Dangerous Lady (32 page)

The sights and sounds around her were blocked from her mind. All she was aware of was a feeling of being alive. Really alive. For the first time since she’d had the abortion she felt an overpowering urge to throw herself into his arms. Beg him to forgive her for what she had done to their child. He was getting closer to her. She could feel the heat creeping along her flesh …

‘Hello, Maura. Long time no see.’ His words were a vocal caress and she felt herself tremble. Her throat was dry and she knew that if she tried to speak to him she

would begin to cry. The tears were already there, hot and aching behind her eyes. She bit down hard on her lip.

Terry Petherick was looking at her with his penetrating stare. He thought of the Maura he had known, the vulnerable young girl, and felt ashamed of what he had done to her. Through her sophisticated hair style and expensive clothes he could still see the girl she had been. The young woman he had made love to and whom he had nearly died for. She was still there, inside the new shell, looking at him through the blue stillness of her eyes. They would never change. When he had been beaten up he had lain in the hospital bed thinking about her. He had never held any grudge about what had happened to him. He had felt at the time that he deserved it. He deserved to feel the pain. He still felt that, especially now, looking at the face that had haunted him for eight long years.

Michael’s voice broke into their private thoughts and snapped them both back to reality. ‘Well, well, well. If it ain’t the Casanova of Vine Street.’

Maura felt a flush come over her face and neck.

‘Hello, Mr Ryan. I suppose you know that your club was firebombed?’ Terry’s voice was quiet and controlled. ‘Your doorman, Gerry Jackson, was badly hurt, and a young lass, a young blonde girl called …’ he looked at his notebook ‘… Sheree. No one seemed to know her surname.’

‘Well, anything you want to ask you talk to my brother Geoffrey. He’s over there.’ Michael pointed to where Geoffrey was standing with Lee and Garry and Leslie. ‘I want to get my sister home. This ain’t no place for her. Especially now.’

‘Quite.’ Terry’s voice was smooth. Maura noticed that he still had his baby soft skin. She wanted to reach up and touch his face. Feel his flesh beneath her fingers again. She

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closed her eyes and felt Michael’s arm go around her. ‘Come on, Maws. There’s nothing we can do here.’

She wanted to throw Michael from her. She couldn’t walk away from Terry now. Not when she had found him again. She felt Michael pulling her gently away and still she watched Terry, turning her head as Michael steered her through the crowd back to the car. And she knew in her heart that Terry felt the same as she did. It was written in his eyes and face. Suddenly all the noise and bustle around her became real once more. She came back to earth with a jolt that made her want to cry out in anguish.

‘Come on, Princess. In the car, love.’ Michael’s voice was caressing, like a lover’s. Only this time it was not enough for her.

In the space of a few minutes all the old longings had come back to haunt her. Long suppressed sights and sounds were rushing back. The little flat in Islington. Their favourite restaurant. The smell of his body as he slipped his maleness inside her. It was like a strong heady potion that had miraculously brought her back to life.

‘Come on, Maws. Get in the car.’

She opened the door and sat in the car obediently. Leslie and Lee were already in the back, Garry squeezed in with them. For Maura the whole day’s events had been wiped out by that one chance meeting.

Michael got into the driving seat and put the key in the ignition. He started up the car and pulled away. When they were driving along Shaftesbury Avenue, he spoke.

‘I suppose you all realise what’s happened, don’t you?’ Nobody answered him. ‘The bombing of the club had already been arranged, well in advance. From five minutes after me belting Dopolis, the word had been sent out. It was a foregone conclusion. Whoever threw the petrol bomb was ready and waiting for word.’

Gradually, what Michael was saying penetrated Maura’s brain.

‘Benny ain’t coming home, is he, Mickey?’ Garry sounded as if he was going to cry.

‘I doubt that very much, Gal. I doubt that very much indeed.’

‘The dirty bastards! The filthy rotten dirty bastards …’

Leslie and Lee were both in shock.

‘Well, I have an idea where some of Dopolis’s information came from. And that’s where we’re all going now.’

They drove on in silence. Everyone was thinking about Benny. Michael gripped the steering wheel. Mr Big had better watch out. He was coming to get him.

