Faces Read online

  He even stood differently, his shoulders were back and his head held high. For the first time ever, Jonjo liked himself and, if it had been left to the man who had sired him, that would never have happened; he would have made sure of that.

  But he had made his point, had showed his hand. He had won the day, had shamefully beaten up a cripple, a man who was incapable of really defending himself. Now, hopefully, he could let it go.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mary looked beautiful, and she knew it. Even though she was troubled, she knew that she was still a beautiful woman. A head-turner. It wasn’t vanity, it was just common sense. She saw herself in the mirror and she knew that, even when her life was impossible, when her heart was heavy, and her husband’s hatefulness was weighing on her mind, somehow or another she still looked lovely. She knew it annoyed Danny Boy; even when she had hardly slept a wink, she still looked good. Now though, as she watched her brother courting Carole Rourke, she felt the first stirrings of envy inside her breast.

  Michael was enamoured of Carole, of that there was no doubt, as was her own husband. Danny Boy loved her, she was one of the only people he had any real time for. It was magnificent to watch; she couldn’t believe that it was her husband, her Danny Boy. He chatted to Carole with an ease that was as effortless as it was astonishing. She loved her friend, but she couldn’t help but envy the way she managed to calm Danny Boy down with a few choice words. She could talk to him about anything, and he actually listened to what she was saying, he even laughed with her. A real laugh, not his usual sarcastic or premeditated laughter. He actually seemed relaxed with her, and enjoyed himself. Once Michael married her, and she knew he would, she would have her friend on tap every day. She was glad in one way, but terrified in another. This Danny Boy could be more scary than she realised.

  Danny was observing his wife and Carole Rourke as they sat together. They were like chalk and cheese. Carole was the antithesis of Mary, she wasn’t plastered in make-up, necking drinks like there was no tomorrow. He knew Michael was onto a winner with her, and he was pleased for him, even as he envied him his good fortune. Carole wasn’t going to need watching, Carole was a good girl in all ways. It came naturally to her, she was a nice person with a good heart and she would be a wonderful mother. Unlike the women around them, she didn’t feel it necessary to flash her thrupenny bits to all and sundry; she was what years before was called a decent girl.

  The pub was getting packed now, and Danny was also eyeing up the local talent on the quiet. He knew Mary was aware of his roving eye and he was glad about that. She was pregnant again. He hoped she managed to hang onto this one but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Once she produced a child he would celebrate, until then, he had no interest in any of it.

  His eye strayed to the bar area, three men were there, all Faces, all waiting patiently for him to approach them. He loved that, loved the fear he created in everyone around him, especially the older criminals. The men who had once ruled their little empires and who were now sensible enough to know they were outclassed. The people he needed the most were the ones who had once held his position in the world, seeing them defeated was a buzz he knew he couldn’t do without. He was at the top of his game and he knew it; he was also determined to stay there. He wasn’t going to get complacent, sit on his arse and wait for a young gun like him to come along and scrump his apples. He was going to make sure that he kept his position in the world. He would only relinquish it on his death, and not before. He would do whatever it took to stay where he was and keep his crown firmly on his loaf of bread. These men had made the mistake of believing they were invincible, and now they had to swallow their knobs in his company, and tug their forelocks to keep on the earn. He loved it.

  A young girl with long, black, heavily gelled hair and scrawny legs was smiling at him saucily. He knew the look and he winked back at her, his handsome face softened by the girl’s promise.

