by Martina Cole
‘Well, when you put it like that . . .’
The two men laughed together, but they both knew they now had an understanding.
Chapter Sixty-one
Dicky Matthews was frightened. He wasn’t sure why he was being interrogated in a backstreet boozer off the Railton Road in Brixton, but it felt like Diana and her entourage expected him to provide the answers they were looking for. He could only hope that he had them. What the fuck could they possibly want from him that warranted this kind of private meeting?
His family connections had always ensured he could carry on pretty much how he wanted, and that suited him. But he was more than aware that it didn’t extend as far as the Davis family. Diana smiled, and Dicky had to admit that, even at her advanced age, she still looked fucking good for it. He wouldn’t kick her out of bed, if he was that way inclined, which – thank the Lord – he wasn’t. But he adored women, especially strong ones. And strength was in the way Diana carried herself.
His mother was much younger, but she had given up on her figure years ago. He had tried to help her, but it was a pointless exercise. She had no interest whatsoever in keeping herself smart and well groomed. Her life was all about fried food and fucking soaps. He loved her – she was his mum – but he wished she had a bit of nous about her. Still she was what she was and he couldn’t change that – God knows, he had tried.
When he looked at Diana, he couldn’t help but be impressed. She really did take care of herself, always dressed well, had a good figure, and her legs were still worth a second look. She wore heels, and that impressed him. She was everything that he would love his old mum to be.
‘Earth to fucking Dicky!’
Diana’s voice was loud, and he realised that he had been off in his own world; that was one of the after-effects of the MDMA. It always got him thinking deeply about everything when he was coming down.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. I was just thinking . . . well, to be honest, I was admiring your outfit. You are always so well turned out.’
Diana knew that the boy was actually telling the truth. He was coming down hard, and that worked in her favour, so she topped up his whiskey.
‘Well, thank you, I will take that as a compliment. Now let’s have a drink and a chat, and then you can be on your merry way.’
They clinked glasses and both took a deep mouthful of the Jameson’s. Dicky was feeling more relaxed now, and it was evident.
Diana went for the kill: ‘So who’s the little queen you are often with? What’s her name? Sharina?’
Dicky was suddenly enlightened. Oh, this was going to be easy! He couldn’t understand why he had ever been worried. He could clear this up in no time.
‘Actually her real name is not Sharina, believe it or not.’
Diana rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion and said jokingly, ‘Fucking hell, Dicky, you think?’
Dicky chose to ignore the sarcasm, and instead he said seriously, ‘His real name is Michael Greenberg and his family are right proper Jews. You can imagine what they must think of him, can’t you? But I can tell you, until today, I have never had any reason to think he is anything other than a pretty boy. He isn’t what you would call a candidate for MENSA, if you know what I’m saying. He is a fuck buddy and, believe me, having a serious conversation with him would be like pulling teeth.’
Diana had a feeling that Dicky was telling the truth. Or at least he thought it was the truth anyway. So the only other scenario was that this little love was working for somebody else. Maybe they needed to talk to him themselves – especially as he was apparently related to the Greenberg family. Now that was a revelation. It was something she needed to think about, and she also needed to talk to her son about it.
She’d had her dealings with Solly Greenberg over the years, but she had never even heard a whisper about this son of his, and that in itself bothered her. It was what her old man would have called a melon scratcher all right. Like her son, Diana had a sense there was something going on that needed to be investigated.
It just didn’t feel right.
Chapter Sixty-two
‘Oh, would you just let it go, Angus, and see this for what it is? We are on the same page, for fuck’s sake. I think that is a compliment to both of us.’
Angus wasn’t in the least impressed with his mother’s interference. More so because he knew she could only have been told about the situation by Roy.
Diana poured three large Scotches and, passing a glass each to Gabriel and Angus, she said earnestly, ‘All right, son, I hold my hand up. I keep an eye on you, because that is what mothers do. I always have. You have two boys of your own now, and believe me, Angus, you will be as bad as I am, if not fucking worse. The thought of anyone hurting them, even with words, feels like you are personally harmed yourself. That need to protect never leaves you, and that is how it should be.’
As much as she had annoyed him, Angus understood what his mother was saying to him. He would murder for his sons – and he would do it joyfully, to make sure they were taken care of – but her actions still irked him.
‘For fuck’s sake, Mum, I run all these businesses – not just here, but in Spain too. You stepping in like this makes me look like a fucking amateur, like I need my mum to do my fighting for me. What am I, seven?’
Diana sighed. She knew what he was saying was right – she should have brought him in on her plan – but, in fairness, they still didn’t know if there even was a situation to deal with yet.
She said as much. ‘Look, there’s nothing to say that this is even viable. We are both relying on our shit-detectors. I wanted to have a nose and see what the score is. I promise if there had been anything to tell you then you would have been the first to know.’
Angus shook his head angrily. ‘I know that Roy reports to you, and I get that, I do. But he should have left me to sort this out. I’m angry with him because I feel like I am being policed – and that’s not something I am comfortable with, Mother. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that avoiding surveillance is the whole object of our chosen business.’
