The Reckoning (Carter Brothers), page 16
‘Cheers, Dad.’ Straightening out his jacket, Aaron shouldered Moray out of his way. ‘You could have at least tried to deny it,’ he said, heading for the door.
Moray’s heart sank and he silently berated himself. Much to his shame, he had to admit it was true, he had asked his sons’ mother to terminate the pregnancy. Not only had they both been young when she’d fallen pregnant, but to make matters even worse, they’d barely even known one another. At the time, he’d only been looking for a bit of fun; he hadn’t wanted to settle down and become a family man. What did he know about being a father? He’d hardly had a good role model; his own father had left his mother in the lurch long before he’d even been born.
‘Oi.’ He reached out, caught Aaron by his forearm and pulled him roughly around to face him. ‘Was it Gerry Mann who put you up to this, did he get into here?’ Stabbing his forefinger into the side of his son’s head, Moray held Aaron’s steely gaze, hoping, praying even, that he’d misread the situation, that despite the fact his son clearly hated him, that Aaron was somehow innocent, that Mann had coerced, maybe even threatened him into pulling the trigger.
The smirk Aaron gave in return was enough to make Moray’s heart plummet to the floor and, before he could stop himself, he hauled his son across the lounge, his fist involuntarily curling into a tight ball. ‘You stupid fucking bastard,’ he roared. As if on cue, Moray’s mobile phone began to ring and, breathing heavily, he pulled the device out from his jacket pocket. It was Danny. There and then, Moray’s blood ran cold, and a sense of foreboding ran through his veins. Whether he liked it or not, in order to save his treacherous son’s life, Moray had a sinking feeling that he and his best mate were about to go to war.
14
Pressing redial, the call went straight to Moray’s answer phone, not that Danny could say he was entirely surprised. He and Moray had barely said more than two words to one another in days, so it stood to reason that his old friend would dismiss his phone call. If the roles were reversed, Danny would have done the exact same thing.
For the past ten minutes, Danny had been sitting outside the Three Rabbits public house in Manor Park. And with his forearms resting upon the steering wheel, he hadn’t yet seen anyone who fitted Gerry’s description either enter or leave the boozer, not that he had a lot to go on. A ‘weasel-faced prick’ had been the best description that Jimmy and his brothers could come up with.
Another minute or so ticked by and, deciding he wanted answers and pronto, Danny flung open the car door, stepped outside the motor and, after locking up, made his way across the busy street.
The Three Rabbits was typical of an East End boozer and, as Danny entered, he was more than aware of the stares that followed him as he made his way up to the bar. More often than not, his reputation preceded him, and today was no different. Within a matter of seconds, his presence had been duly noted and as he looked around him, his gaze fell upon a man at the far side of the bar.
The man in question, Kenny Kempton, tipped his glass in Danny’s direction, and signalling to the barmaid for a round of drinks, Kenny beckoned him over. ‘Danny,’ he said in a gruff voice as Danny approached. ‘You’re a long way from your manor, aintcha?’
As quick as a flash, Danny assessed the situation. He’d known Kenny and his business partner Terry Tempest for more years than he cared to remember, and although he wouldn’t go as far as to say that they were mates, they had a mutual respect for one another, as long as they didn’t step on one another’s toes, of course.
‘I could say the same to you.’ Taking a sip of the brandy that had been thrust into his hand, Danny raised his eyebrows. Kenny and Terry hailed from Dagenham, in Greater London; they were hard bastards and were well known to run the streets where they lived with an iron fist; in fact, it would be fair to say that their reputations were almost as formidable as Danny’s and Moray’s were.
Kenny chuckled out loud, and bypassing the question, he made a show of looking around him. ‘No Moray tonight?’ he asked.
Danny was careful how he answered. The last thing he wanted was for word to get out that he and Moray were at loggerheads, and no matter how bad the situation became between them, it was in their best interests to keep up the pretence that all was well. ‘He’s busy.’ He narrowed his eyes and returned the question. ‘No Terry tonight?’
Downing his drink, Kenny studied Danny over the rim of the glass. ‘We’re not joined at the fucking hip,’ he stated.
