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Authors: Paul Connor-Kearns

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BOOK: Cleaning Up
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A few more cars pulled in over the next couple of hours, mostly older guys, all of them arriving alone, giving the environs a cursory once over before they walked over towards the entrance and its buzzers - hard-ons and guilty minds alright. By ten the joint was jumping but there was too much babble and not enough clarity on the tapes to pick up anything up of consequence. Dalton had told Bazzer to calm it down- ‘once and once only’ was the caveat he gave him. A little later than that and the music was dimmed to a quiet murmur and then there was a vacuum in the hub-hub, which slowly began to be punctuated by some moaning and groaning from amongst the ensemble, probably a bit of a cabaret on Keith’s shag pile. Half an hour of that and then somebody put the music up again but not as loud as it had been before the screwing had started. The party itself sounded a little more subdued too, a few voices, some doors opening and closing, a brief reprise of the squelching noises, which was
underscored by a volley of lewd female laughter. That was pretty much it for the next couple of hours. People intermittently broke away for some banal slightly surreal post coital chit-chats - that and the irritation of the balcony door being repeatedly opened and closed. They had picked up a few names; a Tony, a Neil, a Claudia, a Stuart, a Chad, a Nicky, a Paula, and a Jess and then the rest were all initials, the older guys. Mr’s B, F, G, J, P, S and T. That would account for all of the older guys who were there, not including Dalton and Bazzer.

By two o’clock the fuck fest was starting to wind down, Keithy still the loud, jovial mein host holding court and dispensing good cheer and funnies in the lounge room. Darrin pictured him in a silk kimono, stretched tight by the barrel chest and hard gut, a cigar and a malt, everything fucking hunky-dory in Keithy’s world.

Then there was a bit of a commotion, a crying girl - Paula. A man’s voice came into the lounge room just a few seconds behind her. The guy was pissed off, calling the girl a slag and he complained loudly to Keithy reiterating his assessment of her, telling Dalton that he was dissatisfied with the ‘service’. Keith shushed the girl and told the guy to take a powder - he was level with him but he put a bit of steel in there too. After he dealt with the guy, Dalton went straight back to the girl with some soothing counsel.

‘Don’t worry love,’ Dalton cooed with an unnerving gentleness. ‘He didn’t mean it. Here have a taste of this, that’ll sort you out. That’s a good girl, don’t worry I’ll keep him away. I think Mr G. might have his eye on you and why not, you’re such a gorgeous thing - aren’t yer?’

A few sniffles and a snort and that was it, the drama was
over. By three most of the well-heeled gents were pulling away from the forecourt, back from whence they came. One of the men left with the tall young guy that had turned up with the voluptuous honey in the mini skirt, a pair up by the looks of things. Bazzer and Dalton ferried the non-driving youth home in a couple of runs. Dalton was back at the ranch before four.

Darrin looked at Young, ready for the post mortem.

‘Well Sarge what does all that get us apart from fading hard ons?’

Young didn’t laugh.

‘Well - it’s all intel’ for us Constable, the devil is in the detail son, although I shouldn’t have to point that out to you really. We’ll look up the names and the registrations, try and make sense of the web later. Drugs on the premises obviously, I don’t think the kids were under agers and that would be a bloody minefield anyway.’

‘Yeah but are we any closer to nailing this fucker to drugs, prostitution, anything?’

Young became irritated with him.

‘It’s not that easy Darrin, as I’m sure you’ve already been told. Beyond reasonable doubt - remember? Or do you think we should pull him in because you don’t like the sleazy fucker?’

Darrin sighed, he knew Young was right, Mozzer or Mac would have told him the same thing.

‘Maybe grab Dwayne, or Bazzer Dougan then - a body, any fucking body?’

Young shook his head and laughed.

‘You’re a piece of work you are Dazzler, Wyatt bloody Earp indeed, Mac’s on that fucker Dwayne. Don’t worry
he’ll be nailed soon enough.’

