Dangerous Lady (41 page)

‘Is Danny about?’ They pushed past the girl into the house.

‘He ain’t up yet. He don’t get up before twelve.’ Garry smiled at her. ‘Well, it’ll be a nice change for him then, won’t it?’ They all began to walk up the stairs.

‘Who is it, Estelle?’ A deep brown voice bellowed the words down the stairs. The four walked in its direction.

Maura and her brothers noticed that the house was very well decorated and very clean. Inside Danny’s bedroom, Maura smiled at him.

‘Well, well. You are a big boy, aren’t you?’ Danny Rubens was lying in bed naked. He pulled the duvet over himself. He was still half stoned from the previous evening but alert enough to know he had invited big trouble to his house.

‘Shut the door, Garry. We don’t want everyone hearing Danny’s screams.’

Danny’s big black face was sweating and his eyes were like dark brown pools in his head. His head was shaved and Maura could see a vein pulsing, just below his right eyebrow. He was scared, very scared, and that was just what she wanted. Danny Rubens had taken to body building while doing a three-year stretch for aggravated assault. He was enormous and that usually gave him the edge.

‘What you want?’

Maura laughed. ‘Cut the coon talk, Rubens, you’ve never been out of London in your life.’

Garry, Leslie and Lee guffawed at this. They knew how to play the game. Maura pulled the duvet from his body, leaving him naked and exposed.

‘I’m here about a girl of mine - Jackie Traverna.’

‘Ain’t never heard of her.’

Maura opened her bag and lit one of her cigarettes. Every action was watched closely by Rubens. She puffed on her cigarette until the end glowed.

‘I’ve been hearing stories about you, Rubens.’ Maura pointed to her brothers. ‘Hold him.’

Leslie and Lee went to the bed and, after a struggle, held Danny Rubens down on it. Maura gestured to Garry. ‘Hold his legs open for me.’

She drew the cigarette smoke into her lungs and watched impassively as Rubens tried to fight his way out of the situation. Finally he was lying spreadeagled on the bed. ‘Now I want you to tell me why you striped up one of my girls.’

Rubens was absolutely terrified. His eyes were stretched to their utmost, showing all the yellow whiteness.

‘I tell you, sis, I ain’t never done no harm to no black chick.’ Garry punched him in the face.

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‘If you ain’t never heard of her, how do you know what colour she is?’

‘I guessed, man. I guessed.’

‘Oh, shut up, you black ponce.’ This was Leslie. ‘Let my sister speak.’ His voice was slow and bored-sounding. Rubens thought he would wet himself with fright.

‘I have heard, Mr Rubens,’ Maura stressed the Mr, ‘that you have some rather big ambitions. One being to become the Pimp Extraordinaire of the West End. I also hear that you are after some of my girls.’

She sat on the bed and opened her bag. Rubens was holding his head off the bed, straining his neck to see what was going on. He was naked and vulnerable and did not like it.

Maura took a snub-nosed .38 special from her handbag. Rubens’ eyes were now like flying saucers.

‘What you want with that!’ He was nearly crying. ‘My sister is going to blow your balls off, Danny. One by one.’

Leslie’s voice was jocular.

Maura held the gun against Rubens’ genitals. He could feel the hard coldness of the steel against his skin. She rubbed it gently along the length of his penis and under his testicles. Rubbed it slowly, dreamily, as if she was enjoying it. Then she took another long drag of her cigarette. Rubens, who had been ‘The Daddy’ while he was in Durham jail, who had been working the streets nearly all his adult life and who could instil fear into most people, burst into tears. They ran from his eyes’and down his face. Great bubbles of snot billowed out of his nose and his gigantic shoulders heaved.

‘Please … don’t shoot my cock off!’ He sounded like a small boy. -

Garry, Leslie and Lee were laughing again.

Maura put her cigarette butt on Rubens’ stomach. He felt the burning through his tears. Maura left the cigarette on his belly, so the embers would scorch the skin slowly and painfully. He was howling in pain.

‘Where’s your Stanley knife, Danny?’ Maura’s voice was soft and gentle, as if they were lovers on a picnic.

‘I swear … I swear to you I ain’t got no Stanley knife.’

‘Pain is a terrible thing, isn’t it? Jackie Traverna was in pain, Danny, she was in such terrible pain.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Now it’s your turn.’ She nodded at Leslie who took a Stanley knife from the pocket of his jacket. He held it glinting over the man’s face.

