Streetwise (15 page)

Noah slid out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower. By the time he got back, Guy was awake, propped up on an elbow with the duvet pushed aside. He was gazing towards the window which, despite the layer of snow on the ground, revealed a square of sky the colour of cornflowers.

Even after all these years, Noah was still aroused by the sight of his lover’s nakedness. His gaze raked over Guy’s body, taking in the strong muscular arms, the smooth planes of his chest, the curve of his spine. A shaft of winter sun came through the glass, turning his fair hair to a gleaming gold.

It was Guy’s expression, dark and brooding, that prompted him to ask a question he would never normally ask.

‘What are you thinking?’

Guy’s lips parted as if for once he might be about to share the innermost secrets of his mind, but then the familiar mask slid over his features again. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Nothing worth repeating.’

Noah didn’t press him. He sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing that this intimate time together would shortly be coming to an end and wanting to savour what remained of it.

Soon they’d be putting on their clothes, going downstairs and opening the bar. Guy would be absorbed into the lunchtime crowd, the centre of other people’s attention instead of his own.

‘Is Jenna coming over tonight?’ asked Noah as casually as he could manage.

‘Yes.’

‘No second thoughts, then?’

Guy twisted round to lie flat on his back. He put his hands behind his head. ‘Life’s too short for second thoughts.’

‘Yeah? Well yours is going to be even shorter when Chris Street catches up with you.’

‘That man’s prehistoric, a machismo-fuelled dinosaur. It’s none of his business what his
ex
-wife chooses to do.’

But Noah couldn’t be so blasé about it. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours in a state of anxiety, wondering when Street would walk back in and finish what he’d started. Guy wasn’t so much fearless, he thought, as utterly reckless. If Jenna had actually meant something to him, then the risk might have been worth taking, but Guy was only using her. She was bait, a tethered goat, a means to an end.

‘What time is it?’ Guy asked.

Noah picked up his watch from the bedside cabinet. ‘Twenty to eleven.’ Then, in an absent-minded fashion, he opened the top drawer and closed it. It was only after he’d closed it that he became aware of something being missing. Quickly, he opened the drawer again.

‘Where is it?’

‘What?’

‘You know what. The gun. Where’s the gun?’

‘Oh that,’ said Guy in a languid fashion. ‘I got rid of it.’

The gun, a small Beretta semi-automatic, had been in the drawer for the past five years. Noah had always hated the thing, but now that it was gone he wished that it wasn’t. ‘And what if Chris Street does come after you? How are you going to defend yourself?’

Guy’s mouth widened into a smile. ‘Well, not by saying
Excuse me while I just nip upstairs for my gun.
I mean, it’s not exactly practical, is it?’

‘But why now?’ Noah asked.

‘You’ve been telling me to get rid of it for ages.’

‘And since when did you listen to anything I said?’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Guy said. ‘I’ve done what you wanted. You should be pleased.’

Noah ran his fingers over the smooth mahogany of the cabinet. ‘What did you do with it?’

‘I put it out with the rubbish.’

Noah stared at him, his eyes widening with alarm. ‘You did what? For Christ’s sake, if anyone…’ But then he saw Guy’s face and stopped. ‘Yeah, very funny. So what did you really do with it?’

‘Dumped it in the river. It’s gone. You don’t have to worry any more.’

Noah thought of the gun leaving Guy’s hand, moving through the air and falling down towards the water. He thought of the splash it would make, and then the twisting and turning as it spun through the cold murky depths until it came to rest amidst the tangled weeds of the river bed. He gave an involuntary shudder. Sweat prickled on his forehead. He was having one of those eerie, inexplicable sensations as if someone was walking over his grave.

Danny flicked through the photos on his phone, trying to decide on the best picture to use. They were all good, all compromising, but he needed to find one that was thoroughly obscene. Although it was only twenty-four hours since the set-up, he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Eventually, he chose a particularly graphic shot that left nothing to the imagination. He got it ready to send and then dialled the number that Morton Carlisle had given him.

It was picked up after a couple of rings. ‘Yes?’

‘Mr Squires?’

‘That’s right. Who is this?’

‘My name’s Danny, Mr Squires. I just wanted to make sure that you had your phone on you.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’m about to send through a message. It’s a little delicate, something that you might not want the wife to see. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me straight back.’

‘What are you —’

Danny hung up before he had the chance to finish the sentence. Then, with a grin on his face, he sent through the photograph. It would be a few minutes, maybe even five or ten, before he got a call back. The man would panic, sweat, shit himself and think about his options. And then, when he realised that he didn’t have any, he would finally make the call. That was okay. That was fine. He didn’t mind waiting.

Danny lit a cigarette to help pass the time. He bent down and patted Trojan. ‘It won’t be long now, boy. Everyone has to pay for their sins in the end. And he ain’t no different, is he?’

The dog lifted his head and wagged his tail.

‘Yeah,’ Danny said. ‘There’s no such thing as a free ride. And this one’s gonna be a fuckin’ expensive one.’

It was seven minutes before the phone started ringing. Danny checked the number and then let it ring a few more times before he picked up. ‘Yeah?’