  Standing up, he walked over to the bar; everyone was aware of him and he knew that, made sure of that, in fact. He was big, but then so were a lot of men. But he had the menace and the presence to carry it off. He smiled at the three men who had travelled from south London to meet with him. They were all nervous and that fact pleased him. The main player was a man called Frank Cotton, he was a big man, but age had softened his physique and he was running to fat. At forty-nine he was established enough to create a stir wherever he went, but he was also guilty of loosening his grip on the reins. He had his poke and the thought of doing any real stir kept him from making any rash decisions. He had greying blond hair, deep-blue eyes, and his wrinkles were all laughter lines. He fancied himself as a bit of a card, and loved a good joke. He was capable of great friendships and he was also capable of murder. Like Danny Boy, he had been accused of it many times, but no one had ever accused him to his face, Old Bill included. What they guessed, and what they could prove, were two very different things. Frank was pleased that Danny Boy had finally deigned to approach them; he had worried they were being mugged off by him. His two compatriots, Lenny Dunn and Douglas Fairfax, were getting restless. It always amazed him that the lower down the food chain people were, the quicker they seemed to take offence at any so-called slights. He understood the nature of patience, and the sense in waiting to see what occurred before taking the appropriate action necessary. Considering that, in their line of work, that could entail a gun and a stern lecture, it was the only sensible course of action for anyone with even a modicum of intelligence.

  Lenny and Dougie were both stocky, balding and devoid of anything even remotely resembling a sense of humour. They were earners though, and that was all Frank really cared about. He also knew it was what Danny Boy Cadogan cared about as well. Danny Boy Cadogan wanted to share his new-found bounty with them, and Frank was shrewd enough to know that he would want something back in return. He was happy enough to do business with him; the boy was more than able by all accounts and he was more than willing, what more could he ask for? Well, that remained to be seen, didn’t it? Danny was smiling at them, and Frank and his two partners were treated to the full force of his very unpredictable personality. It was this that finally made Frank extremely wary. He knew from experience that the Danny Boys of his world were dangerous because they were basically thugs, and thugs were not geared up to run things; they didn’t have the staying power or the temperament. Danny Boy, so he had heard, could rustle up a scam with the best of them, and knew an earner from a hundred paces. He was already a player in their world, and a big one at that. Frank was only approaching them now because they were among the few people in the Smoke who weren’t already involved with him in some capacity. He had avoided this day for as long as he could, but now he wanted an in; he needed the boy’s criminal contacts, as well as his tame Filth, to expand his drugs business. By all accounts, no one around him could handle anything over three kilos without his express permission. The boy could also get his grubby little hands on anything, from steroids to blue ones. From a bit of Jamaican grass to a Nepalese temple ball, Danny Cadogan had it sewn up, and that suited Frank no end, he just wanted to distribute it; he wasn’t arsed about the importing side of it all, because that’s where the big sentences were handed out. Distribution meant he could take a back seat and let everyone else worry about a capture. He made sure he was always three people away from any kind of police investigation.

  As they shook hands and ordered drinks Frank was reluctantly impressed with Cadogan’s laid-back demeanour. He was a dangerous fuck, there was no doubt about that, but he was also capable of being a charming bastard when the fancy took him.

  As Michael Miles joined them, he relaxed a little bit more, he was the one with the head for figures; he was the one who, word on the pavement said, could turn a fiver into a ton overnight. He looked like a brain-box and he seemed much more approachable than his partner-in-crime. But, as he knew to his detriment, in their world you never judged a book by its cover.

  ‘He’s a cunt.’


  Michael sighed once more. He wasn’t in the mood for this tonight, he was meeting Carole for a meal in Ilford and he was already ten minutes late as it was. Not that Danny Boy would care about that.

  ‘Look, Danny, Frank’s all right, and he will bring in a good wedge. You said as much yourself. He’s shrewd, he knows the score, and he is upping his investment every time we see him. So, leave this tonight, eh? I’m meeting Carole and I’m already late as it is. I’m going to ask her to marry me . . .’

  Michael’s handsome features were now rearranged into a wide smile. He was amazed at Danny Boy’s quietness at his announcement. He looked stunned by the news and, for a few seconds, Michael wondered if his friend was actually worried about his choice of woman, even though he knew Danny thought the world of her. Then Danny Boy seemed to collect himself and, grabbing him into a bear hug, he said happily, ‘Oh, Mike, that’s the best news ever, mate.’

