Faces (70 page)

Michael shook his head in annoyance, his eyes were sad at the way Arnold was reacting to his opinions. Opinions he had asked for, requested. He was trying to educate him about the man they were dealing with, and he said as much. Arnold just shrugged, as if anything Michael had to say was beyond his ken. He didn’t care about Danny Boy’s fucking fears about prison, they all had them. It was part and parcel of the life they had chosen; an occupational hazard. In their line of work though, the sentences were hefty. They weren’t about a short sharp shock any more, they were about keeping them off the streets. The government wasn’t too worried about the thieves, the burglars and the car-jackers, they were too numerous to mention, let alone fucking bang up. They were in and out in a heartbeat. No, the government wanted the money-makers, the few men who earned a fucking real wedge, and they wanted them away for long periods of time. It was laughable. The fucking scum of society, the muggers, the creepers, the nonces, they were out and about in no time. People like them though, the real Faces, were put away for the duration. Even though by their very acts, by the businesses they were involved in, they actually had no real interaction with the public at all. Not unless it was to sell them something they needed, wanted or desired. It was a fucking disgrace to the nation if anyone ever thought about it properly. No government in the world could exist without a black market; it was the unwritten law, the unspoken truth. How the fuck was the working class expected to have a stake in the world without the likes of them? How the fuck were the Christian Diors and the Tommy Hilfigers supposed to become brand names for the proletariat without their products being cloned? It was the same people who bought their snides who then, suddenly, felt the desperate need to possess the real thing. Surely it could only be a good thing for all concerned?

Life was about learning how best to live it, how best to keep on the right side of a jail cell. It was about fucking doing what you had to and watching your back. Now Danny Boy had ruined all that for a fucking lot of people. He had moved the goal posts, and this man who Arnold liked and respected had better not keep on trying to justify his fucking actions, because there was no way he could defend his actions. Not to him, or anyone else involved.

What about the people he had already served up? How many of their contemporaries were doing bird because Danny Boy had decided they were suddenly not worth a wank?

‘Don’t try and make what Danny Boy’s done have some kind of logic behind it, make it seem like it was all right, because it’s fucking outrageous. An abomination.’

Michael was pulling his own hair, the pain bringing him back to reality. ‘I ain’t trying to make fucking excuses for him. All I am saying is, unlike you and everyone else, I know what drove him to do this. I was there when he was demolished mentally by his own fucking father. When he was threatened by the Murrays, and forced to take on the role of provider, breadwinner. All I am trying to say is, as big a wanker as he is, it wasn’t because he chose this life. He was forced into it. His father . . .’

Arnold grinned. ‘I am assuming this is the same father he had crippled, the same father who topped himself?’

‘I know how this sounds, believe me. What I am trying to say is, he was a product of his environment. As we all are in our own little ways.’

Arnold snorted angrily. ‘He’ll be a fucking product of his environment all right, either in the sea, if we dump the cunt in there, or the earth, if we decide to bury him. Either way, he is fucking already dead as far as I am concerned. How you can try and defend him after what he has done, is beyond my understanding.’

‘I do know what you’re saying, Arnold, I ain’t fucking stupid. But I am trying to make you understand why he is like it. Danny Boy doesn’t live by the normal rules . . . Look ... How about this for an example, eh? I heard he killed a prostitute years ago, when he was really young. He beat her to death. He doesn’t know that I know about it, that I knew he’d beaten her to death. I convinced meself for years that it wasn’t him, that it was just a coincidence. But I knew it was him, I knew deep down inside me. I also knew that Danny, being Danny, could never live with the hold she had over him. Because he had fucked her. He killed her because of his
own
weakness, not because of hers.’