Young laughed again and leant over to give him a comradely pat on the shoulder, ‘come on let’s get the fuck home to our beds.’

Darrin stood up and stretched and looked out of the tinted window that faced the car park - all was quiet now. The birds were already hitting their straps when they walked back to their cars and he felt tired enough to sleep for a week.

 

Sonny had called round for lunch during the week and they had chatted about the Glasgow gang’s project for a while. Sonny was of the opinion that the money would probably be through early in the new year. Four days a week, fifty-fifty split of the workload if he wanted it that way. He told Sonny about Pauline’s Lottery disappointment.

‘That might work out alright for you Tommy, if you can carry the shortfall for a couple of months.’

He could, there was no doubt about that, though it might mean a bit of frugality for a while.

‘Old Mick wouldn’t see you starve would he?’

That he wouldn’t, they had made do with scrag end and dumplings plenty enough in the past and that was fuck all to what the old man had endured in his youth. As a youngster Mick had had a bad enough diet to see him rendered toothless by the age of seventeen.

There was a moment, a lull in the conversation where he almost spilled Donna’s news about the kid to Sonny. Sonny had let him know earlier that Dougy’s boy, Darrin May, had told him that he’d seen Pasquale and his mate regularly hanging around the Coleshaw.

‘Recently was it?’ Tommy had asked him, keeping his
voice as neutral as possible.

Sonny, thankfully, was not blessed with supernatural powers of intuition and he hadn’t noted his veiled concern. But he gave him some info, which stayed with him for the rest of the day and beyond.

‘PC May said he was up there farting around only last week. He has him down as a possible courier, no proof though - just speculation…reasonable speculation.’

That evening he’d raised it with her with what he hoped was a tactful deftness as they laid into the fried beans and guacamole that she’d cooked up for them.

‘I have to trust him Tommy.’

‘But you know Donna, the tin in the attic - the lies.’

‘You don’t have kids, Tommy, you don’t know what it’s like.’

He let that through to the keeper - there was plenty he could have said but, as it was, the taste of the nachos was already dying in his mouth.

Tommy didn’t mention the conversation with Sonny and he wondered, again, who or what he was trying to protect.

The rest of the meal was an exercise in uncomfortable silence. TV maintained the barrier for the rest of the evening. He thought about skipping out but he didn’t. That night, for the first time, they slept together without having sex.

Breakfast was a bit more of a cheery affair. Donna told him that Bernie had mentioned that she and Lee were thinking about moving to Brighton.

‘Really!’ He exclaimed. That was out of the fucking blue.

She nodded, Lee hadn’t mentioned or hinted at a move but Lee was a cagey prick, he told you about most things in his life well after the bloody event.

‘Bernie said we should go down for a weekend with them. It would be a sus out for them and a break for us.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘that sounds like an idea.’ Giving it a lot more enthusiasm than he actually felt.

She dropped him off at his place and he did an in and out, grabbing some paperwork that he would need to help him put the youth service newsletter together.

Us, he thought - was starting to feel like a distant shore.

Monday and he was back at the window chatting to Mac about the party and his attendant frustrations with the operation.

Mac only gave him more cold comfort - toeing the party line.

‘Info gathering Darrin, it’s like a big fucking jigsaw and you need every piece to get the full picture. You got those registrations and tied in that scrote from the Barrington to Dalton too, that’s a result.’ Without pause Mac did a quick change of gear, ‘what do you reckon to working with Young then?’

Darrin turned and looked at Mac who was giving him that steady, slightly unnerving look of his.

‘OK, I guess, yeah, why?’

‘Just be careful with him son, that is all I’m saying to yers. Don’t look to be jumping on his coat tails. He doesn’t count higher than the number one the smooth bastard, know what I mean?’

Darrin did, he nodded and turned back to the window, plenty of kids were out hanging around the shops and scattered on further down the road. Dwayne regularly grabbing his crotch while holding court, gape mouthed laughter at his own jokes.