The irony of his words wasn’t lost on any of them. Neither was the sarcasm, of course. The worst thing with her Angus was that, when the fancy took him, he could talk such absolute bollocks because of his love of words.
Diana had the grace to look at least a little chastised. She walked to her son and, putting her arms on his shoulders, she forced him to look into her eyes as she said, ‘Roy loves you like a son. He was just looking out for you, Angus, and that is something that you should be grateful for.’
Angus knew that he should fight her. But he couldn’t, because what she was saying was true. That didn’t make it better though. She had still mugged him off, even if she had done it for what she thought were the right reasons.
‘That is not the point. You have to stop fucking pre-empting me, Mum. I am doing a sterling job, and I really don’t need a babysitter, OK?’
Diana nodded reluctantly. He was still governed by his emotions, especially when he was angry. That was what he had inherited from his father. Her Angus had had a taste for the dramatic and the theatrical, and that was all well and good, but it could quite easily come back and bite him on the arse when he least expected it.
She kept her peace this time. Instead she said humbly, ‘What can I say except I’m sorry, son?’
Gabriel had to turn away. He couldn’t watch her, but he had to admire her; she knew exactly how to manipulate a situation for her own ends.
‘Listen, I am meeting with Solly Greenberg later. And I think you should be a part of that meet.’
Chapter Sixty-three
Angus was impressed that his mother had sorted a meeting with the man himself so quickly. But, then again, she had been dealing with Solomon Greenberg for a long time and, without her, he would never have known that the man even existed.
Solomon Greenberg kept himself very much to himself, and rarely mixed with anyone outside of his own c
ircle. Angus had never seen the man in the flesh; he had always dealt with his sons, or other family members. So this would be an education of sorts, and that alone piqued his interest.
It was always the same with his mum, she never ceased to amaze; just when you thought you had her bang to rights, she would pull off a stunt that would leave you panting in anticipation. He couldn’t deny that, as much as she annoyed him, he was impressed with her. He remembered once, as a kid, hearing her talk to Albie Marks, a real old fucking Face, who had come to her for a handout when he had got out of nick. He was an old-school gentleman, with the air of a dangerous man who felt he was entitled to a wage. Angus had come in on the tail end of the conversation, and he had listened with respect – after all, everyone had heard of Albie Marks.
‘You and your old man owe me, Diana, and you know that. What you giving me – a poxy two grand?’
He had heard the threat and the menace in the man’s voice, seen the way he was standing there with his prison haircut and his cheap suit, expecting to have a fight for what he deemed his rights.
His mum had looked at the man for long moments before she had said viciously, ‘I will overlook your attitude today and put it down to overexcitement about being out of nick, Albie. You were a good friend of my old man, and that is the only reason you got a fucking halfpenny off me. You’ve been away a very long time and, as I am of a pleasant disposition, I will not have the fuck hammered out of you, for old times’ sake. Now take your money and fuck off before I change my mind.’
Only she could have pulled that off – and Angus had known that, even then, as a young child. That she had finally decided to bring him into the fold and was taking him with her today as an equal meant the world to him.
Roy had explained, over and over again, that if he didn’t act the goat so much, his mother would have brought him in a lot sooner. Today he understood that. But if this was what it took for her to finally admit that he was a grown-up then he was more than happy to swallow his knob and go along with it.
In all honesty, what choice did he really have? Like Albie Marks, he had learned that his mother was a law unto herself. She was a hard act to follow.
He had really had the best of teachers, he could never deny that. She was at the top of her profession, and she was still someone to be reckoned with.
Chapter Sixty-four
Solomon Greenberg and his wife had retired to Leigh-on-Sea a few years earlier. They had bought a beautiful detached house that overlooked the estuary, and they had settled there quite happily. Both were glad to leave North London behind, although they still had all their businesses, of course.
Solomon and his wife, Rachel, had a large family: four sons and two daughters. All were adults now, and most of them lived within a ten-minute drive. They didn’t count their son Michael in the family, as he had been dead to them for many a year. His lifestyle had guaranteed that.
Solomon was aware that his wife and daughters still kept in contact with his errant son sporadically, and he had decided not to stop that or even mention it to them. They were women, and they didn’t understand the world of men. Plus he knew that it gave his wife a measure of comfort to see her son, because it proved to her that his father had not had him murdered. He loved his wife with all his considerable heart, so he was more than willing to be magnanimous.
He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to grow a child inside of you and then deliver it into the world. Every time it happened, it was a miracle. But he also believed it gave women a weakness, and that had been proved to him on more than one occasion. How his wife could even countenance having any kind of contact with that aberration she had produced, he just couldn’t understand. But women were weak, and that was something he had to accept.
Now this son of his had brought him to the wrong kind of attention of the people he dealt with – who he had dealt with for many years – and he felt the shame that his son’s lifestyle had brought upon him. He wished he had listened to his eldest brother, all those years ago: ‘You cut out a cancer, Sol, and that is exactly what you have to do with Michael.’
