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Main Scorned
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Kerry Kaya Scorned Copyright © 2019 by Kerry Kaya All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Kerry Kaya asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. First edition Editing by Hillary Crawford Cover art by Francessca's PR & Design This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com For Jimmy, with love. Contents Acknowledgement Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 About the Author Also by Kerry Kaya Acknowledgement I would like to thank two very special groups. The first is LondonCrime.co.uk. Thank you for your support over the last year. I am truly honoured to be a friend of LondonCrime. The second is NotRights book club and all the readers. From the bottom of my hear; t, thank you for both reading and recommending my books. X Chapter 1 In the car park of a disused public house, on the border of Essex and Suffolk, Tommy Carter had parked his Range Rover. He flicked the switch for the windscreen wipers. Despite the onset of a light drizzle, it wasn't a particularly cold evening, and he wound down the driver's side window a few inches to let in some air and to help clear the condensation that had built up on the windscreen and passenger's windows. "I can see fuck all," he complained, taking the sleeve of his jacket and wiping it across the glass. "They should be here by now, shouldn't they?" Tommy glanced down at the clock on the dashboard. "Yeah, they're ten or so minutes late." He continued wiping down the window. "They'd better get a move on. I've got a table booked at eight, and if I'm late, Stace will have my guts." He paused before looking across at his brother, Jimmy, the second eldest of the Carter brothers. "We're meeting our Karen's new bloke tonight; she's booked a restaurant and everything." Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Must be serious then, bruv?" "Depends?" "On what?" Gary Carter asked as he shifted his weight against the cramped confines of the back seat. Glancing in the rear-view mirror at his brother, Tommy gave a chuckle. "On whether I like the geezer or not." He took note of the expression of contempt that spread across his brother's face, and his voice became serious. "What? Do you really expect me to allow my daughter to get herself involved with a complete numpty? If I don't like him, he's out the door." Jimmy began to laugh. "I almost feel sorry for the bloke." "Yeah, well, we'll see." Tommy glanced down at the clock for a second time. "Where the fuck are they?" "What if they don't turn up?" Tommy turned to look at his youngest brother, Jonny. Sat beside Gary, the brothers' shoulders were practically touching as they had squeezed themselves inside the car alongside the two remaining Carter brothers, Sonny and Mitchell. "They'll turn up," Tommy said. The fact that Jonny was the cause of them having to do this job was at the forefront of his mind, and he spat out the words. "Yeah, but what if they don't?" "I said they'll turn up; McKay has sorted everything out at his end." Tommy turned in his seat once more to give his younger brother a cold stare. "And I'm warning you now, you'd best buck your ideas up. You're the reason we're in this mess." "I've said I'm sorry." Jonny rolled his eyes. "What more do you want me to say?" Reaching across the seat, Tommy grabbed a handful of his brother's shirt in his fist. "Don't start getting cocky with me, bruv. Seriously, I mean it. I'm not in the mood for you and your shit today." "Leave him," Jimmy said, pulling his elder brother back onto the driver's seat. "Right, now isn't the time, is it?" His eyebrows were raised as he nodded his head toward the Land Rover pulling into the car park. Tommy stabbed his finger toward his youngest brother and took deep steady breaths to keep his temper in check. "I'll deal with you later," he warned. Fighting the urge to not roll his eyes for a second time, Jonny kept his mouth firmly closed. They all knew better than to antagonise their elder brother. Tommy had a fierce temper at the best of times, and it didn't take much for him to lose his rag. "This is it," Tommy stated, turning back in his seat. He opened the car door, climbed out, and waited for his five younger brothers to follow suit, then clicked the fob on the central locking system, ensuring the doors were fully locked. He had a nice car; it was worth a fair few bob, and the last thing they needed was for the car to end up being stolen, whilst they tried to make a getaway. Walking purposely toward the Land Rover, a wide grin was plastered across his face. "You found the place okay then?" he asked, as the driver climbed out of the car. Big Tone smiled. He was a heavy-set man with short cropped hair. "Yeah, no problems at all." He shoved his hand forward, before moving on to shake Jimmy's hand. "I'm dying for a piss though." Tommy gestured toward bushes at the edge of the car park. "You'll have to go over there, mate." As quickly as his size would allow him to, Big Tone jogged across the car park. He lifted up his hand toward his fellow occupants as he did so, indicating for them to climb out of the car. Tommy watched, as the three remaining men walked across the car park and he gave them a wide grin. "So it's a consignment of guns, is it that we're here to collect?" asked the eldest of the men, Mick Johnson. He wiped the rain from his forehead, then dragged his hand through his greying hair. "Yeah." Tommy gave a small nod of his head. "They're in there." He glanced across to the disused pub. "Thought it would be safer to hand them over without anyone driving past and seeing the interaction." Mick nodded his head. Despite being in a remote location, it was always better to be safer rather than sorry. He looked toward the once thriving pub. The run-down building was boarded up and sheets of plywood had been nailed to the windows and main door, no doubt to prevent squatters from breaking in. He turned to watch Big Tone, as he began to make his way back to them, pulling up the zip of his jeans as he did so. "Shall we get it over with then?" Tommy put out his hand, indicating for the four men to walk ahead of them toward the pub. "We need to go around the back. That's the only entry point." They began to walk forwards, and Tommy glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. The truth was, there were no guns. All thanks to young Jonny having the audacity to try and tuck up Danny McKay, they had been roped into killing these four men as a way of repaying the debt the youngest Carter brother owed. The job in hand was a stark reminder that in their world, if you upset the wrong people, you paid with your life. It was only the fact that he and Danny went back years that it wasn't Jonny walking to his death. They rounded the corner of the building, and Tommy could sense the men's confusion when it became obvious that there was no visible entrance. The entire building had been boarded up. "Thought you said there was a door?" Wiping the rain from his eyes, the words caught in Big Tone's throat, as he turned around to see the Carter brothers brandishing firearms toward them. "I'm sorry, mate, we've had our orders." Tommy swallowed deeply. His mouth felt dry and he ran his tongue across his teeth. "Turn around," he ordered. The shock the men felt became evident and they stood open-mouthed. "I don't understand," Big Tone stuttered. "We're here to collect guns for Danny McKay." Tommy shook his head; he took a step forward. His voice remained firm and steady. "Turn around, mate, it'll be easier for you." Looking around him, Big Tone couldn't get his head around this turn of events. A trickle of ice-cold fear had shot down his spine, leaving the hair on the back of his neck to stand upright. "I don't understand, there's been a mistake," he repeated, his voice wavering. "Danny McKay is expecting his guns." "We've been set up." Older, wiser, and having been in the game for a great number of years, Mick Johnson knew the score. His voice was low as he spoke. "It was McKay who set us up." He'd barely got the words out when the deafening gunshots began to ring out. In a hail of bullets and gunpowder smoke, the four men fell to the floor. Tommy stared down at the lifeless bodies; his blue eyes were cold. It was over. The debt owed to Danny McKay had been repaid. He stabbed his finger at his youngest brother. "Let this be a lesson to you, otherwise, next time, it will be you bleeding out on the ground. Am I making myself clear?" Wide-eyed, Jonny solemnly nodded his head. * Two hours later, Tommy pulled the Range Rover onto the driveway of his house in Epping, Essex. He switched off the engine and stepped out of the car, his expensive black leather shoes crunched down onto the gravelled ground. Even now, after owning the house for over ten years, he still felt the same sense of pride each time he looked up at the imposing double-fronted building. With its spiralled marble columns on either side of the front door, it was a far cry from the run-down council estate he'd grown up on. Within seconds of exiting his car, his youngest son, Jake, came stomping down the driveway toward him, strapped across his back was a rucksack. "Where are you off to?" "Out," snapped Jake, his long, dark hair tumbled around his shoulders. Taken aback, Tommy turned to watch his son. "A, 'hello, Dad,' would've been nice, you stroppy bastard," he called after him. When he received no response, Tommy made to walk after his son. He would need to have a serious word with the boy about his attitude. "And about time you had a haircut, ain't it?" It was at that moment that Jake spun around. A smirk was spread across his face. "By the way, you're in the doghouse again; Mum's on the war path." There was nothing new there. He was always in the doghouse where his wife was concerned. He tore his eyes away from his son and began the short walk to the house. Before he had even reached the doorstep, the front door was flung open. "Where is he going?" He jerked his thumb in Jake's direction. "That kid is starting to worry me. Look at the state of him. He's starting to look like a bird with all that hair." Stacey Carter rolled her eyes and tapped her finger against her Cartier wristwatch. "He's going out with his mates. Leave him alone. And as for you," she said, her expression stern, "you're late. You were meant to be home over an hour ago." She threw up her arms. "Honestly, what's the bloody point of you having a mobile phone, if you never pick up?" "I had business to sort out." He glanced down at his own watch. He had just over forty minutes to have a shower, shave, and change of clothes before they needed to be at the restaurant. "There's still plenty of time. Don't worry, we won't be late." Allowing her husband to walk past her, Stacey's features softened. "Tommy," she said, her voice gentle. "Be nice tonight. This fella of Karen's, he must mean a lot to her if she's finally introducing us to him." "What d'ya mean be nice? I'm always nice." Tommy flashed his wife a wide smile, before charging up the oak staircase to their bedroom. * Karen Carter sipped at a glass of wine. Every so often, she glanced nervously toward the restaurant door. Resisting the urge to down the entire glass, just to steady her nerves, she smiled up at her boyfriend of three months, Jack. It was unlike her to introduce a boyfriend to her parents so quickly, but there was something about Jack. He had a certain way about him and like a moth to a flame, she had been instantly drawn to him. It may have been all a bit of a whirlwind, but when you know, you know, and she just knew that Jack was the one for her. "It's going to be fine." He clutched hold of her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "What could possibly go wrong, eh?" Karen rolled her eyes. "You don't know me dad," she sighed, as she turned her head a second time to look at the entrance door. To say she was nervous was an understatement. Her stomach hadn't stopped doing somersaults all evening. She gulped at her wine once again. Where the hell were her parents? They should have been here by now. "Maybe I should give them a call." She placed her empty glass down onto the bar and opened up her handbag. "We're going to miss our table if they're much longer." She tapped in her mother's phone number and hovered her finger over the dial button when the door to the restaurant opened. "Finally, they're here," she slipped the phone back into her handbag, blew out her cheeks, and turned to face her boyfriend. "Are you ready?" He gave her a beaming smile. "I can't wait," he answered. "I've been waiting a very long time for this moment." "Sorry! I'm sorry we're late," Stacey said, as she manoeuvred her way through the bustling restaurant, leaving a cloud of expensive floral perfume behind her. She threw her arms around her daughter. "Three guesses why we're late?