Mac came over and joined him at the window. Mac was gearing up to make his nightly pilgrimage to The Admiral. He was flying solo tonight, no June on the arm, which Mac didn’t mind at all. As far as he was concerned that was easier
in a lot of ways. Recently, a couple of the regulars had made less than gentlemanly remarks about June. Pushing him a little bit, seeing how much he’d take from them. He’d considered asking one of them to step outside to give him a touch up but the guy was fairly tight with Johnstone and he had let it pass. Mac was keeping it in his back pocket. A bit of hard man stuff could be another way in for him with Johnstone. Apart from his brother, Johnstone did look a little light on muscle.

A couple of kids were cycling down Oak towards the court of Dwayne - again, it was the two little pricks that Sonny had brought in.

Mac tapped his index finger a few times against the window.

‘See that kid in the red top?’

‘Sure, what about him?’

‘That’s the little fucker who knocked on the door with the gear for June.’

‘You sure?’

That got him a look that made him regret the question.

‘We can bag him - see what gives.’

Mac clapped him gently on the shoulder.

‘Too early yet young un, we’ll end up with just the sprat. If we get lucky he’d cough up Dwayne at the most and that will be that - it doesn’t justify all the time and the expense son.’

He told Mac that the two kids had been friends of the boy in the skip.

Mac nodded and chewed on his bottom lip.

‘See what I mean Daz, it’s a fucking jigsaw with lots of missing pieces. As my friend the Buddhist monk would say
- everything is connected, or was that CI Stone? I do get the two of them confused.’

Mac laughed to himself.

‘I think I need a holiday Darrin, not another night of drinking more piss in that fucking dump of a pub. That’s good intel’ though son - well done. We can use it when it’s time to give the box a shake, let’s see what pops out then eh?’

Mac gave the vista one more look and then turned away from the window.

‘Anyway, I’d better get it together.’

Darrin stayed at his post and gazed into the far distance. He’d have a chat with Sonny, see if he can get something from the kid. It was time to start putting the pressure on.

 

Jess had got back to the refuge around lunch - Rob was on that shift and he’d called her into the office to give her the obligatory bollocking. She was meant to be back at ten last night. Her absence had created a fair old flap, the coppers had been called and informed that she hadn’t come home. Rob read the riot act in that strangely subdued, flat way of his, like he was reiterating a shopping list; not honouring the terms of her contract; sanctions, duty of care, grounded, last warning…blah, blah, blah. Jess had relayed a lengthy gist of it to a vaguely interested Kat, whilst he’d chilled out playing a game on his mobile. Jess looked tired and quickly headed off for a shower and a lie down. She didn’t re-emerge until teatime, which pretty much coincided with the arrival of an equally jaded looking but clearly happy Neil.

‘Good news pets,’ Neil told them. ‘Looks like the romance is hotting up for yours truly, he wants me to move in with him and be his little wife - bless. The two of us are going to
build a love nest together.’

Kat and Jess looked swept away by the notion but he didn’t know what the fuck to say. According to Neil the guy was some businessman and he sounded well loaded.

‘Yes dears, no more sharing for this little bunny - Neil and Tony for ever.’

Neil trilled at the thought of domestic bliss and Pasquale couldn’t help but smile.

Neil leaned over and patted Jess on her shapely thigh, ‘and you girlfriend, did Daddy D see you right?’

Jess nodded, ‘he did, well and truly - fun weren’t it Neil?’

‘Hmm, it was, glad you enjoyed it love, gorgeous pad eh? That view and that spa - wonderful.’ He gave her an arch look, ‘fanny sore then love?’

‘Bout as sore as your arsehole, you slut.’

Neil feigned outrage, ‘well no more of that naughty stuff for me lover girl - it’s just Mister and Mister from now on.’

Rob called them from the lounge, ‘X-Factor kids.’

