Revenge (30 page)

Chapter Eighty-Six

Josephine was sitting at the kitchen table, a large glass of white wine in her hand and a cigarette between her lips, when Michael finally joined her.

She could see from his expression that his visit with his daughter had not gone well. She should have warned him, but she had not wanted to cloud his thinking. She could see Jessie had been seriously affected by the events of the previous night.

Michael sat down wearily, and she poured him a glass of wine. ‘I made you a few sandwiches, Michael. I can cook you something if you want? A bit of egg and bacon?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘These are fine, mate.’

He grabbed a cheese and pickle sandwich and bit into it eagerly. He was hungrier than he had realised. He took a large sip of his wine, and savoured the crispness of it.

‘It’s still early days, Michael. She’ll come round.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘I hate that she had to go through that. I hate that you did! For fuck’s sake, Josephine, those fuckers got right the way to our door. I will never forget it.’

Josephine smiled weakly at her husband. She hated to see him like this. She always made sure that she never let him see her own fears. She was still shaking inside but she could never let him know that. It had taken everything she had to face those men and defend her home.

‘I just want to forget it, Michael.’

‘I should be in the West End now. Salvatore wants to be wined and dined every night. I’ve had to send young Alex Martin in my place. He’s going to take him clubbing. He’s a good lad. He’ll keep him out till the morning, and give me a bit of breathing space.’

‘Did Cecil tell you how they knew about the Colombians?’

‘Did he fuck! He was clueless. Jack was the brains of that outfit, and that’s a contradiction in terms, I can tell you. That Cecil was as thick as shit. I have never in my life met someone as dense as him. He made Trigger look like a fucking applicant for Mensa.’

Josephine laughed despite herself. ‘Your mum turned up today. You know her – she’s like a bloodhound. I had her out the door in record time though. She sussed that there was something going on.’

He finished his sandwich, not bothering to answer. The fact that someone like Jack Cornel had managed to get so close to him had really thrown him. It had shown him just how vulnerable he was, even now when he was such a major player. He had been foolish to think that his name was enough to guarantee his safety, but he had not allowed for nutters like the Cornels. The last few days had shown him the cracks in his armour, had forced him to re-evaluate everything he had believed in. Patrick Costello had once said to him that there was nothing lonelier than being a success. How true that was.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

Natalie Childs was looking at her oldest and best friend in abject amazement. ‘You can’t be serious, Jessie!’ Her voice had risen until it was almost a screech, she was so shocked at her friend’s words.

‘Oh, yes! I’m very serious, Nat.’

Natalie was still reeling from the shock of Jessie’s latest revelations. Jessie Flynn had become a completely different person recently. The girl she had known and loved was long gone. This girl – the new Jessie – was not just without shame, she was brazen. This new Jessie was already getting a name as a whore, and she seemed to relish it.

‘If you don’t watch it, Jessie, you are going to end up in so much trouble.’

Jessie just shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I don’t care, Natalie.’

Natalie was scared for her friend; she couldn’t understand what had happened to Jessie or why she was suddenly acting so strangely. ‘Your mum and dad will go apeshit if they find out.’

Jessie could hear the bewilderment in Natalie’s voice, and she felt a moment’s sorrow for her friend. But Natalie could never understand her life, no one could. Unless they lived in her family’s chosen world, it was impossible for anyone to understand. She looked at her friend’s lovely face, so full of concern for her, and she wanted so much to set her mind at rest, but she couldn’t do that.

‘How the fuck will they find out? If you do what I ask, and say I am with you, nothing can go wrong, can it?’

Natalie wasn’t sure. She didn’t like all this lying and scheming. It wasn’t a part of her life and, up until a few months previously, it hadn’t been a part of Jessie’s life either. Now Jessie lied about everything.

‘What if your mum rings the house to talk to you? She’s friends with my mum, remember? Have you thought of that?’

Jessie just laughed; she didn’t care either way, that was obvious. ‘So what if she does? If it was left to my mum and dad I would never leave the house without an armed guard. If I get busted, that’s my problem, Nat, not yours. Anyway, if my mum did decide to ring, she would ring me on my mobile.’ Jessie busied herself lighting a cigarette; after pulling the smoke deeply into her lungs, she said dismissively, ‘I really don’t give a flying fuck, Natalie. If I did get a capture, you know I’d take the flak – you wouldn’t be dragged into anything. If that’s what’s bothering you, then forget it. I don’t need anything from anyone, mate.’

