Rise and Fall (7 page)

“Mmm, that looks handsome.” Gavin said as he leant over the table and took a piece of fried bread from Shay’s plate, before dipping it in ketchup.

“Oi, get your own bleeding grub, Gav, I’m bloody starving,” Shay protested, knocking Gavin’s hand away.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re hungry, mate, you’re eating that fry-up like you ain’t ever seen a plate of food before,” Gavin replied, put out that he would now have to wait for his own food to arrive while Shay tucked in greedily in front of him.

Rolling his eyes at Jamie, as if the two Muppets next to them had just said it all, Gary forced a smile. “See what I’ve had to put up with? Old gannet-guts here has been up all night shagging some poor bloody girl, and now he's acting like he’s been invited out for a friggin’ three-course meal.” Gary tried to make light of the situation; he knew that he had to put on a front and reassure his men if they were going to go ahead as planned. If they thought for a minute that he was still unsure about what they were going to do, it could all go to pot.

Ordering another full breakfast for Gavin and a coffee for Jamie when the waitress came over with Shay’s tea, Gary leant back in his chair.

Shay finished his breakfast and let out a loud and gratuitous burp. “Hey, where’s Les?” 

“Fuck knows.” Gary had been wondering the same thing. Les knew he was supposed to be here at seven sharp; he would be really pushing his luck if he didn’t pull his finger out and get his arse in gear for their meeting: he knew it was crucial.

“I’ve been thinking…” Jamie said. If Les couldn’t get himself here on time like the rest of them had, then Jamie wasn’t going to waste his time waiting for him. They needed to get down to business. “I know what we agreed but I think it’s going to be better if I do this myself.” He had been awake all night too, tossing and turning with a myriad scenarios running through his mind. Knowing that it was him that had masterminded all of this, he felt it fair that he would be the one to carry out the hit, alone, so that they had more chance of getting away with it undetected.

“No way, Jamie, you’re not going it alone on this one.” Gary was adamant that they were in this together, until the end.

“Besides,” Gavin chipped in, not wanting to be excluded from the action that he had been looking forward to, as taking out coons was a sport as far as he was concerned, “we don’t know who’s going to be with him when we do the job. He might be alone, but chances are those boys he has hanging around him won’t be too far away. There’s no way that I’m letting you do it on your own, Jamie, you can’t face him single-handed.”

Jamie knew they were right, but he felt responsible for putting them in this situation, especially Gary, who had wanted no trouble. Jamie couldn’t see the point of dragging everyone else into it. No matter how big and scary this Jerell nutter was supposed to be, when faced with a loaded gun, surely he would cry and beg just like any other bastard.

“We’re in it together, Jamie, and I ain’t discussing it with you again.” The finality in Gary’s voice was loud and clear. “I’ve got the guns out in the motor, it’s all sorted. We stick to the plan. Today we wait it out… watch the flat and gauge how many fuckers he has in there with him. Then tonight we strike.” 

As Gary spoke, the other three men nodded; it was, after all, what they had agreed to. They had spent the majority of the week digging up every ounce of information they could get their hands on about Jerell Morgan, and had come up with a good bit of background on the bloke, and some knowledge on the group of scroats he had running all over London for him. More importantly, they now had an address. 

Jerell was as nasty as they got; Jamie knew that they had never been up against anyone as ruthless. The bloke seemed to have made a lot of enemies in the short time he had been on the scene, so getting people to talk about him hadn’t been too much of an issue. Jerell was taking over the streets and had been severely pissing people off in the process. Jerell seemed to dabble in all sorts, from what they had managed to gather, but drugs were mainly his thing. The man seemed to be on a power trip, taking out other people’s businesses purely because he thought that he could. Jamie knew that starting a war with the bloke would be dangerous, ultimately, so they may as well go straight in for the kill. They would be doing a lot of people a favour by taking the man off the scene.

The garage was all they had, and Jamie knew that Gary and the others had never been tempted to get involved with the drug-dealing that so many of the other firms were involved with. All they wanted was their contract back; they needed it, and Jamie was going to see to it they got it. He said: “Yeah, I know you’re right, I’m just trying to work out the best way of doing it. Hopefully, we’ll get a chance to take that sorry fucker out when he’s alone, preferably out of the flat, on the street, to make it look more anonymous. It’ll make our lives a whole lot easier if there’s not much bloodshed.” 

