Faces (60 page)

 

Michael was tired out, and he was also desperately worried about these latest developments. He knew better than anyone how reckless Danny Boy could be when the fancy took him. Danny Boy, he knew, was not about to let anything interfere with his business dealings. By the same token though,
he
was still on the look out for the bastards who had encroached on their personal space. It was such a fucking liberty, there was no way it could be forgotten about.

And, like Danny Boy, he had no intention of letting it go lightly either. This was the time to make an example, and they were both determined to do just that. Unfortunately, no one seemed to have any information about the robbery whatsoever. Which was complete shite, as someone, somewhere, had to have known something. It was too close to home, it had to have been someone with a working knowledge of the Williams’ business practices. Danny Boy was taking the whole thing as a personal affront. Saw it as a big fucking conspiracy against him personally. He was paranoid enough as it was, without this lot adding to his trauma. But whatever the truth of it all, they had to get it sorted. For such a big firm to be robbed like that was outrageous enough, but for them to be robbed while under the protection of Danny Boy was absolutely unbelievable.

As he poured out two cups of tea, Michael remarked casually, ‘Who do you think it could have been, Danny, I mean, who’d have the front?’

Danny sighed loudly, and then said with complete exasperation and a well-contained fury, ‘What you on about, if I had any kind of an inkling, do you really think I’d still be sitting here? I have put out feelers all over the place and there is nothing coming back. Not a fucking whisper. This was either planned by one clever cunt, or by a new firm; people we don’t know about. But, whoever they are, when I get my fucking hands on them they are fucking dead.’

‘Look, Danny, this don’t feel right. It feels like a fucking set-up. Who in the world is going to come up against you?’

It was what Danny Boy needed, and Michael knew that. He was playing up to his ego, as he had many times before when he wanted something done. Danny Boy had to see that this was deathly serious and not a game that involved nothing more than his humungous ego.

‘Did it ever occur to you, Danny, that this could be a direct threat to us, to our firm? That whoever this is, obviously thinks they are way out of our jurisdiction. That they can do what they like and we’ll swallow.’

Danny Boy didn’t answer, he was digesting what he had just heard, and he was not impressed with it all. Eventually, he said quietly, ‘So you think we
are
being challenged then? Us personally?’

He was nearly laughing at the idea of it, but Michael also heard a hint of worry in his voice. Because it had finally sunk in, had finally occurred to him that this could be much more serious than they had at first thought. It would never occur to Danny Boy that anyone might have a grudge against them. Danny Boy saw himself as immune to the general public and this was a new concept as far as he was concerned. So Michael had struck while his iron was still relatively hot. He could see Danny Boy’s mind ticking over for a few minutes before he said quietly, ‘Have you ever heard of the Farhis?’

Michael placed the teas on the desk carefully, the question had thrown him. And, nodding his head slowly, he said, ‘Funny you should say that. I had a bird in the casino, and she mentioned that name. Why?’

‘Louie tipped me the wink about them, they’re a family of berserks. Fucking Turks. Ali, who’s the oldest, has just got out of clink. Not here, but in Belgium. He’s been away for a while. Now he’s back in the Smoke and I think that if we put two and two together . . . According to Louie, he’s a fucking right twonk. Thinks he’s the dog’s knob.’

Michael sipped his tea, pleased that Danny Boy was finally taking this seriously. He felt that the name cropping up twice was more than coincidence. And he said as much. Danny Boy didn’t dismiss him, he listened carefully to what he had to say.

‘According to Louie, this Ali was a right Face, a raving Turk with an attitude, he reckons he could have made his mark. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on what side you’re on, he got a capture; he murdered his old woman. She was a working girl, big surprise for a berserk. Typical Turk; he was a fucking pimp, and a dealer, and he got out last month. But he wasn’t banged up here, he was banged up in Belgium for years. He got out on an appeal, apparently they had not really done their job properly. Typical fucking Old Bill. His brief argued that, as he was married to her, his fingerprints would have been all over the place anyway. The judge, according to Louie, had been paid a decent wedge to find him not guilty and let him out to aggravate the general population as is his wont. But, before he had his collar felt, he was well on his way to taking over the Smoke. To be honest I didn’t really take much notice of any of it, you know what Louie’s like. He’s a fucking gossip, an old woman at times. But now, I think we might have a culprit. So I think we should pay him a visit. Don’t you?’

