Faces (52 page)

‘All right, Norm?’ Danny was grinning once more, looking for all the world like a genuinely happy and contented man.

Norman smiled stiffly. He had heard about this yard, but he had never actually visited it before. It surpassed his expectations, everyone knew an invitation here was like a declaration of war. People who had visited this yard were never seen again. That was urban legend; it was also believable. A lot of people had disappeared over the years, and Danny Boy had been blamed for their disappearance. Not out loud, no one would actually go that far. But it was accepted that, if you crossed him, or if he thought you had crossed him, Danny Boy tended to delete people from his businesses and his life.

‘You all right, Danny Boy?’ Norman was nervous.

Danny grinned again, his handsome face open and trusting. ‘ ’Course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be? I go to mass, I have a new baby, a lovely wife. What a lucky fuck I am.’

Norman nodded in agreement. He was young for the job; he had what was known in their world as good connections, family members who had stood up for him. People who had guaranteed his undying loyalty and who had never, in a million years, thought he was capable of having over Danny Boy Cadogan; it was inconceivable to them. Who would be that stupid?

‘Everyone’s been telling me what a fucking asset you are, Norm. I am over the fucking moon, you’ve really put yourself out, you know. Really done me and Michael a favour, I mean, we’re busy boys, ain’t we, we can’t watch everything as closely as we’d like. So we depend on people like you to do that for us, don’t we, Michael?’

Danny snapped his head round to face his old friend, and Michael knew then that Norman was not leaving this room while still conscious. Michael knew that Danny Boy had the edge, and he was interested to know where that edge had come from.

Norman was already in the past, and everyone in that small, confined space knew that. Danny was chatting to him in that low, interested voice he had. He asked him a question with such guile, Norman thought for a split second that he might be serious. But he looked at Michael and Arnold and knew he was being humiliated.

‘Do you go to mass, Norman? I do, and so does Michael here; we go because we see God as our role model, He is what we aspire to be.’

Norman didn’t say a word, he knew he was fucked and he was trying to find a way out of this dilemma. Then, ‘Come on, Danny Boy, what have I done, eh? I know you’ve got the arse with me, but why? I earn you a fucking good wedge . . .’

Norman was depending on his familial connections to get him off the hook, so he decided to confront Danny Boy before Danny Boy could confront
him
. He was under the impression that attack was the best form of defence. He also believed that his family connections would guarantee his safety. The Bishops were an old south London family, they had their creds, and they also had a foothold in the drugs trade. Without them, Danny Boy and Michael would not have garnered their own foothold so quickly. Unfortunately, without Danny Boy and Michael, they would not have had such a huge demand. So Norman, fool that he was, believed he might actually be in the driving seat.

Michael and Arnold waited for Danny Boy to do what he always did, which was to destroy, with malice aforethought, whoever he believed might be mugging him off. But they also knew he was cruel enough to play with his victim first.

‘Do I look like a cunt to you, Norman?’ Danny was standing now, his arms outstretched. ‘Come on, you know you’ve been fucking having me over, so let’s get straight to the point, shall we?’

Michael was watching the two men with a deep and heartfelt anxiety; he knew that Danny was doing this for his benefit, was teaching him a lesson somehow.

Norman didn’t say a word. He sensed what was coming and he didn’t know, for the life of him, how to stop it. It occurred to him that it didn’t matter who his family might be, no one was going to front up to this man before him. He had been well and truly sussed out, and the knowledge was enough for him to accept his fate.

‘Imagine I am your priest right, Norm, not Michael, who you normally deal with, but me, Danny Boy. I would say to you, forgive me Father, for I have
skimmed
. And
you
have, you’ve skimmed a fucking fortune off the bets, ain’t you? Well, I have been looking over the fucking books and, unlike my friend here, I don’t trust you as far as I can fucking throw you. And I have decided that your penance will be three Hail Marys, two Our Fathers, and a broken neck. By the way, I have already squared this with your family. Who, incidentally, think you are as big a cunt as I do. So don’t imagine the cavalry will be rushing in to save you at any point. Because they won’t. You’ve earmarked one per cent of my earnings on top of the wage we give you, a fucking good wage at that, and that is not acceptable. That is such a piss-take, it’s like saying you believe I am a fucking cretin, ain’t it? You have also cunted off my best mate, my wife’s brother, who, unlike me, trusted you. So, how do you think I feel about that?’

