TRAPPED (18 page)

A couple of summers ago Saucers had even signed herself up for some sort of literature classes at the City Lit in Stukeley Street. It’d been the first time he’d seen her vulnerability. Gone was the funny, confident hooker who had an opinion about everything, and in her place stood an insecure woman unsure if she belonged amongst the educated of society.

She’d asked him to wait outside for her, confident only in her ability to learn, but not in who and what she was. He’d gone along with her each week, sitting in the bar opposite until her class was over when she’d come out filled with excitement. She’d made him laugh. She devoured books in much the same way he devoured cocaine. Hungrily.

When she’d asked him about jobs he’d said he’d put his ear to the ground and had gone to find Maggie, asking her to pull in a favour from Johnny to get Saucers a job in one of his clubs.

When Johnny had met her it was obvious she was a natural. Saucers wasn’t any beauty but her easy manner and willingness to do most things had the punters pecking out of her hand. Saucers had been so grateful to him that she’d offered everything from her body to having a threesome with her and her friends, but Nicky hadn’t taken any of it. He’d just been pleased to help and it’d been good to find someone apart from Maggie who he could trust. All he’d wanted was her friendship.

They’d stayed good friends ever since; best friends almost. And when Saucers had seen him looking despondent the other night after he’d heard Johnny and Gina talking, she’d tottered over to talk to him, as always landing a kiss on his cheek. ‘Alright, baby. Haven’t seen you for a couple of days. I miss you, what’s been going on darlin’?’

‘I’ve just been busy man.’

‘Busy with that flipping white stuff. It’s no good for you, Nicky. Bleeding hell. You’re a shadow of your old self.’

‘Remind me to come to you when I want cheering up.’

‘It’s not that, Nick. I’m worried about you. Everyone is and I hear Johnny was baying for you. He’s really pissed off, Nicky.’

‘Johnny and all the rest of them.’

‘Wanna talk about it?’

‘Talking’s not going to sort things out is it, Saucers? If you don’t mind I’ll keep it to myself.’

‘Okay, babe. I’m not one to squeeze secrets out of a man but I’m here if you want to gab. I still owe you one for sorting out that job with Johnny right back when, so if there’s anything I can do to help. You know I will.’

Nicky had looked at her. An idea forming in his head. ‘Actually, now you come to mention it, perhaps there is.’

Now, opening the back door quietly, Nicky sneaked out of the Donaldson household and breathed in the air. Suddenly he felt a sense of freedom. A freedom he’d never felt before. As much as trouble seemed to be standing on every corner for him – and he owed people more than he could possibly pay back – it actually felt good to be leaving the house behind. The house he’d spent all his miserable life in.

The stairwell stank of every kind of bodily fluid, but Nicky didn’t notice. He was used to drug dens and crack houses, where he’d seen and smelt worse. He’d seen babies lying on filthy mattresses in soiled nappies. Young children wandering around hungry and dirty whilst their parents and hangers-on smoked crack in the same room.

The flat at the top of the stairs was number twenty-eight and Nicky knocked on it loudly. After a couple of minutes the door was answered.

‘Hey baby, good to see you.’

‘Not as much as I am to see you. Thanks again for this.’

Nicky grinned at Saucers who let him in. As she watched him walk into the front room every part of her body knew that letting Nicky Donaldson – the biggest but sweetest drug head since the dawn of time – stay with her was going to be the worst mistake she’d ever made.

Max Donaldson sat opposite Gary Levitt. He’d heard a lot about Gary from the other faces in London, hearing how he was trying to work his way up the ranks. He knew Gary was dealing. Starting off small time on the corners of the streets in Soho but gradually getting bigger – both in dealing and also in reputation.

He’d heard Gary was ruthless, his ambition keeping him hungry, and he wasn’t afraid to use his fists no matter who he came across. It put Max in mind of Vaughn Sadler, an old-school gangster who once ruled the area before he retired to marry some woman. Vaughn had never been afraid to do what it took, but Max had never been able to respect Vaughn like he should. Vaughn had had a heart and given people chances instead of putting them ten feet under. In Max’s book that was nearly as bad as being a grass.