‘What the hell do you want?’ asked Squires, his voice cold and abrupt.

‘Well, a little civility for starters. There’s no need for that tone. I was thinking ten k would be a fair amount.’

‘What?’

‘Or I send the pictures to your wife.’

‘That’s blackmail.’

‘Sure it is,’ Danny said. ‘You screw around, mate, you have to pay for it. Or you could come clean and tell the missus what you were doing last night.’ He paused. ‘No? No, I didn’t think so. Women don’t tend to be very understanding about these things, do they? So, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable sum, not when you think of the peace of mind involved.’

‘And what’s to stop you coming back for more?’

‘I’m not greedy, Mr Squires, and I don’t take any more risks than I need to. You pay me the cash, I give you the photographs, end of story. You won’t ever hear from me again.’

‘It’s a Saturday. How am I supposed to get that kind of money on a weekend?’

‘There’s plenty of banks open on a Saturday. It’s only ten k, Mr Squires. Peanuts to a man like you. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble in raising that.’

‘This is blackmail. I could go to the police.’

‘Sure you could. And then you could explain to them why you had sex with a fifteen-year-old girl.’

There was a swift intake of breath from the other end of the line. ‘She wasn’t… she’s not fifteen.’

‘Try telling that to the cops when they’re reading her birth certificate.’

Squires’s voice turned pleading. ‘But I didn’t know that. For Christ’s sake, I didn’t have a clue.’

‘You’ve got a daughter about that age, ain’t you? Shit, that’s gonna be a bit confusing for her, her old man shagging a teenager.’

‘Keep my daughter out of this.’

‘That’s up to you. Send me a text when you’ve got the money and I’ll tell you where to meet me tonight.’

‘It can’t be tonight. I’m busy. I’ve got… I’ve got things I have to do.’

‘Then you’ll have to get un-busy. Text me. And don’t leave it too long. I’m not the patient sort.’ Danny hung up before he could respond. He sat back and grinned. It was fortunate, he thought, that so many men listened to their dicks rather than their brain. This would be the most expensive shag Squires had ever had. But then, as Silver never tired of reminding him, she was worth it.

Jeremy Squires turned up at Belles at exactly eight o’clock. Solomon escorted him to the corner where Danny was sitting waiting.

‘Right on time,’ Danny said. ‘Take a pew.’

‘I’d rather not,’ replied Squires somewhat stiffly. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?’ He glanced nervously around the room. Although it was still relatively early, half the tables were already taken. There were two girls dancing on stage, their bodies glistening with oil. ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’

Danny sniggered. ‘What, like the Gents’, you mean? Better not. People might talk.’

Squires stared down at him, his face full of anger and contempt. ‘Do you want your money or not?’

‘All in good time. Sit down before you draw even more attention to yourself.’

Squires hesitated, but eventually, reluctantly, lowered himself into a chair. ‘So how do we do this?’

Danny could see that he was ill at ease and not just because of the circumstances that had brought him here. He was the kind of man who probably claimed, especially to his wife, that he disapproved of such establishments, and now he was worried that someone he knew might recognise him. ‘Relax,’ he said, enjoying his victim’s discomfort. ‘Where’s the fire? How about a drink? Fancy a Scotch? You may as well enjoy the show while you’re here.’

‘I’m not here to socialise.’ Squires glanced pointedly at his watch. ‘I’ve a dinner to attend and I’m already late. Do you want the money or not?’ He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and smacked it down on the table.

Danny looked at the envelope, but didn’t pick it up. For him, part of the pleasure in these transactions was in watching the men squirm. Just for a while he had complete and utter power over them; he could destroy their lives by the single simple action of pressing a button on his phone. ‘I dunno. Maybe I don’t fancy doing a deal after all.’

‘Don’t mess me about.’

‘Why? What are you going to do about it?’

Squires opened his mouth and then closed it again. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat.

Danny despised hypocrites like Squires, men who were all respectability and moral high ground on the outside, but who gave in to temptation at the mere sniff of some free fanny. He stared at him, taking in the perfectly cut silver hair, the expensive shirt and jacket, the gold Omega watch, the wedding ring. Yes, they could easily have stung him for more than ten k. The pathetic piece of shit would have paid twice that.

After a while, Danny leaned down and picked up the large brown envelope that was leaning against the leg of his chair. He placed it on the table in front of Squires. Inside, were ten A4 prints, a sordid record of the events of last night. In this digital age, the physical photographs were meaningless – the images could still exist on a computer or a phone – but Danny always liked to provide a set, just so the victims knew exactly what they were paying for. It also provided them with the dilemma of what to do with the pictures, where to hide them or how to destroy them.

Squires ran his tongue along his dry upper lip. He waited a few seconds and then his hand snaked out to grab the envelope. Once he had it, he didn’t seem sure what to do next. He dithered for a moment before curling the envelope into a tube and sliding it into his jacket pocket. ‘This is it,’ he said, standing up. ‘I won’t be paying out any more.’

Danny took the other envelope. He didn’t bother opening it to count the money. He knew it would all be there. ‘Anybody ask you to?’ He got to his feet too. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business. Let me walk you out.’