‘What’s it to be, Danny boy? Cheek or cock? It’s up to you. But make your mind up quickly or I might just do’ both.’

Danny was staring at Leslie’s face and knew he was not joking. He saw, even through his fear and his tears, that he had met with a will much stronger than his own.

‘Please, man. Please.’ His voice was just a croaky whisper.

‘Face it is then!’ Leslie grinned and pulled the Stanley knife from Danny’s eye down to his mouth. He cut deeply and confidently. The blood came out slowly, as if not sure what it wanted to do as the layers of skin gradually unfolded. By the time he had repeated the action on the other side of the man’s face, the blood was pumping out with each of his heartbeats. They all stood up as if of one mind. As his hands were released, Danny brought them up to his face. When he took them away, his palms were stained with deep crimson blood.

He screamed loudly, painfully, like a hare caught in a trap.

‘Don’t ever get ambitious for anything or anyone that belongs to me, Danny. Next time you might not be so:

lucky’ ‘Oh, God, I’m bleeding! Help me somebody!’ The white satin sheets on his bed were slowly being dyed red. ‘Come on, boys. We’ve got a lot of work to do.’ As they left the room the young girl Estelle ran inside. When they left the house, her screams were even louder than Danny’s.

Geoffrey was sitting in his flat. He had poured himself a large Scotch and was sitting on the sofa remembering every detail of his life with Michael. One memory stood out like a shining beacon. He gulped his Scotch as he remembered a day almost forty years earlier.

He had been just coming up eight, Michael nearly ten. It was during the war, and their father had dropped them both through a hole in the remains of a bombed-out house. Mickey, as usual, had no fear. He just put his torch on and shone it around the debris-strewn cellar. The occupants of the house were lying around like lumps of bloody red meat. The stench had been unbearable. Geoffrey could still remember the way he’d felt that day, rooted to the spot with fear. His father’s voice had been coming from above, urging them to hurry up. Looting bombed houses was a serious criminal offence.

Michael dragged the body of a little girl off a tin petty cash box. She had been blown across it in the blast. He then passed this up to their father and quickly began collecting up anything that was useful, edible or saleable. He had gone about his work silently and quickly, calling softly to Geoffrey to help him move the body of a man. He had known it was a man by the clothes. The face had completely gone.

Geoffrey had found it impossible to move. Michael had gone to him and punched him in the stomach, winding him, urging him to hurry up and help him. Between them

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they dragged the man’s heavy body on to the floor. Geoffrey had been crying by this time. Michael had stripped the man of his wallet and watch. Then he had gone to the woman who had been grotesquely thrown to the floor. Her legs were wide open and her arms and neck lay in positions that would have been impossible had she been alive. Michael took her brooch and her wedding ring. Geoffrey had heard the crunching click of her bone as he had broken her bent finger to remove it. Then their father had pulled them both out of the hole. He could still feel the sting of his father’s belt later that night as he had been strapped for ‘being a baby’.

From that day on he had tried to emulate his brother. He had joined him in beating people, robbing the bomb sites, everything. In all truth, Geoffrey admitted to himself, he had hated every minute of it. And it dawned on him now that Michael knew this, had always known it, and that’s why he despised him. In Maura, Michael had found a kindred spirit. Another loner. Another warped version of their father. He finished his glass of Scotch and sat back in his seat.

He couldn’t join Mickey now, that much was obvious, but he would sure as hell beat him. And that bitch of a sister! He had the knowledge and he would sit and wait, and then one day he would use it. He saw once more the looks that had been on the cleaners’ faces, and felt an urge to murder the pair of them.

Still, as his old dad used to say when they were small: ‘Don’t get mad. Get even.’ That’s just what he intended to do. Maura and Michael were eating a late dinner in The Greek Revolution in Beauchamp Place. They had been discussing their day. They made a stunning pair. Even at thirty-five

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Maura was still as young-looking as ever. She dressed down, never wearing clothes that were in fashion but choosing plain and expensive classics, as only the very rich can. Her blonde hair was longer now, cut into a long bob. It hung just below her jawline, framing her finely boned face. With her lightness, and Michael’s dark good looks, they were the perfect foil for one another.

