The Jump (37 page)

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another wing, and do you know why? Lewis thought he had given him a dirty look in the chapel. Now if that don’t tell you what you need to know, nothing will. He’s a bona ride headcase, you mark my words. Timmy will be skinned alive one night, and that’s if Lewis arrives back in a good mood. He has the backing of a lot of major criminals, mate, he’s hand in glove with them all - the real big ones He made a point of cultivating them over the years, now he can call on literally anyone to help his end. If you’ve got a fucking death wish, then put in for a cell transfer before you make any moves, OK?’

Chopper took a deep drag on his roll-up, then blew out the smoke slowly, digesting what Georgio had said.

‘Lewis warned me to put the frighteners on you, but you know that -1 told you before. You have the look of a man who’s going places, Brunos, and maybe, just maybe … I might want to go with you.’

Georgio sat on his bunk and pushed his hands through his hair. ‘I dunno what the fuck you’re talking about. All I do know is, if Lewis can move around, then he’ll be back here in the prison hospital. And when he isf he might just as well be in your jockey shorts with you, that’s how close to us all he’ll be. If, and I mean if, I go on the trot, you will be the first to know. But at the moment I just want to get through me time in peace.’

Chopper nodded nonchalantly. He had made his point and he knew it.

‘You’re a funny bloke, Brunos. I heard you was a hard card of a man.’

Georgio nodded. ‘I am. But I am also a shrewd man. I know when to keep me trap shut and listen, and when to open it and get things done.’

That’s the kind of man you are, is it?’

Georgio looked at him. ‘I’m also a frightened man. Lewis frightens me and I ain’t ashamed to admit he. He makes Saddam Hussein seem like one of the Three Bears. I’m frightened all right, and if you had an ounce of brains in your head, you’d be shitting about it now.’

Chopper answered slowly this time. ‘I think you’re talking sense, Brunos. I might heed your warning.’

Georgio slammed himself back on his bunk. Lying flat, he put his hands behind his head.

‘Do what you fucking like, but remember what I told you. If you persist with your plan of action, get a cell change first.’

Chopper leant towards him as he opened his mouth to speak. Georgio pulled a long thin blade from out of the mattress.

‘Shut it, Chopper. You’re beginning to get on my fucking nerves now, all right? I might just flex my muscles on you, boyo, and

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them wouldn’t that please your Mr Lewis, eh?’

Chopper was amazed at the change in Georgio’s face. He eyes were burning with hatred and his teeth were bared; an almost feral look was on his face. Chopper realised that he had underestimated Georgio because of his outward demeanour. Moving cautiously away from the blade, he slowly held up his hands.

‘You’ll keep, Georgio.’

The other man laughed harshly. ‘Don’t push me, you scouse cunt. You’ve trodden on my toes once too often for my liking. I’ve given you good advice, now take it or shut the fuck up. Do what you’ve gotta do but leave me out of it - OK? I have enough on my plate with Lewis, without you putting your two bob’s worth in.’

Chopper picked up some cards from the desk and began shuffling them, his face closed.

He knew what he wanted, and Georgio would keep for a while. But he would lay money on the fact that his cellmate was for the out, for the jump, and when he finally jumped, Chopper wanted to be right behind him.

Donna walked out of The Waterloo into the cold night air. She shivered slightly as they made for the car.

‘What did you think of Nick?’ Alan’s voice was curious.

‘I liked him, actually. Once you get past his funny clothes and camp way of talking, you discover a very intelligent man.’

Alan opened the door for her and as she sat down, he said, ‘Shall I let you into a secret? Nick ain’t gay. He’s a cross-dresser who got caught up in the gay scene years ago. He takes a woman now and then.’

Donna’s eyes widened at the thought.

Alan climbed into the driving seat and grinned.

‘Honestly, it’s as true as I’m sitting here. Some old lag told me that. He plays on the camp angle. And let me tell you, it’s the perfect cover for him and all.’

Donna nodded. She opened her bag and checked over her makeup, talking all the while.

‘Where are we off to now?’

They were once more cruising along Argyle Street.

The and you are going to have a nice meal in a Chinky I know. It’s the Amber House Restaurant - you’ll love it. The best Malaysian food this side of the Clyde.’