Despite himself, Danny couldn’t help but grin; he knew the truth even if Kenny didn’t want to admit it. It was no secret that Terry had a roving eye, regardless of the fact he’d been married to his unsuspecting wife Tracey for more than thirty years. ‘In the toilet, is he?’ Danny winked.
As if on cue, Terry emerged from the gents’ toilets, still tucking in his shirt as he did so. Seconds later, a woman half his age followed suit; the fact her lipstick was smeared and her cheeks were flushed pink was more than a dead giveaway that Terry had been up to his usual tricks.
‘Fuck me, what are you doing here?’ Approaching the bar, Terry shook Danny’s hand, then guzzled down his beer. Whatever he’d been up to had obviously given him a raging thirst.
‘Funnily enough, I was just asking Kenny the exact same question,’ Danny answered.
Terry gave a coy smile. ‘You know me, Danny.’ He leant in closer and lowered his voice. ‘I don’t like to do the dirty on my doorstep. My Trace would castrate me if she ever caught wind of me so much as giving another bird the eye, let alone if she ever found out that I’d shag anything with a pulse.’ He winked.
Danny raised his eyebrows. He’d met Terry’s wife Tracey a few times when they’d visited the club and, from what he could remember of her, she was a nice woman. Glancing around him, Danny took another sip of his brandy. Not in the mood for small talk, he was keen to get down to business. ‘This is Gerry Mann’s local, isn’t it?’ he asked as innocently as he could muster.
As Kenny and Terry shared a surreptitious glance, Danny immediately picked up on the tension. ‘Problem?’ he enquired, making sure to keep his voice neutral.
It was Terry who answered, his expression suddenly hard. ‘Don’t talk to me about that cunt,’ he growled. ‘He’s taken fucking liberties.’
Uninterested in the details of their falling out, Danny nodded. He’d never been one for gossip. In fact, he despised those who were, hence why he’d always made a point of keeping his and Moray’s business details private.
‘Did you hear what happened to Robbie Groves?’ Terry asked.
Danny’s ears immediately pricked up and, feigning innocence, he shook his head.
‘I heard they decapitated the poor bastard,’ Kenny chipped in.
It was a slight exaggeration; Robbie hadn’t actually been decapitated, although it had been a close call, and Danny should know, considering it had been him and Moray who’d stumbled across the murder scene and discovered the corpse. Signalling to the barmaid for another round of drinks, Danny dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After paying for the drinks, he turned his head. ‘Any idea who was responsible?’
Terry and Kenny shared a second glance. It was common knowledge that Clifford Evans was blabbing his mouth off to anyone who would listen, telling all and sundry that Gerry Mann had been asking around to buy a shooter in the weeks leading up to Robbie’s murder, and with Groves out of the game, a lot of faces would now need to take their business elsewhere, an inconvenience they could all do without. ‘My money’s on Gerry Mann and his son Joey having a hand in this; it’s no secret that Joey’s wired wrong,’ Kenny said, tapping his temple to emphasise his point.
Danny pretended to think it over. ‘Do you think they were acting alone?’ he finally asked.
Kenny shrugged. ‘I’d bet my bollocks that Joey’s sidekick, Carlos Christos, was involved. Him and Joey have known each other since they were kids; two sick fucks together, if you want my opinion.’
His skin prickling at the mention of the Christos name, Danny took a sip of his drink.
‘Joey’s nothing more than a puppet,’ Terry said dismissively. ‘It’s Gerry who pulls the strings, everyone knows that. He might be knocking on in years, but he’s still got a lot of clout.’
Storing the information away, Danny knocked back his drink. To say he was feeling troubled was an understatement. If it was true and Gerry did have a lot of influence, then who else did he have in his pocket?
At that precise moment in time, Gerry was lounging back on his sofa, a cut glass filled with whisky in one hand, and a Cuban cigar in the other. Sitting opposite him was his old friend Marcus Gibbs, or to be more precise, Detective Chief Superintendent Gibbs, as he preferred to be known, despite the fact that he’d retired from the police force a decade earlier due to ill health.
