Mr. Suit (4 page)

W
hen
she saw the ‘number not recognised’, Liza half expected it to be some company
giving her a cold call. The way she felt after her encounter with Billy the Kid
back there in Highgate, she was ready to give a mouthful of abuse to whoever
happened to be on the other end of the line.

“Yes.”
She said it with all the snippiness she could muster.

“Mum.
Thank God it’s you. They’ve got me, Mum. Prisoner. He says he’ll,” and she
broke into sobs that were unintelligible. It was Miriam, there wasn’t a doubt
in her mind about that.

Liza
covered the mouthpiece. Told Greg to pull over. He pushed up the indicator
lever and parked up on double-red lines in the bus-lane. Panicked in case the
cops turned up and stuck a breathalyser into his mouth and did him for
possession of illegal firearms to boot.

“Now
take it easy darling. Deep breaths. Who do you say has you and what are they
going to do?”

“Suits
Martin, Mum. The gangster.” That came as no surprise to Liza. “And he’s going
to have his wicked way with me then carve off my thumb if you don’t do exactly
what he says.” That wasn’t too much of a surprise either.

Liza
took a look in the bag. Put her hand in and stroked the guns. Felt empowered by
the cold touch of the metal. “You’d better put him on then, Honey. And don’t
worry. We’ll be there for you as soon as we can.”

“Liza
darling. Nice of you to pick up.” Suits Martin’s voice turned her on straight
away. Left her tingling between her legs. The image of him chaining her to a
bed and ripping off her clothes flashed through her mind. For a split-second,
she was jealous of her daughter.

“You
so much as chip her nail varnish I’ll have you, Mister.”

“You
should be so lucky, Babe.”

“Fuck
off. And don’t you be poking around where you shouldn’t be, neither.”

“What’s
your problem? It’s not as if I’d be the first now, would it? Besides, it’s me
that’s got all the issues here. He was my brother, Liza. You went and killed my
Willie.”

He
did have a point. Not that she was going to accept it. “You didn’t even like
the guy. Said he was always getting in the way. A handicap.”

Mr
Suit just laughed. “A man like me needs to find closure, darling. So you’re
going to have to do something to help me find it.”

“Hang
on. I’ll get a pen and paper.”

“This
isn’t a shopping list, doll. Just give me your undivided.” Liza scrunched up her
face in concentration. You need to bring Archie to me. That’s the deal. I need
to put Archie out of his misery once and for all. That’ll almost square things.
“And I’ll need £25,000 by way of payment.”

“25
grand? You’re having a laugh.”

“No
laughs here. 12 o’clock tomorrow. You name the place. Somewhere public.”

Greg
saw a police car in his rear-view mirror and a traffic warden crossing the road
in their direction. He let go of the handkerchief he’d been holding to his ear,
put on the indicators straight away and screeched into a gap in the traffic
before it closed. Liza fell back and almost dropped the phone.

“All
right. You’ll have the money. Inside Sainsbury’s, Ladbroke Grove. By the fruit.
Capische?”

Liza
heard Miriam scream in the background and the phone went dead.

“N
o
laughs here. 12 o’clock tomorrow. You name the place. Somewhere public.” Mr
Suit smiled. Let his fingers stroke the inside of Miriam’s naked thigh. Enjoyed
the softness of her young skin, warm and smooth and unspoiled by life.

When
he heard Liza’s attempt at Italian, he pressed the red button to end the
conversation and carefully placed the phone on the bedside table. He dropped
his face to where his hand had been and rubbed his cheek along Miriam’s leg
until he arrived at her pussy, still wet and musky from the last time he’d been
inside.

He
continued to the tattoo on her hip. Licked the horns of the red devil there and
gently traced the outline of its body before returning to her cunt.

Miriam’s
body stiffened. A solitary gasp escaped her lips.

Mr
Suit got down to business. Let his tongue skim the delicate labia before
hitting on the clit, where he licked out the letters of the alphabet. He
concentrated hard. Was just working on the ‘K’ when Miriam’s hands pushed his
head away.

“Stupid
cow,” she shouted. “Is she up for it?”

Mr
Suit looked up, his acne pocked face a shade of red. “She’ll be there.”

“And
she’ll have Dad?”

“He’ll
be there.”

Miriam
pulled herself up in the bed. Sat up against the pillows and scratched at her
arm. “That woman needs taught a good lesson. Trying to do for my dad like that
and coming on to my boyfriend an’ all. Getting Dad back safe’s all I care
about, but getting her to stump up the cash like that, it’s a work of genius. I
can’t wait to rub her nose in it is all I’m saying.”