Donna was delighted. ‘I’m starving. We haven’t eaten since that ham sandwich this afternoon, and the amount we’ve drunk!’ Her voice was slightly louder than usual and Alan laughed gently.

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‘One tiling in my favour, Donna, I could always handle me drink. I take after me old man in that way.’

Donna moved sideways in her seat so she could look at him as he drove.

‘Do you come up this way a lot? Only everyone seems to know you and Georgio.’

Alan carried on talking as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘My old man could drink anyone under the table. In fact, it was a scam he used. In a pub, right, my old man would bet the biggest navvy in the place that he could drink him under the table. He’d put a ton on the bar and ask him to match it. Then he’d drink the fucker under the table!’

He snorted at the skulduggery of his father. ‘Old ponce he was, I hated him.’

He pulled into a parking space and said gaily, ‘Here we are then, girl. The Amber House.’

A few minutes later they were sitting inside the restaurant. The proprietor knew Alan and he showed them to a quiet table. Donna lit a cigarette, leaning on the table she said, ‘You didn’t answer my question, Alan. Do you come up this way very often, and how come everyone knows Georgio? If you don’t answer me I might start doing a little bit of investigating myself.’

Her voice was jocular, but he heard the steely undertone.

‘You smoke too much, lady.’

Donna gave a nasty little laugh that jolted him.

‘You must think I’m stupid, Alan Cox. I’m a grown woman, and I want an answer to my bloody question! I’m not a child to be put off with anecdotes and smarmy references to my general health and well-being! Now, are you going to answer me?’

He sipped his scotch and grinned annoyingly. ‘Why do you always want to know everything? Why can’t you just get this little lot sorted out and be done with it? Jesus, I don’t envy Georgio being married to you, love. It must feel like being shacked up with someone in the GPS . Always asking questions - questions, I might add, you probably wouldn’t like the answers to.’

The moment he said the words he regretted them. It was the drink speaking and he knew it.

But he did honestly wish she wouldn’t keep asking questions he couldn’t answer. In fact, the only person who should answer them was Georgio, and he wasn’t saying anything!

‘Thanks a lot, Alan, it’s really nice to know I can trust you so much and that the feeling is mutual. Everywhere we go, people look at me as if I am an interesting specimen. Annie, Jonnie H. Nick, even poor dumb Albie. They all know you and Georgio. Yet I ask you one civil

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them question and you talk down to me like I’m dirt. You afford a greater measure of respect to rent boys and ex-prostitutes from Shepherd’s Market. Now, if you don’t give me a straight answer, I am getting up and going home. I am going to tell my Georgio to leave the whole lot in your capable hands, as well as ask what is going on with him, Scotland, and all the people we’ve met since we’ve been here.’

Alan shrugged helplessly. ‘You do what you’ve got to do, love. All I can say is, as far as my interests are concerned, they’re fuck all to do with you. I ain’t got to tell you nothing about my dealings, or anything else come to that. As for your old man’s business, that’s down to him to tell you, not me. Be fair, love. I ain’t got to tell you nothing,. You ask him, all right? About the respect, well, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but there you go. These people, Annie included, are a big part of my life, love. How and why I know and respect them is my business again, OK?’

Picking up a menu he glanced at it as if engrossed. Donna fought down an urge to get up and walk from the restaurant, knowing in her heart that it was exactly what Alan Cox wanted. She was shrewd enough to realise that he hated her tagging alone.

Looking into her face, he smiled gently.

‘Look, Donna, is it my fault you don’t trust your old man?’

She lit herself another cigarette and sipped at her glass of Perrier. Alan Cox had just hit the nail on the proverbial head.

She didn’t trust Georgio. Which was why she was in Scotland.

The revelation shocked her.

‘I don’t like you, Alan Cox. I tolerate you for my husband’s sake. Don’t worry, I’ll never question you again.’

Alan raised his eyebrows whimsically. ‘I take it you’re leaving then, so I’ll just order for myself, shall I?’

As he scanned the menu he realised he had hit a raw nerve, and the knowledge saddened him. He looked over at her, and was astonished to see the glassful of water coming straight towards his face. It was too late to duck.