‘I want those bastards brought down,’ Gibbs hissed.
Gerry waved his hand dismissively and puffed on his cigar. As far as he was concerned, their plan to bring down McKay and Garner was fool proof, and it was only a matter of time until their murderous plot had been executed. Admittedly, they’d faced a setback, seeing that Garner was still alive, but with Robbie Groves and Skinny both dead, they only had three to go until they could celebrate their success.
Gibbs leant forward and, locking eyes with his favourite niece, he pursed his lips. ‘You’ve let me down,’ he scolded, ‘you were supposed to be our link to McKay.’
Maria gave her uncle a sweet smile. She wanted to get herself back into Danny’s good books almost as much her uncle Marcus wanted her to. ‘I’m working on it,’ she reassured him, and it was true, she was; in fact, she’d already decided to pay Stacey Carter a visit, to put her straight and to warn her off her man. She hadn’t put in all the hard work for Stacey to come along and snare Danny from right underneath her nose.
Gibbs scowled. ‘Make sure that you do,’ he ordered. Shifting his weight, he reached down to touch his shin. The puckered, hairless skin felt smooth to his touch, and was a constant reminder of his last meeting with McKay and Garner. Across his body was a series of similar scars; a blowtorch had been responsible for them and still to this day he could recall the pain, not to mention the sickly scent of his burning skin. He’d been lucky to survive the ordeal McKay and Garner had put him through, if you could even call it lucky. The constant pain he’d been left in had been the reason he’d needed to retire from the police force. It had taken months for the burns to heal, and even longer for the psychological scars to fade; he wasn’t even so sure that they had, he still had flashbacks to the assault. Many a night, he awoke bathed in cold sweat, his body trembling as he relived the moment that he’d been taken hostage, and then tortured by the no-good bastards. He was only sorry that he wouldn’t be there to watch them get their comeuppance.
15
Stacey had always been an early riser, and many a morning, she and Tommy had awoken early just to watch the sunrise together on the balcony outside their bedroom window. Mornings were still her favourite time of the day, and when her three children had been young and still living at home, she’d loved the peace and quiet, before the children awoke and created chaos, with their screams of laughter, or more often than not their bickering over a favourite toy. These days, she lived alone, although her eldest grandson Thomas often stayed the night to keep her company. She had a feeling it was more to do with the fact that he didn’t like the thought of her living out in the sticks all by herself than because he thought she might be lonely.
As much as she hated to admit it, the house was too big just for her alone, and she’d often thought about selling up and buying something smaller, maybe a bungalow with a more manageable garden, or one of those new apartments that seemed to be springing up everywhere she looked. Her daughter Karen had even brought her over a few brochures for the new builds where she and Cameron lived in Ingatestone, Essex. As lovely as the flats were, how could she leave her home of over thirty years? The house had been Tommy’s pride and joy, he’d worked so hard to buy it for them, and it had been a happy home once, at least when Tommy had been alive, anyway.
Stacey had already put a load of washing out on the line, showered, applied her make-up, and then dressed. Sitting in the conservatory that overlooked the sprawling garden, she sipped at a cup of coffee. A knocking at the front door made her frown, and a quick glance at her watch told her it was still early, far too early for visitors. Making her way out into the hallway, she glanced up the oak-panelled staircase. Thomas was still sound asleep in the guest bedroom, and they had at least another two hours before they needed to be at the scrapyard.
A ready smile was plastered across Stacey’s face as she opened the door. On seeing who her visitor was, the smile froze, and as fear knotted in her stomach, her heart began to beat faster. There and then, her mind went into overdrive; had there been an accident? Had Danny been injured, or maybe even worse, killed? Why else would Maria be standing on her doorstep at seven in the morning? In that instant, guilt ate away at her; Jimmy was right, they should have told Danny that they had their suspicions his fiancée was involved with the Mann family.
Stacey’s hand automatically went to her chest and, as she spoke, the words caught in her throat. ‘What’s happened?’ she choked out. ‘Is Danny okay?’