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Hmm … Let me take a guess … Dad?" Karen grinned widely and stepped into her father's arms. "Of course your bleeding dad, who else?" Stacey groaned. Her expression was stern as she patted her light brown hair into place. Karen stepped out of her father's embrace and gave her parents a wide smile. "Well, Mum and Dad, this is Jack. And Jack, these are my parents, Stacey and Tommy." "Nice to meet you," the younger man said. Shoving his hand outwards, his voice was strong and unwavering. With light brown hair, hazel eyes, and even white teeth, he was a good-looking man. "I've heard a lot about you." Tommy shook the proffered hand and noted that the handshake was firm. "All good, I hope." "Of course all good," Karen interrupted. "Honestly, Dad, as if I'd say anything bad about you. Shall we get our table?" As they followed the waiter toward their table, Tommy pulled on his wife's arm. "What's his name again?" Rolling her eyes, Stacey hissed back her reply. "Jack. And don't you bleeding well forget and go and call him something else, whatever you do; you'll make a right show of us." Once their food had been ordered and a round of drinks were in front of them, Tommy got down to the business of sussing out his daughter's boyfriend. "So, how did you two meet?" It was Karen's boyfriend who answered, and he gave her a wide smile before turning his attention back to her father. "Well, my grandfather had passed away; I was planning to sell his properties, and it was Karen who came out to value them." Tommy nodded his head. "And did you? Sell them, I mean." "No, I decided to keep them, for now, at least." "And what is it you do for work?" Tommy asked between mouthfuls of lager. He cleared his throat. "Well, I run the businesses my grandfather owned. He left them to me in his will." "Jack also owns a villa in Spain, Dad." Karen grinned proudly. "That's where he was living, until recently." "So, these businesses must bring you in a fair bit of dough then?" Tommy raised his eyebrows, impressed. Clearly, the lad had money if he could also afford to own a villa in Spain. "Tommy," Stacey cried. "I'm so sorry," she said turning to Jack, before shooting daggers at her husband. "Stop being so bloody nosy," she hissed. "What?" Tommy gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I need to know that my little girl will be looked after." "No it's fine. In answer to your question, yes, I earn more than enough to be comfortable." "There you go, see, he knows the score," Tommy stated, before sinking his knife into the steak that had been placed before him. All through dinner, Karen's boyfriend couldn't resist his eyes flicking across to her father. After all these years, he was finally in the company of the infamous Tommy Carter. It was a name he had heard spoken about, with a mixture of respect and hatred, all of his adult life. He sat back in his seat and watched, as Tommy took control of the restaurant, at the way other diners came up to the table to pay their respect. Intrigued, Jack continued watching and learning everything there was to know about the man. * "Well, what did you think of him?" Stacey asked as Tommy drove them home later that evening. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose before screwing up his face. "I don't like him. There's something about him that I can't quite put my finger on." "Trust you," Stacey groaned. "Let's face it, no man our Karen brings home will ever be good enough in your eyes." "Probably not," Tommy agreed as he flicked the indictor. "I didn't like the way he kept watching me." Stacey began to laugh. "It's what people do, Tommy. When you talk, they turn to look at you." She rolled her eyes. "It's called having a conversation." "Nah." He screwed up his face for a second time. "This was different." Easing the car onto the drive, he noted that there were no lights on inside the house–a clear indicator that no one was home. Usually, the place was lit up like Battersea power station, much to his annoyance. "Where are the boys?" Stacey looked across to the empty house. "Liam is with his girlfriend, and Jake is staying over at his mate's house." Switching off the ignition, Tommy turned his head sideways. "We need to have a chat about that boy. Enough is enough with his attitude, and as for that hair of his, he needs it cut. He's a Carter for fuck's sake, not some new-age hippy." "Tommy." Stacey placed her hand over her husband's and nodded toward the house. "Enough about the kids. We've got the place to ourselves for once, so let's not waste it by arguing." Not needing to be told twice, Tommy flung open the car door. He jumped out of the motor, made his way around to the passenger's door and opened it with a flourish. "You're right," he grinned down at his wife. "I'm not wasting the opportunity of having you all to myself." * In a dark and dingy club amongst the back streets of Soho, Jake Carter put the finishing touches to his back-combed dark hair. He then tilted his head from side to side and inspected his appearance in a large gilt mirror. "Anyone got any pan stick?" he called out, his deep voice taking on a feminine tone. Simon Meadows, better known as Sadie, threw across a tube of foundation. "About time you started bringing your own, isn't it? If you want a regular spot here, then you should come prepared." Jake ignored the snide comment, and twisting open the cap, he spread a thick layer of foundation across his cheeks. "How do I look?" he finally asked with an exuberant air. Sadie looked up and studied the boy through the mirror. "You'll do, I suppose." He swallowed down the jealousy he felt. Despite feeling like an old has-been, his heart went out to the lad. "Just be careful," he said softly. "He's a vicious bastard, and I should know. I've been on the receiving end of that temper of his enough times." Jake shrugged his shoulders and made to stand up. Dressed in a short black skirt and a multi-coloured sequined cropped top, he tottered on a pair of impossibly high heeled shoes. "What would you know?" he snapped. With a sigh, Sadie watched the boy leave the dressing room to make his way out onto the stage. "I know a lot more than you think," he called after him. Chapter 2 Jimmy Carter pulled into the scrapyard, in Barking, Essex, that his elder brother owned. Despite the earliness of the hour, he wasn't surprised to see Tommy's black Range Rover already parked up. His brother had always been an early riser and was what many people would call a workaholic. He pushed open the door to the office and walked through, his heavy boots loud across the linoleum floor. "All right, bruv?" he asked, as he flopped down on the nearest available chair and set a newspaper across his lap. "Yeah." Tommy leant back in his chair. "I've got Leon Parkes coming in to see me this morning." "Leon?" Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Haven't seen him in years. What's he up to now?" "No idea." Tommy was thoughtful for a few moments. "I've got a feeling he's looking for work." "Will you take him on?" Jimmy opened up the newspaper and began reading through the headlines. Not one to easily trust outsiders, Tommy shook his head. "Where would I even put him?" he asked, spreading out his arms. "I dunno, bruv, and until he gets here, you don't even know what it is he's after, so I wouldn't worry about it until then. How did the meal go last night?" Jimmy asked, changing the subject. "Was okay. Can't say I was overly impressed though." Jimmy looked up from the newspaper. "That bad, was it?" "Nah, not really. He just wasn't my cup of tea. Too full of himself." Tommy was quiet for a few moments. He lounged back in his chair and cleared his throat. "Have you seen much of my Jake since you've been back home?" "No, why?" "No reason." Standing up from behind his desk, Tommy walked across to the office window and placed his hands down on the windowsill. "I was thinking that when you go back to Spain, I might send him over for a holiday." He turned to face his brother. "What do you reckon?" "If you like." Jimmy narrowed his eyes. "Has he been playing up something?" Tommy shook his head. There was something wrong, he just couldn't put his finger on what that might be. "He's eighteen now, right?" Tommy nodded his head. "So, why haven't you got him out grafting? You've got Liam out collecting debts, so why not Jake?" "I don't know," Tommy paused. It was the truth. He truly didn't know the reason why he hadn't sent Jake out to work. He'd put his eldest son out collecting debts as soon as he'd left school. "When he comes back from Spain, I'll put him out." He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought it through. "Or maybe he would be better off working here, in the office." Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you do what you think is best, but you know that me and Aiden," Jimmy said, referring to his partner of over eighteen years, "would love to have him come and stay over with us for a bit. I'll get him working in the bar, even if it's just collecting up the glasses." Tommy smiled his thanks. "Cheers, bruv." * Stacey Carter began collecting up the dirty laundry. Despite the money her husband earned, she refused to have a cleaner. "I'd rather do it myself … that way I know it's being done properly," she'd told her husband when he suggested they employ someone to come in a couple of times a week to help out. With the laundry basket tucked underneath her arm, Stacey took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Jake's bedroom. "Blimey, Jake," she muttered, wrinkling her nose at the stench coming from inside her son's room. She placed the basket down onto the unmade bed, walked across to the bay windows and threw them open to let in some air. "Jesus Christ," she groaned. "It doesn't half pen and ink in here," she said, using the slang term for stink. She looked around her at the mess. It never ceased to amaze her just how untidy both of her sons were. Stooping down to sort through a pile of dirty clothes, Stacey paused. She lifted up one of Jake's white T-shirts and inspected a set of beige marks around the neck area. Foundation was the culprit, and she wiped her fingertips across the dark smudges, before letting out a chuckle. So that was the reason for Jake's recent mood swings. He'd found an interest in the opposite sex. Well, surely that would give Tommy something to smile about, and hopefully this new-found revelation would also put her husband's mind at ease. * Ronald Browning lit a cigar. He puffed on it consistently, without taking his eyes away from the young man who, at that precise moment, lay sprawled out across his bed, fast asleep, one hand tucked underneath his face, his long, dark hair splayed over the pillow. With full lips, long eyelashes and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, the man truly was beautiful. A whore, nonetheless, and only there for Ronald's pleasure, but still beautiful. "Wake up," Ronald said, pushing the toe of his shoe against the man's naked thigh. Short and balding with a portly belly, Ronald spoke with clipped tones. "I said, get up. I need to leave for work soon." He kicked his foot out twice, in quick succession. Each kick landing upon the same spot. Groggily, Jake Carter opened his eyes. His head was thumping, no doubt from the pills and booze that Ronald had poured down his throat the previous evening. "What time is it?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "Quarter to eight, and time for you to leave. If anyone were to find you here …" He left the remaining sentence unsaid, and begrudgingly threw five crisp ten-pound notes down onto the bed beside the younger man. "Get dressed, now," he ordered, kicking his foot out impatiently. Jumping up from the bed, Jake rubbed at his thigh. The older man's highly polished shoe had left a red mark. No doubt he would be left with yet another bruise. Hastily, Jake pulled on his jeans. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of fur across his tongue. Unsteadily, he grabbed his T-shirt from the floor where he had dropped it the previous evening, and walked through to the adjacent bathroom. Once there, he splashed cold water over his face and wiped away the remaining traces of foundation with the corner of his shirt. He then tipped his open mouth underneath the tap. With his thirst quenched, he wandered back to the bedroom, pulled the cotton shirt over his head, and stretched his arms up above his head, slipping the garment on. "How do you know Sadie?" he asked. Anger flickered across Ronald's face, and his cheeks turned red. "What has that old bastard been saying about me?" he demanded. Taken aback by Ronald's reaction, Jake shook his head furiously. "Nothing, he just said that he knew you, that's all." Ronald took a step forward and jabbed his stout finger toward the younger man. "Keep away from him. He's nothing but trouble, am I making myself clear?" He gripped his stubby fingers around the top of Jake's arm. His fingernails dug into the boy's flesh. "Okay." Alarmed, Jake's blue eyes widened. He rubbed at his arm and looked down to see the indentations caused by Ronald's fingernails had already started to bruise. His skin was turning a dark bluish-purple colour. It was a stark reminder of what the man and men like him were capable of. * Karen turned over in bed, and her hand slid across the vacant space beside her. The cotton sheets were cool to the touch. Her eyes flickered open and she stretched out across the bed. "Hey," she said and smiled over to her boyfriend. "Good morning." Sat in a high-backed chair beside the bay window, overlooking the back garden, he sat forward in his seat. "Morning, sweetheart." He stood up and kissed the side of her cheek. "Would you like some coffee? I just made some." Karen shook her head. "Come back to bed," she purred. He hesitated, mulling the thought over. "I can't," he reluctantly answered. "I need to shower and dress. My mum is coming over today. I did mention it to you, remember?" "Of course, I almost forgot." She clambered out of the bed and threw a silk robe across her shoulders, covering her nakedness. Her feet were light as she padded across the room. "Will I be seeing you tonight?" "I don't think so," he said and hesitated for a second time. "I need to spend some time with my mum." Taking note of his girlfriend's disappointment, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'll make time for you tomorrow night, I promise." * Bethany Johnson looked up at the flashing neon sign, indicating that she could remove her seat belt. She shifted her weight, making herself more comfortable, and ordered an orange juice from the air stewardess. In her hands, she clutched her most prized possession. For most mothers, that would be their children's birth certificates or even photographs of their offspring. In Bethany Johnson's case, it was a tattered scrapbook containing every armed robbery that she believed the Carter brothers had committed. It amused her to think how she, living more than a thousand miles away, in Spain, had been able to connect the dots and see a pattern between the robberies, whereas the metropolitan police, on the other hand, seemingly couldn't. She flicked through the scrapbook and read through the news report cuttings that she had painstakingly cut out of the English newspapers and glued onto the empty scrapbook pages. Placing the scrapbook inside her handbag, Bethany rechecked for a second time that the book was safely tucked away. Only when she was satisfied that her most prized possession was safe, did she lean her head back against the headrest and close her eyes. Tommy Carter. She repeated the name, over and over, in her mind. Tommy Carter. It had been almost twenty years since she'd last seen him, and still, she could recall the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Tommy Carter. She could still recall the way his eyes would crinkle each time he flashed a smile. "Tommy Carter." She said the name out loud, relishing the sound of his name upon her lips. Today had been a long time coming, but she was finally coming home, and Tommy Carter was going to rue the day he'd ever set his eyes upon her. Bethany squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. Oh yes, Tommy Carter would rue the day he had spurned her. She would make sure of that. * "I'm sorry, mate. As much as I'd like to, I can't help." Leon Parke's heart sank. As much as he'd hated having to come to Tommy Carter, in the end, he'd had no other choice. With a house on the verge of being repossessed, a wife, three kids, and another on the way, he found himself in an impossible situation. "What am I supposed to do, Tommy? I need cash, and quickly." He'd been so sure that the man sat opposite him would see what a great opportunity he was offering. "I'm too well known on that estate," Tommy explained. "I can't risk mine or my brothers' names being put forward." Leon rubbed his hand across his gaunt pock-marked face and sighed. Just four days earlier, he'd been in the bookies on Thames View Estate, Barking. It was while using the gents' toilets, which just so happened to be adjacent to the bookies' office, that he'd overheard a conversation between the manager and his staff take place. On the day of the grand national, one of the UK's biggest horse racing events, the cash from all bets taken that day would need to sit in the safe overnight. "Okay," Leon said, rising from his seat. "I'll have to do it alone; no matter what, I need that money." Tommy watched as the man walked toward the office door, his shoulders hunched over in defeat. "Wait," Tommy called after him. He sat with his fingers steepled on the desk in front of him and indicated for Leon to return to his seat. "I have to do this, Tommy. I'm down on my arse, mate. I ain't got a pot to piss in. No matter what, I need the cash." "Is it a loan you're after? You only have to ask, and if I can help, I will." "No." Leon shook his head. "I've still got some pride left in me, and I want to earn the money myself." "Well, have you ever planned out a robbery before?" Leon shook his head for a second time, causing Tommy's own heart to plummet. "Okay," he said after an age. "I'll plan it out for you, but …," he said jabbing his finger in Leon's direction, "… that is all I am doing. This is your job, your responsibility to make sure you follow it through, and that everything goes to plan. Are we clear on that?" Leon nodded his head profusely. "Thanks, Tommy, you're a real pal." "Well, don't thank me just yet." Tommy glanced at the date on his wristwatch. "We've got less than three weeks to get this planned out. Come and see me early next week and I'll run through it with you." "Cheers, mate. I knew you wouldn't let me down," Leon beamed. * Stacey was in the kitchen making coffee, when she heard the front door slam shut. "Who's that?" she called out. When she received no reply, she wandered through to the hallway. "Jake," she smiled. "Why didn't you answer me?" Stifling a yawn, Jake clutched hold of his rucksack tightly. "I didn't hear you," he spat. "Well, come and have a coffee with me, or I can make you your favourite, hot chocolate? I'll even put some squirty cream on top, with chocolate sprinkles." She began to make her way back toward the kitchen before glancing over her shoulder. "Jake," she said, "are you even listening to me?" She walked back across the hallway to her youngest son and gently pulled his face toward her. She took note of his dilated pupils and narrowed her eyes. "What's going on, Jake?" "Nothing." Shrugging himself away from his mother, Jake ran up the staircase toward his bedroom. "Just leave me the fuck alone," he shouted out, before slamming the bedroom door firmly closed behind him. Bewildered, Stacey stared after her son for a few moments before returning to the kitchen. Maybe Tommy was right, and something was wrong with their boy after all. She bit down on her bottom lip, unsure of exactly what she should do about Jake's behaviour, and more importantly, whether or not she should bring her own concerns up with her husband. * Bethany Johnson walked through the arrivals at Gatwick Airport and immediately made her way outside. Wearing a huge pair of expensive sunglasses, and pulling a white designer suitcase behind her, she looked every inch of what she was—a woman with a vast amount of wealth at her fingertips. She strolled toward a man holding up a placard bearing her name and passed across her suitcase to him. "Miss Johnson?" Jason Moore asked as he took the suitcase from her. Bethany nodded her head and slid her body onto the backseat of the car. After placing the suitcase inside the boot, Jason ran around to the driver's door. He climbed inside the car and turned to face the woman. "I was sorry to hear about your dad. He was a good bloke and will be sorely missed." Bethany stared at the man; her expression devoid of any emotion. "Was my father a friend of yours?" Jason shook his head. "He was my boss, miss." "Well, in that case, seeing as I'm now paying your wages, therefore making me your boss, do me a favour, shut the fuck up and drive me to my house." Gulping, Jason immediately turned in his seat and started the ignition. He'd been warned about Bethany Johnson. The Ice Queen, she'd been nicknamed, and from just a few moments in her company, he could see exactly why she had earned herself that name. With his head pointing straight ahead, Jason inwardly sighed. He would much rather have Dean Johnson back, any day of the week. At least you knew where you stood with him. * Jake Carter threw himself face down onto his bed, and burying his face into his pillow, he began to cry. His arm ached, and he knew he would need to keep the bruises covered up until they had faded. The last thing he needed was for his mum and dad to spot them and start asking questions. He could hear his mum pottering around in the kitchen below, and he felt a sudden urge to go and talk to her, to tell her everything, but deep down, he knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't, and that was the truth of the matter. He knew, without hesitation, that his dad would go ape-shit if he were ever to find out about what he'd been getting up to. Jumping up from his bed, Jake snatched up his headphones. He placed the buds into his ears and turned up the volume on his stereo. More than anything, he wanted to drown out his problems. He wanted to forget about what he'd done over the past twenty-four hours. He wanted to forget about Ronald, and even more than that, he wanted to forget about the big man who scared him—the very same man who had threatened to tell his dad and uncles about what he'd been doing, if he didn't do exactly as he was told. With each passing second, he turned up the volume, until it had reached maximum. Only then, did he slump onto the floor with his eyes closed. Only then, could he hear nothing inside his mind, except for the heavy beat. * Tommy had just finished tucking in to a steak and salad. All through dinner, his wife had been quieter than usual, and he studied her, as he mopped around his lips with a napkin. "Are you okay?" he asked. He caught hold of her hand as she began to clear away the table, and brought her to a halt. "Of course I am," Stacey answered. She averted her eyes and gave a nervous giggle. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" "Well, I dunno?" Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "You've been quiet ever since I got home. So, come on out with it. What's wrong? What's on your mind?" "Oh, it's nothing," she said, flapping her hand. She took note of her husband's raised eyebrows and could see concern in his eyes. "I'm just tired, that's all. I haven't been sleeping too well," she said, explaining herself further. "Is something bothering you?" Tommy narrowed his eyes. "You're not ill or anything, are you?" "No, of course I'm not." Stacey's voice was high as she answered. The slamming of the front door interrupted him from answering, and he quickly glanced across to his wife, before springing up from his seat and racing toward it. "Leave him," Stacey begged, pulling back on her husband's arm. "Please." "There's something wrong with that kid." Tommy stabbed his finger in the direction of the front door that Jake had just exited. "Enough is enough, Stace. I want answers from him. This has to stop. I've even got Jimmy questioning me about why I haven't sent him out to work yet." Stacey slumped down at the oak table, and holding her head in her hands, she began to cry. Alarmed, Tommy rushed forward. "Stace, what's wrong?" "Drugs, Tommy." Stacey's voice cracked. "I think our Jake is on drugs." "What?" Astounded, Tommy's mouth fell open. He looked from the front door and then back to his wife. His heart began to thump wildly inside his chest. "What did you just say?" * Bethany Johnson climbed out of the car and looked up at her childhood home. She was somewhat surprised to see that, in all of the years she had been away, the place hadn't changed at all. The front door opened, and she passed across her suitcase to the young man stood there. "Hello, Mum." Cameron Johnson took a step toward his mother and lightly kissed her cheek. "Cameron." She pushed past him and entered the hallway before walking through to the lounge, her expensive high-heeled shoes, clip-clopping across the wooden floor. She could still recall her last day spent in this house. And how her father had practically assaulted her, right here in this very room, in front of the fireplace, all because she had fallen pregnant with Gary Carter's child—a child she had never wanted, and had been forced into giving birth to. "Did you have a good flight?" Bethany nodded her head, barely even looking at her son. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Stood watching his mother as she left the room, Cameron pushed his light brown hair away from his hazel eyes, before making his own way up the staircase to his bedroom. In darkness, he sat for hours at the bay window overlooking the garden, wishing more than ever that his grandfather was still alive. At least Dean Johnson had shown him love—had shown him some compassion. * Her voice cracking, Stacey went on to tell her husband about Jake's behaviour, how most nights, he didn't come home until the early hours of the morning, about his dilated pupils, how he always seemed to have money, yet he didn't work, and the money wasn't being given to him by them. "It has to be drugs, Tommy. What else could it be? He must be selling and using drugs." Shaking his head, Tommy could barely take it all in. He'd known something was wrong, but hadn't for a second, thought that drugs could be the issue. "Who are his mates?" he demanded to know. "Who does he hang around with?" "I don't know." Stacey dabbed at her tear-stricken eyes. "He hasn't brought a friend home in a long time. Maybe Liam knows who they are?" With just a couple of years between both of her sons, they often moved within the same circles. "Right then," Tommy said. His voice came across much calmer than he actually felt. "Phone Liam and get him to come home now, and then we'll get to the bottom of this." He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. "He must be stashing it somewhere." He looked down at his wife, then tore out of the room and bounded up the staircase toward Jake's bedroom, with Stacey hot on his heels. "You don't think he's bringing it home with him, do you?" Stacey asked, her eyes wide with fear. "Of course he fucking is." Tommy looked around the bedroom. Think, he thought to himself. If it was him, where would he stash the drugs? Systematically, Tommy went on to tear apart Jake's room. Frustrated, he kicked out at the bed frame. He'd found nothing. * "That's a nasty bruise you've got there." Sadie eyed Jake suspiciously. Even from his position, he could see the damage had come from someone gripping their fingers tightly around the younger man's arm, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who that might be. Jake looked down at the blue marks across his arm and shrugged his shoulders. "It's nothing." "Look, I did try to warn you, didn't I? He's a vicious bugger, and …" "Oh just fuck off, Sadie," Jake interrupted. He jumped to his feet, his features darkening. The face that Sadie had often found to be quite angelic was suddenly menacing. "Keep that big fucking hooter of yours out of my business." Swallowing down a retort, Sadie nodded his head. "I was only trying to help, my lovely." He held up his hands. "But point taken. I won't say another word on the matter," he said, moving his fingers across his lips as if zipping them together. He went on to watch, as Jake made his way out onto the stage and tilted his head to one side. He wouldn't say another word, but he would continue watching. He knew Ronald from old, and knew what he was capable of. He could feel the familiar fluttering of anger spread through his chest and he began to take deep breaths to steady himself. Yes, he would continue watching and when the time came, he would exact out his own revenge for the hurt Ronald, and men just like him, had caused. Chapter 3 "So what do we now, Tommy? Stacey followed her husband around the house, whilst they waited for Liam to arrive home. "I don't know," Tommy answered. Finally, he came to stand in the bright and airy conservatory and stared out across the manicured lawn. What if both of his sons had taken to drugs? He didn't bare thinking about. At one time, he could recall his two boys being as thick as thieves, doing everything together, just like he and Jimmy had when they were younger, before Jimmy had bought his bar in Spain. What was the betting both boys were somehow involved? He turned to look at Stacey. About to voice his concerns, he snapped his mouth shut and massaged his closed eyes. He didn't want to upset or scare her any further than was necessary, at least not until he knew for certain what was going on. How had he even missed the signs? He slumped down onto a wicker sofa and held his head in his hands. "I'll kill him," he muttered. "I'll kill him stone dead with my bare hands, Stace, if I find out he's using." Fresh tears sprang to Stacey's eyes. She placed her arms around her husband and held him tight, breathing in his familiar scent of tobacco and cologne. "We need to speak to him," she urged. "Maybe we're wrong and there's a different explanation for his behaviour? We need to find out exactly what's going on." * Liam was a good-looking man, and just like his father and uncles before him, he had the trademark thick, dark hair and bright blue eyes. There was certainly no denying that he was a Carter. "What's going on?" he asked, once he had located his parents in the conservatory. Jumping up from his seat, Tommy stabbed his finger toward his eldest son. His face was red with rage and he spat out his words. "You tell me!" "What?" Liam looked from his father to his mother, and then back to his father once again. "What have I done? Did I do something wrong at work?" "Drugs," Tommy roared. "Tell me what you know about drugs." "Drugs?" Taken aback, Liam stared at his father. "I know fuck-all about drugs. What's going on?" With his hand grasped around his son's chin, Tommy pulled Liam's face roughly toward him, inspecting his pupils as he did so. "For fuck's sake, Dad, leave off." Liam pulled himself free from his father's grasp. "What's wrong with you?" "I'm going to ask you this once and only once, and if you lie to me, I swear before God, I will batter you to within an inch of your life," Tommy growled. "Are you taking drugs?" Liam's mouth fell open. "What?" He could see the anger in his father's eyes and knew better than to antagonize him any further. Other than the odd bit of cannabis every now and again to help him relax, he didn't touch drugs, certainly nothing heavy. "No, of course I'm fucking not," he said, bumping against the wicker coffee table in his eagerness to back away from him. Through narrowed eyes, Tommy searched his son's face for any signs that he could be lying. After an age, he sighed with relief and pulled his boy into his arms. "Thank fuck for that," he cried. "What's going on?" Liam asked, once his father had released him. "Your brother." Liam snorted. "What about the freak?" He saw a flicker of anger sweep across his father's face and held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. What about Jake? And I'm not being funny, Dad, but that fucking hair of his, he looks like a bird. You have to do something about it." Tommy shook his head, dismissing his eldest son's words. "Forget his hair for the moment. Is Jake on drugs?" "I don't know." Liam shrugged his shoulders. "Well, who does he hang around with? Who are his mates?" Liam shrugged his shoulders for a second time. "I don't know, Dad." He paused, wondering just how much information he should divulge. A few months back, there had been one or two rumours going around that Jake had been sleeping with men for money. Feeling disgusted, he had soon put a stop to the rumours, but still, the thought of his brother engaging with men, plagued him. "He stopped hanging around with all of us ages ago." "Well, why did he stop?" "I dunno." "Think, Liam," Tommy urged. Liam sighed. "All right, I'll tell you the truth. He met this kid, I can't remember his name, and I only met him the once. But I didn't like him. There was something about him I didn't trust, and I told our Jake to steer clear of him." "And? So what happened?" "I don't know. Jake never mentioned him again." Tommy was thoughtful. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Do you think Jake could still be hanging around with this kid?" "I really don't know, Dad. Like I said, he never mentioned him again." He paused, as if thinking back. "But he did start to change after that. He became secretive, argumentative, moody. No one even wanted him coming out with us anymore." Liam averted his eyes, feeling somewhat responsible for his brother's plight. "I had to tell Jake to fuck off out of it in the end. He was causing too many problems with his attitude." "And you didn't think to talk to me and your mum about any of this?" Tommy asked, his temper beginning to rise. "If we'd have known earlier that there was a problem, we could have sorted it out." "I didn't think." Liam shrugged his shoulders. "And you and Mum didn't seem to think anything was wrong, so I didn't say anything." "It's not Liam's fault." Stacey grasped her fingers around her husband's forearm. "We're his parents. We should have seen there was a problem ourselves." "Yeah, well, I did try to warn you," Tommy spat, his shoulders slumped downwards. "Sorry, Stace," he said, seeing the hurt in his wife's eyes. "I didn't mean that; it's not your fault." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I need to know who this kid is. Would you recognise him if you saw him again?" he asked, turning to look at his eldest son. "Maybe, I don't know. I only saw him the once, and it was a long time ago." "Oh, Tommy, how could we have let this happen? And right underneath our noses, too." Tommy shook his head. He slumped once again onto the wicker sofa. He felt as though he'd been punched in the guts … as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. He thought he knew his kids, all of his kids, but obviously not. "I'll get to the bottom of this," he answered, his voice low. "Don't you worry about that." * Later that evening, as they lay in bed, Tommy propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at his wife. "Why didn't I put him in the ring, Stace?" he asked. "I should have put both boys in. It would have sorted them right out, like it did me and my brothers. If nothing else, boxing gives you discipline." Stacey's voice was gentle as she answered. "Because you didn't want the same relationship with your sons, that you have with your dad." "I know," Tommy sighed, recalling how adamant he'd been about it at the time. He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I just can't help but blame myself. I should have been around more. I should have seen the signs." "We both should have." Stacey traced her fingertips across her husband's bare arm. "He's my baby. I've mollycoddled him too much," she sighed. "We're equally to blame, Tommy." Pulling his wife closer toward him, Tommy shook his head. As far as he was concerned, the blame lay at his door, and his door only. * Bethany Johnson sat at the breakfast bar, sipping on a cup of coffee. She noted her son's arrival in the kitchen and glanced at her wristwatch. Remaining silent, she chose not to mention how late he had risen. Once he was seated opposite her, she arched her eyebrows and finally spoke. "Well …" Cameron let out a long sigh, a habit of his, which grated on Bethany's nerves. "He said he's going to meet you." Satisfied, Bethany allowed herself to smile. She had never doubted for a moment that he wouldn't meet her. Hadn't she always been able to wrap him around her finger? She took a sip of her coffee. She had given Gary Carter more than three months to think over her proposition, and now she needed his answer. With or without him, her plan to ruin his brother was going to go ahead, but with Gary on board, even she had to admit, the task ahead would be a lot easier. * Danny McKay strolled into the scrapyard office. He gave Tommy a wide grin and took a seat in the overcrowded room. Despite Tommy giving the office a facelift, rickety filing cabinets with precarious stacks of paperwork balancing on top of them, still sat side by side against the far wall. "Well, you're smiling, so that's got to be a good sign. I take it there hasn't been any comebacks over the shooting?" "Of course not. I told you there wouldn't be any." Danny studied Tommy and noted that he looked as though he was carrying the world and its troubles on his shoulders. "Problem?" he enquired. "Kids, mate," Tommy sighed. By the time he'd left for work that morning, Jake still hadn't returned home. "You should be grateful that you've only got the one," he said, referring to Danny's young son, Little Danny. Danny chuckled. "Yeah, well, he's only a babe in arms. I'm sure he'll give me enough grief as he grows older." "Yeah, well, here's hoping that he doesn't, mate." Danny looked around him. Usually, the office was bustling with Carters. "Where is everyone?" "All out grafting, mate, which brings me to ask, what are you doing here?" It was Danny's turn to sigh. "It's just a flying visit. I was passing by, on my way to meet Moray, so thought I'd pop in." Pushing a stack of paperwork across his desk, Tommy smiled. "I had a horrible feeling you were going to tell me that Jonny had been up to his old tricks again." Danny shook his head. "Nah, I think he's learnt his lesson there." "Good, because I can tell you now, that's the last time I bail him out, and I've told him as much." "I know," Danny agreed. "I'm on my way to London, Soho actually, your neck of the woods," he said, referring to the strip club Tommy owned in Soho. Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Moray and me, we're still trying to trace everyone on the list that Matty Payne gave us." He cleared his throat, before dragging his hand across his face. "You know, the business with Freddie?" "Yeah." Tommy nodded his head, his expression sombre. "I still can't believe it, if I'm being totally honest. I mean, I didn't like Freddie and the feeling was pretty much mutual, but not for one minute, did I think he was getting up to anything like that." He was thoughtful for a moment. Even now, the thought of Freddie Smith, the top dog of the East End, targeting teenage runaways for his own sexual gratification, sickened him. "I know. The thing is, a lot of the names on the list are nicknames or aliases, so it's like finding a needle in a haystack, if I'm being totally honest. But I won't give up. It's eating away at me, if you know what I mean." He patted the list inside his jacket pocket. "I feel like I owe it to these kids to sort all of this out. We all knew Freddie was sick in the head. We all should have known something wasn't right, when he started putting kids on the payroll. Maybe if he'd been taken out sooner, we could have put a stop to it." "You can't think like that, mate. It wasn't your fault. None of us knew what he was." Danny stared out of the office window. "Yeah, I know," he finally answered. "Anyway, I'm meeting up with Moray. We'll head toward London and see what we can find out. Maybe once it's sorted out, we should all meet up for a drink or a curry. What d'ya reckon?" "Yeah, mate, sounds good to me. Just let me know where and when." "Right then." Danny stood up and scraped his chair backwards as he did so. "Like I said, it's only a flying visit. See you later, Tommy." "See you, mate, and good luck." Tommy watched Danny lift his hand in acknowledgement and sighed to himself. What the fuck was the world coming to? * Sadie unlocked the front door to his flat. Stepping inside, he quietly closed the door behind him and leant his back against it, closing his eyes tightly. "Hello, my lovely." He smiled down at the ginger cat, winding its way around his legs. "At least someone's pleased to see me." He picked the feline up and nestled his face against the cat's fur, whilst it purred loudly in his ear. Making his way into the kitchen, he filled the cat's bowl with biscuits, refilled the water bowl, then shrugged off his coat. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he swallowed a mouthful, placed the glass down onto the counter, and then walked through to the bedroom. Once there, he began to undress. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Sadie studied his reflection. Across his stomach and thigh, were a series of two-inch vivid purple puckered scars. He'd been told by the doctors who had saved his life that they would eventually fade to white, yet ten years on, they still hadn't. He could still recall the pain he'd suffered, as Ronald Browning had plunged the knife deep into his flesh. He closed his eyes tightly, pushing the memory to the back of his mind, where it belonged. Once again, he could feel a fluttering of anger begin to spread up from his belly toward his chest. "Nasty vicious bugger," he muttered out loud. His thoughts immediately went to Jake, and the bruises he had seen on the boy's arm earlier that day. "You poor little sod; you really don't realise the danger you're in." There and then, Sadie vowed to keep an eye on the comings and goings of Jake and Ronald Browning a lot more closely. * Gary Carter looked around him, before pushing open the door to a wine bar in Brentwood, Essex. It didn't take him long to spot a man and woman sat at a table toward the back of the premises. He made his way forward, his eyes flickering around him nervously as he did so. The last thing he needed was to be seen in the presence of Bethany Johnson. "Bethany." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and the sweet scent of her perfume hit his nostrils. In the twenty years since he'd first seen her, she had hardly changed at all. Still, her startling green eyes were able to bear into his with the same intensity that they always had. "You look well," he said, sliding into the booth opposite her. His stomach began to turn somersaults, as it often did whenever he was in her company. "Hello, Dad." Gary tore his eyes away from the only woman he had ever loved, to look across at his son. As always, he sat dutifully beside his mother. "Cameron." "Drink?" Bethany enquired. She snapped her fingers at the barman and looked toward Gary expectantly, her eyebrows arched. "Brandy." Gary looked up at the barman. "No ice," he instructed. "And a white wine and soda for me." Bethany flashed a wide smile. Once their drinks had been placed before them, Bethany got down to business. "Well, do you have an answer? I've given you enough time to think it over." Blowing out his cheeks, Gary shook his head. The truth of the matter was, he was in two minds. As much as he loathed his brother, Tommy was still just that, his brother. "I still don't know," he finally answered. Bethany smiled gently. She knew Gary was weak. She also knew how easily she could manipulate him, and so, she pressed further. "Our son," she said, flicking her hand toward Cameron, "has lived his entire life without his father, or his father's family around him. Tommy was to blame for that. Look at him," she said, grasping hold of her son's face and turning it toward Gary. "Your own flesh and blood. He should have been born a Carter, he is a Carter. Your son, your only child, Gary, and he was pushed out onto the scrap heap, as though he was nothing. And who was to blame for that?" She spread out her arms. "Tommy." Gary pursed his lips. He could see her point, but at the time, he'd hardly been in a position to do anything about the situation. He'd only just turned seventeen when Cameron had been conceived. He was still only a kid himself, yet still, he blamed himself. He should have stood up to his brother. He should have stepped up and been a father. Bethany took a sip of her wine, and as if reading his mind, she continued, her voice gentle. "None of that was your fault, Gary. It was your brother who was to blame." She smiled across at Gary. "I loved you. I thought we were going to be a family: you, me, and our son. It was Tommy who drove me away. You remember that day as well as I do. It's ingrained up here." She tapped her temple and allowed her words to sink in, before reaching out to touch his hand. "You know what I'm saying is true. Look at our son, Gary. He should have been born a Carter, as was his right, and your brother denied him that." Gary turned to look at Cameron, and his heart constricted inside his chest. For years, he'd hadn't even known the boy had existed. It was Tommy who had told him the child had been aborted. Yet another lie. "Okay," he finally answered. "I'll do it." "Good." Bethany flashed a wide smile. "It should be you and our son running Tommy's businesses. He owes you that much. He owes both of you." She grasped hold of both Cameron's and Gary's hands. "And together, we are going to take them." Gary nodded his head. He conveniently let slip from his mind that after his eldest brother's demise, they still had his four other brothers, and not to mention Tommy's own two sons, to get through first. * Ronald Browning was sweating profusely. He replaced the telephone receiver back onto its cradle and wiped his fingers across his clammy brow. Immediately, he flicked through his address book and picked up the telephone for a second time. His hand shook as he dialled a number. "It's Ronald," he said into the phone, his breath coming in short little bursts. "Ronald Browning. Yes, I know that you are due in court within the hour." He gritted his teeth, irritated. "Yes, I know that, but we need to meet up. It's imperative that I speak to you in person. I have it on good authority that questions are being asked, and it's only a matter of time before those questions lead to us." He listened intently to what was being said and nodded his head before ending the call. Standing up, Ronald crossed over his office and came to stand beside the window. He looked out across the cobbled courtyard below, his beady eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary, not that he knew exactly what he was looking for. He had no idea which cars should or shouldn't be parked there. He watched as a silver BMW pulled into the courtyard, and held his breath as he waited to see who the occupants were. In his mind's eye, he quickly devised an escape route, should he not like the look of the person or persons who climbed out. His heart was in his mouth as Ronald stood as still as a statue whilst he waited. "Come on," he mumbled underneath his breath. "Get out of the car." He sighed with relief to see that the source of his panic, was Derek, who worked in the accounts department, situated on the floor directly underneath. Wandering back to his desk, Ronald sat down. He steepled his fingers in front of him, deep in thought. He wished now that he'd never gotten involved with the men, any of them. He should have known better than to trust them, especially Freddie Smith, a known criminal. His thoughts immediately wandered to Jake. He would need to keep him quiet, because the boy knew too much. All it would take was one word from him, and his cover would be blown. Ronald looked around him at the plush office suite of the law firm he was a partner of. He didn't train for six years at law school, and then work his way to the top for nothing. Yes, he decided, he would have to do something about the boy. He picked up the telephone once again and dialled a number. "Jake, my darling. Dinner tonight, my treat." With a satisfied grin, Ronald replaced the receiver. He mopped his sweating brow with a white handkerchief. Yes, he would have to do something about the boy. * Jake Carter turned over on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. His stomach felt as though it were tied up in knots. He didn't want to go to the club in Soho anymore, and he didn't want to see Ronald ever again. He bit down on his bottom lip. He wished he'd never met the kid now, Lewis something or other, he'd said his name was. Liam was right when he'd said there was something dodgy about him, and that he couldn't be trusted. He wanted to curse himself for his stupidity. He should have taken heed of his brother's warning, that's what he should have done. It was Lewis who had taken him to the club in Soho to meet the big man who frightened him so much. He could still recall bumping into Lewis when he'd gone out for