Ruthless (28 page)

‘I’m coming in too,’ said Annie.

‘The fuck you are.’

‘The fuck I
am.
They were coming after me, remember.
Me.
And Layla. No way are you shutting me out of this.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s . . . all right then. But you keep out of the way, let me do the talking. For a change.’

Annie gave him a smile of blinding sweetness. ‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Now I remember why I divorced you. You drive me bloody crazy.’

Annie said nothing.

Max fixed his attention on Alberto. ‘How does that grab you, Golden Boy?’

‘Max!’ Annie objected.

Alberto shrugged, turned his hands up. It was a very Italian –
no, Sicilian
– gesture. His eyes didn’t blink as they rested on Max. ‘You got a plan?’ he asked Max. His expression hadn’t changed. It was patient, faintly amused.

‘Maybe,’ said Max.

‘OK,’ said Alberto, and stood up. ‘Shall we . . .?’

The following night at the door to the strip club – neon-lit and boasting the name Debbie’s – a pot-bellied bouncer was trying to collar punters to go inside and drink the overpriced plonk the hostesses were passing off as vintage champagne. When he spotted them coming at him across the pavement, he disappeared inside the club.

The Carter and Barolli contingent moved inside. They handed their coats to the female cloakroom attendant. Two large men joined the pot-bellied bouncer and the three of them stood barring the way into the main body of the club. Music boomed out from within, Spandau Ballet were singing ‘Gold’. There weren’t many customers passing through. The place had a dead, seedy feel to it.

‘You got a problem?’ asked Max, all innocence. ‘We’re only here for a word with Benny O’Connor.’

One of the heavies sneered. ‘We
heard
about you having conversations with people.’

‘Yeah, and we’re not happy about it,’ added the bouncer.

‘We’re not looking for trouble,’ said Max. ‘We just want to talk. Me and my wife . . .’

‘Ex-wife,’ said Annie, her heart in her mouth. The atmosphere in the small, crowded lobby was thick with danger. She glanced at Alberto. He was dead calm. Then at Max.
He
seemed to be enjoying himself, the mad bastard.

‘. . . and Mr Barolli here, we’d like a word with Benny. Clear it all up.’

A tall man in his fifties with a shock of ginger-grey hair, bushy eyebrows and the brick-red face of the perpetual drinker had emerged from the main body of the club. He was flashily dressed in a double-breasted wide grey pinstripe and an expensive pair of light grey leather shoes that looked Italian. He stood and stared with arrogant assurance at the group.

‘All right. Frisk ’em – all three of ’em,’ said Benny O’Connor.

It was a very thorough frisking. Annie shut her mind to it as the hands travelled up and down her body. She kept her eyes to the front, not meeting Max or Alberto’s gaze. Alberto and Max were worked over too, more roughly. ‘They’re clean,’ one of the heavies told Benny.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

Annie glanced over her shoulder as he led them through a door beside the cloakroom. Alberto’s men were standing in the lobby. Steve, Gary and Jackie were there too, watching. Benny O’Connor’s men were lounging against the cloakroom counter, but one peeled away from the bunch and followed them through the door beside the cloakroom. Annie caught Steve’s eye as she went through it. He winked. Then the door closed on them. They were inside a Delaney sanctum, and anything could happen.

63

The office consisted of a desk and several chairs at the far end of the cloakroom. The check-in girl, a sweet-faced middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair showing black at the roots, was in there with them, hanging up coats, storing away tickets, sometimes glancing across.

‘Dora?’ said O’Connor.

Dora stopped what she was doing, looked at him.

‘Fuck off for a bit, yeah?’

Dora fucked off.

‘Now,’ said Benny, seating himself grandly behind the gargantuan desk in a big executive-style leather-backed chair. ‘What can I do for you people?’

Max turned, studied the muscle-head blocking the door. Then he returned his attention to Benny.

‘We’re looking for Redmond,’ he said.

‘Redmond?’ Benny’s eyes were cold but his lips were smiling. ‘As in Redmond
Delaney
? We ain’t seen that bastard in years. Last we heard, he was missing, presumed dead. Took off in a plane and it vanished over the Irish sea.’

‘Only, things have been happening,’ Max went on.

‘What sort of things?’

‘Things like people trying to snatch my daughter.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. Oh, and blow up my wife.’

‘Ex-wife,’ said Annie.