Charlie
Suit smiled. “If we have that all sorted, I can’t wait to rub my nose in it
either.”

Miriam
slipped back down the pillow. Parted her legs. Let the Suit work on his letter
formation while she pictured her mother’s face when she saw what was really
going on.

L
iza
stood at home in the middle of her walk-in wardrobe, fingering all of her
clothes.

What
should one wear to a transaction meeting with the criminal underworld? It was
the question that had been bothering Liza since the phone conversation with Mr
Suit.

Course,
it was an easy decision for Greg. He’d be in the same tracksuit and trainers he
always wore.

And
Archie? He’d be wearing whatever she put him in. It wasn’t going to matter much
by the sounds of things. Suits Martin would have him chopped up and fed to the
fish in the Thames before Billingsgate opened its doors next morning.

Looking
around at all her clothes and shoes, she realised how difficult it was going to
be leaving all of it behind. But taking a trip abroad seemed like the safest
thing to do, even if it were just to let things cool down between everyone.

Two
hours she spent with her clothes thinking about the future and working out
which outfit she’d take back with her to the boat.

Eventually
she settled on a tight-fitting, sleeveless, white dress with a hem that ended
just above the knee. To go with it, a white pair of stilettoes with a tiny
yellow flower on the tip and her white leather handbag to keep the gun in. She
planned to wear her hair up and to put on a pale lipstick that would give her
the look of a model from the 1960s. She’d drive Mr Suit wild, which might just
take his mind off what was at stake.

The
decision made, she packed the clothes up carefully into her overnight bag and
got on the phone to the airline to book four open-return tickets to Spain, just
to be on the safe side.

G
reg
put the boat into reverse and pushed the tiller out wide to take in Wol’s
stern. The propeller churned up the water as the boat came to rest at the wall
until Greg shifted the gear back in to neutral.

“Mother
of God, will you keep the damned thing steady,” Liza shouted from the bedroom.
“I’m finishing my nails for heaven’s sake.”

Only
Archie, frozen in position so that he could watch Cash In The Attic, was able
to hear her.

On
deck, Greg picked up the rope that he’d laid from the bow earlier on and the
rope from his feet and jumped off onto land. He shifted his weight onto his
heels to keep the boat in place and skilfully snaked the ropes so that they
curled around the concrete bollards.

An
Indian family out for their family shop, nine of them including granny and six
children of descending sizes, watched on as Greg showed off his skills. It took
no time at all to tie up and Greg skipped back on-board as soon as the job was
done.

“Easy,”
he said to his dad when he came in.

Dad
blinked in approval and got back to watching the TV.

As
Greg sat examining his pistol, the bedroom door opened and out walked Liza,
blowing furiously on her fingers.

In
spite of Archie having no control of his body, his mouth opened a little.

His
pupils dilated and he blinked away. 8, 15, 20.

“Ah,
thanks darling,” Liza said and went over to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Bleeding
hell, Mum,” Greg said. “You sure you remember what we’re doing here?”

Liza
wiped away the lipstick from her husband’s head. “We’re going to do this
properly or not at all.”

That
was all there was to it.

“We’re
15 minutes early.” She looked at her son. “You make sure you’ve got your gun
primed and keep the key in the ignition. I’ll get in there and hang around the
oranges until they arrive. First sign of trouble, I want to hear you shooting
like it’s the OK Corral.”

Greg
nodded. Checked the Stanley knife was in his pocket and settled down to watch
the telly with his dad. The couple on the programme had found a stamp album in
the house that they reckoned was worth a grand. Maybe Greg would start his own
collection when they were in Spain - it would be a good time to build himself
something for the future.

“And
you’ll wheel out your father on my signal, won’t you dear?”

“Yes
Mum.”

“Making
sure that you’ve got the carrier bag with the cash.”

“Yes
Mum.”

“Then
everything’s fine. Wish me luck.”

Greg
lifted his hand to give half a wave. Archie just sat.

The
expert on the telly had shifted his attention to an ornamental Shire horse.

A
s
Liza walked into the shop, she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

She
found the weight of the gun in her bag reassuring and she went over to the
fruit to go through with the pretence of shopping.

She
picked up a couple of melons, checked them over for blemishes and gave them a
good sniff. Made her mouth water to get a whiff of the sweetness. Took her mind
off the flutterings in her stomach.

Before
she could move on to the oranges, she saw two men she knew. A couple of Mr
Suit’s boys.

Shane
and Naz looked like a couple of bouncers from an up-market club, sharp suits
and ties that couldn’t quite disguise the rough stuff that they were covering.

Liza
picked up a couple of oranges. Went over and passed one to each of the men. In
their hands the oranges looked like small tangerines.

