Faces (37 page)

Louie knew he had been a hair’s breadth away from the grave through this young man. He had already felt the full force of his displeasure. He knew, first-hand, how fickle he could be in his pursuit of his own ends. He had even forgiven him that, had tried to justify the boy’s actions. He’d made excuses for him, and he had been wrong. Danny Boy was willing to take whatever he felt he needed to further his career, and he would take it without a backward glance, even from someone who had taken care of him and loved him like a son. Danny Boy, it seemed to him, was, to all intents and purposes, a fucking sociopath, and now, on top of everything else he had acquired over the years, it seemed he now wanted
his
yard. Wanted it as a child would want a sweetie or a toy from another child. He wasn’t even asking him for it, he was telling him he
wanted
it, there was a big difference and they both knew that. Danny Boy was a law unto himself all right. He was also flavour of the month with all the big earners, and Louie knew that he would never have the bottle to challenge him over this. He was old, was aware of how fragile he had become over the last few years. He just didn’t have the nerve to go against him; even the friendship that went back to this boy’s childhood wouldn’t cut any ice, he was sure. Danny was not in the market for refusals of any kind, for anyone going against his wishes, standing in the way of what he wanted. Danny Boy expected people to go along with him and, because of his reputation as a fucking mad bastard, people tended to do just that. It was easier for everyone that way. And the men he now dealt with were willing to turn a blind eye where he was concerned because he could guarantee them results. Guarantee them regular money. Serious amounts of money, and that was the bottom line. Danny Boy was now basically a law unto himself, could demand what he wanted and get it without too much fuss. For Louie though, the worst thing was that he knew that Danny Boy was taking his yard off him for no other reason than that he
could
. Danny, he had noticed many moons before, was a gatherer. He was willing to take what he wanted indiscriminately from anyone and everyone in his immediate orbit.

Especially from the very people who had helped him on his way.

 

Ange was worried about her daughter-in-law, the girl was a bundle of nerves. Mary had always been a confident girl, even as a kid. Now, as she sipped at her tea, Ange was amazed at the difference in her. Mary was, as always, immaculately turned out, and she was also on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Ange knew how hard her brother’s outburst had affected her, knew that her son had also felt the backlash from it. Normally she would have felt an affinity with Gordon, would have felt that what he had said would need addressing at some point, because she had believed then, like many a mother before her, that no one would ever be good enough for her son and she knew this girl’s reputation around the streets. But all that had changed now. She had watched the gradual destruction of her son’s wife, and that bothered her. Mary had been the victim of not only her own menfolk, but also the victim of the man she had married, the man who should have been the first one defending her, no matter what the truth was of the accusations. The girl was wasting away in front of her eyes, and her huge eyes had the hunted look of a cornered animal. She watched the clock constantly, her fear tangible to anyone unlucky enough to be in her company. She was white-faced and drawn-looking, like someone who had been handed down a death sentence even though they were innocent. And, knowing how her elder son had tortured his own father, and even herself, when he had deemed it suitable, she knew it wouldn’t be too hard for her to believe that he was once more enjoying someone else’s downfall.

That she was Michael’s sister would be part of the game as far as Danny Boy was concerned, her son needed to control everyone around him. He needed to be the one who orchestrated their every move, good or bad, even though the people involved might not realise that for a very long time. When they finally did understand, it was always too late to do anything about it. He was a demon when the fancy took him, and he was all the worse because he actually enjoyed the chaos he caused. He was unnatural like that, but that was also what made him so desirable to the men he courted for work, and also the women who threw themselves at him. She was aware that they all thought they could control him, but nobody could. Her Danny Boy would gradually wipe them out, take what was theirs and step into their shoes, all the time smiling and making the next person up in the chain of command believe he was only out for
their
best interests. He was clever, he was slippery, and he was one dangerous fuck. He was gradually taking over everything and everyone around him, and he was doing it with a smile, with his natural charm that blinded people to his real nature. He was successful because he dealt with people who were as greedy as he was, and he used that weakness to his own advantage. This little girl, however, was a shadow of her former self; her eyes were constantly on the go, watching the door, watching the clock. She was terrified of her husband not coming home, and yet she knew she would be even more terrified when he did turn up.

