Faces Page 19

  Raising his glass to Danny Boy, Louie saw Kenny looking at him with obvious disgust and he laughed loudly before raising the same glass to him and his cronies.

  Lawrence Mangan was also watching the proceedings and, as far as Louie was concerned, this was, in a lot of respects, a bloody good platform for Cadogan to finally make his mark. It was going to happen, it had been on the cards for a long time; someone was going to find out just what the little fucker was capable of.

  Funerals, he had always found, reminded people of their own immortality, as well as reminding them that everyone died at some point: it was a given, especially in their world, where lives were often cut short for no other reason than they had picked a fight with the wrong person. To make old bones and still be out of stir was a difficult feat, and one that was only achieved by the best in class.

  Today, Louie was sure, would prove that fact once more, would remind everyone that a new generation was coming up through the ranks with a heavy hand and a cheery smile. It wasn’t rocket science, it happened in every walk of life. Famous actors had to stand back and watch younger, fitter men take over from them. It was the law of the pavement; youth would always win the game of chance. They had the edge because they had nothing to lose but everything to gain; it was success that held most people back, the fear of losing what they had gathered over the years. It made them soft, gave them a false sense of security. It made them make mistakes, and people like Danny Boy Cadogan could smell a mistake like a lion could smell a wounded gazelle. It was instinctive, it was what made the world go round, and it was fascinating to watch. As Danny winked at him Louie knew he had backed the winning horse; the boy was itching for a real fight, and now he was finally going to get one.

  Mary was in the toilet repairing her make-up when Kenny stumbled in. He was drunker than either of them realised and he was out for an argument.

  Mary had been avoiding him all day, preferring to stand with that fat cousin of hers, and the same women she denigrated on a daily basis for their blind devotion to men who she felt gave them nothing of any importance except children and grief. She really pissed him off at times, and this was one those times.

  Mary knew the signs and she sighed, ready for the argument she knew would be forthcoming sooner rather than later. ‘What do you want, Kenny?’

  Her whole attitude was one of disrespect and open hostility, she was also drunker than she thought, but at least she had an excuse: she had just buried her mother.

  ‘You what?’ He was in the mood for a row, he was always in that mood when he had been drinking, only today she didn’t care. She wasn’t interested in him or his fucking histrionics.

  ‘Oh, piss off, Kenny, I ain’t in the mood.’ Her voice was low, bored-sounding, and he knew that was how she felt about him twenty-four-seven, if she was honest. He knew she had never really wanted him, not how she would have if they had both been of an age. He was older than her in more ways than one and it was beginning to come between them. Like all men with younger women he was aware that he was only wanted as long as he had something to offer her. Now, though, he knew she didn’t want anything he had to give. The novelty had worn off, and he knew it.

  That situation had been fine in the beginning; she was young, tight, and had a pair of tits to die for. She had been arm candy, like many women before her, but now he honestly loved her, every bit of her, and his pride was not going to let her go without a fight. He sensed she was on the out, wanted shot of him, and he also knew that her mother was the real reason she had been with him in the first place. She was now in a position to leave him without her mother’s poison dripping into her ears, reminding her of how hard life could be without a man to take care of her. He knew she wanted Danny Boy Cadogan, he had seen the way she looked at him: it wouldn’t take a blind dog long to sniff that much out. Now, as she stood there, looking at him with undisguised loathing, Kenny felt the urge to kill her. He wanted to wipe the smug smile off her face and pay her back for every time she had let him fuck her when, in reality, she had not wanted him anywhere near her. He had played along with that charade from the off, and now, if she thought he was going to meekly walk away, his tail between his legs while his cock was replaced by Danny Boy Cadogan’s, she could fucking well think again. He owned her, he had paid for her, and she wasn’t going nowhere until he told her she could go.

  ‘Who’re you fucking talking to, eh? Who the fuck do you think you are?’ He was gritting his teeth, and the anger was dripping from him like sweat. Mary looked at him again, a part of her sorry for what she was going to do, but nevertheless determined to extricate herself from him once and for all. She felt like a young girl for once, felt like other girls her age, and she knew that she had the looks and the brains to get any man she set her mind on. But she also knew that she couldn’t take any more of Kenny Douglas with his dry humping, his meanmindedness and his cow-eyes. It was over, and they both knew it.

  ‘Look, Kenny. I don’t want to argue, not today of all days. I just buried me mother . . .’

  Kenny grinned nastily, the fury he normally kept buried deep inside himself now on the surface. He was making her nervous, making her scared, and as he saw the fright on her face he felt the power flowing back into his bones. She was not leaving him, especially not for Cadogan, showing him up in front of all his mates as if he was a cunt. She would go when he told her she could go, and not before.

  ‘Please, Kenny, don’t do this, eh? You could have any girl you wanted . . .’