Arnold was smiling now, and chuckling as if this was the funniest thing he had ever heard in his life. He answered him sarcastically and with complete disrespect, ‘And that makes it all right, does it? Shall we have a Kill-the-Brass party for him, like a wedding anniversary, only more morbid? Or, better still, shall we round up a few crump-renters and let him go for it? I mean, who cares about them, eh? Let’s declare open season on prostitutes shall we? In fact, it’s a shame they caught the Yorkshire Ripper, he could have given him a few pointers. Could have shown him how to use a hammer for the common good.’ Arnold was looking at Michael as if he was the equivalent of dog shit. ‘That is the most disgusting thing I ever heard. Some poor working girl got the red card because
Danny Boy
was ashamed of cocking her. Can you fucking
hear
yourself, hear what you’re saying, Michael? Has it ever occurred to you that you have never felt once that Danny Cadogan’s actions might be, in any way, wide of the mark. That he might just be a fucking
nutter
, and a grassing nutter at that. My mother was on the bash at one time, and I
love
her for it; she kept us all. She sacrificed herself for her kids, made sure we were all fed and clothed. And you know what, I am so grateful that a fucking Danny Boy
or
one of his weirdo mates never decided that she was the
culprit
in their shitty, scummy lives. And so therefore didn’t feel the urge to batter her brains out to make
them
feel better about themselves.’

He was laughing now, laughing in abject disbelief. ‘Thank you, Michael, thank you
so
much for your insight into Danny Boy Cadogan. I am just amazed that Channel 4 ain’t doing a documentary on him. How about this for a title, “How a Nutter is Made”.’

Arnold shook his head in disbelief, his huge dreads almost alive with his annoyance, with his irritation at his friend’s utter stupidity where Danny Cadogan was concerned. ‘Look, Michael, Mother Teresa he
ain’t
, so you had better decide whether you can go through with the day’s events. Because, the way you’re talking, I ain’t sure I want you on board any more.’

Michael could understand Arnold’s anger; knew he was well within his rights. And he also knew he understood on some level about his loyalty to Danny Boy, about how hard this was for him. How hard he found it to believe in his friend’s duplicity. All those years he had wondered about him, all the times he had deliberately misunderstood what was going on. Danny Boy had been as aggravating as he had been loving towards him. Danny Boy had angered him and had also brought out the best in him where their friendship was concerned. Consequently, this was the hardest thing he had ever done. Had ever
had
to do. It was going against all he had ever believed in, all he had ever really trusted.

‘I ain’t defending him, Arnold, I am just trying to give you an insight into how he
thinks
, that’s all. I
know
him, I know him better than his wife does and she’s me fucking sister. I know him better than his mother, than anyone walking the earth. No one knows him like I do.’

Arnold said sarcastically, and with as much hatred as he could muster, ‘Yeah? Well, do me a favour, Michael, don’t fucking bother all right? You are fucking out of order, man.’

Arnold was almost beside himself with anger and recrimination; he felt he should have pushed this, pushed the point home when he had first encountered the rumours about Danny Boy while he had the chance. He should have struck while the iron was so hot it was burning a hole through his fucking hand. But he had swallowed, had backed down, and that bothered him now. It bothered him big time. It made him feel like he was a coward, made him feel like he was beneath Danny Boy’s notice. Not good enough to question him or question his behaviour. Even though it affected him and all those around him. He poked a finger into Michael’s face, the anger inside him erupting, ‘Who do
you
think you are? I mean, Danny Boy is a fucking liability to
anyone
and
everyone
he has ever come into contact with. Do you realise that? He is a fucking
grass
, a fucking twenty-four carat
cunt
. So I don’t care if he was being shafted up the ring by the chief constable himself, nothing can fucking justify what he’s done. Nothing. He did it with malice aforethought and with the mistaken belief that no one would ever find out about his treachery. Well, we did, and he is a dead man. I will make sure of that, even if you won’t.’

Michael stopped himself from lamping the young man in front of him. Instead he said, through gritted teeth, ‘I know what he did, Arnold, I know it better than anyone. You are preaching to the converted, mate. So don’t fucking get clever with me. All I am trying to say is, he has not had the breaks, not like people think he has. You can’t even imagine what he had to deal with, mate. I am just trying to make sense of this shit, that’s all. I’m trying to find a reason to justify his treachery somehow for my own benefit. You forget that he’s been my best friend, my brother, since we were little kids. This ain’t easy for me, Arnold. I know it should be, but it ain’t.’