the evening to play snooker. He'd been impressed at what a good player he was, and it was this which had initially made him strike up a conversation with the boy. He wished now that he'd never gone out that night. "Jake, are you awake?" Stacey tapped lightly on the door. Jake closed his eyes and turned onto his side, facing the wall. As much as he loved his mum, he didn't want to see her. He didn't want her to know what he was, and so he pretended to still be asleep. Opening the door, Stacey poked her head around. "Jake," she repeated. "Are you awake, darling?" When she received no reply, she walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her hand snaked out and pushed the hair away from her son's eyes. "Oh, Jake," she sighed. She adjusted the duvet around her son, about to cover him up, when she gasped at the sight of the bruises on his arm. "Jake?" She nudged him awake, her eyes filled with alarm. "How did you get these bruises?" she demanded. Turning over to face his mother, Jake opened his eyes. "I had too much to drink and fell over." Stacey pursed her lips together as she thought through her son's explanation. "Okay," she finally answered. "Well, you need to get up. Your dad wants to have a chat with you. He'll be home from work soon. And don't forget, we've got everyone coming over tonight for your nan's birthday party." "I'm going out tonight." "Well, you'll just have to cancel your plans. All of the family are coming over, and your nan will be upset if you're not here." Jake groaned. "Mum, I just told you, I've got plans." He threw the duvet away from him, swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "I can't just cancel them, can I?" "Well, you'll bleeding well have to, won't you? And you'd best change your attitude before your dad gets in an' all," she added as an afterthought. Knowing full well her husband had a short temper at the best of times, and coupled with the mood he was in when he left for work just that morning, her Tommy could very well end up swinging for Jake if he started getting cocky. Jake sighed. "What does he want with me anyway?" "He's worried about you." "Well, he doesn't need to worry about me. I'm eighteen, not a little kid." Stacey smiled gently. "You're right you are eighteen, but you're also still our son, and your dad's worried." "Is this about my hair again?" Jake rolled his eyes. "Amongst other things." "What's that supposed to mean?" He took a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit up. Stunned, Stacey stared at her son. She hadn't even known that he smoked. "Since when did you start smoking? And you know the rules, no smoking in the house. Even your dad has to go out to the garden." Jake gave a bitter laugh. He stubbed the cigarette out on the lid of a coke can and stood up, hastily dressing. "Like I said, Mum, I'm going out." The front door slamming closed, saved Stacey from answering. She stabbed her finger toward her son. "Don't antagonise him," she warned. "You know what he's like." * Tommy threw his car keys onto the marble kitchen worktop. "Stace, I'm home," he shouted out. He looked around the kitchen. He could see his wife had been busy preparing the food for his mum's sixtieth birthday party, and he smiled to himself. Plates of sausage rolls, quiches, and ham sandwiches covered over with tin foil littered every available surface. She was a diamond, his Stace was. "Tommy." Stacey planted a kiss on her husband's cheek, then nodded her head toward the staircase. "Jake's home. I've had a word with him and told him he's stopping in tonight for your mum's party." Rubbing his hand across the dark stubble covering his jawline, Tommy sighed. "What's he had to say for himself?" "Nothing much." Stacey shrugged her shoulders. "Go easy on him," she said catching hold of her husband's hand. "Please, Tommy, don't be too hard on him." She lowered her voice and whispered. "If he is on drugs, he needs our help." "We haven't been hard enough on him, Stace. Let's face it, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?" He raised his eyebrows toward his wife, then bellowed out his youngest son's name. "Jake, get down here, now." His voice broke no arguments, and within seconds, they could hear Jake padding down the stairs. "What?" "What?" Tommy repeated back his son's words, his voice taking on an incredulous tone. "Where the fuck are your manners for a start?" Resisting the urge not to roll his eyes, Jake flicked his dark hair out of his eyes and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Dad, what is it you want?" "I wanna know where you've been going every night, and who you've been hanging around with, for a start." Tommy stared at his son. This boy, whom he loved with every ounce of his being, was beginning to look more and more like a girl with each passing day. "And I want to know what drugs you've been taking, and who the fuck is supplying them to you." Jake's mouth fell open. "What?" he stammered. "What drugs? I don't know what you're talking about." Other than the pills Ronald gave him at the club, he took no other drugs. With his fist clenched into a tight ball, Tommy pounced forward. He'd had just about enough of his son's attitude and lies. "I'm warning you now, you'd better start talking, boy, and fast." A shiver of fear ran down Jake's spine. He sprang backwards, cowering from his father. Did they know about the Soho club, Ronald, and the other men? "Honest, Dad, I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Who the fuck is supplying them to you?" Tommy roared. "Dad!" At hearing the commotion, Karen rushed into the kitchen. "Stop," she cried, putting herself between her brother and father. "What has he done?" She tugged on her father's arm. "For God's sake, Dad, leave him alone, will you? Look at him … can't you see he's scared?" "Karen." Stacey's shoulders were slumped downward. The enormity of the situation had taken its toll on her. "Let your dad handle this." She glanced across at her son and lowered her voice, almost afraid to say the words out loud. "We think that Jake's been using and selling drugs." "Don't be so ridiculous," Karen gasped. "Jake wouldn't do that, would you?" she asked, turning to her youngest brother, her eyes wide. Jake shook his head vigorously. "I haven't done anything wrong, Kal, honest I haven't." He could feel his cheeks blush at the blatant lie he'd just told. "So, where are you getting the money from? And where have you been going to every night? And don't say your fucking mate's. I want the truth." With one hand still tightly clutching the front of his son's T-shirt, Tommy ticked the list off on his free hand. "Something's not right about all of this, I can feel it, and unless you start talking, boy, you're gonna feel the force of my fist." "I've got a job in a bar up London." Jake spoke fast. Just like his father, he wasn't a very good liar. "A job?" Stacey's eyes widened. "Well, why didn't you tell us you had a job?" "So, what's the name of this bar?" Tommy interrupted, his eyes narrowed, suspicious. Swallowing quickly, Jake answered. "The Shot Bar," he said, giving the name of the first bar he could think of. "And the only reason I didn't tell yous is because it's only temporary." Relieved, Stacey hugged her son to her. "I knew all along it would be something like this," she chirped, a huge grin spread across her face. "Can I go now?" Jake shifted his weight. More than anything, he wanted to get away from his father. He may be able to fool his mother, but his father, on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish. Nodding his head, Tommy watched his youngest boy walk out of the kitchen. He rubbed at his temples; unlike Stacey, he didn't believe their son for a second. Chapter 4 Janet Carter twirled around her eldest son's living room. Dressed in her best frock, with her hair freshly cut, coloured, and blow-dried, she felt like a million dollars. "Are you having a good time, Mum?" Tommy asked. Placing her hands either side of his face, Janet planted a kiss on her son's cheek. "Oh, Tommy, it's wonderful. It's so lovely to have all of my family around me. My boys, daughters-in-law, grandchildren, even your grumpy old dad." She gave a giggle as she looked across at her husband, Frank. As usual, he sat in the armchair with a face like a wet blanket. Tommy laughed as he spun his mother around. "You're right, Mum, it's good to have all of us Carters here." "We're not all here though, are we? One is missing." All eyes turned toward Gary. "What's that you said, Gal?" Tommy asked. Gary rounded on his brother. He pointed his glass towards him, slopping brandy across the shag pile carpet Tommy had paid a small fortune for. "I said, we're not all here. My son is missing." Tommy rolled his eyes and sighed. Not all this again. "Now's not the time, Gal." He kept his voice neutral. "This is Mum's night." "Mum's night?" Gary snarled. "There's always a fucking excuse when I want to talk about my boy." He took a step closer toward his brother and stabbed his finger forward. "You're to blame for my Cameron not being here. It's all your fault. You were the one who told me she'd gotten rid of the baby." His back stiffening, Tommy released his mother. "I said, not now, Gal." He glanced around the room and took in the embarrassed exchanges from the guests. "We'll talk about this in private," he said, lowering his voice. "Come on, son." Always the peacemaker, Janet tugged on Gary's arm. "Tommy's right. Now isn't the time to be airing our dirty laundry." "It never is the time, is it?" Gary shrugged his mother away from him, a snarl spread across his face. "No matter what he does, you always stick up for him. Your blue-eyed fucking boy." "Enough, Gal." His temper rising, Tommy clenched his fists at his sides and growled. "You're upsetting Mum." "And God forbid we don't do what the big I am, Tommy, says." Gary staggered forward. "I should have fucked you off out of my life a long time ago. You're poisonous." Standing his ground, Tommy looked his brother in the eye. "Maybe you should have done, Gal, but you didn't do that, did you? That's gotta tell you something." He placed his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Maybe there's this little part of you that actually still wants to be a part of this family." "Yeah," Gary gave a bitter laugh. "It's called, keeping your friends close and your enemies closer." "I'm not your enemy, Gal." There was more than a hint of hurt in Tommy's voice. "No matter what has gone on between us in the past, we are still brothers, and always will be." "Yeah, when it suits you." Gary muttered underneath his breath. "I know the real you. I know exactly what you're capable of. Remember that night, do you, Tommy? When you half battered me to death." Tommy shook his head sadly. "Do you wanna know what? I'm not having this conversation with you right now, not when you're in this mood." He turned toward his eldest son. "Liam, top up everyone's glasses, boy. This is meant to be a celebration." With that, Tommy walked from the room and came to stand in the kitchen. He took deep breaths and placed his hands down on the kitchen table, his head bowed, whilst trying to gather his thoughts. "Are you okay, babe?" With a slight shake of his head, Tommy turned to look at his wife. "This fucking family, Stace. There's always some fucking drama or aggro, and that fucking bastard in there is always at the centre of it all." He spat out the words and dragged the back of his hand across his lips, wiping away the spittle that had gathered there, as further testament to just how angry he was. "I know." Stacey caressed her husband's back. "Don't let him upset you, not tonight of all nights. He isn't worth it." Straightening up, Tommy stabbed his finger toward the lounge door, his face red with anger and his voice loud. "We should have had him carted off to the nut house years ago. That's where the cunt belongs." "Calm down, babe." Stacey stepped into her husband's arms, desperately trying to placate him. "Come on, your mum doesn't need to hear that, does she?" "I know." Tommy shook his head in agreement, just as Jimmy walked through to the kitchen. "What's his fucking problem?" Jimmy asked, jerking his thumb behind him. "When has Gary ever needed a reason to have a problem? He's a fucking loony tune." Tommy spat out his reply. "I'm telling you, Jimmy, he is lucky that Mum is in there, otherwise I would've swung for him." "He needs some happy pills, bruv. He's clearly not right up here again." Jimmy pointed his finger toward his