  He was still grinning at her. ‘But I want you, mare, and you, my little love, are going nowhere. If you think I’m going to let you make a fucking show of me, you better think again, girl. I’ll see you dead first.’

  Mary knew he meant every word he said and the fear settled once more on her heart. She knew he had to have put one of his men on the door of the toilet, otherwise someone else would have been in there by now. This knowledge told her that he was not in here for any other reason than to lay the law down, whether she wanted him to or not. He was telling her that she was trapped, and she knew that was very probably the case. He was proving a point at her mother’s burial, proclaiming his power over her. Reminding her, and everyone else, of his right to ownership. He had bought her, and he knew it. It was because of that that they could never really be happy together. Trust was not something a relationship like theirs could ever be based on. They were both in it for all the wrong reasons. And she couldn’t do this any more. Her mother was gone; she didn’t have to think about anyone but herself now, and the drink was talking for her.

  ‘Up yours, Kenny. You can’t force me to want you. I ain’t your fucking wife.’

  ‘Don’t you dare bring her into this. Don’t you fucking dare start your antics with me tonight . . .’

  She turned away from him, and looked at herself in the mirror. She could see him staring at her, could see the desperation in his eyes and felt a moment’s sympathy for his predicament. It was all about other people with Kenny, what they might be thinking, what they might be doing, what they could give to him, or what he could take from them. She was no more than another possession as far as he was concerned. No more and no less. He had invested time and money in her and, because of that, he felt he could do what he liked with her, to her. She was going to unload him though, no matter what he did to her. It was now or never, and they both knew that. If she capitulated now, she was finished. He was attracted to her because she was so independent, once that changed she might as well dig herself a grave next to her mother because this man would take great pleasure in burying her.

  She tidied her hair, flicking it back over her slim shoulders. She could see the want in him, and she said cattily, ‘Do what you like, Kenny, but this finishes tonight.’

  As he launched himself at her, she instinctively covered her head with her arms, knowing he would go for her face. Knowing he would be out to destroy her looks as well as her spirit.

  He was punching her now, and she felt the savageness of hi
s blows on her frail shoulders. But she wouldn’t beg him to stop; if she did, he would be the victor in this war, and she’d never get shot of him. She would take whatever he dished out, at least then he would probably leave her in relative peace. But she had to let him vent his spleen, let him hurt her; it was the only way she would ever get truly shot of him.

  As he yanked her towards him, she could feel him pushing her legs apart and, when he ripped away the scrap of silk that passed for underwear and forced his fat fingers inside her, she finally screamed. She was scratching at his face and eyes with her long, red nails, and she fought him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

  She could feel the blood dripping from her mouth; it was warm, salty, and the pain that wracked her body was excruciating. Kenny was like a man demented, and she knew she had caused it all, caused this to happen because she should never have let it go so far in the first place. She had deliberately misled him, used him, had taken what he had to give, and now she was paying the price for that. Her mother’s death had made her realise what was really important, what she was missing.

  Then, suddenly, Michael and Danny were there, and Kenny was being dragged off her. She watched in silence as they kicked him over and over again. Danny Boy was enjoying it, was using the man’s head like a football. She could see the pleasure on his face as he let rip, knew he was thrilled to have a good reason for his violent outburst. Her mother’s funeral was no place to lay down the law: Kenny had let the drink overcome his usual good sense. He knew that, and she knew that.

  She listened as Kenny begged for his life and she closed her eyes when Danny Boy Cadogan took out of his pocket a brand-new Stanley knife and used it to slash at the man she had led on for so long. As Kenny’s blood sprayed over the dingy grey walls she felt the bile rise inside her, but she swallowed it down. She forced herself to remain calm, because this was suddenly far more serious than it should have been.

  Michael, wide-eyed with anger, pulled her into his arms, while screaming at Danny to kill Kenny, to hurt him, and she knew then that what she had caused this night would have reverberations for years to come. Not just for her but for the three of them.

  Lawrence Mangan listened to the debacle with everyone else and, like everyone else, he did nothing to stop it. But he knew then that these boys were out for the big one, were willing to take on the world to get what they saw as their right. He realised then, like Kenny, that he was not prepared for this new breed of villain. These young boys who were willing to kill on a whim. For no other reason than they felt like it. Who used a venue like this to make a point, and make that same point seem righteous? Kenny and Danny Boy were due a straightener and, in the real world, it should have come about in private and without the added bonus of a young girl’s virtue being in doubt.

  When they finally walked out of the ladies’ toilet, Michael and Danny were both covered in blood and confident in the knowledge that no one there would speak against them. Even Kenny’s henchmen were willing to swallow their knobs and let it go. If anyone had thought they were out of order it would never have happened in the first place, they would have steamed in and defended their boss. Instead, they had been left to do what they wanted. It was an eye-opener all right. Not just for the people observing, but for Danny Boy and Michael as well. They had been given the green light by the powers that be, and they were loving it. Michael had hated the treatment of his sister by Kenny and now, at last, he felt he could hold his head up. His mother was dead, and her conviction that Mary should sleep her way to the top was gone, buried with her. He felt like a man now, and he was acting like one.

