The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers) (38 page)

Sam glared at him in the mirror. ‘
Your
way. Not our way.’

‘He knows someone who’s got access to some top grade heroin. From Afghanistan.’

Sam waved the brush at him angrily. ‘You want to put together a heroin deal? For God’s sake, don’t you ever learn? They’ll throw away the key.’

‘Only if we get caught.’

‘There’s that “we” again.’

‘Look, love, I’m not over the moon about this, but if you want me out, we’ve got to have one last big score. Enough money to walk away with.’

Sam gave him a frosty look and went back to brushing her hair.

‘What?’ said Terry. ‘What’s that look for?’

‘You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you? This hasn’t just come out of the blue.’

Terry wrapped the towel around his shoulders. ‘I guess so, yeah.’

Sam narrowed her eyes. ‘You weren’t using Micky to plant the idea, were you? Pave the way?’

Terry pulled a pained face as if nothing could have been further from the truth. ‘Sam, come on,’ he said. ‘You were the one who mentioned it to me. Look, we’re not going to be able to live worrying if the next knock on the door is the bailiff. But if we put together one big deal we can take the money and run.’

‘Terry . . .’ said Sam plaintively.

‘That’s where everyone goes wrong, don’t you see? They get greedy, they keep doing what they’re doing until their luck runs out. We do it once, then we walk away.’

‘The cannabis deal was a one-off, and that went belly up,’ said Sam.

‘Too many cooks, that’s why. This time, I’ll keep it simple.’

Sam shook her head, confused. Terry had an answer for everything. ‘Heroin is big time, Terry. You don’t need me to tell you that.’

‘Compared with four tons of cannabis?’

Sam sighed. He had a point. ‘How would we get it into the UK?’ she asked.

Terry smiled and raised an eyebrow and Sam realised that she had said ‘we’ again. She threw her brush at him but it was a half-hearted throw and he easily dodged it.

‘I’ve got a plan,’ said Terry.

‘I just bet you have,’ said Sam.

Terry sat grinning at her.

Sam finished brushing her hair and climbed into bed. ‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

‘We bring it in on the booze run,’ said Terry. ‘The vans normally go to Calais to pick up the lager and stuff, but this time we drive down to Spain first. We get Micky’s mechanics to put false compartments in the vans and we pack them with the gear. Then we drive them to Calais and load up with booze. Our drivers never get stopped, and if they are, the worst that’ll happen is that the booze’ll be confiscated. Customs won’t be looking for drugs.’

‘Where do we get the money from to buy the heroin?’ asked Sam.

‘We use the cash we’ve got. I’ll get some from Kay, from the clubs. And Asher and Patterson can chip in.’

Terry tossed his towels on to the back of a chair and slipped under the quilt.

‘You’ve got it all planned, haven’t you?’ said Sam.

‘I’ve been giving it some thought, yeah.’ Terry put his arm around her and drew her closer to him. He kissed her on the neck.

‘Then what?’ she said. ‘We get the stuff into the UK, what do we do then? You’re going to be on street corners selling it, are you?’

‘I’ll sell the lot to one guy. I’ve a few names, but I’ll put out feelers first. See who’s interested. We’ll be wholesalers, Sam, that’s all. Bring it in and sell it on.’

‘I don’t know, Terry.’

Terry rolled on top of her and kissed her. ‘It’ll be fine, Sam. Trust me.’

Sam looked up at him. Can I, Terry? she thought. Can I trust you?

‘Now what’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve got that look.’

‘What look?’

‘That suspicious look.’ Terry grinned, then kissed her again.

Sam twisted her head to the side. ‘And that’ll be it,’ she said. ‘One deal and it’s over?’

‘I promise. Straight and narrow. We’ll set up a business, a pub maybe.’

‘Terry Greene, pulling pints?’

‘We’ll see, yeah. One step at a time.’ He tried to kiss her again but Sam pushed him away.

‘I’ve got a headache, Terry. I’m sorry.’

Terry slid off her and lay with his arm around her.

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Goodnight,’ she said. She turned her back on him and lay with her eyes open, listening to his breathing. No, she decided, she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t ever trust him. There were just too many lies between them. Too many lies, and a baby in Bristol.

∗      ∗      ∗

 

Richard Asher paced up and down in front of his desk. ‘Have you lost the plot or what?’ he asked.

