?” Throwing his jacket across the back of the sofa, Tommy gave his daughter a warm smile.
Gathering up the empty ice cream container and spoon, Karen ignored her father’s question.
“Kal, I asked you a question. Are you’re okay?” Tommy repeated.
“Oh, just fuck off, Dad.” Rushing past her father, Karen ran up the staircase to her bedroom.
“Oi,” he called after her. “I’m trying to make amends here.” She could hear her mother placating him and smiled to herself. He deserved to feel as miserable as she did.
Sinking onto the bed, Karen grabbed up her mobile phone. Holding her breath, she switched it on, hoping more than anything to see a message or missed call from Jack. There was nothing.
She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the phone with tears in her eyes. There was just one thing for it. She would have to go and see him, she decided. She would get herself dolled up and just turn up at his house. The worst that could happen was that he might slam the door in her face, and if he did do that, then he certainly couldn’t make her feel any more miserable than she already felt.
Happier than she’d felt in just over a week, Karen climbed into bed. Sleep didn’t come easy that night. She was too busy planning out the perfect outfit to wear.
Chapter 8
Sat parked outside Tommy Carter’s house, Danny and Moray were deep in thought.
“I don’t like this,” Moray stated.
“And you think that I do?” Danny puffed out his cheeks. “I’ve known Tommy for a long time, and not just as a business associate. I’ve even been to his family parties.” He looked across at the wrought iron gates. “We have to tell him. We’ve looked everywhere for the fucking kid, and he’s nowhere to be found. He could be dead for all we know.”
Unclipping his seatbelt, Moray opened the car door. “Well, come on then, mate. There’s only one way to find out. Let’s get this over and done with, and go and break the bad news.”
Danny followed suit. Climbing out of the car, he looked over at the iron gates for a second time. He felt sick to his stomach and could only imagine how he would feel if the shoe were on the other foot and it was Tommy coming to tell him something about his own boy, Little Danny. “This is gonna kill him.”
Moray nodded his head. His finger hovered over the entry call system. “Of course it will,” he answered.
* * *
Tommy opened the front door with a flourish. Taken aback to see the two men
on his doorstep, he quickly composed himself. “Come in, come in,” he grinned.
“Tommy.” Danny clasped his friend’s hand in his.
“So, what do I owe this pleasure?” All smiles, Tommy went on to shake Moray’s hand.
“We need to have a little chat, mate.”
“Well, come on through.” Intrigued, Tommy put out his hand, indicating for the men to walk through to the lounge.
Shaking his head, Danny cleared his throat. “Not here, somewhere private, Tommy.”
Warily, Tommy stared at the two men. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up. The two men, turning up at his home, unannounced, had all the markings of a hit.
“What’s this about?” he asked with trepidation in his voice. Aware that Stacey was also at home, he glanced nervously toward the kitchen. Would they hurt her, too?
“We need to have a chat, Tommy.” It was Moray who answered. “So, shall we go somewhere private?”
Reluctantly, Tommy led the way toward his office. He opened the door and indicated for the men to enter. “Take a seat. Can I get you both a drink?” His voice remained calm and composed, despite the panic that began to fill him.
Both Moray and Danny shook their heads, refusing the offer of a drink. They were keen to get down to business, and even keener to get back out of the house.
“So?” Tommy took a seat behind the desk. He opened out his arms. “What’s this all about?” For the first time since the men had arrived, he sensed their discomfort. It did nothing to erase his own fears. He himself had felt uncomfortable committing the murders of the four men at Danny’s request. “Well?” he asked, looking from Danny to Moray. “I’m not gonna lie to you, you’re both starting to make me feel more than a little bit nervous now.”
It was Danny who spoke. “Tommy, I’ve known you for a very long time.” He gave a small smile and paused, almost losing his nerve to continue. He then cleared his throat. “As you know, we’ve been looking for the people involved with Freddie.”
Tommy clasped his hand over his mouth. The colour drained from his face. “Please don’t tell me you’ve uncovered one of my brothers?” he asked, his tone sombre.
Danny shook his head.
Exhaling loudly, Tommy gave a smile of relief. “Thank fuck for that.”
“It’s worse than that, mate.” It was Moray who spoke.
“What do you mean? What could be any worse than that?”
“Your boy,” Danny said, getting straight to the point. “We went to a club in Soho, and your Jake was there.” He shifted his weight in the chair. The worst part was yet to come. “He was wearing next to nothing and prancing about on the stage. I don’t think you need us to spell out what type of club it was, seeing as Freddie was involved.”
Tommy visibly paled. He narrowed his eyes and gripped onto the mahogany desk tightly, his fingertips turning a deathly shade of white. “Did you just say my Jake?” he asked, hoping, praying more than anything that he hadn’t heard the man right.
Danny nodded his head. “I’m so sorry, mate, but we thought you needed to know.” He glanced across to Moray for confirmation. “If it was one of our boys, we’d want to know.”
“No.” Tommy began to laugh. Even to his own ears, it sounded higher than usual. “You’ve made a mistake.” He screwed up his face. “My boy ain’t nothing like that.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Danny rested his forearms on his knees. “It’s no mistake, Tommy. I saw him myself, as plain as day.”
