Dangerous Lady (39 page)

‘You were dead right about the docklands, I can see that now, Maws. He offered Dopolis the East End bait. What Lord Wily was after was the warehouses and the old Dockers’ Mansions.

‘I know this much, girl. He’s gonna need muscle. Plenty of muscle. And we have that in abundance. That’s our strength.’

She nodded absently. ‘ ‘I’m telling you, Maura, 1976 is going to be our year.’

She looked out at the cold, dirty London streets and sighed. ‘I hope so. God, I hope so.’ Lord Templeton stepped out of his limousine. His chauffeur held the door open for him and Templeton walked past him as if he was invisible, as he did every day. He walked with his confident stride up the flight of steps that led into the main reception area of his building in Park Lane. His liveried doorman saluted him and he

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acknowledged the man with a minute nod of his head. His personal secretary, David Manners, followed him, practically running to keep up. He had a detailed list of Templeton’s appointments for the day.

Templeton strode purposefully into the large reception area and, just for a second, his step faltered. Standing beside his personal lift were Michael and Maura Ryan. Swallowing deeply, he glanced around him. The staff milling about were staring at him curiously. Pulling himself together, he plastered a broad smile on to his face and carried on walking to his lift.

He concentrated his attention on Maura. He was surprised at how lovely she was. She looked like a deb in her light beige Chanel suit with its black piping. Her hair, freshly washed, glistened in the artificial light. He took in everything about her from the kidskin boots to the silk scarf wrapped carelessly across her shoulders and held there with a gold and diamond tiger brooch. Against his will he was impressed. She was exquisite.

As for the man standing beside her, he was probably the most outstandingly handsome man Templeton was ever likely to see. Michael also was dressed in impeccable taste. Templeton felt that sickening feeling that precedes a fall from a high place. Never in all his life had he been intimidated. Now that he was experiencing it, he decided he did not like it one bit. He carried on walking towards them, and with every step that took him closer felt more scared, more nervous.

Maura smiled as he approached them and held out her hand. ‘So pleased to meet you at last, Lord William. My brother and I have been so looking forward to it.’ Her voice held no trace of its usual cockney accent.

Her words reassured Templeton slightly and he smiled back at her, showing perfect white teeth.

‘Delighted, my dear. If I had known how lovely you were, I would have made sure we met much sooner.’

He turned his attention to Michael, amazed at just how big he was - almost a foot taller than himself. Michael shook his hand without speaking, his hard eyes telling Templeton exactly how the land lay.

His lift door opened and he ushered them both inside, waving David Manners away imperiously.

‘I’ll send for you, David, when I need you.’

Manners nodded. There was something funny going on here, he knew that much. The old man who worked the lift gave Maura an appraising stare.

They made their brief journey in silence. Maura watched Templeton’s face. She knew that he was frightened but had to admit to herself that for all that she liked the look of him. He was angular-looking: pointed nose, pointed cheekbones, and even pointed ears. He had a mass of sandy brown hair that, she guessed, was difficult to tame. It seemed to give him a slight air of vulnerability. He had very deep brown eyes, and thin sparse eyebrows like most sandy-haired people. It was his mouth that attracted her. It was not very big for a man, but it was strong. It could have been due to his very angular jawline. Whatever it was, she liked it. She only hoped they could all come out of, this place today with a degree of accord.

The lift doors opened and they all Stepped out into a wealth of mahogany. The walls were panelled, the only furniture a large mahogany desk and two leather-covered wing chairs. Behind the desk sat a young woman, the standard secretary to a rich man. She was very attractive in a subdued way. Maura could picture her unpinning her luxuriant black hair one day and turning into a femme fatale. She put her hand to her mouth to stop herself

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giggling. She had to try to control the weird things that kept invading her mind.

By the secretary’s desk were two large double doors. Templeton opened these and led them into his office. Michael looked around him contemptuously. Like the room outside this also was a shrine to wood. Once more it had panelled walls, but in here they were adorned with a few well-chosen and, Michael guessed, very expensive sporting paintings. He was not aware that the largest, of a beautiful dark horse, was in fact a Stubbs. The floor was covered in the same deep grey carpet as the ante room. There was another, much larger mahogany desk. Along the right-and left-hand walls were two large Chesterfields, black and gleaming, as if just taken from their protective wrappings and never yet sat upon. In front of the desk were two more wing armchairs. Maura sat in one and Michael in the other.

