The Life (34 page)

Terrence Allen was finding it very hard to accept that the Baileys had taken away their main earn. The Allen brothers had previously been the biggest supplier of drugs to their Northern counterparts. Now, it seemed, that honour had been given to one Michael O’Toole, a man who had no idea what a fucking gram of coke looked like, let alone a key. It was a fucking joke – everyone knew that the Baileys had just given him the title, but
they
supplied his workforce. Michael O’Toole couldn’t broker a deal with a fucking eight year old selling conkers. He had spent more time in stir than a card-carrying Old Bill, and he still thought the Krays were someone, for fuck’s sake. It was nepotism at its worst.

The Allens had been forced to stand back like a pair of errant schoolboys as everything they had built up over the years was just given away to a fucking no-mark. The Baileys had taken it away without a thought for the time and effort he had put in over the years, setting the deals up, making sure the people they dealt with were kosher, and not liable to turn at the first glimpse of Lily Law and put them all in the frame for a long stretch. And that was becoming more customary as the courts handed out bigger and bigger sentences. It was shocking – fucking murder didn’t warrant the sentences drug dealing did. Get pissed and take out a whole family in your motor – husband, wife, kids, the lot – and you were looking at a four or a five stretch; be found
with three keys of coke, and you were doing a twenty. It was a scandal – especially as most of the drugs confiscated were back on the street within weeks. The Old Bill were not averse to a bit of dealing themselves; if it wasn’t for the Filth he wouldn’t have half the product needed to satisfy the demand. And, whether people liked it or not, there was a fucking big demand for it. Cocaine was a middle-class drug – he served up half of Canary Wharf, those city boys couldn’t snort it up their hooters quick enough.

The Baileys handing it on a plate to Michael O’Toole was the final insult. Although Terry knew he could not show his hand yet, that did not mean he could not show it at some point in the future. It was like a festering sore, not just the drop in wages, and the loss of prestige, but the fact that they had been replaced by a mug like Michael O’Toole, a man who was in no way clued up enough to run an outfit of such huge proportions. He was a fucking local boy, one step above a gas-meter bandit. He had done a few armed robberies back in the day, when a wages-snatch for twenty grand was still seen as a fucking big event.

Word on the street was that the Scallys were not too thrilled about Michael O’Toole either; that was because, along with the Allens, they had, over the years, devised a method of payment that ensured that they
all
got their money’s worth, even if the Baileys didn’t.

Petey Bailey knew all about the scam –
he
had been the brains behind it – so it was going to be an interesting few months for everyone concerned. Petey had always had that fucking greed in him, that need to tuck an extra few quid in his back pocket. It was as if he enjoyed having his old man over and, in a way, Terry could identify with that. Like everyone else, Petey had to live by the Bailey credo and, for a man like Petey, that had to burn. He had a personality that didn’t take well to being curtailed, and
the older Bailey brothers controlled everyone around them in one way or another.

Petey Bailey was not liked or trusted by many of the people in the Life any more. He was tolerated at best by most; he was far too petty in many respects – he had been known to chase a person down for a poxy score. He was a fucking cheapskate by nature, a drama queen who could, and would, cause murders for a few quid. He had no class. Petey was a product of his father – he had lived so long in his shadow he wouldn’t last ten minutes in the real world. Alone, without the Bailey name, the Bailey backing, he would be insignificant. The fact he was having his own blood over on a daily basis said all that needed to be said. Now he was panicking, and so he should be; his little scam was in danger of being discovered. Of course, that left the Allens in a position of power – for all their troubles, they knew the truth of the matter.

So Terry would wait, and he would plan. Petey Bailey had fucked off more than a few people over the years and, like Terry, they would welcome the chance to take the fucker down and with him the whole Bailey family. This was personal now.

His brother Billy was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was with Terry all the way on this. Billy knew that without Terry he would not have anything, and his brother had always looked out for him. If Terry said that something had to be done, Billy never questioned it, he just did as he was told. Terry was more than willing to use his brother for his own ends. Billy would do anything if you asked him nicely: maim, harm, torture. If Terry asked him to chop off his own foot, chances were Billy would do it.