Natalie knew when she was beaten and, as usual, she would do exactly what Jessie wanted her to. It had been like that since they were little kids. Jessie had always been the boss of the relationship and Natalie had never minded until recently. Now all Jessie wanted from her these days was an alibi. Unlike Jessie, Natalie had no interest in pubs or clubs, in meeting men who were far too old, and who expected far too much in return for the drinks they provided.

Jessie Flynn was getting a real reputation, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She was fifteen years old, but with her make-up and her clothes she looked at least twenty-five. She also had a way with her that belied her youth; she seemed so much older than her years. Everything about her friend, though, was an elaborate act. No matter how much Jessie tried to pretend that she was a grown-up, Natalie knew different. But she was still her friend, and that counted for a lot more than Jessie realised.

‘OK. So who are you meeting this time?’

Jessie grinned mischievously. She had got what she wanted. Stretching her whole body slowly and luxuriously, she laid herself across Natalie’s bed like a cat. Every movement was sensuous, dripping with her youthful sex appeal.

Natalie had always been envious of Jessie; she had developed very early, and now she had a body that any woman would kill for. She was high-breasted, with a slim waist and long legs. With her good looks and her amazing hair, it was a dangerous combination.

Natalie was pretty enough, but she knew she wasn’t in Jessie Flynn’s league. Men had been watching Jessie since she was thirteen, and who could blame them? She was stunning.

‘Come on, Jessie, spill!’

Jessie stretched herself once more, a deliberate, sexual movement that made Natalie feel uneasy. It was too calculated, too deliberate.

‘His name is Bill, and he is a builder. He is really good-looking, Nat.’

Natalie was intrigued despite herself. ‘How old is he?’

Jessie pouted sexily. ‘Late thirties. I’m not really sure, to be honest.’

Natalie looked suitably scandalised, and that pleased Jessie. It was exactly the reaction she had wanted to create.

‘You will be careful, Jessie, won’t you? Promise me.’

Jessie laughed in delight. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m always careful, Nat.’

Natalie Childs shook her head slowly in disbelief; she couldn’t believe her friend was so willing to take such chances, knowing the trouble it could cause. Everyone knew her dad wasn’t a man to cross – not that she would ever say that to Jessie outright, of course. Her family’s name and reputation had never been spoken of outright, but it had always been there between them. Jessie’s father was a dangerous man, and if he found out what his Jessie was getting up to, Christ Himself only knew what the consequences would be. Jessie just didn’t seem to give a damn.

‘You’re mad, Jessie. You can’t keep all this up for ever.’

Jessie laughed, a deep husky chuckle that sounded far too old and knowledgeable for her years. ‘You’re probably right, Nat, but I really couldn’t give a fuck either way.’

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Terence Brown was not a tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. He spent a lot of time in the gym, and his body showed that devotion. He wore clothes to accentuate his build. He wasn’t a handsome man, but had an interesting face, and he looked very amiable and friendly. People assumed he was approachable – his countenance led people to think he was willing to open up a dialogue with them. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Terence Brown was a man who could pick a fight with a novice nun if the mood was on him. He saw the majority of the people in the world as no more than an irritation, none more so than the people who insisted on attempting to engage him in pointless conversations. He made his living by collecting outstanding debts; they were always for huge amounts of money, and employing Terence Brown was the last resort. He could track any debtor, no matter where in the world they might have travelled to. He was like a bloodhound. He could sniff the fuckers out, and track them down with an ease that was as fast as it was unexpected.

His reputation was his greatest asset, and he used it to his advantage. He took thirty-five per cent of the monies that he collected, plus the ten grand up front he insisted on, to be paid whether he collected the debt requested or not. It was for his expenses and his time, and he saw that as his due. He was known and respected as a man who did the job required of him, not only quickly but, more importantly,
quietly
. If Terence Brown arrived on a doorstep, the person concerned made sure that they found the money needed as quickly as humanly possible. He was known to dispose of anyone who was unable to pay him. He saw failure to pay as a grave personal insult to him, and his retaliation as a reminder to anyone he might call on in the future. Terence Brown had carved a good life for himself, against the odds, and it was something he was proud of.