  Michael could feel the strength of him, knew that this was one time when he could really relax around Danny Boy, because he loved Carole and it showed. He thought she was the dog’s gonads and he told Michael that at every available opportunity. His first reaction, stunned shock, had thrown him for a few seconds, and he had wondered, briefly, if Danny Boy’s friendliness towards Carole had been false. But no one could fake Danny’s affection for Carole, or hers for him. But that was all it was, affection.

  ‘What a fucking Brahma you got yourself there, mate.’ Danny was over the moon for his friend and, pushing him away, he said loudly, ‘Go on, get your arse in gear, business can wait till the morning. Frank can go on the back burner until I decide what to do with him . . .’

  Michael’s happiness was marred by the words and he grinned sadly, his long arms outstretched as he said, ‘You can’t kill anyone else, Danny Boy, and anyway, Frank has done nothing to you. Plus he’s a fucking good earner . . .’

  Danny was straight-faced now, the happiness of seconds ago gone completely, and his scowl, which could strike terror into the hardest of hearts, was evident. ‘He’s a lairy cunt and he needs taking down a few notches . . .’

  Michael knew that his meal with Carole was not going to happen. So he rang the restaurant and made his apologies. Carole being Carole, was good-natured about it; she understood the business he was in and she was intelligent enough to know that things happened. It was one of the things he loved about her; his sister Mary, on the other hand, would have gone mental. In her heyday she would have forced the issue, made Danny go to her, created murders over one broken date. But Carole didn’t bat an eyelid, she was laughing as always, and told him she’d see him later that night.

  Danny Boy was grinning as he came off the phone. ‘She didn’t give you one bit of grief, did she?’

  Michael shook his head. ‘Nah, she knows the score, Dan.’

  ‘I still think you should go to Carole, we can sort this out in the morning. I bet she’s even good about that, eh, you sneaking off like the fucking lodger at daybreak.’

  Michael laughed then, at the image Danny Boy had created, ‘Look, Dan, I’ll let you into a secret, but you have to keep it close, all right. She’s still a fucking virgin. I’ll have to marry her just to get me leg over.’

  Danny was astonished, even though he had guessed as much. That Michael had won such a prize pleased him tremendously, but a little voice was goading him at the same time. That could have been him; he had wanted Mary because someone else had her. And again he wanted what someone else had, as always. No, he was fucking lumbered.

  He forced the thoughts from his mind, ashamed at his thoughts about his best friend and poor Carole.

  ‘Fucking hell, I could have told you that. She’s a good girl, old Carole, a decent girl. I am so pleased for you, mate.’

  And he meant it, every word. He didn’t want Carole in real life because he knew his lechery would have broken her heart. He loved her enough to not want to hurt her in any way, shape or form. She was his best mate’s bird, and he was glad she was finally off the market. She wasn’t a beauty, in the traditional sense of the word, but she was a woman to aspire to. She was someone who the man who finally bagged her would treasure. She was a real lady, and he would always love her from afar. Now that Michael was going to marry her, he actually felt relief. As his best friend’s wife she would be off-limits to him and, therefore, he couldn’t hurt her. His reasoning made perfect sense to him, because whatever he wanted, he made sure that he got. It never occurred to him that Carole might not have wanted him; that, as far as he was concerned, was a given.

  ‘Look Danny Boy, leave Frank alone. Promise me, we are earning fortunes from him. Fucking megabucks, and if anything happens to him, we would make a lot of enemies. He’s got his creds with everyone in the know and, anyway, he’s a nice bloke.’

  Danny smiled again. His white teeth were like a movie star’s, and his face crinkled-up in all the right places. He was a severely handsome man and Michael wondered, once again, how such good looks could mask such a vicious personality.

  ‘But he’s a cunt. He thinks he’s the fucking dog’s bollocks and he ain’t. I am weighing him out on a regular basis and he is on the earn. Everyone is on the fucking earn, thanks to us two. But he is extracting the urine, and I know he is, and no one takes the fucking piss out of me.’