temple. Pulling out a chair, Tommy slumped down heavily. "Tell me something I don't know; I have to work with him every day, remember?" Jimmy followed suit and sat down at the table. He smiled his thanks to Stacey, as she placed a bottle of beer in front of him. "Fucking hell, I'm surprised you haven't killed him before now." Swallowing a mouthful of his lager, Tommy gave a bitter laugh. "Trust me, I've been tempted, and on more than one occasion an' all." "Do you want me to have a word with him?" "What's the fucking point? He's never gonna change, all the while, he's got a hole in his arse." Jimmy was saved from answering by the kitchen door swinging open. It was Karen. "Dad, Nan is asking where you are. I think she's getting worried." Tommy rolled his eyes. "Tell her I'm coming." He drained his lager and placed the empty glass down onto the table. He then scraped back his chair and stood up. "Let's hope that happy bollocks Gary is in a better mood, now that we've all had time to calm down, eh?" "I think he went home, Dad. Oh, and our Jake just went out, too." "It gets even better. Some party this is turning out to be." Tommy threw up his arms. "I give fucking up," he said before storming out of the kitchen. * Gary Carter slung his jacket across the back of the plush velvet sofa before taking a seat. "Well, that was eventful," he grinned. Intrigued, Bethany Johnson sat forward, her green eyes wide with excitement. "Problems in paradise?" she enquired. There was more than a hint of amusement in her voice. "Our son was the topic of the night, naturally." Bethany threw back her head and laughed. "I take it you ruffled a few feathers?" "More than a few. Tommy was practically spitting them." This caused Bethany to laugh even harder. "This is only the tip of the iceberg. Now it's time for phase two of our plan." She grinned and propped herself up on her elbow as she lounged back on the sofa. "What we need is a celebratory drink." She nodded her head toward the bottle of champagne on the coffee table, her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. "Gary, do the honours, would you? You'll find the glasses in the sideboard." Doing as he was bade, Gary heaved himself up from the sofa. He crossed the room and collected two crystal champagne flutes from the sideboard. He felt no shame or remorse in the plan he and Bethany had devised. As far as he was concerned, his brother had everything he deserved coming to him. With the drinks poured, Bethany raised her glass in a toast. "To us," she grinned. Gary mirrored the action and drank deeply, quenching his sudden thirst. There was just one thing bothering her. The remaining Carters would all be queueing up to take over the reins after Tommy's demise. "How do we get around your brothers, once the deed is done?" she asked. Gary grinned and spread out his arms. "Jimmy is as soft as fuck, and as for Sonny, Mitchell, and Jonny, they're nothing but sheep." "And Tommy's two sons?" "They're still only kids. No one would swallow taking orders from them, least of all, me. I am," he said with a wide grin, "the natural successor." Bethany smiled. "And you," she said, nodding the champagne flute toward her son's father, "are going to teach our boy everything he needs to know." * Ronald Browning leant back in his seat. Through a cloud of cigar smoke, he watched through narrowed eyes, as Jake Carter climbed up onto the stage of the dimly lit club. He could feel the familiar stirrings of anger inside of him as the boy was given a raucous reception. He looked around the club. From his position, he could see men of considerable power and wealth. Sat at tables with bottles of expensive champagne in front of them, and hunger in their eyes, were supposedly—and he used that term loosely—pillars of the community. In other words, barristers, high ranking police officers, and prominent members of parliament. If he hadn't of been so concerned, he would have chuckled out loud. None of them had any idea of what was coming. None of them knew that the tangled web they had willingly ensnared themselves within, was about to tighten around them. He sipped at his champagne. His eyes trained on the stage, waiting for Jake to finish his routine. Finally, he watched him climb down from the stage, and with a crook of his finger, he beckoned the boy over to him. "Once you've finished your next routine, get changed and meet me outside," he barked. A satisfied smile crossed Ronald's face when the boy solemnly nodded his head, only to be replaced with one of anger, as his eyes met with Sadie's. The defiant look in the younger man's eyes was enough to make Ronald want to charge from his seat and throttle him, there and then. Instead, he gave a triumphant nod of his head. A smirk spread across his face. Two could play at this game, and the quicker Sadie learnt that he was, and always would be the more powerful, the better. * Bethany Johnson eyed her son suspiciously. She watched as he began to pull on his jacket. "And where do you think you are going?" His cheeks turning pink, Cameron looked hesitantly across at his mother, then to his father. "I have a few things to take care of. I won't be home late." "He's going to that girl again." There was bitterness in Bethany's voice, and her green eyes were filled with jealousy. Cameron sighed. "I'm doing what you asked me to do." He lowered his voice. "All I ever do is what you want me to do." Stabbing her finger toward her son, Bethany growled. "You're getting too involved." She turned to look at Gary. "The quicker you pull him out, the better." Gary raised his eyebrows. "Just say the word, baby, and I'll make it happen." Bethany chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought it over. "Make it soon then." She noted a tiny flicker of disappointment spread across Cameron's face, and pointed a perfectly manicured talon toward him. "That girl is reeling you in, and that wasn't a part of the plan." "I'm just doing what you wanted me to do, Mum," Cameron said, averting his eyes. Flapping her hand toward her son, Bethany dismissed him. "He thinks that I don't know him," she stated to Gary, once Cameron had left the room. "He's trying to treat me like a fool." Gary inched his way across the sofa. "He's just a kid," he smiled, snaking his arm around the back of her shoulders. "Let him have some fun. Besides, he'll soon be out grafting for us." With a cold stare, Bethany, shrugged Gary's arm away from her. "He'd better be," she said bitterly, before once again glancing across to the door her son had exited. * Karen Carter jumped into her boyfriend's arms. "Am I glad to see you," she smiled. "I said I would come, didn't I?" he answered, grinning down at her. He smelled so good that Karen couldn't help but nestle into his body. She breathed in his familiar scent, then clutched hold of his hand and dragged him toward the lounge. "My dad and uncle have been at it, hammer and tongs, all bloody afternoon." She lowered her voice. "Thankfully, my uncle fucked off home before they ended up killing each other." "That bad, eh?" Karen rolled her eyes. "You can say that again. Come on," she reached up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Come and meet the rest of my family. You're just gonna love my nan." He nodded his head; he didn't doubt that for a second. * Already in a foul mood, Tommy took one look at his daughter's boyfriend and groaned. "Who invited him?" he complained to Stacey. "Karen did." Looking up at her husband, Stacey bristled. "We've had enough drama for one day, thank you, so don't start again." She pointed her finger toward him. "Be nice, Tommy, please. Go and have a chat with him, make him feel welcome." Taken aback, Tommy stared at his wife. "Chat about what?" he hissed. "I dunno, whatever you want." She turned to walk away and glanced over her shoulder. "Football, boxing, or whatever it is you men talk about." Tommy turned back to look at his daughter's boyfriend, who was smiling, whilst looking around at the family. Armed robbery was usually the topic of conversation between his brothers and himself. He had a sneaky suspicion that wasn't the type of conversation his wife had in mind. * Danny McKay and Moray Garner climbed out of Danny's black Mercedes. Tall and broad shouldered, they made an intimidating duo. "Are you sure that this is the place?" Danny nodded his head toward two doormen stood outside a heavy set of doors. "It's gotta be," he said, pulling the list from his jacket pocket. "See," he said, tapping the sheet of paper. "That's exactly what it says, the Underground Club." Looking up and down the empty street, Moray nodded his head in agreement. They had to be at the right place. "The Underground Club? Is that some sort of code?" "How the fuck would I know?" Danny looked across to the red brick building. From the outside, it certainly didn't look like anything spectacular. If he hadn't of known better, he would have thought the building to be some kind of office block. Okay, well, let's get this over and done with then." They crossed the street and walked over to the club. To their surprise, they were not questioned by the two doormen. Standing beside the entrance, the bouncers were too busy chatting amongst themselves, and failed to take any interest in Danny and Moray, barely even glancing toward them, as they entered the building. "Remind me to never employ those two numpties," Moray hissed, as they slipped past the doormen and pushed open the heavy doors. They began to make their way down a short flight of steps. The club was exactly as the name suggested, underground. Standing inside the entrance of the dark and dingy venue, they took note of the red table lamps, littering each of the tables. The club looked exactly what it was—a whore house. Both men turned to look at one another. It never ceased to amaze them the depravity they had witnessed over the last few months. "We're looking for an RB," Danny shouted above the music. He glanced down at the list. "A JC and an RB, whatever the fuck that is meant to mean." He pocketed the sheet of paper and strode across the main floor with Moray beside him. Old habits die hard, and quickly, they had assessed the room, taking note of where the fire exits were, should they have someone try to escape their clutches. Toward the front of the venue, a stage dominated the floor. Surrounding the stage, were a dozen tables with six high-backed chairs to each table. Positioned to the back of the room, sat a long bar, with expensive bottles of alcohol and crystal glasses that glistened in the dim light. From their position, they could already see that the room was heaving with punters. The air was heavy with anticipation, expensive aftershave, and cigar smoke. "And this is supposed to be the best of our society?" Danny remarked, as they began to weave their way around the tables. With no idea of who exactly they were looking for, the task ahead was exactly as he had described to Tommy Carter, like finding a needle in a haystack. The beginning of a heavy beat and a sudden stir of excitement, caused Danny to stop walking and turn to look back at the stage. In disbelief, he watched as a young man wearing next to nothing shimmered out from behind a makeshift glittering curtain to the opening chords of "Hey, Big Spender." A wave of disgust rippled through him as he recalled young Matty Payne telling him how these boys were runaways, lured into the seedy world of male prostitution with the empty promise of money and protection. He turned back to the task in hand, before doing a double take. He took a step closer to the stage and narrowed his eyes. He recognised the boy. "Hey," Danny called out, his voice loud, "I know you." With fear and recognition in his eyes, Jake Carter turned on his heels and bound from the stage, pulling down the curtain with him, in his haste to get away from the big man. "I know him," Danny roared to Moray, before charging across the stage, much to the annoyance and disruption of the punters. Running down a small corridor, Danny flung open a series of changing room doors as he did so. Where the fuck did the boy go? "Well, where is he?" Danny turned to look over his shoulder. "I don't know, but I know that kid. I've seen him somewhere before." Moray shrugged his shoulders. He'd barely even caught a glimpse of the boy. "Was he on Freddie's payroll?" "I don't know." Shrugging his own shoulders, Danny ran his hand through his dark hair. "I don't fucking know. I can't remember." He chewed on his lip as he tried to think back, wishing