‘There’s no need for that.’

‘Oh, I insist.’ He weaved between the tables until they were at the door and then out in the foyer. He knew that it wouldn’t take Squires long to uncover his identity, but this didn’t concern him. Why should it? If anything, it made it even more unlikely that his victim would go to the law. Once Squires discovered that he was part of the notorious Street family, he would think twice about doing anything stupid.

It was this feeling of being able to do as he liked, of being invincible, that was the real turn-on for Danny. He savoured the sensation as they walked along the red carpet towards the main entrance. Squires, eager to be rid of him, hurried forward.

Danny gave a nod to Solomon Vale as they passed through the door and stepped out into the oblong of light on the forecourt. ‘Need a cab?’ he asked Squires.

‘No.’

Danny stopped to light a cigarette before he followed Squires to the dimly lit far corner of the car park. The spaces, clearly marked, were supposed to be for staff only, but he supposed he could overlook it on this occasion. Squires took out his keys and beeped open the doors of a racing green Land Rover Discovery.

‘Nice motor,’ said Danny as he ran his hands along the gleaming bodywork.

‘What do you want?’ Squires said. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’

Danny took a long draw on his fag and grinned back at him. ‘Nothin’, mate. Nothin’ at all. No need to be so jumpy.’

Jeremy Squires had one hand on the door when Danny heard the noise. Three loud cracks in quick succession, like a car backfiring. And then the sudden pain in his right arm – sharp, hot, agonising. The cigarette slipped from his fingers and as he bent over, grasping his arm with his left hand, he was aware of Squires dropping like a stone.

Danny’s brain, raddled with coke, took a moment to process what was happening.
Shit, shit, shit.
He’d been shot. They’d both been shot. He threw himself on the ground, down by the wheels of the Discovery. Squires was close by and he wasn’t moving; he was face down with a couple of holes in his back. Was he dead? Jesus, was the fucker dead?

Danny kept his head down in case the bastard with the shooter was still hanging around. He was aware of the noise of the traffic, of the faint sound of the music coming from the club. What he couldn’t hear was any sign of life from Squires. Not a moan, not a groan, not a single bloody breath.

Solomon came flying across the forecourt, his boots scrunching on the gravel. ‘What the —’ He crouched down by the two men, his eyes wide with alarm. He glanced over his shoulder and then back at them. ‘You okay?’ he asked, staring at Danny. ‘What happened? What the hell happened?’

‘Do I fuckin’ look okay?’ The blood was pouring down his arm now, covering his hand in red. He could feel a throbbing, a rhythmic painful pounding that made the breath catch in his throat.

‘Stay cool. Help’s on its way, man.’ He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled 999. While he was talking, he leaned over and placed a couple of fingers against Squires’s neck. ‘Still with us, but not much of a pulse.’

While Solomon had the phone pressed to his ear, Danny gradually became aware of the increasing activity around them. People, alert to an incident, were starting to gather. He could hear the murmur of curious voices, the shuffling of feet. It wouldn’t be long before half of Shoreditch had come to get an eyeful. And as this thought sank in, he had another more urgent one.
Christ, the envelope with the photographs was still in Squires’s pocket!
Knowing that he had to get it back before Old Bill turned up, he waited until Solomon had got off the phone and then demanded, ‘Get rid of the fuckers! Move them back. Clear some space.’

As Solomon stood up to drive back the onlookers, Danny scrambled desperately towards Squires. Could anyone see? Was anyone watching? He tried to use his own body as a shield, to pretend that he was trying to help the man. In order to get hold of the envelope he had to release his grip on his injured arm. The blood flowed down on to Squires’s jacket, adding to the dark stain that was already spreading.

Panic started to flood his veins. Once the law found the photos, it wouldn’t take them long to find Silver and then the game was truly up. He tried to dig his fingers under the body, but the guy was a dead weight and with only one usable arm – and that was his left – he didn’t have the strength to shift him. He felt his breath coming in short fast pants. Desperate, he lay down beside Squires and shoved one leg roughly under his hip. Eventually, he managed to lever up the body and scrabble underneath until he found the envelope.

Danny now had the photos, but his relief was short-lived. What the hell was he going to do with them? He looked frantically around, knowing that the cops would go over the ground with a fine toothcomb. He couldn’t hide them and he couldn’t keep them on him. There was only one other alternative. ‘Sol,’ he hissed. ‘Come here, come here.’

Solomon Vale crouched down beside him again. ‘Boss?’

‘Take this,’ he said, thrusting the blood-splattered envelope into his hands. And then he remembered the money. He’d better get rid of that as well. He reached into his pocket, wincing with pain and passed that envelope over too. ‘Keep them safe, huh?’

Solomon didn’t ask any questions. He unzipped his leather jacket, slipped the envelopes inside, and zipped it up again.

Danny struggled out of his jacket, folded it over and used it to try and stem the flow of blood from his arm. He pressed down hard and felt his brains begin to spin. He put his head between his knees, retched twice and then threw up over the shiny rear wheel of the Discovery.