Michael knew then, as did Arnold Landers, that Danny Boy was making a point, that this young man, with his bad haircut and his adverse head for figures, was being slaughtered so Danny Boy could prove a point. The point being that, even though Danny might trust Michael as the money man in their partnership, he was, in his own way, more than capable of keeping his eye on the ball. That he still looked over their nefarious businesses, and had a handle on their finances that was now proven to be a lot closer than anyone thought.

Danny looked over at Michael, who was embarrassed at this revelation, who knew his trust in this boy had not only been misplaced, but had also been used to prove a point. Who was going to suffer so Danny Boy could remind him that he might not be, as he often put it, the sharpest knife in the drawer but who, it now seemed, was sharp enough when he needed to be.

Michael wondered briefly who could have grassed Norman up from the casino. It made more sense that he had been found out and the information had then been passed on to Danny. He had trusted the boy; he had not had any reason not to. After all, he came well recommended. He felt a fool, but he knew that Danny Boy would use this as a leveller, make him feel he was the shrewder of the two. Especially after the Spanish deal; Danny was sending out a message all right, not just to him, but to everyone who worked for them.

Arnold watched the scene before him with interest, wincing slightly as Danny Boy took a claw-hammer out of the desk drawer. Danny then began to undress slowly, chatting, taking off his jacket and shirt, worried about blood spattering on his new clothes. And, all the time, he eyeballed the terrified young man, berated him for his foolishness, shaking his head as if in abject disbelief at his actions. Danny looked calm, he looked friendly, and he looked strong. When he brought the hammer down onto terrified Norman’s kneecap he was actually smiling. Arnold knew then that Norman Bishop was going to regret his fucking tea-leafing big-time. The dogs’ excited barking drowned out Norman’s shrieks of pain. Though they didn’t last that long; it was the low moaning sounds he made much later on, coupled with the stench of his blood, that really set the animals off.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘Are you sure you’re OK, love?’

Mary nodded, the baby was at her breast and her husband’s kind words frightened her. He had never been the compassionate type. Not in private anyway. He had fooled everyone into believing he still cared for his father, even though he had hated him with a vengeance. So his sudden interest in her now was unnerving.

As Danny Boy walked across the bedroom towards her, she flinched visibly. She drew her head into her shoulders and put up her right hand before her face, as if it could ward him off, stop him hurting her. The action annoyed him, caused him to grit his teeth in anger. She was a drama queen, always trying to cause a fucking international incident. But he was not about to let her get away with that. Smiling down at his little daughter’s face, he looked at his wife once more, feeding off her fear. He was enjoying her trepidation, knowing that the uncertainty of his mood was all she thought about when she was with him and, more to the point, when she was without him. He sighed loudly with irritation. Settling himself down on the love seat inside the bay window of their bedroom, something he had always seen as an ironic addition to their boudoir, he lit a Portofino cigar and watched her silently as she fed the child, her lovely face tight with fear, her nerves so taut he knew he could have played a tune on them if the fancy took him or he had been musically minded.

Danny observed his wife as he would the monkeys in the zoo. At this moment in time he loved her, really loved her again. As he had, years before, when he had made it his mission in life to take her from the man he felt was beneath her. Beneath him for that matter. But it was
she
who had been beneath
him
, she was a dog, and that was always in the forefront of his mind. He knew, without a doubt, that she would fuck anyone who could provide for her, and he also knew that that knowledge was no basis for a marriage of any kind. Especially to someone like him. He knew he was not the average Joe, but then that’s why they lived as they did, and he provided for them all so well so he could instil fear where none had been before. He had no respect for her, why would he? He knew, and she knew, that she could have been anyone. Anyone at all, she had just happened to belong to someone he had been determined to thwart.

