Guns Of Brixton (66 page)

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Authors: Mark Timlin

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'Of
course,' said Skinny and left them alone.

'Cheers,'
said Butler raising his glass.

'Cheers,'
said Jimmy.

'I'm
sorry about that,' Butler continued. 'I didn't know she was carrying, otherwise
I would've warned you.'

'What
kind of fucking woman does that?'

'A
dead one,' said Butler. 'My spies tell me the cops are baffled.'

'And
they'd know?'

'That's
what I pay them for.'

'Good.
Now, what have you got to tell me?'

'Slow
down, Jimmy,' said Butler. 'All in good time. Let's order. I told you about the
veal, didn't I?'

'Yeah.
But not for me. I did a lot of reading when I was away. Books, magazines,
newspapers. Anything I could get my hands on. It helped to pass the time. I
know how veal calves are raised. Reminds me too much of being banged up.' He
opened the huge leather-bound menu. 'I'll have minestrone and a steak.'

'Please
yourself.' Butler gestured for Skinny to come back, which he did, and took
their order. Butler asked for a bottle of something Jimmy didn't recognise, but
he let it go. He'd drink any old plonk. His taste buds had been destroyed by
prison food.

When
the waiter - or whatever he was - had left them, Jimmy lit another cigarette
and took a pull of his gin. 'My children,' he said.

• 'Living
in Croydon,' answered Butler. He took a piece of paper from inside his jacket
and gave it to Jimmy. 'Linda and Sean's address.'

Jimmy
shook his head. So simple, he thought. 'And they're well?'

'Apart
from Linda being a widow and Sean being in the filth. Yes, they're fine.'

'How
old are my grandchildren?'

Butler
told him and Jimmy sighed. 'Just babies,' he said.

'What
are you going to do?' 'I don't know. Do they know about me?'

'Of
course they do. Why wouldn't they?'

'I
don't know what Marje told them. The last time I saw them they weren't much
more than babies themselves.'

'And
then Marje divorced you.'

'That's
right.'

'Didn't
that piss you off?'

'For
a bit. Then I realised she'd done the right thing.'

'You're
very cool about it.'

'It
was a long time ago, Dan. And you learn to be philosophical in the shovel.
That, or go mad. She did what she thought was right for herself and for them.
And she was right. She was always skint. Always just about managing to scrape
together to raise the fare to see me. Those bastards made it difficult for her.
Always shifting me round the country from one place to another. It broke my
heart to see them. In a way, I was relieved when she gave me the elbow. But I'd
love to see my kids one more time. And my grandchildren…'

'They're
a gift from God.'

'What
about you?'

'One
son. He has three little ones. Two boys and a girl. He married a girl from
Edinburgh he'd met at university. He does something in computers. They live in
Bristol.'

'See
much of them?'

'Yes.
I make time for frequent visits.'

'Does
the boy know what you do?'

'Not
really. My wild years were over before he was born. And you know I never did
time.'

'You
were lucky.'

'I
trusted the right people.'

'And
talking of that, Dan,' said Jimmy, as the starters were being served. 'I think
there's something else you were going to tell me.'

'Indeed
I was,' said Butler as he spooned Parmesan over his soup. 'Remember Dave
Nicholls?' 'Yeah, course.'

Butler
pulled a wry face.

'Dave?'
said Jimmy, his minestrone untouched. 'Never.'

'It's
a fact.'

'You're
kidding me.'

'I've
never been more serious in my life.'

'And
then he got run over. Fuck me. But why? He was a good lad. Staunch. And how do
you know?'

'Why?
Because he was up for another blag. Billy Farrow had him in for a chat. All on
the quiet, you understand. No PACE in those days. Anyway, Dave spilled the lot.
Put you in the frame and expected to get off with a slap on the wrist. The
banks were offering big rewards for information in those days, if you remember.
So he was looking to have a nice little nest egg waiting when he got home.'

'I
don't believe it. Who told you all this?'

'An
ex copper. Well, he wasn't ex then. He was there. Ironically, it was him nicked
Jack Dewhurst that day. Remember?'

Jimmy
didn't, but he nodded anyway.

'This
copper became a mate of your old friend, John Jenner. He made a few quid
helping some of us out over the years. Sharman, his name was. A bad fucker. He
spilled it over a drink a bit later. Thought it was funny. Poetic justice he
called it, getting hammered by a Transit after using one so many times
blagging.'

'Fucking
hilarious. I've been planning on finding the bastard who did it for the past
twenty years, and he's brown bread all the time. Why didn't anyone ever tell
me?'

'Thought
someone would've,' said Butler. 'But you were out of the loop. Anyway, you
don't have to worry about it now.'

Jimmy
dipped his spoon into his soup. 'It's amazing what goes on,' he said around a
mouthful.