Michael indicated his agreement as Danny knew he would. ‘He’s a dead man either way, you know that, don’t you?’

Michael grinned. ‘It had crossed my mind. No matter what happens, we have to take him out anyway, Danny. He is too fucking lairy by half.’

Danny laughed, his handsome face belying his real personality. His smile made him look like a real person, like someone who could actually share a joke with you, or cheer someone up with nothing more than his grin and a few choice words. He looked so amiable, so normal, it was uncanny. Michael loved him like a brother, more than a brother in fact; he had no feelings for his real younger brother whatsoever. In fact, he thought he was a tosser, he was honest enough to admit that he didn’t even think about him at all most of the time. Danny Boy though, filled his mind up on a daily basis. Other than Carole and his children he was the first thing he thought about when he opened his eyes and was the last thing he thought about as he dropped off to sleep. Now, after everything else, they were about to go to war, with the Turks no less. But even Michael knew that this was a necessary evil, knew that even if they were wrong. A warning would not go amiss anyway, because everyone would hear about it sooner rather than later. This man, Ali Fahri, had come to the wrong place at the wrong time. He had, it seemed, much too high an opinion of himself. He clearly thought that all this was some kind of jolly jape. A forerunner to his taking from them everything they had grafted for. The last thing he needed now was a poxy eejit on his conscience, and he had the feeling that is exactly where this man would end up if he wasn’t careful.

‘Do you have an address?’

Danny Boy opened his arms wide, his handsome face a picture of abject disbelief. ‘Well, what do you fucking think? Louie always gets the Full Monty before he opens his trap. Bless him.’

‘Actually, Danny, I think we should deliver him up to the Williamses and let them deal with him, don’t you?’

Danny nodded sadly. He had been looking forward to a tear-up. But he was philosophical about it all. They were the wronged party, and it wouldn’t hurt to show willing. All they really had to do was show their faces. Whether it was them or it wasn’t them, they had to be taken out anyway. Kill two birds with one stone.

 

Arnold was already at the block of flats in Hackney when he saw the lights of a car come round the corner: he knew it was Michael because the lights were expensive, they were the lights of his Mercedes. In the darkness, as they drove towards him, they looked like devil’s eyes. As Michael pulled up he walked to him, and settled himself in the front seat. ‘You all right?’

Michael nodded. He still felt uneasy since their conversation. And they both felt the tension between them. ‘Yeah, you? You OK?’

Arnold ran his hands through his dreads slowly, a sure sign he was agitated. ‘Look, Michael, can we forget I ever said anything? I was out of order, and who would take that liar’s word on anything. A Filth with a grudge: not the most compelling argument, eh?’ He laughed easily, as did Michael.

‘Let it go, will you? It’s forgotten about. Now, have you seen Ali or any of his counterparts arrive here in the last half hour?’

Arnold felt a great wave of relief at his words. He had been living in mortal fear of Danny Boy hearing about his accusations; he couldn’t sleep with the worry of it. What had he been thinking about when he had said those things? Even if they were true, and he still felt there was a good chance of that, it was not his place to bring it to anyone’s attention.

‘He’s inside, been there all night. He’s got a great big fucker with him, I’m assuming he’s some kind of minder. Other than that, there’s just his bird and a kid.’

Michael nodded. Just then Danny Boy arrived in a black Range Rover: he stepped out of the driver’s side and looked, for all the world, like a man on a night out. He was grinning like a stoner and, when Eli Williams and two of his brothers finally emerged from the back of the Range Rover, joints in hand, and machetes hidden inside their coats, Danny Boy started to laugh again.

Arnold knew the Williams brothers well, and they all greeted each other amicably; it was a cold night and their breath was visible as they spoke.

‘He’s definitely in there, I take it?’

Michael nodded his assent. ‘As far as we know, yeah. Unless he’s gone on the trot through the back door.’

Eli grinned, he was really looking forward to this. The robbery had been bad enough, but to think it had been perpetrated by a fucking no-neck Turk was unconscionable as far as he was concerned. It was a piss-take, and the sooner he sorted it out, the better for everyone concerned. He wanted his money back.

