Dangerous Lady (27 page)

‘I tell you, Mr Ryan. The man took monry we had for you. In future, he say, you pay monry to us. Get bugger! I say we pay Mr Ryan. We always pay Mr Ryan. Nor anymore they say. If we no give monry, then place burned to ground by weekend. Still we not pay. My father tell them that Mr Ryan good friend and will protect us … So they start to bash me in face.’ He pointed to his swollen eye. ‘So my father gave them monry. We can’t pay you

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collected over sixty-four thousand a month. There was no way Michael was going to let that go, especially not to a relative of Stavros, the man who’d murdered Anthony. Roy started up the car. That Dopolis had to be some kind of head banger. Michael Ryan was pacing up and down his office, a sure sign he was agitated. He pulled on his cigarette and blew the smoke out noisily from between his lips.

‘Did he look familiar like? Have you ever seen him about?’

Roy shook his head.

‘Nah, never seen him in my life before. He was a saucy fucker, though. The big bastard, Dimitri, was carrying a sawn-off, I’m certain of it. They’d collected old Wong’s rent before I got there so they were definitely waiting for me.’

‘What exactly did he say about Stavros?’

‘Just that he was his cousin, that we had bombed him out and while he was hurt…’ Roy laughed again ‘… he couldn’t control his “armies”. Armies, I ask you! Then he went on about you having the whole of London. Oh, Mickey, I tell you. He was a right prat.’

Geoffrey got up from his seat and glanced at his watch. ‘How about we let Roy get home and get some shuteye? It’s nearly half-past four.’ He looked at Roy. ‘I expect you’re dying to get home. The baby’s due any day, isn’t it?’

Roy nodded, a big grin on his face.

Michael rubbed his eyes with his fingers and leant against the wall of the office.

‘I’m sorry, Roy. You get off home, mate. Tell Janine that she’s got to phone the old woman as soon as she comes into labour. The old Dutch is like a cat on a hot tin roof over this baby.’ Roy laughed.

‘If you could see the bloody stuff that they’ve got for it. Cots and cribs and bleeding layettes. It’s enough to drive a man to drink, I tell ya!’

Michael smiled. ‘You love it, mate. Is Carla going home when the baby’s born?’

Roy’s face dropped.

‘I don’t think so, Mickey. Maura’s house is nearer her college and that.’

There was an embarrassed silence. It was a well-known fact that Janine could not stand her daughter around her. Carla gravitated between her grandmother’s house and Maura’s. Geoffrey coughed loudly.

‘Anyway, mate, we’ll see you later on. Give Janine our best.’ . . . :

‘I will, Geoff.’ He got up to go. Michael took a package off his desk and passed it to Roy.

‘One last thing, would you drop this off at Black Tony’s house? Tell him it’s a pound bag and I want the money for it by Saturday latest. Give it the big’un while you’re there. He’s been getting a bit lairy lately.’ Roy took the package. ‘Okey doke. See you later then.’ When he had left, Geoffrey poured out two brandies. Giving one to Michael, he sat himself in the easy chair opposite the desk. Michael sat at the desk rolling the brandy in his glass.

‘So, Mickey. What do you think? Trouble?’

Mickey sipped his drink. ‘With a capital T, Bruv.’

He tossed back the rest of the brandy and stood up. ‘Let’s get off home, Geoffrey, I’m knackered. I can’t think when I feel like this.’

Geoffrey gulped his own drink down. By the time he had pulled on his overcoat, Michael had already turned off

the lights and made his way down the stairs. Outside the club they stood on the pavement, both gulping in the cool night air. Michael touched Geoffrey’s shoulder before getting into his car and driving off.

As Geoffrey watched Michael’s Mercedes pulling away he was aware of a feeling of annoyance. He walked slowly to where his own car was parked. He knew in his heart that Michael wanted Maura’s opinion on the night’s aggravation and he resented it. Over the last few years she had gradually moved up in the firm, until now, at only twenty-five, she practically ran the lot with Mickey. She was his right hand, as he never tired of telling anyone who would listen. She was the only person who could openly disagree with him and get away with it. This fact alone had earned her the respect not only of all her brothers but of the entire workforce, every man Jack of them. She had also masterminded a bank robbery that still had the police baffled eighteen months after the event. Geoffrey was beginning to hate her. Marvellous Fucking Maura … the Woman of the Century. He unlocked his car and sat in it for a few minutes, staring out into the night. His whole life had been built around Michael, and he was realising more and more each day that his brother did not really need him. It was a frightening thought. Without Michael, Geoffrey was nothing and he knew it. He started the car up. As he pulled away he turned on his radio. The soothing sound of the Carpenters filled the car. Geoffrey smiled to himself. Maura was like most women … give them enough rope and they generally hanged themselves. Eventually she would foul her nest and Michael would give her the bad news. All he had to do was wait.