The table fell silent as the waitress returned with Gavin’s breakfast and the coffee for Jamie. 

“Where the fuck’s Les? He’s almost half an hour late,” Gary said, as he threw down his mobile onto the table. It had gone straight to Les’ answer-machine. Being late wasn’t Les’ usual style. Les always did what was asked of him. But the meeting was over, and he was still nowhere to be seen. It just wasn’t like him.

“Finish up your breakfast, boys; we can fly by Les’ place on the way. See what the silly bugger thinks he’s playing at.” Gary was sure that Les was feeling even more nervous than he had been, but even so, if you agreed to a job, there were no excuses for not turning up. Nervous or not, he should be here; he was just as much a part of this as they were.

Les had been quiet all morning, which as far as Jamie was concerned was a bonus. Having picked up on the vibes from Gary, he had guessed that Les was feeling anxious, so he and Gary had let him be as they sat in silence staring out the windows of Gary’s Jaguar watching Jerell’s flat.

Les was knackered. He was also in the last place in the world he wanted to be right now, but he had promised Gary he would see this through, and he would.

The knock on Les’ front door had come with such force earlier that morning that he had thought that someone was trying to break the bloody thing down. The banging had jolted him awake. For the first time in years, Les had slept in and had been mortified when he had realised that he had missed the meeting; he never slept in. He guessed that it hadn’t helped that last night had been one of the worst night’s sleep he had ever had. He had been dreading today so much that thoughts of what he was getting himself involved in had kept him awake with worry all night. 

Les was fearful that he was too old for this kind of stuff now; he was scared he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the others if it kicked off. First of all, they were all much younger than he was and secondly, they were a lot fitter. He was out of shape; his beer-belly and the fact that he couldn’t make it up the three flights of steps to his flat most nights, without feeling out of breath was a painful reminder of that. The thought of getting old, and not being as capable as he used to be, was a depressing thought to be left alone with. Getting old meant one thing as far as Les was concerned: dying. Stuff like that in his head at silly o’clock in the early hours had added to his anxiety about what would happen in the morning. 

Les was petrified of the fact that one day his cold, lifeless body would be lowered six foot under the soil, and that his corpse would be left there all alone, to be eaten by the maggots. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that he would no longer be on Earth. When he wasn’t tormenting himself in the early hours with thoughts of death, he drove himself demented with imagining the ways that he might die. The still of the night always brought out his terrors, and last night had been worse than ever with this all hanging over him.

When he had finally managed to nod off, sometime around five o’clock in the morning, he had been plagued with nightmares. He could only vaguely remember the details of his vivid dreams, but the terrifying feelings they had provoked had left him feeling uneasy. 

Despite his fears, the last thing Les wanted to do was piss off Gary. He knew how much planning had gone into this whole thing and had been so embarrassed when he had realised that he had let Gary down by missing the meeting. He couldn’t have apologised more when he finally dragged himself out of his bed to the sound of his door being bashed in, realising that he had overslept and that Gary must have come to get him. He had opened the door, exposing his fuming boss to the sight of himself half-asleep and thus barely coherent, donning a pair of grey Y-fronts. 

“Fucking hell, Les, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Gary was relieved that Les was okay, all sorts of things had run through his mind when Les hadn’t turned up and he could sense instantly by Les’ apologetic expression that he was genuinely sorry for letting him down. “What the fuck are you doing, Les? We were waiting in the cafe for over forty-five minutes for you,” Gary said, as he followed Les down his pokey hallway. The curtains were drawn and the musty smell was powerful: Gary could barely breathe.