It was his weakness; he had loved the boy. He had believed he would become a rabbi, or a scholar – someone he could be proud of – instead he was a fagele. It had broken his heart to know that he had harboured him in his home and had not seen him for what he really was.
It was a very difficult time for him, and he could feel the anger building inside him as the minutes passed. He had a reputation as a hard man, if need be; you didn’t get to where he was in life by being weak.
As he waited for Diana Davis to arrive, he felt the weight of his shame as if it was an actual burden. His shoulders were stooped and his back was aching from the years of having to keep it all inside of him. He straightened himself up and looked around his beautiful home. No matter what, he had nothing to berate himself for. His son was nothing more than a kink of nature.
Anyway, it would all be over today, and that would be the end of it.
Chapter Sixty-five
Dicky Matthews was laughing his head off. He was completely stoned and, as he walked into his flat off West End Lane in West Hampstead, he couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing again.
He looked at his friend Sharina. Until he had found out that he was so in demand, he had not really been that interested in him. He was funny, and he was available. Plus he was experienced, and so good at what he did! His tongue alone was worth its weight in gold – he could do things with it that even Dicky had never known were possible.
He was cheap too, and that had to be taken into consideration, because Dicky had always had a penchant for trade – it was what floated his boat. He cottaged in the most unlikely of places! But that was part of the thrill as far as he was concerned. Though he had minders – in case it all fell out of bed, of course – he wasn’t that brave. But he did like to walk on the wild side occasionally, as Lou Reed so succinctly put it.
As they entered the large lounge area, Dicky was stopped in his tracks. There were two men in black tracksuits, standing there smiling amiably at him.
‘All right, Dicky boy?’
He was so stoned, it took him a few seconds to take what was happening on board. He turned around, expecting to see his minders, but they were nowhere to be seen. For the first time, he felt real fear. He had never, ever been without someone to look after him, to make sure he was safe.
He looked at Sharina, who was just standing there staring at the two men. Then Sharina looked at him sadly, before turning to the two men and saying, ‘So, Daniel, long time no see.’
The bigger of the two men gave a small nod. He did look genuinely sorry to be there, and that was what Dicky Matthews would never forget as long as he lived.
‘It is a long time, Michael. I have come to take you away.’
Sharina nodded acceptingly. He was wearing his straight gear: black trousers and a beautiful pink shirt. His make-up was subdued and he had on a pair of Marks & Spencer’s sling-backs that didn’t have a high heel but he loved them anyway.
‘There’s nothing I can say, is there?’
Daniel Greenberg shook his head sadly.
Dicky watched in abject horror as Sharina left the flat with the two men, quite willingly. In fact, he almost looked relieved. It occurred to Dicky that he had been a witness to this little tableau to make sure that it was documented, so that someone would be able to tell any relevant parties what had gone down.
He also knew that it was a threat of sorts, and that he was now involved in shit that he really would rather have swerved.
Chapter Sixty-six
Solomon Greenberg made sure that Diana and Angus were welcomed. These were people who needed that kind of respect, and they deserved it. He had a bottle of Jameson’s on hand for them too – he was partial to a glass of that himself.
He had to stop a war before it started. He was a part of the criminal underworld and had been since he was a boy. He wasn’t a fucking Jack the lad,
as he thought of these new up-and-coming fuckers, who didn’t have the brains to be part of his world long term. They were too greedy and they were too open; they didn’t understand that the less people knew the safer they would be.
His businesses could be affected if he wasn’t careful. That was his trump card – he always sorted out any kind of trouble before it got out of hand. He was old school, he still believed ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’, and that had been brought home to him during these last few days.
He settled Diana and Angus into his home, poured them both large whiskeys, and smiled at them amicably as he called to his wife to bring in the food. He was always the best of hosts, known for his largesse whenever he entertained.
Diana smiled back and kissed him on both his cheeks. ‘Beautiful property, Sol, you must be very happy here.’
He laughed loudly. ‘I always knew we would retire here, Di. We have family here, and the sea. Who doesn’t love the sea?’
Diana smiled in agreement, but she knew that his congeniality was for show. She knew that he would have something up his sleeve. He was a slippery fucker – and she respected that.
Still, she laughed with him, and said jovially, ‘Well, I can understand that, Solly, I always loved the sound of the sea too.’ Then she took a large sip of her drink, before saying nostalgically, ‘Remember, years ago, when we used to be on the beaches here, waiting for the drugs to be slung off the boats? Pulling the packages in from the tide? We earned a fucking fortune, didn’t we?’
Solomon Greenberg was a big drug dealer, Angus knew that – well, everyone in the game did. But his mum had obviously been there with him at the start. And why didn’t that surprise him?
Solomon smiled in a friendly way, but his eyes were pure malice. ‘Those were the days, Di. We paved the way. We were the first to understand the real economics of it all. Remember when me and you got our first few keys of coke?’