He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and allowed the strains of ‘We’ve Only Just Begun’ to wash over him.

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Michael had driven from the club to Maura’s house in Rainham, Essex. He had to see her about the events of the night. Maura had something that he would never have in a million years: she had a calculating nature. She never let her emotions interfere with her work. Michael respected this trait in her. Where he would lose his temper. Maura would calmly sort out a crisis. Her favourite expression was, ‘Think with your head, not your heart.’

He looked at the house. It was in darkness. He got out of his car. When Maura had bought this house he had laughed at her. It was a large Georgian monstrosity that had seemed to be falling down. Now, a year later, it was beautiful. She had put in new windows, new doors, and the large overgrown frontage was now an in-and-out driveway. She had bought the place for pennies and if she sold it she would more than double her investment. In Michael’s eyes this was another of Maura’s clever schemes. Something that, until she had looked into and studied, he would never have dreamt of investing in.

He crunched across the pea-shingled drive up to the large double front door. He rang the bell. About five minutes later a bedraggled Carla opened the front door to him, her face lighting up as she smiled.

‘Hello, Uncle Mickey. Auntie Maura’s just getting dressed!’ Michael playfully slapped her behind. ‘Don’t you let Maws catch you calling her “Auntie”! She’ll skin you alive!’ They walked into the lounge.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Her voice was full of fun.

In fact, Carla was one big bundle of fun and laughter. She was a natural mimic, and had the gift of making people laugh. It always amazed Michael that her own mother had so little time for her. Still, he reflected, she had Maura and his mother. They more than made up for Janine’s indifference.

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‘Shall I make a pot of tea?’

‘Yeah. There’s a good girl.’

He watched her as she left the room. At twenty she was a lovely girl. She still had reddish-brown hair and freckles, but now had the grace that her mother had always had. She walked like a cat, with a long-legged stride. As she was now, in a shortie nightdress, her legs looked impossibly long. Michael sat himself on the Chesterfield and waited for Maura. When she walked into the lounge she looked as if she had never even been asleep. Her blonde hair was now cut in a bob and it was immaculate. She wore a pink silk robe that barely covered her full breasts, and high heeled mules. She grinned at her brother.

‘So what brings you here at daybreak?’

‘There’s been some trouble, Maws.’

‘I guessed as much. Ah, here’s Carla with some tea!’

She took the tray and placed it on the Edwardian table to the left of the sofa. As she poured the tea Carla kept up a stream of chatter.

Michael smiled and answered Carla’s seemingly endless supply of questions, relaxing back into his seat. Maura had good taste. The room was decorated in a mixture of peach tones and pinks. The carpets and heavy drapes were a deep burgundy. It was a cosy room. Even though it was full of expensive furniture it was a room that looked lived in, from the magazines on the coffee table to the Jacobean bookcase full of every title imaginable. Dickens and Trollope rubbed shoulders with Harold Robbins and Len Deighton. Maura’s tastes in reading were as extreme as everything else in her life. Carla did not think it at all strange that her uncle should get them out of bed at six in the morning. It was like everything else in her life with them. The unexpected was the norm around here and you had better get used to it or

you were liable to go up the wall!

Michael and Maura allowed Carla to chatter to them. She was like the family mascot. Loved by them all, as if the rejection she had experienced when her mother had literally handed her over to Sarah, had made her their communal property. In their own ways, they tried to make up to her for what her mother had done. Though with Maura, Michael guessed, it went deeper. Carla was the child she had had aborted from her body. She was funding Carla through college. Maura made sure that Carla had everything, from decent clothes to a small car.

Carla finished telling them about her latest boyfriend and glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece of the Louis XVI fireplace.

She squealed: ‘Oh, no it’s nearly seven o’clock! I’d better get a move on. I’ve got to leave at eight!’ She flitted from the room, all legs and hair. Michael laughed.