It was important to have people with Gary’s focus, but they were becoming harder to find. The young guys today weren’t willing to respect the faces like they’d done when he was making the tag. They wanted it all straight away and didn’t want to put in for the apprenticeship. Instead of becoming a face or making big money, they got caught up in senseless gun wars, where the winner was only ever a bullet.

It’d been Gary himself who’d put out the message through one of his cronies that he wanted a meeting with Max. Gary had wanted to speak to Max for two reasons. Firstly, a lot of the places where he was starting to deal were on Max’s turf and he certainly didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Being on the wrong side of Max Donaldson usually meant a long visit to the ICU unit – if you were lucky. If you weren’t so lucky, an even longer and more permanent one to the morgue.

The other reason Gary wanted to speak to Max was because he wanted to get onboard his bandwagon. There was only so far he could go up the ladder unless he was under the wing of one of London’s most ruthless gangsters, and who better than Max Donaldson? Gary could learn from him. He was willing to. Plus, if word got out he was with Donaldson, then it’d take some pair of balls to cross him and Max, and Gary’s reputation as a drug dealer could only get bigger.

It’d taken a lot of bottle for him to face Max; there was an unsettling presence about him which made the toughest of men feel uneasy. Gary certainly wasn’t the toughest, especially when he didn’t have his heavies around as Max had insisted he didn’t.

Sitting in the meeting, Gary looked at Max properly for the first time. The man’s eyelids hung with excess skin over his heavily bloodshot eyes. His face, puffy and rotund without a trace of softness, was home to an array of tiny purple broken veins. Gary watched him snort lines of cocaine off the desk and noticed the size of his hands, making him shudder and fear creep into his pores.

Gary wiped his hand on his black Evisu jeans. His palms were sweating and felt cold and clammy; it was one of the more unwelcome family traits of the Levitt family. He didn’t want to appear nervous. At the same time it was important
to Gary he didn’t seem too cocksure. He didn’t want Max to
see him as just a wannabe face, a ten-a-penny guy who had ambitions he’d never be able to meet.

It took something to be a face. It took what most people didn’t have; the ability to go that one step further. To take another human being and disregard their right to life. To be
able to do whatever it takes to get where you want and,
sitting opposite Max Donaldson, Gary knew all those qualities ran through Max like a burst dam. He could almost smell it. He hoped Max might see a trace of the same in him.

As Gary was deep in thought, Max spoke roughly. ‘I hope you’ve got a good fucking reason to call up this meeting. I don’t take kindly to people who waste my time.’

‘I think you’ll be pleased with what I’m bringing to the table.’

‘I don’t want to think and I don’t want anything brought to the table. This ain’t a flipping restaurant. You’re wasting my time mate.’

Max got up and scraped his chair backwards on the concrete floor of the offices on Duke Street. Gary had pulled a favour from an old mate to use some refurbished offices which were on the market but as yet unsold. He’d passed him a few tasty pieces of crack and six grams of the finest coke in exchange for a few hours of the twelve foot by ten foot room, wanting to meet Max on neutral ground. But as he watched Max reach the door it looked to Gary like the whole venture had been a waste of time and money.

He frowned and sighed, knowing he had to grovel and feel like a boy again rather than a man. Perhaps this was all part of Max’s game plan.

‘I ain’t messing anyone around, Max, I wouldn’t do that to you mate.’

Max’s whole face seemed to snarl as he curled up his lip in disgust.

‘First off, let’s get something straight son. No one calls me mate, mainly because I haven’t got any. Secondly, you ever call me that again, I swear on the Virgin Mary, as God is my witness, I’ll slice your ears off. Do I make myself clear?’

Gary nodded, not saying anything, but felt the wave of humiliation and the rush of blood in his cheeks as they blushed a light red. He saw Max glance at his watch – a huge gaudy gold number but clearly expensive creation – and breathed another sigh, this time one of relief as Max came to sit back down next to him.

‘Tell me what you’ve got, but most importantly what’s in it for me.’

