Guns Of Brixton (32 page)

    'But
what was more interesting was that there were a couple of young Paki blokes
there too. Ali and Tommo, not more than bloody seventeen either of them. But of
course I didn't know who they were then. And the tour manager's got all the
equipment broken down into bits and he's pulling out lumps of black all wrapped
in cellophane like there's no tomorrow, and the Pakis are so into it they're
nearly dribbling, and nobody notices that we're on the plot. So we pull out our
weapons and burst through the door and the tour manager and the roadie nearly
shit their pants. But the Pakis are cool. Fuck me if they don't pull out a
couple of pistols themselves and for a minute it looks like it might all go off
big time. I'll never forget being in that hot little shop and wondering if any
of us are going to get out alive, when Johnny says, "Hello Ali, hello
Tommo, how's tricks?" Fuck me, you could've knocked me down with a
feather. "Hello John," says the bigger of them, that was Ali.
"We're just here to do a little deal."

    '"Trouble
is, it's our deal," says Johnny. And he says, "Come on boys, we're
all friends here - let's put up the guns and see what can be done." So we
do, and it turns out that Johnny met Ali at some party months ago, and they'd
sussed out that each of them was a bit of a chancer and that maybe sometime
down the road they could do a bit of business. And it also turned out that Big
City Blues are off to America for six months that very evening, to make an
album and God knows what, so the tour manager fellah has done a bit of a double
cross and arranged to sell our drugs to Ali and Tommo for twenty per cent more
than we'd paid. I suppose he reckoned that by the time he.got back to London
we'd've forgotten all about him or maybe we'd be banged up out of the way.

    'As
you can imagine, this doesn't go down particularly well with Johnny Jenner. Say
what you like about the geezer, and I've said plenty, he was always fair in his
dealings. His motto was that to live outside the law you've got to be honest. A
bit soft if you ask me, but then he's on the out and I've been stuck behind
bars for nearly twenty years.'

    Terry
decided it might be safer to make no comment about that remark.

    'You
see, he'd paid up front to the Krauts who were bringing the hash into Europe.
Gone over with a bag of our dough. Risky business, but we trusted the Germans,
at least up to a point. We'd been doing business with them for a couple of
years. Normally it was COD, but no way were we giving that cash to the tour
manager, and the Germans weren't parting with a joint until they got paid. They
didn't know the tour manager guy any more than we did, and as it goes they were
dead right. So, Johnny and Ali go outside to have a pow wow about what's to be
done, and the rest of us are left in the shop with the bird and the two cunts
who've tried to rip us off. And you can tell what rank amateurs they are as
they're babbling on about what a big mistake they've made, and how sorry they
are, but to be honest I'm more interested in the hippy bird who you could tell
got a bit excited when we all pulled out guns and it looked like there was
going to be a massacre. She's giving me the old eye and by Christ she's not
half bad, so I give her a wink and I reckon I'll be in her pants, if she's
wearing any, by teatime.

    Anyway,
a few minutes goes by and Ali and Johnny come back and tell us what's going to
happen. In order to keep everyone happy, they were going to split the deal
fifty-fifty. We'd take half and Ali and Tommo would do the same. The two Paki
boys would pay us ten percent more than we'd paid, which gave both of us an
instant profit, and besides that, we didn't have to give those bastards from
the band anything for their trouble, so we were quids in. Anyway, we sort the
gear out, money exchanges hands as good as gold and everything's sweet.
"So what about these two?" says Chas whose been very quiet up to now.
"We teach 'em a lesson," says Johnny. "Just let us go,"
says the tour manager, "and we'll say nothing".

    '"Dead
right," I says and shoots the driver in the foot. Bang! he's wearing big
platform shoes and the one of them just about explodes and he's on the floor
crying his eyes out and bleeding like a pig. Then Martin gets sent out to put
our share of the gear into the motor and Johnny picks up a hammer that's lying
on the work bench and gets Chas to hold the tour manager, Mr Fucking Electronic
Genius's right hand, and he smashed every fucking bone in it, so that he
wouldn't be doing any delicate work for the next few months, if ever. And all
the time I'm eyeing this bird up, and the more violent things get, the more she
likes it. So we've got money and drugs and time's getting on, so Johnny asks
the Pakis to come up to the Palace with us and listen to the music.
"Fine," says Ali, "we were going up there anyway," and I
say to the bird, "Do you want to come too?" and fuck me if she
doesn't say yes, so we all had a right result and the only losers were those
greedy buggers with the band.'

    'What
happened to them,' asked Terry.

    'Never
heard of again, mate.'

    'Seems
fair.'

    'Don't
it?'

    'And
the girl?'

    'Gave
me a blow job in the Jag whilst Jeff Beck was playing. Lovely.'

    'A
good time was had by all then.'

    'That's
right.'

    'So
why did you fall out with Jenner?' asked Terry. 'In the end I mean.'

    'Long
story mate, I'll tell you another time.'

    When
Mark got home that evening, he could sense the atmosphere in the house. And it
wasn't good. Chas, Martine and John Jenner were sitting in the living room. The
air smelt of dope and Jenner's eyes were red rimmed and looked like they might
pop out at any moment. It was then that Mark realised just how sick his adopted
uncle was. 'Had a good time?' asked Jenner when he walked in.

    'Not
bad.'