  Michael sat down on the old sofa that Louie had been kind enough to leave for them. He sighed, and the sound was loud in the confines of the small room. Michael was frightened now, he knew that Frank was not someone to be lightly missed. He was a nice bloke, he was a good earner, and he was a fucking Face. A real Face, and he knew that was what annoyed Danny Boy so much. But he was frightened of Danny’s reaction, he was quite capable of going round Frank’s house and shooting him without any real reason whatsoever. Just because Danny Boy Cadogan felt threatened by Frank’s busy social life. He was liked, he was respected, and Danny was fucked off because he felt he had waited too long before he had approached them for the earn. Frank was courteous and friendly, and Danny saw that as a piss-take because he wanted to. He wanted a reason to destroy him, wipe him out. Michael felt the steel band of a headache encircle his forehead, and the pain was electric. He knew it was tension, knew it was brought on by worry. Knew that it wasn’t going to go anywhere in the near future. In fact, he was already adept at living with it.

  ‘Look, Danny Boy, he ain’t taking the piss out of you, all right, he fucking likes you. He admires you. But you know as well as I do, he is a man who has a good reputation around town, and if you start a fucking war with him, or take him out, we’ll lose a lot of goodwill and a lot of fucking money into the bargain. He’s married to Barry Clarke’s sister, for fuck’s sake, and Barry is a mate. So let it go, will you, at least for the time being anyway.’

  Danny was looking out of the window, he was watching the dogs as they patrolled the grounds. He knew Michael was talking sense but that didn’t really bother him too much. It was the mention of Barry Clarke that got him going. That brought a curious thought into his head. He suddenly knew how to kill two birds with one dirty, great big stone. The thought made him smile again. ‘Go on, Michael, get yourself off to Carole. I promise I won’t do anything to anyone, OK? Scout’s honour, dib dib dib and all that.’ He was laughing again, and pretending to salute him, like a little kid would.

  Michael noticed that Danny was totally relaxed once more, the tension had seeped from his body in seconds, leaving him looking like an overgrown schoolboy.

  ‘Get home to Mary tonight, Danny Boy, she needs you . . .’

  Danny Boy nodded sadly, and they both avoided any more conversation after that.

  Mary was lying in the bath, her rounded belly was in evidence above the water and she was trying to ignore it. She had a large glass of wine and, as she gulped at it, she was listening out for her husband’s car. He wouldn’t be home, she was sure; it was a Wednesday night and he rarely came home on a Wednesday. But she never knew anything for sure where he was concerned; he could come rolling in at any
moment and she knew that her drinking alcohol would cause ructions. But it was the only way she could relax, her nerves were shot and, like her mother before her, she needed a drink to take the edge off the day. She lay back in the warm water and sighed loudly. The bathroom was huge, like everywhere else in this empty house, and the bottle of wine she had opened was calling to her. She finished the glass off in two gulps, the acidic taste of the Liebfraumilch in her pregnant belly making her burn inside. The indigestion was unbearable, but she knew that was preferable to sobriety.

  As she poured herself out another large glass, she started laughing to herself. Catching her reflection in the mirrored tiles on the walls all around her, she was amazed as always at how good she looked. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and her skin was smooth and soft. Her make-up was flawless, and yet she was pissed out of her head. She decided it must be a knack she had, a genetic thing she had inherited from her mother and father, both renowned piss-artists in their day. She saw the swelling of her breasts, they were fuller now, not that Danny Boy cared. He still took her as he would an animal. No niceties at all, just a fuck and a grunt, and she was ashamed to admit that she welcomed even that much from him. She knew he had a young girl, another one, a seventeen year old with the brains of a parrot and the body of a goddess. She had seen her, she was a natural blonde with huge blue eyes and the blank expression of a fucking retard. She wondered what his regular bird made of her, probably jealous of her lifestyle and her wedding ring.