‘Oh that’s right,’ Neil said, ‘the recovering ice addict is auditioning tonight - can’t miss that.’

And off they went. Fuck, Pasquale thought, they could all move when they wanted to - fags scooped up and the three of them inside in a flash to claim their favourite seats.

Kat stopped at the slide doors and asked him if he was coming in, he thought about it, recovering ice addict? Why not - that might be summat worth looking at.

 

Tuesday lunch and Wendy told him that Sonny was coming round to see him about three for a catch up - she didn’t know what for but she gave him that reassuring smile of hers, ‘not to worry pet - I’m sure it’s just a catch up call.’

Pasquale wasn’t worried but it meant he’d have to knock back an afternoon run. He told Junior who said he do a solo and then he’d meet up with him after tea down at the mill. They could run up the Coleshaw later and get one in, no problem.

Sonny came in pretty much on time and Wendy called Pasquale into the office. Sonny was in there waiting for him, slightly rocking back on one of the office chairs - looking at him but without that usual easy, chilled out grin of his.

Sonny nodded to the nearest chair. Then he looked at him silently for a couple of beats.

‘I’m going to cut to the chase here Pasquale because the time to be fannying about is over. I’ve been hearing some worrying whispers about you lad.’

Pasquale rubbed his hands across his eyes just to give them something to do and looked away out of the window.

‘Yeah?’ he replied.

Sonny reached over and turned Pasquale’s chair until it was square with his.

‘Yeah. Look at me son, not out of the fucking window please. I’m taking the time to come here and talk to you, so do me the courtesy of listening, all right. You’re up the Coleshaw I hear, running with the crowd, keeping bad company the usual shit. You’ve been seen and been noted by people who can give you a lot of grief - trust me on that one.’

Pasquale managed to keep the eye contact but he could feel himself rapidly retreating inwards.

‘You’ve used up a fair bit of good will already mate. I’ll list it for you; the Centre, your school, getting you in here. It’s all work you know, other peoples’ that is. Bottom line - you don’t have any cards left to play. Next step a rehab order -
maybe even juvie down the line. Does that sound like that would be a good path for you, eh Pasquale?’

Pasquale dropped his eyes and mumbled a no.

Sonny looked at him silently.

‘No, well that means you do know the bottom line then. Ultimately, it’s your call young fella. Stay away from the Coleshaw, keep your nose clean and make your mum proud of you, she deserves it.’

He bit his tongue at that one - Sonny knew fuck all about his mum - and him too for that matter.

Later that evening, he lay on his bed and thought it over. He’d call Junior tell him he would take a break and advise Junior to maybe do the same thing.

The next day they met at the mill and talked it through. Junior had told Dwayne yesterday straight off after his phone call. Dwayne was pissed off but savvy enough, he knew that it was better for him to get the word early. Maybe they could ship down the Barrington and, with the necessary introductions, get on to Bazzer’s crew, get something going there. But that didn’t appeal to either of them, the thought of working for that mad bastard - no way. They were fucked then, unemployed, null and void, he’d just lost his first job. Junior talked about Haringey, maybe relocating - that would be something. He wondered who’d told Sonny, maybe his mum but he doubted it.

 

Sonny had caught up with him on Thursday. There was another conference coming up on the gang initiative. This one was likely to be held in a couple of month’s time but that would be a likely clash with the possible Thailand trip with Jimbo.

Sonny finished off his steak pie and threw the wrapper into the bin. He made to stand up then sat back down.

‘Planning to stay are yer Sonny?’

‘Love to - you’ve got such a nice place, nah, joking apart I nearly forgot Tom, I had a chat with Donna’s boy a couple a days ago. I’d had confirmation, and this is from the coppers mind you, which is a bloody worry, that he and his mate are involved on the scene up on the Coleshaw, hopefully I’ve put enough of a scare into the stupid little sod to make him see sense.’

‘What - you say he’s been seen dealing?’