now that he had taken more interest in the kids Freddie had employed. "Well, he has to be somewhere." Pushing past Danny, Moray opened the last remaining door. It was a fire exit. He ran up a short flight of steps and looked out onto the empty street. "He could be fucking anywhere by now." "I'm telling you … I know that kid," Danny repeated as they made their way back to the main floor. "Well, we've lost him now." Unbeknown to them, Jake wasn't the only one to have left the club. Ronald Browning, otherwise known as RB, had also silently walked up a short flight of steps, and with an arrogant air, had stepped out onto the empty street, before hastily driving away into the night. Chapter 5 Leon Parkes grinned as he took a seat opposite Tommy and Jimmy. There was a hint of excitement in his voice as he spoke. "So, how is the planning going?" "So far, so good." Tommy nodded down at the desk. In front of him, he had a map of Barking. Of particular interest was the area of Thames View Estate. "The main problem you're going to have is getting back off of the estate afterwards." Tommy pointed to the map. "Look, there are just two roads on and off of the estate, and the minute the alarm is raised, the old bill will cordon off those exits." Leon's heart sank. He clearly hadn't thought through the intricate details of the robbery. "So, how do I get around that then? I mean, if I can't get off of the estate, then where am I supposed to go?" With a grin, Tommy tapped his finger against the map. "Right here," he said. Leon peered closer and shrugged his shoulders. "What?" he asked, looking up at Tommy. "The foot tunnel. Now you wouldn't fit a car through there, but you would fit a motorbike, and that," Tommy said, pointing his finger at Leon, "is exactly how you are going to get off of the estate. Instead of driving across the A13, you're going to drive underneath it, and from there, you can go wherever you want." Tommy traced his finger across the map. "The beauty of it is you'll end up behind the old bill, rather than in front of them." He gave a wide grin. "The old bill won't know what's fucking hit them," Jimmy added. A wide smile spread across Leon's face. He looked from Tommy to Jimmy and shook his head in amazement. "It's fucking genius, Tommy. Fuck me, I could kiss ya right now." Shrinking back in his seat, Tommy began to laugh. "Steady on, Leon. You've got the wrong Carter. I'm not that way inclined," he winked. "Oi," Jimmy chastised, a half smile spread across his face, as he punched his brother on the arm. "I mean it, Tommy." Leon became serious. "It is genius. I would never have thought of doing that, not in a million years." "Well," Tommy paused. "Genius or not, there's still a lot of work to do, and remember what I said, only you can make this work. The last thing I want is to see you getting your collar felt and end up banged up at her majesty's pleasure for the remainder of your life." Leon nodded his head profusely. "I'll do whatever you tell me to do. I have to make this work. My wife and kids are depending on me." Satisfied, Tommy got down to business. "Then this is exactly what you are going to do." * Sweating profusely, Ronald Browning dragged a handkerchief across his brow. "Who were they?" he demanded to know. Too afraid to go home, Jake had made his way across London to Ronald's flat in Kensington. He'd almost collapsed across the threshold, he was that terrified. He shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. "I don't know," he answered. The truth was, he knew exactly who the men were. They were friends of his dad, and the terrifying thought that those two men had recognised him, was enough to bring Jake out in beads of cold sweat. "I knew this would happen." Ronald spoke to no one in particular. Remembering that Jake was in the room, he kicked his foot out viciously toward him. "You are to blame for this." The fact that Jake was the victim in this sordid affair was wiped from his mind. Where the fuck was Freddie Smith when he was needed? Nobody within their circle had seen head, nor tail of the man in months. Bitterly, Ronald downed a tumbler of whiskey in a bid to calm his nerves. Smith had had enough swerves from the police over the years. It was about time he was put to use. He crossed the room and snatched up the telephone receiver. He dialled a number and when he received no answer, he smashed the phone back onto its cradle with such force that it almost cracked in two. Where the hell was Smith indeed? * Sadie walked aimlessly around his flat. Every now and again, he glanced down at the black rucksack he'd placed inside the kitchen door. After watching the boy race from the club, he had gathered up Jake's belongings, and brought them home with him, for safe-keeping. He slumped down onto a kitchen stool, and just as quickly, jumped up again. Snatching up the bag, Sadie placed it down on the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath, then pulled across the zip. It wasn't like him to have a nosey through other people's belongings, but there was something about this boy that intrigued him. Carefully, Sadie took out the items Jake had placed inside the bag. He began to inspect a white polo shirt and dark denim jeans. They were of an expensive brand. So, clearly the boy had money and wasn't a typical runaway. Intrigued, Sadie delved deeper and pulled out a bank card. He turned the card over in his hand and read out loud the name written across it. "Jake Carter." Biting down on his lip, he stared into space. "Carter." He knew that name. Suddenly, Sadie's mouth fell open as realisation set in. He dropped the card onto the work top. How on earth had he not seen the resemblance before now? The only Carters he knew were all dark-haired, blue-eyed, walking clones of one another. With a sudden clarity, he now knew that young Jake had to be a relative of Tommy and Jimmy Carter. He stuffed the belongings back inside the rucksack, pulled across the zip, and then placed the bag beside the front door. Unsure of what exactly he should do with this new-found information, Sadie cautiously eyed the rucksack for the rest of the afternoon. * Clearing away the remnants of her mother-in-law's birthday party, Stacey sat down at the kitchen table for a quick coffee and a five-minute breather. She glanced at the time on her mobile phone screen, then looked expectantly toward the front door. Her Jake should have been home hours ago. Concerned, Stacey toyed with the mobile phone in her hand. Should she give him a call, or leave him be? After all, Jake was right. He was eighteen now, an adult in the eyes of the law. Yet, despite this, he still was and always would be her baby. She drained the remainder of her coffee, then stood up and continued clearing away the leftover half-eaten plates of sausage rolls and ham sandwiches. As much as she hated herself for it, Stacey couldn't help but keep looking up at the clock on the wall. Jake was at the forefront of her mind, and she had a feeling he would be until he walked back through the front door. * "Why do you always have to antagonise him, son?" Sat in her favourite armchair, with a cup of tea balancing precariously on the arm of the chair, Janet looked across at her third born son, Gary. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he was still taking his medication? Or his happy pills, as Jimmy called them. "He's a cunt." Gary spat out the words. Pursing her lips at her son's choice of language, Janet shook her head sadly. It was Tommy who'd paid for Gary to have private psychiatric treatment, and she knew for a fact that the bill had ran into the thousands. "That's not fair, son. Tommy has done everything he can for this family." Gary gave a bitter laugh. A smirk threatened to spread across his face, and he gave his mother a maddening smile. "Tommy's done everything he can for this family." He repeated back Janet's words, his voice taking on a sing-song tone. "Your blue-eyed boy, has done fuck all." "Come on, Gary, don't be like that." "There's gonna be big changes soon." Gary stared into the distance, with the same maddening smile spread across his face. "What do you mean, big changes? What changes?" Sitting forward, Janet cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Gary?" "You'll see." Heaving himself up from the sofa, Gary continued to stare into the distance. "You'll see," he repeated. Alarmed, Janet watched her son walk from the room. It had been years since Gary had had an episode, or a breakdown, as the psychiatrist had called her son's funny turns. Reaching for her mobile phone, she scrolled down to her eldest son's telephone number. Her finger paused over the dial button. Maybe she was being a silly old fool, and Gary's behaviour was nothing for them to worry about after all. Besides, as long as her Gary was still taking his medication, then surely it couldn't be that bad. She switched off the phone and placed it down onto the coffee table beside her. She wouldn't worry Tommy with it all right now, not unless Gary gave her further cause for concern. It was to be one of Janet's biggest mistakes. * Mad Dog Harris took a seat in the scrapyard office. He shifted his weight, making himself more comfortable. He was no spring chicken, and of late, was starting to feel each and every one of his years, all seventy of them. "Tea?" Tommy asked, knowing just how much the older man loved a cuppa. "Aye, lad." Crossing the office, Tommy flicked the switch on the kettle. "We're going to need some alibis," he said, turning his head to look at Mad Dog. Mad Dog raised his eyebrows. "Why's that, lad?" He couldn't recall Tommy mentioning any robberies he had planned out, not that he involved himself with that side of Tommy's business anymore. He was far too old to be running from the old bill, and spent most of his day holed up at the strip club that he and his partner of over twenty years, Lillian, ran for the younger man. It was an arrangement that suited them all, and allowed Tommy to concentrate on his other businesses. "A pal of mine is doing a job. It's a bit too close to home, and just to be safe, we need to cover our arses." Deep in thought, Mad Dog nodded his head. "So, what do you have in mind?" "Well, next week, on the day of the national, I was thinking that we should have a get together, maybe even have a day at the races ourselves. What d'ya reckon?" Mad Dog screwed up his face. What with his aching knees, it took all of his effort, just to climb out of bed in the morning. Taking note of the expression across the elder man's face, Tommy continued. "Or how about if we all pile into a boozer to watch the race? You could bring Lillian with you and we'll make a night of it. I'll even get my Karen to bring her fella." Tommy began to laugh. "The jumped-up ponce has to come in useful for something." "Aye, lad, I reckon that's a plan, and my Lil would love to see you all." "That's a deal then." Feeling happier, Tommy began to whistle through his teeth, while he continued making the tea. He gave the contents a stir and passed across the steaming mug. "There you go, nice and strong, with three sugars, just how you like it." Mad Dog smiled his thanks. "What are you after?" he asked with a grin. Laughing out loud, Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "What? I'm just being nice." "Hmm." Mad Dog gave the younger man a wink. "If you say so, lad, if you say so." * Tommy Carter wasn't the only man with a lot on his mind. Sat behind the desk, in his office above Ritzy's nightclub in Romford, Essex, Danny McKay was also deep in thought. He just couldn't get the boy from the Underground Club out of his mind. He knew he'd seen him somewhere before, but where that was, he had no idea. "Are you still thinking about that kid?" Moray poked his head around the door to Danny's office. Tapping a biro pen against his teeth, Danny sighed. "I just can't place him." "He has to have been on Freddie's payroll, that's the only explanation. Maybe we should go back to the club and ask around. He must be a regular there, and someone's bound to know who he is." "Yeah, maybe." He gave Moray a small smile. "Freddie fucking Smith … I could kill him myself for all the grief that he's left behind him." Moray nodded his head. He really didn't know what to say, and knew instinctively that his mate wasn't looking for an answer from him. "We'll sort it out," he finally answered. He turned to walk back to the door before pausing. "Oh, by the way, Tommy Carter rang here looking for you earlier." Raising his eyebrows,