‘I’m looking to expand,’ Gary said quickly. ‘I’m dealing a good amount of crack and coke in the clubs but I really want to concentrate more on the crack. There’s much more profit in it as well, as the demand is epic. Clubbers, city workers, smack heads, you name it; they all want to start ebbing out on a rock. Thing is, if I expand, I’ll be treading
on your turf. Obviously I’d have to get the nod from you in
the first place to do that, but actually, I want you to come in with me. Or rather me come in with you. I’ll be straight with you, Max. I also haven’t got the money to expand the way I want to. I’m a big time dealer with a small time wallet. I’ve got the contacts, the clients and, Christ, I’m willing to do the graft but I need the greens to do it with.’

Max looked thoughtful as he leaned back on the metal chair. He didn’t like many people nor did he respect them, but he had to admit he begrudgingly respected Gary for having the belly to face him. Max knew his own reputation and he didn’t expect it was easy for Gary to have a face to face without his cronies lifting up his balls for him. However, that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy for him. He wiped his mouth and spoke, keeping steely eye contact with Gary.

‘So let’s get this straight. You want me to provide the readies so you can serve up on my turf which you’d have to pay to do anyway. Don’t you think I’d already be serving up myself if I was interested in it?’

‘I dunno, it’s a lot of hassle and I’m willing to take all the shit so you don’t have to. I’ll still give you the cut for serving on your turf, but if you give me the backing I’ll be doubling your money. I’ll make sure after the first layout you won’t have to layout again, but you’ll always be getting a cut of the profit. Turf money and payback on your initial investment even though you’ll already have got that back. My name might not be Richard Branson, but I’d say that’s a fucking good deal. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact I want to learn from you and I ain’t got the readies, I certainly wouldn’t be giving away offers like that.’

‘But I’m a money man. Why shouldn’t you have to take out one of my loans like all the rest of them?’

Gary blinked a couple of times before giving a wry smile.

‘Because I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’d be paying out nearly a grand for borrowing fifty quid no matter how much you’re tearing out me bollocks. That ain’t a loan Max, that’s fucking madness.’

Max stared hard at Gary before opening his mouth, then roared with laughter. He could do business with him. He liked people who showed him respect but also weren’t afraid to tell it to him straight.

‘Okay, we can sort out details tomorrow. I’ll send one of my men to come and pick you up.’

Max got up and straightened his black wool coat and walked to the door. He nodded to his two men who’d been sitting quietly in the corner as they went to stand on either side of Gary. Max looked back at him.

‘I’m curious. I’m wondering if your memory’s not up to much – or were you deliberately not telling me you’ve got your dogs out looking for my son?’

Gary swallowed hard. It sounded as if it echoed round the room. His throat was dry but his hands were sweating and by the looks of the goons standing next to him, looking like they were hungry for a bit of action, he needed to be very careful how he answered.

‘I’ll ask you again, Gary. And I don’t have to warn you it wouldn’t do for you to start spouting me some blarney. Word gets round. You should know that by now. There’s nothing that happens in Soho that I don’t know about.’

He wasn’t sure if it was a trick. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing but realised a bit of honesty – though not too much – at this point was his best policy.

‘I’m afraid it’s true about Nicky. I didn’t want to say anything ’cos the last thing I want is to cause trouble. I thought it was better him getting the stuff from me than some toerag who might rip him off.’

‘Or you thought you’d do it yourself. Rip him off, like.’

‘No I swear to you, Max. It ain’t like that. I thought I was doing him a favour but I can see how it might not look like that. All things considered.’

‘So what’s the damage?’

‘Nothing, let’s say we’re quits. Whatever he owes me, he can have. He’s welcome to it.’

Max stared at him, then walked over to where Gary was sitting. He bent over and Gary tried to crane away but the table behind him didn’t give him any leeway to escape the stale alcohol smelling breath.

‘And after what you’ve just said, you expect me to go into business with you?’

‘It was just business, Max.’

‘And that’s my point. Just business. When I consider going into business with someone and they decide it’s better not to follow up on what’s owed because of sentiment, then I have to think twice about having any dealings with them.’

Gary was stunned. He hadn’t expected this, but then, this
was
Max Donaldson. The same Max Donaldson who put so much fear into his kids, even as adults, knowing wherever they went he would always find them.