Templeton went to the double doors and told his secretary to bring in some refreshments. He then walked nervously to his own chair behind the desk. As he reached it he stumbled and had to grab the desk to right himself. Eventually he sat down. His chair was much higher than the two opposite; an American designer had once told him that it would give him a psychological advantage. Obviously the designer had never met anyone like the Ryans. He put his hands together as if in prayer.

‘What can I do for you?’ He was embarrassed to find that his voice sounded cracked and high. It was Maura who answered him.

‘I think you already know the answer to that, Lord William.’ She made his name sound ridiculous. Her voice had hardened now they were alone and once again he was reminded of how dangerous these people were. He was saved from answering by his secretary who came in wheeling a trolley, also mahogany. Michael was beginning to wonder if the man was a wood fetishist. The trolley held not only coffee and tea but also toast, muffins, jam and honey.

‘Would you like me to serve, sir?’ The girl smiled, watching Michael from the corner of her eye.

‘Just leave it, Marie.’ Templeton’s voice was brisk. The girl nodded and slowly left the room, shutting the double doors behind her.

Maura pulled off her kidskin gloves and placed them on the floor with her bag.

‘Fancy a cuppa, Mickey?’

Michael nodded and Maura poured three cups of tea, as if they were at a tea party. She handed one to Michael who spoke for the first time, his voice as rough as concrete.

‘Well, this is nice, I must say. My little brother Benny used to love a cup of Rosie in the mornings. Said it made him crap.’ He looked directly at Templeton, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. s

‘Crapped regular did our Benny. Seven o’clock every morning. Did he crap himself while he was being murdered? I understand you know all about it.’ Michael’s voice was matter-of-fact.

William Templeton felt sick. The cup of tea that Maura had handed him was rattling in its saucer. He was shaking from head to foot. Maura put dowp her own cup and, going to him, removed the cup and saucer from his grasp.

‘What do you want?’

Michael sipped his tea and said: ‘What we want is a little bastard called Dopolis. I think that you know where we can find him. I want to question him personally about my brother’s death.’ He smiled at Templeton. ‘The police are looking for Benny’s murderer as well, you know. Why don’t you give them a ring? Ask them about me, Michael

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Ryan. Ask them about my temper.’ He was talking in a conversational way, and somehow it made his words more frightening. ‘My temper’s a legend in London, ain’t it, Maws?’ She nodded. ‘I once rammed a Rolls-Royce because I thought the driver had given me a dirty look. Wrote off a brand new Merc doing it. But, you see, my temper is atrocious.’ He leant towards Templeton. ‘It’s just like the wrath of God. Only in London, I am God.’

‘I had nothing to do with your brother’s death. I swear it!’ Templeton was aware that he was babbling.

‘Then you won’t mind telling us where Dopolis is, will you?’ ;

‘I have no idea.’

Maura shook her head as if looking at a naughty child. ‘I don’t think you realise what you’re dealing with here. We …’ she gestured with her hand towards Michael ‘… are like terminal cancer. We’ll get you in the end, so you might as well save yourself unnecessary grief. You’ve already made us very angry and that’s dangerous. Now, I’ll give you one last chance. Where can we find Dopolis?’

Templeton was rooted to his chair. His eyes darted around the room as if looking for some kind of divine intervention from behind the panelling. He had thought he was dealing with illiterate fools. But no. The so-called fools had tracked him down and cornered him on his own territory. All he could do now was extricate himself as best he could.

‘He lives in Surrey.’ He scribbled the address on to the pad in front of him and practically threw it across the table at Michael. Please God, he prayed, make them go away now. If you do this for me, I swear that I will be a good man from now on. Like many a man before him, he was praying as a last resort. Michael picked up the scrap of paper and stood up.

‘Right then, I’m off. I’ll leave you in my sister’s capable hands. She can explain to you all about the partnership.’

‘Partnership?’ Templeton was flabbergasted.