“No.” Tommy continued to shake his head. His mind felt fuzzy and he was finding it difficult to not only concentrate on what they were saying, but to breathe. “I’m telling you now, whoever you saw, was not my boy.” He stabbed his finger toward his friend of twenty years. “Like I just said, you’ve made a mistake. My boy ain’t no fucking pervert.”
Danny shook his head sadly. “I wish that I could say I had made a mistake,” he said, slipping a scrap of paper with the address of the club scrawled across it onto the desk. “But as I said, I know who I saw, and he recognised me, too. In fact, he bolted from the stage as soon as I called out to him.”
Visibly shaken, Tommy was unable to get his head around this revelation. His whole body felt numb. He staggered to his feet, desperate to breathe some air into his lungs.
“I don’t know how he did it, but Freddie must have got to him somehow,” Danny called out to Tommy’s retreating back.
“I think you need to leave,” Tommy managed to utter. Flinging open the office door, he walked unsteadily out of the room and came to stand beside the staircase. He clung onto the oak banister rails, his head bowed, taking deep breaths. Not one of his kids, not his boy.
In that instant, an image of Jake’s face flashed inside his mind’s eye. In the pit of his stomach, an anger he had never even known he was capable of began to grow. Within seconds, it had consumed him. He punched and kicked at the hallway door, oblivious to the damage he was causing. Finally, he collapsed in a heap on the stairs, and holding his head in his hands, he began to sob.
Instinctively, he knew that what they were saying was true. They wouldn’t have taken the decision to turn up at his house lightly. He knew these men, knew how their minds worked, knew how much they would have agonised over telling him something so devastating.
“Tommy.” Concerned, Danny crouched down beside him. “I’m so sorry, mate. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” He didn’t expect an answer and when Moray gripped hold of his shoulder, he straightened up. “We’ll see ourselves out, mate.”
With heavy hearts, the men left the house. The sound of Tommy Carter’s sobs echoed in their ears.
* * *
Seated once again in his car, Danny stared across at Tommy’s house. “Well, that was fucking tough.”
Moray nodded his head. There were no words to express the pain they knew Tommy Carter would be going through. His thoughts went to his own two sons and unborn child. “We should have topped Freddie ourselves all those years ago when we had the chance.”
Danny started the ignition. With one final glance toward the wrought iron gates, he eased the gear into first. “Tell me something I don’t already fucking know,” he growled.
* * *
Stacey took one look at the damaged hallway door and her mouth fell open. “What the fuck, Tommy?” she cried, rushing forward. “What on earth has happened?”
Tommy tried to speak and swallowed down the hard lump in his throat. “You don’t need to know, Stace,” he said, swiping his fingertips across his tear-stricken eyes.
“But.” Stunned, Stacey turned back to the splintered wooden frame. “What the bleeding hell have you done to my door?”
Clambering to his feet, Tommy walked purposely toward his office. “I said, you don’t need to know, now back off, Stace.”
A shiver of fear ran down Stacey’s spine as she chased after her husband. She’d seen a look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a long time. She stood beside the open office door and eyed him cautiously. “What are you looking for?”
“Get out.” Rummaging through his desk drawers, Tommy pulled out a mountain of paperwork and threw it across the room, in his haste to lay his hands on what it was he was searching for. At the bottom of the drawer was a concealed compartment, and it was here that he kept his firearm. “I said, get out,” he roared.
With wide eyes, Stacey backed out of the room. It was too late. She had already seen what it was he had been hunting for. She held her breath as she watched him from the safe distance of the hallway. “What are you going to do?” Her voice came out in a mere whisper.
“What am I going to do?” Tommy looked up. His eyes were devoid of any emotion. He pocketed the scrap of paper Danny had left for him. “I’m gonna kill them, all of them, that’s what I’m gonna fucking do.”
* * *
With a duster in one hand, Lillian began polishing the glass and chrome desk that took centre stage in the strip club’s reception
. She was proud of what her and Mad Dog had achieved. Not only was the club spotlessly clean, it was classy, too.
She returned the duster to the little cleaning box she kept underneath the desk, picked up her cigarettes and lighter, and made her way outside the club.
Inhaling smoke deep into her lungs, she looked up and down the street. As usual for this time of evening, Soho was bustling with people. The warm weather seemed to bring people out, and as result, the club would be heaving as night descended, exactly how she liked it.
Finishing her cigarette, she threw the butt to the floor and ground it out underneath her high-heeled shoe.
About to return inside to the reception, the sound of a car screeching to a halt outside the club caught her attention. Immediately, she recognised the car. It was Tommy’s. A wide smile creased her face as she watched him climb out. It wasn’t unusual for the younger man to randomly turn up, and he often joked that he did it to keep them on their toes.
“Hello, darling,” she called out. The smile quickly slipped from her face. Everything about him was wrong, from his stance, to the way he marched toward the club.
“Where’s Mad Dog?” he barked.
“In the office.” She watched him storm inside the club and chewed on her bottom lip as she returned to her usual spot behind the desk. There was trouble brewing. She’d bet her life on it.
* * *
Storming through the club, Tommy had a face like thunder. He flung open the office door and without even looking across to Mad Dog, he began tearing apart the office.