The enormity of what had happened hit Maura like a bucket of icy water. Benny was probably dead already … She felt the shaking in her hands and legs that was caused by shock. As she looked out of the window of the car she saw that they were in Knightsbridge. Harrods had its Christmas decorations that brought people from miles around. Everywhere she looked were lights and Christmas messages, in the shops and the restaurants. And Benny was dead. Or about to die. She closed her eyes and saw his face. Then Terry’s face.

Garry was sitting hunched up in the back, racking his brains like Michael, trying to come up with a name. Someone who would have the guts to take on Michael Ryan. Someone who held a grudge …

Michael parked the car outside his flat. They all followed him inside. Maura realised that Roy was missing and asked Mickey where he was. He put his key into the lock of his front door.

‘I sent him home, Maws. He’s the only family man among us. After what happened at the club, I sent him home.’

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She nodded as he opened the door. They all followed him into his lounge.

Jonny was sitting on the couch. He was wearing his straight gear: grey polo-necked sweater and black Staprest trousers. He was very white. His blond curly hair had been freshly washed. It was still damp. He stared up at Michael and smiled. Maura noticed that he was a bundle of nerves.

‘Get us all a stiff drink, Jonny… now!’ Michael sounded ferocious. Jonny leapt out of his seat to do his bidding. He was shaking so much he nearly dropped the decanter of whisky. Everyone sat down on Michael’s deep green Habitat settee. Jonny brought them all a drink. Michael stood at the fireplace and, as Jonny handed him his drink, said: ‘How much did they pay you?’

Jonny tried to bluff his way out of it. He knew that his life depended on it.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mickey!’

Michael threw the contents of his glass into Jonny’s face. Then, grabbing his blond curls, cried: ‘Tell me, Jonny. Answer my question.’

‘I swear to you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please!’

Michael brought his knee up into Jonny’s groin, using such force that the boy’s whole body was lifted from the ground. Michael let him drop on to the carpet in front of him. Then, taking out the lead piping he had used on Dopolis, he waved it in Jonny’s face.

‘You can make this hard for yourself or easy, Jonny. Either way you will answer my questions. Now, I ask you again, how much did they pay you?’

Jonny lay on the floor, heaving. His hands were holding his testicles, which felt as if they had been forced from their protective sac. He was in agony. Michael had dropped his glass and Jonny had a fleeting image of him

smashing it into his face. Michael kicked the glass at him as , if he had read the boy’s mind.

Jonny hunched his shoulders up and held his testicles tighter. ‘Five … five gr-grand.’

Michael laughed a bitter laugh.

‘Five lousy grand? You let my brother die for five lousy grand? I’d have given you that if you’d asked me. You fucking scum queen!’

He brought the lead piping down on Jonny, busting his head open with the first blow.

Maura jumped from her seat and grabbed Michael’s arm.

‘Not here, Mickey. Don’t kill him here. Find out who approached him. Then let them have him.’ She poked her head in her brothers’ direction. They were all sitting on Michael’s giant settee watching him.

Maura stared down into Jonny’s face.

‘Who bought you off, Jonny? You may as well tell me. You’re a dead man anyway. If you don’t start talking, I’ll let Michael and Garry torture you. I mean it, Jonny.’

He was crying, his tears mingling with the blood that was dripping down his face from his head.

‘Maura … I… I swear I didn’t mean any… harm. He made me do it! He said … you … was all finished. That I’d better get away …’

‘Who was it, Jonny? Tell me who it was.’

‘It… was … Sam. Sammy Goldbaum.’

Michael spat in Jonny’s face.

‘Not Sammy. Never! You poxy little shit stabber …’

‘I swear to you, Mickey. Please believe me.’ Jonny was crying hard now. ‘I loved you, Mickey. I did. I’m so sorry…’

Michael kicked him in the legs. ‘Yeah, you loved me all right. You ponce! You loved me so much you done a deal

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for money. Five shitty grand you sold me and my brother for. Wanker!’

He nodded his head and Garry and Leslie picked Jonny up from the floor between them. They did not need to be told that Jonny was not to come home. They would enjoy putting him away, for Benny’s sake.

Jonny screamed out in fear. ‘Please, Mickey! Please …’ Tears were rolling down his face and mingling with blood and the mucus from his nose. ‘I only told him things because I thought you wouldn’t be there any more to protect me. I’m begging you, Mickey … please!’

Michael raised the lead piping above his head and smashed it down with all his might across Jonny’s head. Jonny was suddenly quiet. He would never utter another word.