Together they were a good partnership; Terry was the brains of the outfit, and Billy was happy to be led. Terry cared for his brother deeply but, that aside, if he had to sacrifice him, he
would without a qualm. The Baileys were not the only people capable of taking out a family member, and the sooner they realised that the better.

Petey Bailey was at panic stations at the moment; unlike his father, he didn’t have the brains to think everything through. So Terry Allen was confident that he had the edge; it was just a matter of time until the tables turned.

‘Come on, Danny, you can’t keep up this silence indefinitely. You must remember something about what happened the other night. Petey had to go to the Allens alone, for fuck’s sake!’

Of all the brothers, Davey was closest to Danny; he’d been like his shadow as a child and now that Danny was heading up operations, Davey was his right-hand man. Davey had no real desire to be a leader; he was a man of few words, who didn’t feel the need to prove himself.

Davey knew it was completely out of character for his brother to miss a meet because he was drunk or stoned; he took his responsibilities very seriously.

‘Just let it drop, Davey, all right?’ Danny sounded as pissed off as he looked.

‘Is it something to do with Petey?’ Davey was trying to work it out. He might not be a contender for
Countdown
, but he knew when he had hit a nerve. It was always about Petey in the end – he was such a fucking wind up. Danny could be a lairy fucker when the fancy took him; he sailed quite close to the wind on occasion, but that was Danny, he was a maverick. He used his nous to stretch his earn, but he made sure the earn was shared by them all. But Petey was greedy – he always had been. Even as a kid he had always had to have what
they
had – he would even take their pocket money from them. Like all gamblers he had no real care for the people he hustled. Danny
was different, and his brothers were willing to let him call the shots. He was the eldest, he was the man their father trusted to see that everything was running smoothly, and he was more than capable of doing that job.

‘Come on, bruv, what’s the problem? I know it involves Petey, I just can’t work out how.’

Danny sighed. ‘The truth is, Davey, I feel exactly the same. I haven’t worked it out yet, but there’s something I need to find out. I want you to come with me – we need to get to the bottom of this. I think there’s skulduggery afoot, as you obviously do too and, if it does involve Petey then the fewer people in on it the better.’

Davey was silent for a few moments, digesting his brother’s words. ‘I see. It’s like that, is it?’

Danny nodded.

Lena and Ria watched their husbands standing at the bar of the Shandon Bells Irish Club, deep in conversation. It was good to see. It had been a long time since they’d appeared so relaxed in each other’s company.

‘Look at them two! Like a pair of fucking old women, gossiping away.’

Ria laughed out loud at the simile; the men were a lot of things, but gossips was stretching it a bit.

‘Where’s Imelda? I thought she was meeting us?’

Ria shrugged. ‘Not a clue. Honestly, Lena, she gets on my nerves lately. She’s so wrapped up in her own little world. She needs to get over herself, that one.’

Lena sipped her brandy and Coke daintily; she’d known for a long time that Imelda and Ria were at loggerheads, but she was surprised that Ria had actually openly acknowledged that there was a problem between them. Ria was usually proud like that. ‘Well, Ria, you know what she’s like. Too much time on her hands, if you ask me.’ It was what Ria wanted to hear.

Ria nodded and replied sadly, ‘I’ve told her that, ever since Jack. You know, Lena, until that night it never occurred to her that the life she lived was run by our men and their businesses – her old man included, I might add. She thought we could control it, that we had some kind of authority. But I think that
night opened her eyes and she didn’t like what she saw.
We
are expected to sit back, and take whatever comes our way – the good and the bad. We live with that knowledge every day of our lives, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it, especially now her boy’s onboard. She can’t hack that because she knows too much for her own good.’

Lena placed her hand gently on her friend’s arm; she could hear the hurt and the pain in her voice and understood completely why she was worried for her daughter.