‘Are you sure you’re all right, Mary?’ It was a gentle query, spoken with a softness that belied her real agenda.

‘I’m great, it’s just I worry about Danny, you know.’

Ange nodded sympathetically, as if this was perfectly normal behaviour from a new wife. The girl was trying hard to relax and it was painful to watch. She was gritting her teeth so hard her whole jawline was jutting out, making her look terribly vulnerable when, in reality, it should have made her look strong, made her look dependable. She had the same determination as her mother, and the same good looks that even years of chronic alcoholism hadn’t completely destroyed. Yet, in a few short months she had somehow gone from an independent woman to this travesty of a new wife, a nervous wreck who pretended that her life was wonderful when it was obvious to anyone with even half a brain that her life was untenable. That she dreaded her husband’s presence almost as much as she craved it. And Ange could understand that better than anyone.

‘Why do you worry about him, Mary? He can take care of himself. I’m more worried about you, girl. You seem preoccupied and distracted a lot of the time. You can talk to me, you know. Is everything all right between you? Are you happy?’

She was looking into the face of her daughter-in-law, all the time knowing that the girl would never utter a word against her husband, was worried that she had been sent by her husband to try and catch her out, to see if she was capable of being disloyal.

Mary smiled then, a beautiful smile that Ange knew had taken all of her considerable willpower to produce. She looked perfectly normal then, beautiful, like a real young wife; that is if you didn’t know the score. She even managed to look pleasantly surprised at the question asked of her, and if you weren’t aware of the underlying terror inside her breast, you might be conned into thinking that your probing questions were out of order. Were rude even.

‘Oh, Ange, you are a strange one. Most mother-in-laws try and find fault with their sons’ wives. Danny wouldn’t like you asking me all these things about him . . . He’s like me, close-mouthed and happier for it.’

It was a veiled threat and they both knew it. Ange knew then that this girl would never open up to her or anyone else. Her son had made sure that she was far too scared ever to openly disobey him or talk against him. He had what he wanted, a walking, talking, living doll, and she knew that there was nothing she could ever do to change that. She couldn’t change this poor girl’s life, make her feel easier inside herself, give her someone to confide in, trust. Because this girl was now a prisoner in the huge, expensive house that she had once bragged about to anyone who would listen to her. She was a prisoner of her own beauty and her own arrogance. Once this girl had looked down on her mother-in-law, treated her like the hired help, had seen her as nothing more than an old woman, a standing joke. Had never imagined that her own life could have ever emulated hers in any way, shape or form. Somehow though, this knowledge didn’t make her mother-in-law feel any better.

Chapter Seventeen

Michael was eating his meal quietly. It was early evening and he liked this time of day; he had picked up the bulk of the money that they demanded regularly from the smaller businesses in their orbit and, unlike the majority of their peers who thought it was only pennies and half-pennies, he knew that it weighed out into a serious wedge over the course of a year. Look after the pennies and the pounds
always
looked after themselves. So many people in their game chased only the big dollars these days, but it had been proven over and over again that it was the little amounts that added up over time. They were also overlooked by Old Bill, in fact they were overlooked by everyone. A few quid was seen as a touch, a drink. A bank robbery, on the other hand, was seen as a piss-take, the forcible removal of a huge amount of money and therefore worthy of Filth’s notice. Unless they were forewarned, of course and, thanks to Danny Boy and Michael, they were warned well in advance. But the rents, as they referred to the smaller amounts, went unnoticed by the powers that be, so there was no need to give anyone a drink or ask for them to turn a blind eye to the transactions. Coupled with the rest of their London earnings, the rents were actually worth enough to keep them in the style they were now accustomed to, without any of their other business deals. They used youngsters as the fall guys, new Faces, and all they gave them was what amounted to pocket money, but the boys they employed would be happy to do it for nothing. As long as they could brag that they worked for Danny Boy Cadogan, were on his firm, they were happy. The perks from that kind of liaison were legion and these days the lower down the ladder, the more chance of loyalty if a capture was ever to occur. It was the so-called Faces with a few quid and a certain lifestyle who were more likely to grass. It stood to reason, they had so much more to lose. Consequently, the youngsters were courted and sounded out for the top jobs later on in life.