  The funeral was talked about for months, and the death of Kenny was quickly forgotten about by the police who had not cared that much about it anyway. They had a good idea who had taken him out, but they were of the same mind as everyone else. It had been on the cards for years: his demise had just been a matter of time.

  Danny was sitting with his mother. They were easy together at the moment because she wanted something from him. She always wanted something from him, and his natural reaction was to give it to her if he could. She wanted him to pay for his sister to go on a secretarial course, and he was more than willing to do that. Annuncia was desperate to be a secretary in a big firm. It was her dream and Danny Boy was all for granting his family their dreams if it was within his power.

  ‘Mum, you know I’ll bankroll anything that will help her get on in the world. She’s shrewd enough, and if this is what she wants then this is what she can have.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Danny Boy.’

  His mother was huge now; her only real pleasure was eating since they had all grown up and away from her. She still cooked her gargantuan meals, only now she seemed to be the only one eating them. His father was still well able to tuck in, but even he had trouble demolishing the portions she had taken to dishing up.

  Since the debacle with Kenny Douglas his mother had taken to treating Danny Boy with a new respect. Their reaction to Kenny’s outrageous behaviour at the funeral was seen as him and Michael being decent, upstanding young men who had taken umbrage at the treatment doled out to a sister. None of the men attending that day, and no one who had heard about it afterwards, could fault them for their prompt action. Kenny Douglas had been out of order, and the fact that he was now dead as a doornail, was seen as nothing more than divine retribution.

  Even the police had not bothered to pursue the matter for long, choosing to believe he had been set about by a person, or persons unknown. That was the common excuse they used when they knew what had gone down, but had no intention of doing anything about it. It would have gained them nothing to charge two young men who, to all intents and purposes, had done no more than any man in that situation.

  That Danny Cadogan was now courting Mary Miles only added to the romance of the situation. It had been a nine-day wonder, and it had given them all a kudos that was worth its weight in gold bars.

  Danny and Michael were greeted like visiting royalty wherever they went, and they were also being offered more work than they could cope with. The casino was now a hangout for the criminally minded, and their wages had escalated so much they were unable to keep track of it all.

  They were set up for life, and now what they had to do was take out Lawrence Mangan. Mangan wasn’t as enamoured of them as everyone else, and he was very vocal about that. In fact, his opinions weren’t making him any new friends, and that alone should have made him button his mutton. Instead, it just made him even more determined to prove his point. He was not going to bow down to a couple of kids he had employed, and who had the audacity to take down someone of such stature he was regarded as one of the main players in their world. What the fuck was that all about?

  So Danny and Michael enjoyed their new-found popularity, and were waiting patiently for their chance to remove Mangan permanently. Danny was in his element, and his mother’s adoring glances were more than enough payment as far as he was concerned. As she told anyone who would listen, she was proud of him.

  His main grumble was she wouldn’t move away from the flats now that he was in a position to buy her a house, she had refused time and time again. She liked it where she was and, as she told him, she would be like a fish out of water anywhere else, and he had to swallow that for the time being.

  He was now ensconced in a large apartment on the King’s Road, and he loved the freedom it afforded him. But he still did the majority of his work in this little flat; the opportunity to get his washing done while rubbing his old man’s nose in it at the same time was too good to pass up. Life was good, and he was prepared to make sure it stayed that way, no matter what he might be called on to do to guarantee that.

  Old Bill had given Danny Boy and Michael the equivalent of a hunting licence and, knowing they were protected from most things, gave them a feeling of complete confidence. It was costing them, of course, Filth didn’t come cheap, but they were worth every penny because without them they couldn’t have plie
d their nefarious trades with such openness and security. Danny was finally where he wanted to be. The sad part was that it still wasn’t enough for him.

  Louie was watching and waiting, as per usual, before he made any kind of judgement. Over the years he had made a point of keeping a low profile and his opinions to himself until he knew the whole story. One thing he had learned was that people edited their bad deeds even more than they would embroider their good ones. He had always covered his own arse by waiting patiently until he knew exactly what direction the wind had decided to blow.

  Michael looked older somehow; he seemed to have ripened overnight. Whereas Danny Boy had always had the look of the man about him, Michael had been blessed with what old ladies called boyish good looks. Now though, it was as if someone had wiped the innocence from his face, and replaced it with suspicion and hostility. He trusted no one, and this was evident by the way he questioned even the most innocent of statements.

  As Louie saw them grow into their new roles in the world, he decided that the time had come to put them wise about what was expected of them by the powers that be. He was sorry he had to do this, in many respects, because they were still under the illusion they were working for themselves. If only life was that easy.