Garry, Leslie and Lee carried him from the flat. Michael sat on his giant sofa and put his head in his hands. ‘Benny’s dead, Maws. Because that slag sold him for a lousy five grand. I want Goldbaum next. Sammy, my friend. Well, from now on, it’s family always.’ He wiped his streaming eyes.

‘Come on, Mickey. Me and you will sort out Sammy together.’

They left the flat. As they got into the car, Maura heard the high piping voices of a group of carol singers. They were singing for charity outside the restaurants in Beauchamp Place. Maura could have wept herself. This had been one of the worst days of her life. Instead she lit them both a cigarette and braced herself for the night ahead. She knew that tonight she was going to commit a murder, and instead of being frightened felt a deadness in all her limbs. Thoughts of Terry Petherick were a luxury she could not afford. She had come too far with Mickey ever to be able to live a normal life again. Together they

would pay back everyone responsible for Benny’s death. The familiar hardness crept back into her deep blue eyes and she put away her childish dreams forever.

Terry was like the expensive present that all poor children wanted but could never hope to attain. She had felt for a few moments the agonising pleasure that he had always created in her, and she would have to make do with that for the rest of her life. She would think about it in her lonely bed when all this was over, but tonight they had a job to do.

As Michael’s Mercedes sped through the streets of London Maura saw in her mind’s eye the little baby in the washing up bowl and finally laid that ghost to rest.

She opened the window of the car and let the cold night air whip at her face. Benny was dead, love his heart. Big lovable Benny was dead. Her mother and father would be devastated.

As they drove past the Giorgiou used car lot in Bethnal Green, they were completely unaware that Benny was lying not twenty yards from where their car stopped at the junction with Roman Road. He had died at seven-ten precisely.

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Chapter Eighteen Sammy Goldbaum was sitting at his kitchen table, looking around the familiar room, breathing in the same old smells: gefilte fish and kanadelach soup. His wife Noola made the best Matzo balls he had ever tasted. On the wall to the right of his chair was a photograph of his three daughters. The eldest, Rebekka, had his large bulbous nose - the only one to inherit his Jewish legacy. The other two, Beatrice and Rudi, both had the blonde prettiness of his wife. He wiped his forehead again with a large handkerchief. He had been sweating profusely since he had heard the news. He was aware that Michael would be coming for him and so he waited, patiently but feeling very frightened.

His wife Noola sat opposite him. She was more than worried by the look of her husband. He looked terrible. You did not live with a man for over thirty years without knowing his every thought and action.

‘Tell me, Sammy, what is ailing you? You sit there like a statue, staring into space. Is it the police you are frightened of? Have you got into trouble again?’

‘Noola!’ Sammy’s deep voice was exasperated. ‘Keep Your nose out of my affairs. Always you must know everything. I tell you, Noola, it’s not always healthy to know too much. Go to bed. God knows, you could do with the beauty sleep.’

He tried to smile at her but it did not quite work. She reached across the table and gripped his arm.

‘Sammy, in all the years we’ve been married I’ve always stood by you. I’ve lied to the police. Even to the Rabbi, may God forgive me. But I did it for love. Now I see you scared out of your wits. You’ve sent the girls over to my mother’s house for the night, and all you can say to me is: “Go to bed, Noola.” Do you think I am a fool?’

He shook his head. Trust her to begin one of her arguments, tonight of all nights. She had been a good wife to him, an exemplary wife. Over the years he had grown to love her more than he had thought possible.

‘No, Noola, my darling. I would never think that you were a fool. But I tell you, you should have gone to your mother’s with the girls. It could be very dangerous here tonight.’

‘But why, Sammy? Tell me why?’ Her voice was desperate. He looked into her faded eyes. Her grey hair was, as usual, rolled up in enormous curlers with a bright green chiffon scarf tied around them. Suddenly he saw her as she had been thirty-five years ago: a small thin young Jewish girl, with a trim figure and a bubbling, overpowering personality. She had made him laugh. Being a big man, he had wanted to protect the tiny scrap that was to become his wife; instead she had taken him over. But he had never once resented her for it. She would always be quicker than he to see the point of a debate or the way out of any trouble. He had begun to rely on her early in their marriage and it had never changed. Until tonight. No one could help him now. No one at all.