‘And it upsets me, as you can imagine,’ said Max, as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘I can understand that.’

‘I’m starting to suspect that he didn’t die in a plane crash. That he’s alive and well and making trouble. So if you know anything about what Redmond’s up to, or where he is, or who else might be behind these things that have been happening, this is your chance to tell us.’

Silence.

Benny was very still, his eyes locked with Max’s. Then he slumped back in his chair and assumed an air of disappointment. He shrugged. ‘Sorry. Can’t help you. Don’t know a bloody thing.’

‘But if you did, you would tell me,’ said Max.

No he fucking well wouldn’t,
thought Annie.

‘Of course.’

‘If you should hear anything, I’ll make it worth your while.’

Annie turned and looked at her ex-husband. He had clearly gone berserk. If Redmond was on the scene, it would be more than O’Connor’s life was worth to say a word. Max must realize that.

‘I appreciate the offer,’ said Benny, very smooth. Then he turned his head and shouted: ‘Dora!’

Dora reappeared through a door at the rear of the cloakroom, like a rabbit popping out of a hole. She looked at Benny.

‘Give these people their coats, our business here is done,’ he said, getting to his feet.

While Dora hurried off to fetch his visitors’ coats, Benny swaggered around the desk and extended a hand to Max. Max shook it.

‘I’ll be in touch if I hear anything,’ said Benny.

Liar,
thought Annie. Why the hell wasn’t Max grabbing this fucker by the scruff of the neck, why wasn’t he
making
O’Connor spill his guts?

‘Thanks,’ said Max.

Dora handed Annie her black cashmere. Then she gave Alberto, who was standing beside the big man on the door, his camel-coloured coat.

‘Thank you,’ said Alberto politely.

She gave Max his. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and Dora went back into her rabbit-hole.

Max shrugged on his coat – and turned with a gun in his hand.

Benny’s eyes popped out of his head. ‘What the f—’ he squeaked.

Max fired the gun. It had a long barrel, a silencer. It went
thunk,
hardly made a sound.

A neat hole appeared, ripped in the costly grey leather of Benny’s right shoe, just above his instep.

Benny opened his mouth to yell in pain and Max clamped a hand over it.

‘Make a sound and your knee’s next. Then kiss goodbye to your bollocks.’

It had happened so suddenly that Annie could only stand and stare. She half-turned, and saw that Alberto had a silenced pistol in his hand too, and its muzzle was jammed against the slab-like neck of the heavy on the door.

‘Do yourself a favour, pal,’ Alberto told him. ‘Don’t move.’

They arranged this
, she thought.
The cloakroom woman passed them the guns.

‘Holy shit . . .’ escaped her lips.

Sweat had sprung out on O’Connor’s face. It had gone redder than ever. He was trying not to shriek with pain, biting his lip to stop himself. Max was staring into his eyes, and Benny could see that Max meant every single word.

‘Now, you tosser,’ said Max, pushing Benny until he was bent painfully back over his own desk. ‘Where’s Redmond Delaney?’

‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Wrong answer.’

‘Well, he’s
dead
, isn’t he? I told you. The fucking plane vanished, and him with it.’ The man was panting in distress. ‘Oh
shit
, my foot.’

There was blood seeping out of the top of his ruined shoe. Annie felt faintly nauseous just looking at it.

‘Those shoes were fucking horrible anyway,’ said Max conversationally. ‘Back to the point, yes? Redmond. Dead? I don’t think so. Some people are damned hard to rub out. Like cockroaches.’

‘I don’t know,’ wailed Benny.

‘As I said, wrong answer.’

Max took aim at Benny’s knee.

‘No!’ yelped Benny, sobbing now. ‘Don’t.’

‘Redmond,’ said Max. ‘Three seconds. One . . .’

‘I don’t—’

‘Two . . .’

‘Please—’

Max took aim. ‘Three . . .’ he said.

‘No! I’ll tell you!’ said Benny in a paroxysm of fear.

‘Where is he?’ said Max, pausing.

‘Redmond? I don’t know, but wait! Wait! His cousin – Rufus. He came over, flew in from Shannon a couple of weeks ago, they said he had Orla with him. I didn’t believe it at the time. Thought she was long gone. But no one said a damned thing about Redmond.’

Max glanced at Annie. Rufus again. The same name Dickon had given up before he’d gone straight to hell. This was starting to have the ring of truth.