Soaked to the skin, he sat back in his seat and shook his head slowly before saying through gritted teeth: ‘If you was anyone else, Donna, I’d smash that glass into your boat without a second’s thought. Now I’m going to the toilet to sort myself out and calm down, because I’m fucking annoyed, woman. If you’re still here when I come back, I want an apology, and then we’ll see if we can go on from there. But if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll give you the hiding of your fucking life!’

Stunned at what she had done, her face devoid of colour, Donna watched him as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his face. As he stormed across the restaurant towards the toilets she realised

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exactly what she had let herself in for.

Alan Cox was dangerous, and so was her husband.

The drink she had consumed was weighing heavily on her stomach and she looked at the empty glass with a feeling of shocked triumph.

She didn’t trust her husband. That new insight continued to shock and sadden her. Her involvement in all this was a blind. What she had really wanted to know all along was how far up the scale of villainy her husband really stood.

She refilled her glass from the large bottle on the table and sipped the water slowly. The knowledge that Georgio was involved with the likes of Annie, Jonnie H. and Nick Carvello had shocked her. But even with Alan Cox threatening her, she realised she still didn’t want out from it all. All she wanted was the truth.

She reasoned that eventually she would get it - and that she would probably find it a bitter pill.

As Alan Cox walked back towards her she rehearsed her apology in her mind.

She hadn’t wanted to throw the water at him; she had wanted to throw it in her husband’s face.

She had a strange feeling that Alan Cox had realised that before she did.

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them BOOK TWO

Odi et amo; quare id fadorn,

fortasse requiris.

Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

I hate and I love; why do I so you may well ask.

may line

I do not know, but I feel it happen and am in agony—

Carmina No. 85, Catullus, c.84-54 BE

At twenty years of age, the will reigns;

at thirty, the wit;

and at forty, the judgement—

Poor Richard’s Almanac (1741 June), Benjamin Franklin, 1706-90

them Chapter Twenty-Six

Jack Coyne was a thick-necked Liverpudlian of almost pure Irish ancestry. The name was Irish, the deep blue eyes were Irish … but Jack’s mother had been a Vietnamese women of uncertain age and even more uncertain virtue. He grew up in an atmosphere of suppressed violence, strong maternal love, and hardship.

Kek To, his mother, had lived in a small tenement building in the heart of Handsworth, supplementing her meagre Social Security with turning tricks along Lime Street and the Dock areas. She was small, quietly spoken and amicable, which meant she attracted large brash individuals who wanted a weekend’s leave in a warm house with a warm woman - and the advent of a large half-caste son was often a bugbear. Especially as Jack hated more than anything his mother’s ‘friends’.

Kek To had died when he was thirteen years old. Already five foot ten, and looking much older, he got himself work in the Docks, loading the tall ships that came in, and keeping himself to himself. At seventeen he was already a world-weary man and that was when he met Jojo O’Neil. Jojo was thirty-five, already a big name in Liverpool Dock circles as a pimp and procurer, and he saw the potential for violence in hulking young Jack Coyne.

Taking Jack as his minder, Jojo had taught him the finer points of pimping, fencing, and countless other ways of making a dishonest few pounds. Together they became a mighty force, and twenty years on Jack and Jojo were still together, only now they were partners and ran a good many of the Liverpool rackets. Neither had ever darkened the doors of a prison and neither wanted to.

To look at, the pair were semi-respectable - both drove nice cars, wore decent clothes, and owned among other things two night clubs and a brothel. Jojo had only one interest - young women - which he pursued with a fervour belying his age. Jack Coyne oirthe other hand had an Achilles heel - his wife Bethany, a small dark-eyed West Indian woman, five years older than him and the mother of his six children.

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them Jack adored her, even though she was showing the wear these days and he was in a position to buy any kind of company he liked. Bethany was his mother, sister and lover rolled into one; the product of a white woman and a black man after a one-night stand. They had an awful lot in common; they both adored each other and their children in that order, and Bethany turned a blind eye to her husband’s businesses, enjoying the feeling of security the money and the respect brought them. Their children were beautiful, taking only the best from their ancestors; they were clever, industrious and loving.