Dangerous Lady (47 page)

He parked his car. After carefully scanning the road for anything suspicious, he got out and went into the club. Gerry Jackson was there.

‘Hello, Mickey!’ Michael heard the pleasure in his friend’s voice and was gratified. Gerry was wearing his toupee. On the night of the club bombing his hair had been burnt off and it had never grown back. During the day Gerry wore his hairpiece. He had also lost an ear, and part of his face and neck was still raised and mauve all these years later. Michael cared for Gerry as much as he did his younger brothers.

‘All right, Gerry? Anyone been asking for me?’ He kept

his voice light.

Gerry shook his head.

‘The Irish looks better. Is it a new one?’ Gerry laughed at the reference to his wig. He was very good-natured despite his ferocious looks.

‘Yeah. Cost me nearly two hundred quid. Real hair, see.’ He took the toupee off his head and handed it to Michael who took it from him. He did not know what else to do.

‘Yeah. It’s lovely.’ They both laughed together. For the first time in years Michael remembered them as children, playing together. Gerry’s dad had been killed in the war

and his mum had worked the Bayswater Road. She had brought up her six children on the proceeds of the game and National Assistance. She lived out in Enfield now, a respectable old lady who doted on her grandchildren.

Michael had a terrible feeling of foreboding as he stood with Gerry. He threw the wig back to his friend and, smiling, went up to the offices.

It took him a while to get through to Kelly. When he finally did he was not surprised to find that he was treated with the utmost suspicion.

‘Look, Kelly, I was set up. I take oath on that.’ Kelly’s thick Northern Irish accent crackled over the wire. ‘Pat O’Loughlin was a bad man to cross, Ryan. Once they ship him back to the Maze he’ll be back in the driving seat. You’re a dead man.’

Kelly’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing the weather.

Michael was having difficulty in controlling his temper. The famous temper that could instil fear into the most hardened of criminals.

‘I told you, it was a set up. What more do you want from me? I’ve been associated with your bloody organisation for nearly thirty years, mate. I was giving contributions before you was even born.’ If he told them about Geoffrey they would never trust him again, and then his brother would be dead and his mother would be heartbroken.

Kelly broke into his racing thoughts. ‘.” ‘We think, Mr Ryan, that you have done a deal. An hour ago Sean Murphy and Liam McNamara were picked up at another of your so-called safe houses. You’re a dead man, Ryan.’

The phone went dead. -‘ , Michael sat staring at it in amazement. Murphy and

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McNamara! He put the phone back in its cradle. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. He got up from his chair and went to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. He poured himself a large brandy and drank it straight back. Geoffrey had done him up like a kipper. Well, he would wipe Geoffrey Ryan off the face of the earth. Sod Maura, and sod his bloody mother! He would get the word out that Geoffrey had grassed the Irishman up. That way, if the IRA got to him first, all well and good. If not, then Michael himself would blast the bastard through his guts. He could do without the Irish anyway. He phoned Maura’s house. He had to let her know what was going on.

Templeton answered the phone.

‘Willy?’

‘Why, hello, Michael.’ His voice was warm.

‘Is Maws there?’

‘No. She’s gone to your mother’s to see Geoffrey. Can I help? I said I would man the phones for her. I wanted to take her out to lunch, but you know your sister. Business first!’ His tone was jocular and friendly.

Michael forced himself to laugh.

‘If she comes back before I see her, will you give her a message for me? Tell her that I must, absolutely must, get rid of the employee we were discussing. Tell her that Kelly insisted. Got that?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ve written it down.’ ‘See you later then, Willy.’

“Bye, Mickey.’

So Maura had swallowed her pride and gone to their mother’s house. Obviously that was where she’d tracked the little bastard down to. He must think he was safe there. The slag!