But, at this moment in time, she was all he had ever wanted, with her breasts heavy with milk and her skin luminescent, with not a mark on her after the birth. Still taut, soft, and still without a blemish. She was like a Valkyrie: she was a strong and wonderful mother and wife. He knew he could trust her and that was important to him. No matter what, he knew she would never turn on him. It wasn’t in her nature, she was loyal, and that was the most important thing as far as their relationship, what was left of it anyway, was concerned.

She could still arouse him on the odd occasion. Even though, like most men, the same dinner every night had become a chore; fucking the same woman was an abomination as far as he was concerned. God liked to punish, he knew that from first-hand experience. The adultery commandment was a piss-take really, coming from a man whose only son had been banged up in nick, beaten mercilessly, and then crucified for the sins of the world. Danny Boy felt that adultery, like stealing, was only really there for the weak. For the people who had no fucking respect for themselves, who would sin with impunity anyway. God knew the fucking skulduggery that the average man was more than capable of, otherwise he wouldn’t have countenanced business deals, except lending money from church premises, of course. He was right to have the ache about that, but the majority of His commandments were not relevant in this day and age. But it didn’t mean they weren’t there for a good reason. They had been put in place for the ice creams of the world, not for the leaders of men. For people with a bit of nous.

And, let’s face it, there was a get-out clause, providing he believed, which he did, and providing he was genuinely sorry for any sins he might commit along the way, which he was, he was safe as houses. Best religion in the world was Catholicism, as his old man would preach when drunk as a skunk: you could smoke, drink, gamble and fuck. Providing you were sorry you could commit murder, encourage mayhem, and covet what the fuck you liked. Well, he coveted his neighbours’ wives, he coveted a bit of strange on a regular basis, and he coveted it with as much gusto as he could manage.

Women were built differently, thanks to God, they all felt different, and there were too many of them for any real man to ever really be faithful. Every few years a new crop was there for the taking, suddenly allowed in pubs and clubs they were young and new and they were so tempting to any man with a few quid and a good chat-up line. They were there for the use and for the enjoyment of the male of the species. Men were genetically geared-up to spread their seed. A quarter of the population were bringing up cuckoos in their nests. Children that they believed were theirs, when in fact they were no relation whatsoever. He knew better than anyone the complete and utter disloyalty that women were capable of. His own mother had proved that to him many years before: he wouldn’t trust any of them as far as he could throw them. None of them warranted it. They were fucking liars and schemers. He had sussed out that all you could really do to protect yourself was make sure your wife was too scared to go on the cock, was far too terrified of being found out, and therefore was not likely to try her hand at adulterous skulduggery of any description.

He did try though, to keep himself faithful, as a good Catholic, and he was a good fucking Catholic; he loved his God with a vengeance. Like everything in his life, he didn’t treat it lightly, but it was hard at times. Especially when the wife of your choice was such a fucking cunt. Such a fucking let-down.

He also knew, and he was sure of this, that God had a sneaking admiration for him. He knew that as well as he knew his own name: God watched over him, He understood him, and appreciated him. That meant a lot because his God was the only other male in his life he would ever allow to be above him. Who he felt was on a par with him.

As Danny felt the sudden rush of excitement the sight of his little daughter generated inside his chest, he knew without a doubt that there was a God. Only a God could have created something so perfect, so wonderful. He could hear the sound of her lips as they sucked noisily on her mother’s breast and knew in his heart that she would be bottle-feeding the poor little mare by the time he came back from Spain.

‘I hope you ain’t fucking still drinking, mare.’

Mary shook her head slightly, her arms wrapped protectively around her daughter’s fragile body. Her husband’s words dripped ice and she knew he was capable of attacking her on a whim.