Terry smiled up at him from the sofa. He crossed his legs and adjusted the crease of his trousers. ‘It’s a good offer, Richard,’ said Terry. ‘Chance of a lifetime.’

‘We’re professionals,’ said Laurence Patterson, who was standing by the door, looking equally as indignant as Asher.

‘Whereas I’m just an enthusiastic amateur?’ asked Terry.

Patterson went over to stand next to Asher’s desk. ‘I meant professional as in members of a profession, Terry,’ he said patiently. ‘I’m a solicitor, Richard’s a chartered accountant. We offer advice, we don’t get involved.’

Terry smiled easily. ‘Look, this is a one-off, Laurence. It’s a straightforward investment. You get your money back three-fold within the week.’

Asher stopped pacing. ‘But Terry, it’s a drug deal. Heroin, for God’s sake.’

‘Richard, how much money have you earned from me over the last ten years?’ said Terry. He stood up. ‘Where do you think that money comes from?’ Terry pointed a finger at Patterson. ‘And you know damn well what pays
your
fees.’ Terry walked behind Asher’s desk, sat down in the brown leather executive chair, and swung his feet on to the desk. ‘Let’s get this straight. This is my last deal. After this, it’s over. No more padded fees, no more retainers, no more commissions. The fat lady will have sung. I’m offering you a chance for one last hurrah.’

Patterson and Asher exchanged a look and Terry could see that they were almost convinced.

‘How much?’ asked Asher.

‘How much have you got?’ said Terry.

∗      ∗      ∗

 

Frank Welch picked up his camera as soon as he saw Terry leave the building. He focused the long lens and clicked away as Terry walked towards the BMW parked in the road, Kim Fletcher gunning the engine.

Welch saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Steve Ryser and Roger Pike standing by the window of his Rover. Pike made a wanking gesture, and grinned. They both laughed at Welch, then ran over to the BMW.

Pike climbed in the front and Ryser got in the back with Terry. The BMW drove off and Welch pulled away from the curb in pursuit. There was a bump from his offside rear tyre and Welch slammed on the brake. He got out of the car. A piece of wood studded with nails had been pushed under the tyre.

Welch cursed and glared after the departing BMW. Terry waved from the back seat.

∗      ∗      ∗

 

Terry walked through Lapland, flanked by Pike and Fletcher. The club was in near darkness, the only light coming from the open door to George Kay’s office.

Kay was sitting at his desk, stacks of banknotes in front of him. He looked up when he heard Terry at the door.

‘You got it, then?’ said Terry, nodding at the money.

‘I’m not happy at being threatened, I can tell you,’ said Kay.

Terry dropped down into the chair opposite Kay and swung his feet up on to the desk. Pike closed the door and stood with his back to it. ‘What say we play poker for it, hey, George?’ Terry laughed.

Pike made a gun with his hand and mimed shooting Kay. ‘Bang, bang!’ he said, joining in the laughter.

‘It’s not funny, Terry,’ complained Kay. ‘There’s three hundred grand here, I think I should know what you’re planning to do with it.’

‘I told you, George. It’s the deal of a lifetime.’

‘I’d like specifics. I think I deserve it.’

Terry nodded at Fletcher. ‘Check it, Kim.’

Fletcher started counting the notes.

Kay fumbled in his desk drawer and took out his inhaler. He took a long pull at it.

‘Not allergic to money, are you?’ asked Terry.

Kay put the inhaler on the desk but kept his hand on it. ‘What do you want it for, Terry?’

Terry looked coldly at Kay, his face hard. ‘What’s it to you?’

Kay looked confused. ‘It’s my money. Three hundred thousand pounds of it.’

Terry took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. ‘It’s the business’s money,’ he said, ‘and I own half the business. Plus, there’s the money you’ve been skimming over the years.’

Kay sat back in his chair and threw up his hands. ‘Terry, Terry, Terry, that’s not fair.’

Terry stood up and leaned over the desk. ‘George, George, George, I don’t give a flying fuck what’s fair and what’s not fair.’

Kay picked up his inhaler with a trembling hand and sucked on it like a baby feeding.

‘They say it’s caused by stress, asthma,’ said Terry.

Kay nodded. ‘Had it since I was a kid.’

Terry straightened up and looked at him scornfully. ‘Fat, asthmatic and ugly. It can’t have been an easy childhood.’