‘She’s a nice kid, Maws.’ Even though Maura was only five years older than Carla, no one ever alluded to that fact. It was as if Maura had always been a woman. In Michael’s eyes anyway she had never been any different. She had been a little sister for a long time, then she had become the mainstay of his life. There had never been an inbetween. Maura had never seemed to have that coltish look that Carla had. That magical illusion that was the turning point from adolescent to woman. Maura had become a woman overnight and had been one ever since. Maura Ryan had been a women from the age of seventeen.

‘She’s a good kid, Mickey, as well as a nice one. I miss her when she’s at Mother’s.’

‘I bet you do. She’s company in this great big rattling”’ drum of yours.’

Maura laughed. ‘You leave my house out of it. Your just gutted that you didn’t buy it. Now what’s all this about? What’s happened?’

Michael explained to her. She sat curled up on the seat beside him, chain smoking as she listened. She did not interrupt him once. When he had finished, she smiled.

‘So it’s Stavros’s cousin is it?

He smiled too.

‘Well, we’ll give the fat little bastard a run for his money!’

Michael grinned at her. Maura had said the words that he wanted to hear.

‘That’s exactly what I thought! Listen, Maws, I want you to think over what I’ve said. Get a few ideas together and then meet me later at the club. I’ll get off home now or Jonny will think that I’ve been topped by someone. I’ll see you later then.’

‘All right, Mickey. What about the glass that Roy nicked? Shall I have it sent over to the Met? They might come up with a name … a legitimate name and address.’ Michael slapped his hand on his forehead. ‘Bugger me, Maws. That went right out of me mind. I’ve left it in the club.’

‘Never mind, Mick. Just you get home and get a bit of sleep. I’ll sort that out.’

When Michael left, Maura went to her kitchen and made herself some tea and toast. The more she thought about what Michael had said, the more impossible it seemed. Who would wait over fifteen years to regain a territory? This bloke might be Stavros’s cousin, but his story did not ring true.

Carla breezed into the kitchen and pinched a slice of toast from Maura’s plate. ‘I’ll be late tonight, Maws. All right?’

‘All right, love. Drive carefully.’

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‘I will.’

Then she was gone. As always when Carla left the house, it felt empty. She seemed to breathe life into it. Still pondering what Michael had said, Maura went up for a shower. She had a busy day ahead.

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Chapter Fifteen

Maura walked into Le Buxom at ten-thirty-five. The hostesses were, as always, pleased to see her, unlike some of the men who worked for the Ryans who were wary of Maura. She was regarded as a hard-hearted bitch by the majority of them. Though if any one of them got hurt during the course of their work, it was Maura who saw to it that their wives were amply provided for. She half guessed what was said about her and made a conscious effort to keep the myth alive. Maura was happy enough with their respect, she did not want their love. She wanted to be known as a hard bitch. It suited her. The only people she could not con into disliking her were the hostesses.

They loved her. She always made sure that the girls with children got a good bonus around Christmas time, which was much appreciated. Also, most hostess clubs left the girl to sort out her hostess fee with the punter. Maura had a rule that the hostess fee, which was twenty-five pounds, went on the overall bill. Then, if there was a row over it, which was what frequently happened in the clubs, the bouncer would ensure that the hostess fee also was paid. A girl who had sat all night with a punter and talked him into buying champagne at two hundred pounds a bottle and cigarettes in packs of fifty that cost three times their retail price, could help run up a bill of over seven hundred .

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pounds. If there was a fight over the payment she was hardly likely to be going on to a hotel with the punter. Therefore all she had for her efforts was the hostess fee. At least in Maura’s club they could guarantee that. It was not unusual for a customer to be taken to the back bar where he was punched and threatened until the bill was paid.

Consequently, Le Buxom was known as the place to work. Maura offered them a degree of protection that had gradually wiped out pimping on their girls. For that they respected and loved her. They also kept their ears to the ground and let her in on anything that they heard. If they got any kind of venereal disease they were out, that was Maura’s main stipulation, along with drugs and drinking. She had seen the effect that these things had on the prostitutes. It made them violent and aggressive. All prostitutes looked on one another as rivals. Hostess clubs were alive with gossip and back biting and trouble. Whores would rip one another apart, yet defend a sworn enemy to the police; would show a young ‘greenie’ the ropes, then try and muscle in on her punter. They lied, cheated and stole from one another.