Even in his fifties, Michael was still a very attractive man. He dressed conservatively but well, sticking as he had always done to greys and blacks. Occasionally he wore something he termed ‘ostentatious’, but those times were few and far between.

‘Well, I think Geoffrey’s probably over his tantrum by now.’ Maura sounded worried.

‘Quite frankly, Maws, I don’t give a shit. He winds me up.’

Maura was quiet for a moment. She had felt the tension building up between them for months. It truly amazed her that Michael, who was usually so perceptive about everything, failed to notice what was in front of his eyes. Geoffrey was jealous of her and she knew it. But now he was also jealous of Michael, and she had a gut feeling that Geoffrey could turn out to be quite dangerous. 4:—

Michael wiped his pitta bread around the plate, picking! up the last of the tsatsiki, and popped the bread into his mouth. ‘So, tell me. What are you going to do for Jackie Traverna?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Michael. The poor bitch is in a terrible state. Give her some money, I suppose.’

Michael laughed. ‘You’re like a fucking social worker! I’d better keep a close eye on you, girl. Next thing I know you’ll be giving all our cash away to the starving millions!’

Maura smiled, knowing that Michael was deliberately steering the conversation away from Geoffrey.

‘Before I forget, Maws. Willy Templeton wants in on the gold plan. I said yeah. What do you reckon?’

‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘He seems to be in on everything else.’

She picked up a prawn and pulled its head off. ‘If that’s what you want, Mickey. I’m easy.’

‘He’s doing a great job down at St Martin’s Wharf. It’s a funny thing, Maws, but having a lord on your side certainly helps matters along. Don’t you think?’

His voice was cold and calculating.

‘Of course it helps. It’s like going to parties with famous people. Everyone’s a starfucker at heart. Stars included. They love us because we’re rough diamonds. Personally, I don’t give a monkey’s either way. I like Willy, though.’

And she did. She liked him very much and it was strange, because she knew that without him Benny would still be alive. Even knowing that, she still could not help liking and admiring him. He was what she had learned to term an ‘educated villain’. Through William Templeton she had met many more like him - rich, educated men who pulled off brilliant scams. Scams that were never allowed to get into the newspapers or come to prosecution because the firms involved would lose their credibility on the Stock Market with disastrous economic and political results. Instead the wrongdoers were given enormous golden handshakes and a big party as a leaving present. And their pictures appeared in the papers with the sob story: ‘ill health brings the head of So and So corporation’s career to an end.’ ‘I want to spend more time with my wife and family’ was another favourite excuse. It was not only the big businessmen who were involved in these things, but politicians, judges … just about every profession had its fair share of con men. Gradually, through William Templeton, Maura and Michael were finding out

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exactly who they were. And they were learning a whole new ballgame.

The waiter brought their main course, kleftiko, and refilled their wine glasses. When he left them, Maura spoke.

‘I want an early start tomorrow. I’ve finally sorted out the last few wrinkles in the gold plan. If everything looks OK to you, we can begin to set it all up.’

‘I’ll drink to that, Maws.’ Michael picked up his glass of Chablis.

‘Cheers.’

They touched glasses. If you did not know them you would think they were planning a party, not the biggest bullion robbery England had ever known. While they were sitting in the restaurant, Danny Rubens was lying in hospital. He had been sedated heavily, but one of the nurses was intrigued. Because, although he was in a deep, drug-induced sleep, his hand was still holding on tightly to his genitals.

Chapter Twenty-three 14 February 1985

Maura knocked on the door of Geoffrey’s flat. He lived not far from Michael in Knightsbridge. She had been there only twice before. Even though they had worked together and were brother and sister, they had an accepted and unspoken agreement: I don’t like you, so keep your distance. Up till now Maura had respected this.

Geoffrey opened the door. He seemed surprised to see her standing there. He looked terrible. He had not shaved for a couple of days, and being so dark-haired now had dark stubble around his jaw. Maura was shocked to see that it was tinged with grey.

He and Michael had been so alike all their lives, Geoffrey was like a watered-down version of his brother. He looked great, he was handsome, but when people saw Michael they seemed to overlook Geoffrey afterwards. Today he looked old and ill and Maura felt sorry for him. The lines around his eyes, so sexy on Michael, made Geoffrey look jaded and debauched. His dark hair, normally washed and gleaming, was greasy and lank. She watched him look her over from head to toe. It was a sneering look as if she was so much dirt.