Michael pulled on his coat and left the club. It was now

early afternoon and the traffic was thick. He finally drove into Lancaster Road, seething with anger. Geoffrey had tucked him up and Geoffrey would pay. He would try to get his brother to leave his mother’s house, but if he wouldn’t then he would drag the bastard out if need be. Fuck his mother! Fuck the lot of them! He wasn’t going under for the toe rag. In his temper Michael did not notice the black Granada Scorpio that was parked opposite. Maura had finally located Geoffrey at their mother’s house. Garry had answered the telephone and she had told him not to say she had called. She had a feeling that if Geoffrey knew, he would try and get away. She had to see him before Michael did. She told Garry to keep him there until she arrived. She had parked her car in Bletchedon Street and walked around to her mother’s house, in case Geoffrey had been scanning the road from the window. As she had walked up the familiar steps her heart had been hammering dangerously. She had not been to this house in over ten years. Not since the fight after Benny had been murdered. She shuddered. She did not want to see her mother and open all the old wounds, but she had to. She only hoped Geoffrey would realise that she was trying to help him.

She plucked up her courage and knocked on the door. She could hear the dull taps of her mother’s shoes across the linoleum and guessed that she had come from the kitchen. The door opened and the two women came face to face for the first time in eleven years.

Maura was shocked at the sight before her. Her mother was nothing more than a fat little old lady Her face was wrinkled up like a walnut and her hair, still in the scraped bun of old, was completely grey. Only the eyes were as she remembered them, alive with malice, and triumph.

Maura realised her mother thought that she had come to beg some kind of forgiveness. Well, that was all right with her. She would play any kind of game she had to today. She knew, though, that seeing her mother meant nothing to her now.

‘Hello, Mum.’ She was amazed to find that her voice was normal.

Sarah’s eyes swept her from head to foot. Maura was wearing a black trouser suit with a white cashmere jumper underneath. She could practically hear her mother counting up the cost in her head.

‘What do you want?’ Sarah’s voice was flat. It was obvious to Maura that she was going to make it as hard as possible for her.

Maura walked into the house without being asked. She had to push past her mother, and was made aware of just how tiny she was.

‘Is our Geoffrey here?’

As Maura spoke she walked through to the kitchen. Sarah followed her. Her mettle was up but she kept silent. There was something funny going on here. Geoffrey was like a scalded cat. Every time the phone rang or someone knocked, he nearly had a seizure. Well, she had a feeling that her daughter held the key to a mystery and for that reason, and that reason only, would stomach her presence in her house.

Maura entered the kitchen. Geoffrey and Garry were sitting at the kitchen table. Garry smiled at her, but Geoffrey looked as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt.

‘Hello, Geoffrey.’ She looked straight at him. The kitchen looked and felt familiar. It had not changed one iota in the last ten years.

‘Can I speak to you? Alone, please.’

She saw Geoffrey’s eyes go to his mother who was

standing behind her. Maura nodded at Garry. Getting up from the table, he went to where his mother was standing.

‘Come on, Muwer. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone for minute.’

Sarah pushed at him roughly. ‘Get your bleeding hands off me! What’s going on here?’

Maura turned to her mother and, grabbing her shoulders, bundled her none too gently out of the kitchen door. ‘Let go of me, you bloody lanky bitch!’

‘Garry, take her into the front room. Her statues arel probably lonely.’ Maura’s voice was sarcastic. She looked closely into her mother’s face. ‘Keep your nose out, Mum. It doesn’t concern you.’

She shut the kitchen door firmly, blocking out her

mother’s raised voice. She could hear Garry trying to

pacify her. Geoffrey was watching her warily. Maura could

feel the fear emanating from him.

‘Michael knows everything.’

Geoffrey dropped his gaze. m

‘Let’s face it, Geoff, it wouldn’t take long to sniff out something so putrid, would it? I’ve come to help you, though looking at you, I don’t know why I bothered. You’ve got twenty-four hours to get out of the country.’ Geoffrey’s head shot up. There was a peculiar light in his eyes, as scared as he was.

‘I ain’t going nowhere. You don’t scare me.’ Maura laughed out loud. ‘Oh, but I do. I scare you shitless, and so does Michael. And the mood I left him in, he’d scare the devil.’