‘This Rufus, where’s he staying?’

‘I don’t—’

Max sighed. ‘Wrong answer. Where’s he staying?’

‘No, he’ll kill me!’

‘Not if I kill you first, arsehole,’ said Max, and fired the gun again.

Thunk!

A hole appeared in the other shoe, up near the big toe this time. O’Connor let out a half-stifled moan of agony. ‘Shhh,’ said Max, coming in close to the man’s tortured face and whispering into his ear. ‘We don’t want to wake the neighbours, do we? Not when we’re getting on so well. Now, tell me. Where is Rufus staying? And don’t jerk me about, my friend. I’m running out of patience very fast here, and
you’ve
run out of feet. Knee’s next.’

Benny, sobbing with pain, told him.

‘Good boy. Was that so hard? Now go and sit in the chair. Alberto, bring your boy over and seat him here. Let’s get you all comfortable, shall we?’

O’Connor could barely walk on his wounded and blood-sodden feet, so Max half-carried him round and dumped him into his grandiose chair. Alberto got the heavy into another one. Max dug in his coat pocket and handed Annie scissors and duct tape.

‘Their mouths and hands – tie ’em up nice and tight.’

Annie did so, seething with anger. He should have
told
her he was planning this. Furiously she started ripping off lengths of tape, roughly gagging the two men and securing them in their chairs.

‘That’s good.’ When both men were gagged and bound, Max and Alberto gave their guns to Annie. ‘Take ’em out to Dora.’

She hurried in the direction the cloakroom attendant had vanished, and found the woman waiting outside in the alley behind the building, puffing on a cigarette. Annie handed her the guns, scissors and duct tape.

‘When did Max set this up?’ Annie asked.

‘Yesterday,’ said Dora with a quick smile.

‘You’re going to have to make yourself scarce.’

‘All arranged. I’m gone.’ Dora sniffed in disdain. ‘Never did like working for that bastard anyway. He’s all hands.’

Annie went back inside, through the cloakroom, into the office section where the two men were tied up and where Max and Alberto were waiting for her.

‘Are we set?’ asked Max.

She nodded.

‘OK, let’s go.’

They went out into the lobby. ‘Addicted to Love’ was blaring out of the club, and through a swinging bead curtain painted with dolphins they could see a tired-looking stripper bumping along in time to the music, peeling off layers for her adoring public. Max paused by the door and spoke to the Delaney heavies.

‘Benny says he don’t want to be disturbed for a half-hour or so,’ he said. ‘He’s got some urgent work he wants to get through.’ Max gave a shark-like smile. ‘And the mood he’s in, I wouldn’t risk it, if I were you, or he might just decide to tear you an extra arsehole.’

The Carters and the Barolli boys departed into the night.

‘I want a word with you,’ said Annie to Max as they strode towards the cars.

‘Save it. We’ve bought a bit of time, until Benny with the fashionable footwear manages to put in a call to Rufus and warn him we’re on our way. Best make use of it.’ Taking her arm, Max walked her to the Jag, where Tone was waiting. ‘Get her home,’ he said, and hustled her inside the car, closing the door behind her and hurrying away.

Fuck
you,
Max Carter, she thought.

Tone climbed in behind the wheel, and drove her home.

64

By the time they got to the Partyland amusement arcade in Southend, it was gone midnight and the whole place was in darkness, the shutters pulled down against the vandals. Everyone piled out of the cars gloved up and with masks over their faces. They paused outside the side door.

Steve stepped forward and, using a heavy police battering-ram, he broke the door in. The alarms started going, but what the hell, they’d be in and out and away before the rozzers responded.

They all thundered up the stairs and into the flat above the arcade, flicking on lights, armed with guns and baseball bats. They went from room to room, throwing open doors, looking for hiding places.

‘Fuck,’ said Max at last. The flat was deserted, and no sign that anyone was living there. The fridge was empty, there were no toiletries in the bathroom. Either O’Connor had lied through his teeth or somehow Rufus had been forewarned and cleared out. But there were no signs of a hurried departure. More likely the guy had never lived here; guessing that Benny would crack under pressure, he’d fed him a story about staying at this place when all the while he was holed up elsewhere.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Alberto.

‘Yeah,’ said Max. He took one last look around him. Turned to Steve. ‘Get back here tomorrow though. Take a look, see if he’s loitering.’