The lobby of the tower block was dark, not that unusual in this area as the lights were often broken deliberately for the muggers’ benefit. As they approached the lifts they were all relaxed. In fact, this night had almost taken on a party atmosphere. Eli and his two brothers, a set of twins called Hector and Dexter, went first. Danny Boy didn’t mind, he was only there as an observer anyway, to prove his complete ignorance of any kind of skulduggery. But he wanted to make his mark. Wanted to get his point across about the way things worked in London. How, without his permission, Ali shouldn’t even have taken a fucking piss against a wall on his manor without his express say-so, let alone anything else. And by the time this lot had finished with him, he would be lucky if he ended up pissing in a clear plastic bag. That is, if he survived this meeting of course.

As the lift hit the twelfth floor they got out and let out their breaths, all unwilling to breathe in the stench of urine and Florizel disinfectant that was peculiar to lifts in high-rise flats. It amazed Danny Boy that the very people who relied on these lifts to convey them to their abodes were the very people who pissed in them in the first place. Even a fucking dog didn’t shit in its own bed, so what did that say about the people who lived here? The teenagers who used these lifts as a fucking urinal should be castrated, and would be, if he had to live here. The stench was disgusting, and that women and their children had to live with it on a daily basis really bothered him. It concerned him because he felt that everyone had the right to breathe fresh air, so he was going to make it his personal crusade to see these lifts became piss-free in the future.

The landing was in darkness; even these lights had been removed or, more to the point, destroyed. Danny Boy wondered at the mentality of people who thought that this way of living was normal, was in some way acceptable. The men here should be making it safe for the local women while, at the same time, ensuring an unfriendly environment for outsiders. Sighing with displeasure, he led the way down to the end of the balcony then, grinning once more, he looked at the three Williams brothers as he kicked the designated door open with a flourish.

No one in the neighbouring flats bothered to come outside to see what was happening, as Danny Boy and the others had already sussed out might be the case. Visits like this were par for the course in these flats, they were sure. As they all bundled inside the doorway, Danny saw the man he assumed was the Turk’s bodyguard stepping aside quickly. There was no way he was getting in the middle of this lot, and who could blame him? He was a big lump though, and Danny and the others could only think that he knew a lot more than they did, because he was not indicating that he was scared of them in the slightest. He just walked away from the flat quickly and quietly. Danny shouted out to him loudly and with a smile in his voice, ‘Oi, fatboy, the lifts stink of piss, just a word to the wise.’ They all laughed at him. Opening the front room door, they saw Fahri standing on the balcony, a look of terror on his face, and a young baby held tightly against his chest.

Danny Boy held up his arms and stopped the Williams brothers in their tracks. They had their machetes out, and were desperate to spill this man’s blood.

‘Give me the baby, mate.’

Fahri shook his head violently. ‘You fucking want me, then you take her as well.’

He was almost gloating, honestly believing that the child he held would stop this lot from wiping the floor with him. Danny stepped back and motioned Eli to take the floor.

‘Where’s my fucking money, you thieving cunt?’ Eli was speaking quietly, but with a seriousness that should have alerted the man he was talking to of his rapidly deteriorating temper. His brothers were already searching the flat, pulling the furniture to pieces, and looking for their money or weapons. They were not disappointed; they dragged the sofa out from against the wall and found a stack of money piled behind it. It was theirs; it still had their personal bands around it, there was thousands there, and it had not been touched. The sofa was really old, scruffy and smelly in a deep-green Dralon, the remainder of its old fringing still running along the bottom, with shiny, greasy armrests due to the ingrained dirt all over it. The whole place was filthy, from the worn carpet that was almost bare in places to the black fingermarks around the light switches. This was an old ruse for people who wanted to be on the missing list; the place was a council sub-let. A junkie had obviously been a tenant at some time; there were blood spatters on the walls from amateur druggies taking their first hits, and burn marks that were everywhere from the more experienced junkies who kept their blood in their veins or their syringes, frightened of losing any of it in case they lost the smack as well. Whoever had been given the original tenancy now resided somewhere else, but was happily using the rent they were paid as a standby until their giro arrived. It happened all the time, and was the staple home for a lot of people, especially those who didn’t want to be found. On the rougher council estates flats like these were commonplace. They were the norm; they were the reason so many people managed to disappear.