    'Well,
while you were out with your bit of skirt we got some news.'

    'Yeah?'

    'Yeah.
It was those fucking niggers.'

    'Exactly
what fucking niggers are you referring to?' asked Mark.

    Chas
took over the story as Jenner poured himself a liberal hit of dark rum. 'A
little firm that's got a bit big for its boots since we started to take it
easy.'

    'Black
bastards,' said Jenner and lit a joint. Mark could tell it was going to be a
fun evening.

    'Yardies,'
said Chas.

    'Yardies,
my arse,' interrupted Jenner. 'Just some black fucking chancers think they can
operate on my territory. And kill mates I've had for years.'

    'Who
are they?' asked Mark.

    'There's
loads of 'em,' said Chas. 'But the main men are called Beretta, Karl and
Moses.'

    'And
how do you know it was them?'

    'We
asked around. Apparently they were down some shebeen getting tanked up and
smoking crack and they started boasting about taking out Ali and Tommo. They're
stupid, those cunts. Can't ever keep their fucking mouths shut. The only reason
they haven't been nicked ages ago is that they'll kill anyone they think is
grassing them up without a second thought.'

    'But
someone grassed them to you. Are you sure it's legit?'

    'Sure
we're sure,' said Jenner. 'Now what are you going to do about it?'

    'Me?'

    'Am I
talking to anyone else?'

    'I'm
on my own. And they're mobhanded.'

    'You
scared?'

    'Yeah.'

    'Then
call up that old firm of yours and get them back in the saddle.' 'I've lost
touch with that lot.'

    'Then
get in touch again.'

    'I
don't even know where they are.'

    'Then
find 'em. You found Linda, didn't you?'

    'You
told me where she was. If you hadn't talked about her I wouldn't even have
thought of her.'

    'It
was that fucking brother of hers coming round here.'

    'Why
not tell him?'

    'I've
never been a grass.'

    'Piss
off, Uncle, it's not the fucking 60s. Get real, man. This is a new century.
Someone's obviously whispering about you. Sean and his mate made that bloody
obvious, didn't they?' Jenner sat as still as a statue, but Chas nodded. 'So
spread a little happiness,' said Mark. 'Do the same to this mob. They'll be off
the streets and out of your hair in no time.'

    'I
want them dead.'

    Mark blew
air out if his mouth in exasperation. 'So what do you want me to do?'

    'Kill
them.'

    'And
if I won't?'

    'Then
the past could jump up and bite your arse,' said Jenner.

    'Are
you blackmailing me?' Mark could hardly believe his ears. 'Is this what you
bought me back for?'

    'Whatever
it takes,' said Jenner.

    'Jesus,'
said Mark. 'I could just get lost again. Walk away and vanish. For good this
time.'

    'No,'
said Jenner. 'Not this time. This time I'm calling in the favours you owe me.'

    'He's
lost it, Dad, look at him.' For the first time, Martine spoke. Mark said
nothing. It was happening. Everything he'd feared when he and Linda had parted
that afternoon. His life was falling apart again and there was nothing he could
do about it.

    'Be
quiet, Martine,' said Jenner, and she jumped up from her seat and stormed
through the door, slamming it hard behind her.

    'A
woman scorned,' said Chas.

    'All
right, John,' Mark said when the echoes from the slammed door had ceased.
'Solve the mystery for me. What did you do to these people to get them so
worked up at you?'

    'We
made a bit of a ricket a couple of months back,' said Chas, answering for
Jenner who sat very still as if looking inside himself.

    'What
kind of ricket?' asked Mark, already fearful of the answer.

    'The
worst kind.'

    'Tell
me.'

    'We
took on some muscle to sort out a little problem and everything went arse
upwards.'

    'Chas.
Are you going to tell me straight or what?'

    'We
sold some coke on credit to a bloke called Jimmy Hop. A black geezer who lived
on the Aylesbury estate at the Elephant. He was a good customer, always paid
up, no worries. But then he took a big consignment and vanished off the face of
the earth.'

    'How
much?'

    'About
ten grand's worth. Then we heard he was hanging out at his brother's in another
block and we sent these blokes to sort it out.'

    'And?'

    'And
it all went pear shaped.'

    'Who
were these geezers?'

    'They'd
been recommended. A little firm from Kent. Jed, Fish and Benny.'

    'And
what happened?'

    'Well,
as far as we can tell, they got a bit over-fisty.'

    'Tell
me.'

    So he
did.

    The
trio sat in the car for a minute and Fish, who was driving, let down his window
and took a deep breath of the warm October morning air. It was just before dawn
and the birds who spent the night in the trees that grew on the public parts of
the estate were just coming awake. Fish looked like a fish, with popout eyes
and a mouthful of sharp, grey teeth. 'Right,' he said. 'When we go in, we're
coppers, right?'

    The
other two nodded. Jed sat next to him. Jed was a big man. Brawny, he spent too
much time in the gym and thought a day without anabolic steroids was a day
without sunshine. Benny was in the back. He was small and mean and gobbled
Valium to keep his meanness in check, except today he hadn't had any and was
feeling ready for some violence, ultra as possible.

    'Just
like we've got warrants,' Fish went on. 'We make a lot of noise and sod the
neighbours. When they hear us shouting they'll just be glad that it isn't them
getting the early morning call.'

    More
nods.

    'Come
on then. Let's go.'