‘Do you know what I think, Ria? Our generation were geared up for it all somehow. We came from nothing and we accepted what our husbands chose, not just for us, but for our families. I washed Daniel’s bloody clothes, and it wasn’t
his
blood on them either. I provided alibis and, in the middle of it all, I brought up the kids. We didn’t expect as much as girls do today – they think they need to know everything. But sometimes the truth is more dangerous than ignorance. I know that my Tania is just starting to question things – I can see it in her eyes. Despite the fact that I have done everything I possibly can to protect her from the Life, I think she might know more than she lets on – she was always earwigging as a kid.’

Ria had never heard Lena talk so openly before; she’d tried to keep up the pretence of ignorance for so long. Now that Tania was growing up she seemed to be more inclined to admit the truth. ‘Thanks, Lena, I know you’re right, mate. But I worry about Mel – she can’t seem to let things go. She should have had more kids, had something to focus on.’ Ria shook her head as if shrugging all the worries away from her. ‘Here, Lena, guess what? My Petey is talking about having kids. Can you imagine that? Bernadette with a baby? I can’t, for the life of me. I wouldn’t trust her with a pet, let alone a child. Petey reckons that if they do produce a child it will be a miracle of modern
science – he reckons she is not the type to ruin her figure with a pregnancy.’

Lena laughed with her friend, glad that she was back to normal again. ‘If she does produce a baby, it will be a fashion plate, Ria – all designer labels, and expensive prams. Bernadette hasn’t the sense of a doornail, the poor child will be round your house or her mother’s within a month of being brought into the world.’

Ria nodded; the truth of the statement was there. In all honesty, it depressed her. ‘Well, Bernadette O’Toole has a lot to contend with coming her way, as we know to our cost, Lena. The Life soon sorts out the girls from the women, eh?’

Lena smiled sadly. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

Stephanie Carlton was thrilled to see Danny Bailey, and it showed. Her smile was wide as she left the stage and excitedly walked into the dressing room of the Lonsdale Gentlemen’s Club. She didn’t really like it here, it wasn’t as good as the Electric Lady, the club the Baileys owned, where she had worked quite happily until a few weeks ago. That still stung; Karim had outed her with no explanation whatsoever – just told her that her services were no longer required. He had hinted, in a very aggressive way, that her penchant for E had not been appreciated but, as most of the girls were coked out of their nuts, she felt that was a tad hypocritical. Seeing Danny pleased her; she genuinely liked him, and she had believed that he liked her.

She looked in the mirror, and smiled at what she saw; as a natural redhead – both collar and cuffs, as Danny put it – she had an unusual beauty. She had a good body, and it was all natural, which she suspected was why she was so popular with the punters. Unlike the majority of the girls with their fake tits and orange tans, she had pale milky skin, and large natural breasts that seemed to defy gravity. They moved properly, and that was a bonus in her game. She was a trained dancer as well; she’d taken ballet classes as a little child, eventually moving on to modern dance and ballroom. Too short in stature to ever make a career of it, she had used her talent for lap dancing; now she could climb a pole without even concentrating.

She had missed Danny Bailey; she had not expected to see him again. He had waved at her as she danced on the podium, and mimed having a drink, so she was content with that much for the moment.

As she slipped into a short leather skirt and white fitted shirt, she was confident she looked good. A quick spray of Coco Chanel, and she was ready.

Danny and his brother Davey were waiting for her in a private booth and, as she slipped in beside them, she was already buzzing with suppressed excitement. She had dropped half an E about an hour before, so she had a gentle high – just enough to make her eyes look dreamy, and the world around her feel more accommodating. She couldn’t dance without a little help; she hated being naked, or nearly naked. It made her feel too vulnerable, and she would never carry off the private dances without a little buzz.

‘Long time no see, Danny. You’re looking well.’

He smiled at her, and saw the gleam in her green eyes that told him she was under the influence of chemicals as usual. He sighed sadly. He enjoyed a bit of gear – everyone did in his game – but he had never understood the power of E for people who weren’t out raving. It was a dance drug. True, Stephanie danced, that was fair enough, but E was also a very unpredictable drug. Not his cup of tea at all.