“Go and stick some trousers on,” Gary ordered, as he pulled back the curtains and then opened a window to let some fresh air in. Seeing the flat in the harsh daylight, Gary could see that it looked as bad as it smelt. Les’ furniture had been his late mum’s, and the flat had a real fifties feel to it. Retro may have been fashionable, but Les’ flat looked like it had run through a car-boot sale and had been hit every stall; there was junk everywhere. Piles of DVDs were stacked up in front of the TV. Tacky trinkets and ornaments covered in dust lined every bit of shelf space on an old mahogany wall unit. The large unit took up most of the back wall of the lounge, making the already small room feel claustrophobic. Together with the mustard-coloured sofas, that looked so worn and tired you’d almost feel guilty for sitting on them, the room looked dire. And the carpet, Jesus! It had a large, faded floral print; the sort of carpet that only vomit or a lit match could improve. Gary knew that Les had kept everything exactly as his dear old mum had left it; he had taken his mother’s death hard, and the place was clearly still a shrine to the woman.

“I’m so sorry that I overslept, boss. I was staring at my alarm clock ‘til the early hours so God knows how…” Les called from the bedroom, as he pulled on a pair of jeans, not wanting to hold Gary up any longer.

Gary knew that feeling. Les wasn’t the only one who had lost sleep last night.

“When I finally did nod off, I had nothing but bloody nightmares.” Les’ voice was muffled through the sweater he was pulling over his head, as he came back into the lounge where Gary stood.

Gary knew that feeling too; the past week had been full of nightmares. It was only right that they were all nervous about what they were about to get involved with, but Gary picked up from Les’ jittery body language that he was actually really scared. This was going to be a big job; they weren’t playing games. This was as real as it was going to get.

“You know you don’t have to be there later on tonight, don’t you, Les? The main thing is that we all stick together this morning, and watch this Jerell’s every movement. When it comes down to it later, and we get our opportunity to strike, you don’t have to be there if you think you’re not up to it, mate.” Gary tried to play his words down. He didn’t want Les to think that he was implying that he wouldn’t be able to cope. Les had been an asset to him over the years, and Gary knew that no matter what, the man had always had his back. But Les wasn’t made out of the same stuff as Gary and Jamie. They were fiery and gutsy, they had built themselves up from nothing, and that was what Gary had instantly recognised in Jamie when he had walked into his garage all those years ago. Gary still had some of that fire burning away, but Les didn’t anymore, and it showed. The man wanted a quiet life; he had no fight left and Gary could understand that. But Les worked hard at the garage, which was all that Gary required of him these days.

“No, honest, Gary, I’m good for it.” Les was adamant that he would see the thing through to the end. There was no way he was going to sit this one out; no way that Jamie would be able to say that he was a coward.

Gary shook his head at Les’ stubbornness but understood that he was resolutely loyal.

“They don’t make them like me and you anymore, you know.” Gary laughed. “Come on, we’d better get our arses down to the motor, I’ve left Jamie with the two Muppets. He’ll be ready to kill them if we leave him alone with them for too much longer.”

When Gary and Les had joined the others at the car, the men decided to stick with the plan and split up, taking the two cars. 

Shay was miffed. The Jag was a beast of a motor, it was full-on leather and luxury, and had Shay been able to go in that car, it would have made sitting on his arse for the next eight hours a much more pleasant experience. Instead he was going to have to sit in the shitty Escort with Gavin and his dodgy guts all day long. He always drew the short straw: Gavin was an animal who was constantly full of wind, and the smells that came out of him were so potent they could strip paint from a wall.

Les stayed with Jamie and Gary at the opposite end of the street to Shay and Gavin. They had been there for a good few hours and Les had hardly said a word; the fact that Jamie was sitting in the front next to Gary spoke volumes, as far as he was concerned, about the pecking order. At least he had a bit of space in the back, he thought moodily, as he stretched out his legs along the back seat and leant his head back while he watched the flat. So far there had been a lot of coming and goings: Jerell must be an extremely busy man.

The flat was on the ground floor. There were two BMX bikes outside it, locked to a drainpipe. The door was brown and shabby-looking, just like the blinds at the windows. It looked as dull and depressing as every other flat on this estate. If the Earth had an arsehole, Jamie reckoned that they were now sitting in it.

“Is it me, or has anyone else noticed that the majority of people going in and out of that flat are little fucking kids?” Jamie was shocked at how young the boy that had just left the flat appeared to be. He was wearing a bomber jacket and a baseball cap, but Jamie guessed he was only about twelve.