Arnold didn’t want to hear any of this, had no intention of letting Danny Boy Cadogan walk away from this in one piece. He was not interested in the reasons for Danny Boy Cadogan’s double life; he didn’t care about that. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to justify his fucking treacherous behaviour. And Michael Miles should have known that better than anyone.

‘So, are you going to wimp out on me then, Michael? Is that what this is about? Are you going to give him a heads-up, after all we’ve talked about? After all this shit and all this fucking sedition we’ve had to contend with? Are you thinking of protecting him in some way?’

Michael was really annoyed now at his words and, for the first time ever, Arnold felt threatened by his friend. For the first time he saw the Michael that he had heard about but never actually seen for himself. He seemed to grow in stature suddenly, seemed to swell up with ire. He looked, for once, like the big man he really was; he looked menacing and dangerous. He had shed the niceness that he wore like a cloak, and the innate kindness that made people turn to him instead of Danny Boy when they needed to make a point, or ask for mercy. It occurred to Arnold that someone who could have kept Danny Boy’s friendship for all these years had to be stronger than anybody realised. Indeed, had to have a lot more might than he let on to everyone around him.

Stepping angrily towards Arnold, Michael looked almost demonic, his hand was raised in angry denial at what he was being accused of. ‘Don’t you fucking dare to question me, boy. Don’t you even dream that you might have the brains or the sense to question me. I knew this all a long time ago, only I couldn’t bring meself to believe any of it, and neither would a lot of people, which is why we’ve had to box clever. But, if you insinuate anything like this ever again, I’ll fucking rip you in half, you cunt, like a Woolworths’ Christmas card.’

Arnold was already stepping away from him, already understood that Michael was not as easy-going as he made out to be. He knew that he was a dangerous fucker when cornered, and he also realised that Danny Boy had understood that a lot better than he did, than anybody did. Michael was the brains and everyone knew that, but now it seemed that he was also the brawn when necessary. Arnold felt this man’s complete loyalty to his friend, and his inbuilt honesty, and he knew then, that Michael Miles was capable of far more than he or anyone else had ever thought possible.

The last few days had taught him much, but this was the final lesson; never judge a book by its cover. He realised now that Danny Boy had allied
himself
to Michael Miles, not vice versa, because Danny Boy knew first and foremost that
he
, Michael, was in actual fact the real deal, especially where their work was concerned. He knew that Michael was the one person who could talk round anybody, could garner the respect and admiration that made Danny Boy’s personality and his natural viciousness seem even more potent. Danny Boy could never have existed without this man and his innate graciousness. It was Michael’s influence that made them such a winning combination, made them so successful. Without Michael Miles, Danny Boy would have been left out on a very precarious limb. It was with stunning clarity that Arnold finally understood that Danny Boy’s natural antagonism would never have made such a dent in their world without being tempered by Michael’s sensitivity. Without his level-headedness, without his decency. Arnold felt the full force of this knowledge in nanoseconds. The real relationship between the two men was suddenly so obvious that he was amazed that he had never seen it before, and he was miffed at his oversight when it should have been blatantly obvious to anyone with an IQ over twenty-five.

Michael was, in many respects, the stronger of the two. Danny Boy had known that from the off, had understood his own failings and, in fairness to him, he had embraced his friend’s strength of character. Hoping it might rub off on him which, of course, had been the case. It was Michael’s nous people depended on, and Danny Boy’s violence if and when everything fell out of bed. And Arnold knew that Michael was far more aware of this than the people they dealt with on a daily basis.

Arnold could only hope now that Michael would keep his sense of fairness and his determination to do the right thing when this finally went down. They had so much to lose, not least their freedom. But, more importantly, their standing in their community, which was the main reason they earned the serious wedge that they did. No one ever questioned their validity, why would they? This was Danny Boy Cadogan and his sidekick Michael Miles. He basked in the same sunshine as they did. They were believed to be both beyond reproach.