‘Yep, up there most days according to that young copper er Darrin, Darrin May. Tommy raised his eyebrows at that - not many fucking degrees of separation there.

‘He reckons the kid dropped off some crack to an undercover cop up the Coleshaw. Well and truly playing with bloody fire he is. He’ll get swept up when they are ready - they’ve got him in their bloody sights.’

‘He’s been up there the last few days - yeah?’

‘According to our friendly plod, yeah, regular as fucking clockwork,’ Sonny looked at him quizzically. ‘Why Tom?’

Tommy exhaled, fuck it.

‘Donna - she told me that she found a big wad of cash in his room. He admitted to her that he’d been running gear down to the Barrington.’

Sonny looked at him a lot harder than he usually did. ‘Tommy! You covered for that little prick?’

‘Yeah - I guess I did.’

‘Fuck me, Tommy!’

‘Yeah, yeah Sonny, I know, I know.’

This time Sonny did stand up and then he stayed on his
feet, pacing the room for a full minute, imperceptibly nodding to himself as he did, working it all through.

‘Well good thing for the kid I warned him off then - if he pays heed to it that is.’

‘Sorry Sonny, I know that this puts us in an invidious position.’

‘Don’t know Tommy, the cops were holding back on it because of some op they’re running. This could be another way of sorting it out. Pull the kid and his mate - maybe their supplier too. I’ll have another chat with Darrin.’

Tommy asked him the question with his eyes.

‘Don’t worry Tommy. I’ll say I got an anonymous phone call from a concerned citizen.’

Tommy thanked him and Sonny clapped him on the shoulder.

‘The things we do for love eh bro?’

‘Love!’ Tommy snorted, ‘more like a fucking bouquet of barbed wire.’

Sonny looked at him, more than a little surprised at the invective.

‘Ah come on Tommy, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’

Tommy nodded at him but he wasn’t too sure.

He was seeing Donna that night. He already knew that the refuge had called and had told her about Sonny’s chat with Pasquale.

She had seemed resolved to it all. He needed to learn, she had said, maybe it would be better if he took the fall. But, truth was he didn’t buy it, he knew that she was probably just talking the talk and he decided that he would keep the conversation with Sonny to himself.

He’d entered the maze, he thought, passively complicit
and compromised to the point of shame and, unlike Pasquale, he didn’t even have the excuse of youth.

 

Darrin had taken a little time off from the Quays although Young had called to let him know that they now had all the names from the car registrations. Pillars of the community one and all; a building company owner, a textiles importer who had rumoured connections with the Saltt crew, a guy who owned a chain of hair dressing salons, a couple of money boys and a well known lawyer - wife and kids at home and firmly ensconced in the closet.

Sonny had told him about the chat with the kid and Darrin had mixed feelings about the way it was being handled. In his opinion it was more of a break than the kid deserved, but Mac had reassured him that the kid would be nailed.

‘He’ll fuck up soon enough and then he’ll have to learn the hard way, do him good too, he’s an arrogant little fucker, kid or no kid. He looked at June like she was a piece of shit.’

He was rostered on with Johno for foot patrol on the Thursday late shift. It was a warm evening and it was pretty busy around the precinct and the High Street. The pedestrianised strip was full of swarming late night shoppers and plenty of ‘get it in yer’ revellers. Then a call came through at about eight o’clock that there had been an incident down near the Barrington. Some kid had swiped a woman’s handbag just as a patrol car had turned into the street. The patrol had given chase and a house painter’s Transit, which was coming in the opposite direction had side swiped him. He was put out for the count with a shattered left leg - both the major bones well and truly fucked up.

The kid was known to them and was thought to be one of
a network of two-wheeled couriers and look outs that were operating on the Barrington. Word was quickly out about the incident and a mob of hooded youths had gathered near the Barrington shops, setting a couple of wheelie bins on fire. All units were called back quickly to the station and within half an hour there were a couple of dozen coppers up there facing them off.

BOOK: Cleaning Up
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