He glanced around the pub. It was Friday night, and it was packed out as usual. He paid for his drink, and sipped it carefully as he scanned the bar. It was just after ten and the place was buzzing – the music was loud and the conversations were louder. A bird he hooked up with occasionally was already walking towards him, and he smiled widely at her. She was a great-looking girl, all blond hair, minimal clothes and fake tan. She was also a good laugh. That was the main attraction for him – so few people caught his attention, but her sense of humour impressed him. She was looking for a Face, he knew. He wasn’t going to get caught up in that shite, though. If, and it was a big if, he ever did decide to marry, it wouldn’t be to someone who had lain down with anybody who bought her a few drinks and paid for the odd meal.

‘I thought that was you, Terence!’ He grinned at her, happy that she never made the mistake of pretending they had a real relationship. So many girls in her position tried to manufacture a closeness that wasn’t there.

‘I was passing, so I thought I’d pop in, Jan, and see if you fancied a quick drink?’

Janice Evans smiled widely. She liked Terence Brown a lot, he was always so nice to her, and she had a feeling that he liked her much more than he let on. ‘That sounds lovely, Terence. I’ll have a JD and Diet Coke.’

He ordered her drink, and Janice was chatting away, laughing and joking, when she realised that Terence wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. She followed his gaze, and saw that he was watching a couple at the bar with an interest that wasn’t exactly healthy. She grabbed his arm tightly and, as he looked down at her, she said huffily, ‘Are you all right, Terence?’

Pulling a twenty out of his pocket he gave it to her, saying, ‘Get another couple of drinks, Jan. Large ones, eh?’

She took the money, and turned back towards the bar, but she was annoyed. The girl he was staring at was very young, and that didn’t sit well with what she knew of Terence Brown. He wasn’t interested in many women, she had worked that out herself. But she shrugged her thoughts away; Terence wasn’t the kind of man she could ever question, he wouldn’t allow a woman to feel she had any hold over him. But he had never looked at anyone else while he had been in her company and she had liked that about him. Seeing him staring so intently at such a young girl bothered her. Even worse, she was annoyed with herself for caring so much.

Terence Brown suddenly found himself in a very serious quandary, and he was not sure what he should do. This was a situation that he could never have envisaged happening to him in a million years, but it was something that he couldn’t ignore and walk away from in good conscience. It was a fucking dangerous situation. A very
delicate
situation, that needed to be handled with tact and diplomacy. Luckily he was more than capable of doing that; the people he worked for used him because of his ability to keep his mouth shut. He saw himself as a man of principle, with old-style morals, which were very important to him. He had no choice – he had to do what was right.

Terence had worked for Michael Flynn on many occasions. Michael had always given him his due and he liked and greatly admired Michael. He had been invited into Michael’s home and had broken bread there on more than one occasion. He’d spent many happy hours talking with the man who had always treated him with the utmost respect and never been anything other than charming to him.

Now, as he stood at the bar of this complete shithole of a pub – a place only the lowest of the low would frequent – he couldn’t ignore the fact that Michael Flynn’s young daughter was there, dressed like a pole dancer, and in the company of a man old enough to be her father.

He took the drink that Janice Evans gave him, and gulped it down. Then he pulled Janice towards him roughly, shouting to be heard above the music. ‘Here, Jan, who’s the bloke over there with the leather jacket and the Churchill shoes? Do you know him?’

Janice nodded quickly. If Terence Brown was asking questions there was a good reason for it.

‘He comes in here all the time. Billy something-or-other. He’s a builder out of Silvertown. A complete fucking waster, always on the pull – married with a couple of kids, by all accounts. The young girl he’s with started coming in a few weeks ago. She’s jailbait, if you ask me. She’s already been with half the blokes in here from what I’ve seen of her. Anyone who buys her a few drinks is in with a chance!’

Terence Brown frowned at her words. ‘Listen, I need to make a quick phone call. Do me a favour, Janice – will you keep an eye on them for me? I think he owes someone I know a good few quid, the treacherous cunt.’

Janice grinned happily, pleased that Terence Brown was asking her for a favour, happy to be a part of his life however small.