Michael laughed. ‘Catches on quick, does old Willy. The partnership between us. Me, her, and lastly you.’ He pointed towards Templeton. ‘Oh, and before I forget, I’ll be calling you Willy. Lord William’s a bit too much of a gobful, ain’t it? You, though, will call me Mr Ryan. If - but only if, mind - I get to like you, I might let you call me Mickey.’ He laughed again. ‘Give you something to look forward to, won’t it?’

‘There’s just one last thing before I go. Don’t get Harry Dash - that’s flash to you - with my sister here. Whatever she says, you do it. Get that?’

Templeton stared at him.

Michael shouted: ‘I said, GET IT?’

‘Yes!’

‘There’s a good boy. Well, cheery bye, or whatever you big nobs say.’

Kissing Maura on the cheek, he left the room. Templeton stared at the doorway as if he had never seen it before.

Maura poured herself another cup of tea. ‘Right then, shall we get down to business?’

She felt a bit sorry for the man in front of her. After her night with Terry and the hurt she felt at their parting, she found room in her heart for pity. She took a deep breath and started on what had long been her favourite subject: docklands.

‘We know you were really after our properties in Tobacco Dock and similar areas. I happen to know you also have properties there. The idea is that we pool resources. I realise that you have more of an insider’s knowledge of what’s going on there. Between us we could sew that place up. Once the work starts, we can guarantee

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the labour and that there will be no delays of any kind. We “own” just about every major contractor in the South East. If push ever came to shove we could stop work there from ever beginning, and I know you wouldn’t want that to happen. We’re willing to let our brother’s death go as far as you are concerned. Dopolis will pay for that. You can either come in with us or sink. It’s your choice.’

She picked up her cup and drank her tea. William Templeton was dumbfounded. He was being threatened by a woman! And a working-class woman at that. And these yobs wanted to go into partnership with himl If it wasn’t so scary he would laugh. He was all for cads and bounders - as long as one kept to one’s own class. But to be associated with Michael Ryan! It was-unbelievable.

Dopolis had turned out to be a bigger mistake than he had first thought. Now he would have to get involved with the Ryans, whether he liked it or not. His idea of getting the Greek to start a gang war seemed stupid now that he had met the real McCoy. He admitted to himself that he had been a damn’ fool. His belief that the working class was a bunch of mindless dunderheads had proved fatally wrong. It seemed he was the dunderhead at this moment. ‘Well, what’s it to be? I haven’t got all day.’ Templeton grimaced. ‘I don’t really seem to have much choice, do I?’

Maura smiled at him. A real smile that made her look very young and very pretty.

‘Believe me, Lord William, when I say that you saw the nice side of Michael today. Unless you’d lived our kind of life, you could not hope for one minute to be able to understand us. I would ask you, though, to treat us with the same respect as you would any business associates. You will find that you deal mainly with me. I run the property side of our businesses. What I’m hoping to learn from you

is the redevelopment business. It is my fervent wish that my family should find a good respectable outlet to channel money into.’

Grudgingly, Templeton admitted that he could like this girl. She was at least sincere. He shrugged his shoulders at the inevitable. He knew that he had to deal with the Ryans whether he liked it or not. There was no way out. He was caught up in a spider’s web, and like the fly knew he would eventually give up struggling.

‘The development business is not really respectable, Miss Ryan. In fact, it can be very dirty.’

Maura interrupted him, laughing.

‘I think you misunderstand me, Lord William! What I mean by respectable is that, although it may be illegal and at times dirty, it is socially acceptable. Like adultery. If you want my honest opinion, I think you and your kind are the biggest bunch of hypocrites I have ever had the misfortune to come across.’ She took a cigarette from the packet she had placed in front of her and lit it, blowing the smoke across the desk into his face.

‘You frown on Mr Working Class for having a little flutter. Yet the Stock Exchange gambles daily with millions of pounds. Banks do it, and building societies. And let’s face it, it’s not even their money they’re using. But there you are. The double standard prevails. One set of rules for the Hooray Henrys and another for, Mr Joe Public. Well, let me tell you something. I may not have a family tree like yours, or be that articulate in my grammar, but there’s one thing I have got going for me - I have money. Plenty of it. And with the kind of money I have, every door can be opened. Even the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. That’s how we found you out. You broke the golden rule of villainy, Lord William. You let the world in on what you were doing. A fatal mistake.’