Maria’s smile didn’t falter. ‘Can I come in?’ she asked.
In that instant, Stacey’s shoulders ever so slightly relaxed. Maria was far too upbeat to be delivering bad news. ‘Of course, come on in.’ She stepped aside; her eyes narrowed as she watched Maria’s gaze take in everything around her. It wasn’t the first time that Danny’s fiancée had visited her home, and she could see the envy in Maria’s eyes. Even by Stacey’s own admission, her home was beautiful; it had a classiness to it, and was decked out in thick cream carpets and classic furniture – shabby chic, they called it, although in her eyes, there was nothing shabby about her home. Despite her wealth, Stacey refused to have a cleaner come in and help out; she liked to know that the cleaning was being done not only properly but also to her high standard.
Once they were in the lounge, Stacey gestured for Maria to take a seat. To say that she was intrigued was an understatement; it wasn’t as though she and Maria were friends or that they even shared anything in common, other than Danny, of course.
Slipping her handbag off her shoulder, Maria sat down, crossed one shapely leg over the other, then looked Stacey in the eyes. ‘I’m here about Danny.’
Stacey lifted her eyebrows. ‘I guessed as much.’
Maria smiled again; a sickly-sweet smile that made Stacey feel nauseous. It was easy to see why Danny had fallen in love with her. With long blonde hair that fell just above her waist and a body to die for, Maria was beautiful, and that, as far as Stacey was concerned, was where the problem lay. Arrogance and conceitedness seeped out of Maria’s pores and, not for the first time, she thought that Maria and Danny were not in the least bit suited, at least when it came to their personalities, anyway. Outwardly, though, it was a different matter entirely; together they made a striking couple, the kind of couple who turned heads wherever they went.
‘I want you to stay away from him.’
Taken aback, Stacey sat up a little straighter, her forehead furrowing. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘My Danny.’ Maria’s smile widened, reminding Stacey of a cat who’d got the cream, and in a way, Stacey supposed that she had. After all, she’d managed to snag Danny, which in itself was no mean feat. He had a certain something about him, he could be charming, caring, attentive, and good company. Many a night they had stayed up until the early hours, sharing a bottle of wine or two, all the while putting the world to rights. ‘Stay away from him. I know your game, lady. I’ve seen the way you fawn all over him, the way you hang on to his every word. You need to remember whose bed he climbs into at the end of the night.’ She grinned, her words loaded with inuendo. ‘He’s mine, and I’m telling you to back the fuck off.’
As an image of Maria and Danny entered her mind, bile rose in Stacey’s throat. She’d always been so careful to hide her feelings for him, and as far as anyone knew, they were friends, good friends, and nothing more. She’d never even told her daughter how she felt about him, and Karen wasn’t only her daughter, she was also her best friend and confidante too, so how the hell had Maria found out how she felt about him? The last time she’d spoken to Danny, he’d had doubts about his relationship with Maria and had given her the impression that he’d wanted to end things between them.
‘You’re making an embarrassment of yourself and you’re embarrassing Danny while you’re at it. He told me himself that he can’t bear to be in the same room as you, that you make him feel uncomfortable, that you look at him as though you’re going to pounce on him at any given moment, rip off his clothes, and shove your tongue down his throat.’
Stacey’s cheeks burned with humiliation. It wasn’t true; she’d never looked at Danny in that way. She was attracted to him, yes, and she had feelings for him too, deep-rooted feelings that only grew stronger whenever she was near him, but she would never have done anything to make him feel uncomfortable around her, she had too much pride in herself to behave like that.
‘Let’s face it, you’re too old for him, for a start. You’re a grandmother, for Christ’s sake, what could you possibly offer him?’ Maria looked down at her smooth, taut body. It was a calculated gesture that was intended to make Stacey feel insecure about herself. ‘He has everything he needs right here and, believe me when I say this, he can’t keep his hands off me, he’s insatiable.’ Which wasn’t entirely true; ever since the shooting at the club, Danny hadn’t been near her, but before then, they’d had more than an active sex life and, considering his age, Danny could put most twenty-year-olds to shame.