As she spoke, she heard four loud bangs, then Geoffrey began to laugh hysterically. Michael screeched to a halt outside his mother’s house. Fiona Dalgleesh was walking her young son to the shops

and was startled by the squealing of wheels. She grabbed her son’s hand. Bloody lunatic drivers! She saw a large, good-looking man get out of the offending car. It was about fifteen feet away. Then, in the weak October sunshine, she saw a distinct gleam. She looked across the road to where a black car was parked and opened her eyes wide with shock. A man was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, and he had a gun! Without thinking she threw her son to the pavement and lay on top of him. A piercing cry escaped from her lips.

Michael got out of the car still seething with rage. He heard the girl scream and looked in her direction. He saw her throw herself on top of a little boy. It was the last thing he was to see. A moment later a bullet entered the side of his head and splattered his brains all over the pavement.

The girl saw him crumple and fall, a bewildered expression on his face. The man with the gun then got out of his car and shot the victim three more times. Even in her shock and fear, Fiona Dalgleesh knew that those shots were unnecessary. The big, good-looking man was already dead.

As the car drove away, the road became once more quiet and residential. Only Michael’s blood, running along the pavement in crimson rivulets, showed that anything was wrong. When Maura and Garry heard the shots they both rushed from the house. Sarah followed them. Geoffrey stayed in the kitchen alone.

Suddenly the street was full of people, emerging from all the houses like ghouls. Maura ran down the steps to the pavement. She raised Michael’s head and cradled it in her arms, too shocked even to cry.

Geoffrey, her mother, her brothers … everything was

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wiped from her mind. When the police and ambulance arrived they had forcibly to pull Maura from her brother’s body. Her white cashmere jumper was stained with blood and particles of brain and skull. Garry stood beside her, silent and shocked. Sarah had taken one look at her eldest son lying sprawled across her daughter’s lap and walked back into her house. She felt nothing.

: ; ‘

Maura and Garry were taken to hospital suffering from shock. Maura had to be sedated. The next morning she! left the hospital with William Templeton. The newspapers were in attendance. All the nationals had pictures of Maura with Templeton’s arms around her. She was aware, even in her grief, that he had burnt his boats for her and she was grateful to him. He took her to her house and kept the I world away from her.

She refused to speak to anyone, not even Carla or Marge; or her brothers. Roy took over the reins of the business, and though nothing was ever said, all the brothers wondered what had happened with Geoffrey and why, as the eldest after Michael, he had not taken over the businesses himself.

Maura had three separate interviews with the police. She told each of them the same thing. She had no idea who had been behind her brother’s murder.

But she did know and she concentrated all her energy into that fact. After two weeks of seclusion Maura felt ready to face the world again. She emerged from her grief, tougher and harder than ever before. She had hatred inside her now, a great big sour-smelling hatred. And she was going to use it to her advantage. Michael was dead, but the Ryans would go on. She owed him that much. Chapter Twenty-seven Maura walked into the club at nine-thirty, exactly fourteen days after Michael was murdered. Gerry Jackson went to her and put his hand on her shoulder gently.

‘If you need me, Maura, just call.’

She nodded at him and walked up the stairs into the offices. The music in the club was loud and harsh. She could hear the chatter of the customers and the clink of glasses above the din.

Roy was obviously shocked to see her.

‘Maws?’

‘I had to get back into the world, mate. Thanks for taking over everything. I promise you won’t lose by it.’

He got up from the desk, embarrassed to be caught sitting in what had been Michael’s seat.

Maura waved him back. ‘You don’t have to move, Roy.’

He sat down again. He was shocked at the change in her. She looked old. The years had piled on her in the short time since Mickey’s death. She also had a steely glint in her eyes that had not been there before. If he did not know better he would think it was Michael come back in female form.

‘I’ve kept everything going here as best I can, like. I know that’s what Mickey would have wanted.’

Maura could hear the sadness and loss in his voice.

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Going to where he sat, she slipped her arms around his neck. ‘I miss him, Roy. It’s like a physical pain at times. As if a crucial part of me is missing.’

‘I know, Maws. I know.’ He held her hands in his own surprised at the gentleness in her. ‘We’ll find out who set him up, Maws. Don’t you worry, girl.’

She sighed. She knew exactly who had set him up. She straightened up, running her hands through her hair. ‘What’s been happening here?’