Michael admired that about Danny Boy, his acumen was spot on, he knew that no one else would bother with what they saw as a few quid here and there, they saw it as too much aggravation these days. That few quid though, when multiplied, was a lot of fucking dosh, and yet without Michael to sort out the finer details of it all, nothing would ever have come of it, like a lot of their businesses. Danny had the ideas, he just didn’t have the dedication that was needed for the day-to-day running of it all. Danny Boy wasn’t capable of keeping his eye on any particular ball, because once he had set that ball in motion it was basically forgotten about. It was then left to him, Michael, to see that the little details, such as the collecting of the monies or the distribution of largesse, was sorted out with the minimum of fuss but with the maximum of profit. Michael could do it in his sleep. It came naturally to him, what didn’t come naturally, however, was the actual finding of these earners. Whereas Danny Boy could see them as plain as day. He would then pass them over to his friend and forget about them for the most part, until suddenly, out of the blue, he would question him closely about how well they were doing and whether he thought they could expand on them in any way now or in the future. Michael always had the answer to his questions the moment that he asked them. He could tell him down to the last penny what that particular business was worth or how much it had earned them overall. Michael knew that this was his strength, and that it was also Danny Boy’s weakness. He also knew that Danny Boy was quite capable of bringing in someone else to fill his shoes at any given time. He didn’t think he would, though, because he knew that he was the only person Danny Boy had ever really trusted. He had known the original Danny Boy Cadogan, known him before the Murrays had fucked with his head, and before their outrageous demands had sent him on to the road he was now on. He knew exactly how his father’s betrayal had affected him, and all his family come to that. He knew how important it was for him to be respected, to be revered, to be treated like royalty. Danny Boy Cadogan had made sure that he would never again hear his name said without respect, never again hear it shouted out with a demand for the payment of debts, or in any derogatory way at all. Danny Boy had made sure of that much, not just for himself, but for his family as well.

Yet Michael still sometimes resented the fact that he was expected to remember everything that they were involved in, while Danny Boy didn’t even bother to concern himself with the day-to-day running of it all. He knew he should be grateful that Danny left him to it and trusted him a hundred per cent. He knew that without it he would not be where he was today. It galled him sometimes though, that he was the real brains of the outfit, the money-man, the real money-gatherer, and he was still treated by some of the people they dealt with as the hired help. It was Danny Boy that people wanted to see these days, even though it was him who sorted out the nitty gritty, the day-to-day running of it all. Yet he knew that was a natural occurrence, Danny Boy had a presence; he possessed a powerful magnetism that people in their world were attracted to. He had that certain something that made him different from all the other up-and-coming Faces on the pavements. Danny Boy had the edge because he was, without shadow of a doubt, a fucking headcase and, the scariest thing of all was, he didn’t pretend he was a nutter, like a lot of the so-called headcases it was evident to anyone who came within fifteen feet of him that he was the real McCoy. A bona fide looney tunes who was capable of turning on a sixpence. Who had no idea just how fucking unpredictable he could be. No idea that his behaviour was seen by the people they dealt with as beyond the norm, he even frightened hardened criminals, but they used him even as they secretly despised him.

He had got the Murrays to cripple his own father, an act that had set him on to the road of villainy in the first place, and he had made his name by removing
anyone
foolish enough to stand in his way - permanently. He had more than a few scalps under his belt, and they were not the scalps of nobodies, ice creams. Danny Boy had taken on the best like Jamie Carlton, and won. And he had tagged behind him as he always had, and did what was required of him without question.