“Where
is she then?” Liza asked.

“She’s
outside in the van.” Shane was doing the talking. Naz had begun peeling the
orange and was dropping the skin on the floor next to his shiny, black
winkle-picker shoes. “What about Archie and the cash?”

“On
the boat. How about you bring your boss and my daughter over and we’ll get the
business sorted.”

Naz
popped an orange segment into his mouth and nodded.

“You’re
on.”

The
three of them wandered outside into the sunshine and stood on the terrace.

Naz
lifted his finger in the direction of the car-park, Liza nodded over to Wol.

As
if in some great act of choreography, Suits Martin and Miriam appeared at the
same time as Archie and Greg.

In
his charcoal-grey zoot, Mr Suit really looked the part of top man. Miriam
hadn’t seemed to get the idea of the kidnap victim role, though. She was
wearing black tights and the shortest shorts that could be bought. Her T-shirt
rode up as she walked so that the red devil appeared at her hip with every
other step.

A
huge smile beamed from Liza’s face to see that her daughter was in one piece.
It soon disappeared when Miriam took Mr Suit’s arm as they came over.

“What
the?”

When
the couple reached Liza, Miriam unbuttoned her boyfriend’s jacked and slid her
hand over his stomach. In case she hadn’t made her point, she dropped her hand
to give Mr Suit’s cock a quick stroke before resting it on the gold buckle of
his belt.

“You
bloody slag,” Liza shouted and lunged forward.

Naz
and Shane reached out and took her arms, one each, and lifted her gently from
the ground. They pulled her back a couple of feet and dropped her back on the
concrete.

Miriam
rested her head on Mr Suit’s shoulder. “You’re just jealous, you old cow. It
wasn’t enough that you tried to steal my man, you had to go and ask him to kill
my own father, silly moo. You think I’d let you get away with that?”

“But
I didn’t know anything about you and Suits. Swear to God.”

“Ladies,
ladies,” Mr Suit interrupted. “Might I remind you that we’re here on business?
You have something we want, and I’ve got something for you in return.”

All
of Liza’s muscles tensed. A heat rose to the back of her throat.

“I
need a cigarette,” she said and opened the catch on her bag.

Greg
and Archie, having finally managed to negotiate the ramp on the boat, sidled
over. “When did you start smoking, Mum?” Greg asked.

There
was a moment when everybody seemed to look at everyone else while everything
remained still and then there was a moment when everybody moved at once.
Everyone except Archie.

Liza
pulled out her gun. Pointed it straight at Mr Suit and pulled the trigger.

The
bullet hit him in the chest.

Liza
squeezed the trigger again.

Before
she heard the bang, she saw Mr Suit pulling Miriam in front of her to shield
himself. The bullet went straight into the back of Miriam’s head and had enough
in it to come out of the other side and bury itself into Mr Suit’s throat.

The
two lovers seemed to hold on to each other like they were saying goodbye, then
fell to the ground like hammy actors in a bad play.

Naz
and Shane were quick to react. They reached inside their jackets and pulled out
handguns from leather shoulder-holsters.

Like
conjoined twins, they pointed their weapons at Liza and pumped their weapons.

Liza’s
body twitched like she was having the orgasm she’d been dreaming of over those
last few weeks. Her white dress was ruined, all holes and decorated with blood
as it formed petal-like blooms around her body.

Not
to be outdone, Greg pulled out his own weapon and retreated, firing off rounds
at Mr Suits’ men. Six shots in all, each of them hitting the targets. Naz and
Shane gazed at each other with mouths open, struggling to comprehend that
they’d met their ends at the hands of such a streak of piss. They collapsed
into each other’s arms before crashing down onto Archie and turfing him out of
his chair and onto the floor.

Greg
continued his retreat. Stumbled back to the water’s edge, caught his foot on an
old, black lab that’d been basking in the sun and tripped into the canal.

The
splash went up like a flare, but no one moved forward to help.

Greg
sank into the darkness. Opened his eyes to see the light above him and then
lost sight of it. He reached out and clawed at nothing as an enormous scream
did for the last of the air in his lungs. He flapped and kicked, but forgot to
turn his breathing off. Water poured into his mouth. Left the faint taste of
diesel on his tongue. His arms reached out letting his fingers find the cold
softness of the mud at the bottom of the canal. He tried to push himself up to
the surface, but only ended up getting his arm stuck up to the elbow in the
silt. A big cough emptied his lungs and a big suck filled them right up again.
It didn’t take long for his body to shut down while his brain clicked on with
images of the basement on the Archway Road and a goal scored at Highbury by
Tony Adams back in the day.