Kay looked wounded, as if he couldn’t understand why Terry was being so hostile.

Fletcher finished counting the stacks of money. ‘It’s all here, Terry,’ he said.

Terry nodded and Fletcher put the money into a nylon holdall.

‘Good to see you didn’t try to short-change me, George,’ said Terry.

Kay looked pained. ‘Terry . . .’

Terry cut him off with an impatient wave. ‘I know you’ve been Raquel’s grass for donkey’s, George,’ he said.

Kay looked shocked. The inhaler fell from his hands.

Terry lunged forward and grabbed Kay’s wrists, forcing them down on to the table.

‘I know you gave up the cannabis deal,’ Terry continued, his voice a dull monotone. ‘I know you had me attacked in the prison showers. I know everything.’

Kay’s mouth moved soundlessly, like a badly operated ventriloquist’s dummy.

‘Now it’s time to pay the piper . . .’ said Terry.

Kay fought to pull his hands back but Terry was too strong for him. Fletcher stepped forward and grabbed Kay’s hair. To his amazement, it came away in his hands. He stared at the hairpiece, his mouth open in astonishment. Terry’s face broke into a grin and he let go of Kay’s hands. Pike roared with laughter at Kay’s embarrassment, and Kay put his hand up to cover his bald spot. Fletcher waved the wig back and forth over Kay’s head. Kay began to giggle nervously, and soon all four men were laughing.

Terry shook his head. ‘Nice syrup, George,’ he said. He nodded at Pike, who moved away from the door, pulling a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket. He thrust it down over Kay’s head. Fletcher grabbed hold of Kay’s arms and grunted at him to hold still.

Pike twisted the bag around Kay’s neck. Kay’s eyes began to bulge and the bag pulsed in and out in time with his breathing.

Terry stood up and stared down at Kay. ‘Goodbye, George,’ he said. He picked up the holdall full of money and walked out of the office. Kay’s feet started to thrash around under the desk but Terry didn’t look back.

∗      ∗      ∗

 

Sam poured milk into her coffee and popped in a sweetener. She handed a coffee to Laura who was sitting at the kitchen table in her bathrobe. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Laura.

Trisha walked into the kitchen in her school uniform and helped herself to orange juice from the fridge. She sneered at the mug of coffee in Sam’s hands. ‘You’re digging yourself an early grave, Mum,’ she said. ‘Coffee knocks years off your life.’

Trisha!’ said Laura. ‘Be nice.’

Sam grinned at Trisha. ‘Frankly, love, I’m looking forward to the rest.’ She sat down at the table with Laura and sighed despondently.

Trisha looked suddenly concerned. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

Sam ran a hand through her hair. ‘Oh, nothing,’ she sighed. ‘I’m a bit tired, that’s all.’

Trisha put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘Is it Dad?’

Sam frowned and looked up at her. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Well, for a start he didn’t come home last night.’

‘It’s business.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Trisha sat down and held Sam’s hand. ‘Mum, he’s up to his old tricks again, can’t you see that?’

‘You don’t know what he’s doing, Trish,’ said Sam.

‘I can guess.’

‘Where is he, Mum?’

‘He didn’t say. But it’s business.’

Laura and Trisha exchanged looks.

‘Stop that, you two,’ said Sam.

‘He’s using you, Mum,’ said Trisha. ‘You cook for him, you clean for him, you let him into your bed, but he’s using you.’

‘Trisha!’

‘She’s got a point, Mum,’ said Laura. ‘He shouldn’t be staying out all night.’

‘He’s not a kid,’ said Sam.

‘Then he shouldn’t act like one,’ said Trisha.

The door opened and they all looked up. It was Terry. He stood in the doorway, smiling easily. ‘Hen party, huh?’ he said.

‘Speak of the devil,’ said Trisha. She drained her glass of orange juice, picked up her backpack and pushed past Terry.

‘Hiya, Trish.’

Trisha snorted but didn’t say anything.

‘Bye, Trish.’ Terry sat down at the kitchen table. ‘She still mad at me, then?’

Laura sighed and stood up. ‘I’m going to have a bath,’ she said.

‘You’re not mad at me as well, are you?’ asked Terry.

‘Jury’s still out on that,’ she said, wrapping her bathrobe around her.

‘Did Jonathon call again?’

Laura shook her head.

‘Have you thought about what he said? The divorce?’