'Isn't
it.'

The
meal continued peacefully. The food was good, the service was discreet. The
restaurant was busy and noisy, but not noisy enough to intrude, just enough to
ensure that the two men at the table for four retained their privacy.

Both
passed on dessert and ordered coffee and brandy. When it arrived, Butler sat
back and lit a cigar. 'So there's just one other thing,' he said.

'Yeah,'
said Jimmy.

'Yeah,'
said Butler. 'I promised you some work, didn't I?'

Jimmy
nodded.

'And
I'm a man of my word. Like I said, Jimmy, you did well the other night. Very
well. Better than I expected, to be honest.'

Jimmy
felt a light bulb come on over his head. 'You knew she was carrying, didn't
you?' he said.

Butler
smiled.

'Fuck
you, Dan,' said Jimmy, but not loud enough to cause a commotion. 'Was it her?'

Butler
cocked his head.

'It
was, wasn't it? It wasn't him you wanted done, it was her.'

This
time Butler smiled. 'Very astute of you,' he said.

'Why
didn't you tell me?'

Butler
shrugged. 'It was a test and you passed. No hard feelings, I hope.'

'She
could've fucking killed me.'

'But
she didn't. Are you interested in some work or not?'

Jimmy
nodded.

'Right.
No details now. That'll come later. But I'm putting a little firm together for a
job. It's big, Jimmy. Very big. And I need men who are prepared to use
violence. Maybe even kill. Are you one of those men?'

'You
know I am. But what's in it for me?'

'A
lot. I reckon the job could be worth well over twenty million.'

'How
much?

'You
heard, Jimmy.'

'Christ.'

'But
of course a million isn't what it used to be. Inflation, you know.'

'But
even so. And my cut?'

'I
reckon it's a seven-man job. I take thirty per cent off the top, leaving… what?
Say twelve or thirteen mill, perhaps more. Even split amongst the seven of you.
Work it out for yourself.' 'A lot,' said Jimmy.

'A
new life, Jimmy. Somewhere far from here. How does that sound?'

'It
sounds good.'

'So
are you in?'

'Do
you need to ask?'

'No.
But from now on, Jimmy, if you're part of the team, you're in one hundred per
cent.' 'No problem.'

'Good.
Well, I'll pay up and be gone. I'll be in touch when I need you.'

'When's
that likely to be?'

Butler
smiled. 'All in good time, Jimmy. Now Bob's waiting for me. I've got business
in town this afternoon.' 'I'll be going then.'

Butler
nodded as he called for Skinny to bring the bill. 'You do that.' Jimmy got to
his feet. 'OK, Dan,' he said. 'I'll be seeing you.' 'You will.'

'And
thanks for the lunch.'

Later
that evening, a mobile phone rang somewhere in Europe. 'Hello.'

'It's
me, Gerry,' said Gerry Goldstein.

'Yeah.'

'He's
in.'

'Is
he?'

'Yeah.
He took the bait. Did a bit of business.' 'What kind of business?' 'You on the
Internet?' 'I can be.'

'Check
out yesterday's
London Evening Standard.
Page three. With reference to
New Addington.'

'I'll
do that.' 'So what next?'

'Break
out the champagne. I'm coming home.'

Chapter 32

Since
John Jenner's death, things had not been so good at the house in Tulse Hill.
Martine had quit her job to look after Jenner's money and property. In fact,
there had been much more than he had admitted to Mark and Chas before he died.
When Martine had gone through his papers, all sorts of investments in stocks
and property had come to light. There were deeds to shops and houses in some of
the more dilapidated parts of south, London and Martine set about converting
them into cash, which she then reinvested. Or at least she said she did. But to
Chas it seemed she spent most of her time out clubbing it, often inviting new
friends home to keep the party going far into the night and through to the next
morning. He suspected she was seriously into drugs, but when he as much as
hinted that that was the case, she flew into terrible rages.

Chas
stayed on in his flat at the back of the house and Martine lived upstairs. But
with John Jenner gone, the life seemed to have leeched out of the house and
Chas knew it was only a matter of time before he went too. But where? He had no
family or friends, and little money of his own. Just the pension John Jenner
had set up for him, which wasn't performing too well. He'd dedicated his life
to the family, and now he could only watch in dismay at what had happened to
them.

One
bright Tuesday in May, everything changed.

At
around one in the afternoon, the telephone rang. Chas answered it in the
kitchen. 'Hello.'

'Hello.
Chas?'

'Yeah.'

'It's
me.'

'Who?'

'Me.'

Chas
suddenly recognised the voice. 'Mark?'

'No
names. You never know who's listening.'

'Christ.
Where have you been?'

'Around.'

'Where
are you?'