Get Even (28 page)

Jackie burst into tears and she was relieved when her brother stormed out of her home, screaming obscenities as he went. Hearing his car screech off down her drive, she picked up her terrified daughter and, like her brother before her, she left the house as quickly as possible. She would go to her mate’s, and wait there until all the fuss died down. She hoped he didn’t come across her old man, because, when he was in a temper, Jamie was capable of anything.

The cab drivers were nervous – a fact that easily communicated itself to the walk-in customers. There had been whispers, of course, that there was something going down so it was a quiet working environment these days, which was unusual in a cab rank. Normally there was plenty of banter and discussions about certain fares – whether it was an old man who stank of piss, or a particularly fuckable young mum. There would be a TV blaring and the sounds of the drivers calling over the radio. There was a cab drivers’ mantra that went: if the wheels ain’t turning, I ain’t earning. They needed to get as many fares as possible to pay their weekly upkeep. Most cabbies were gregarious by nature; after all, it was a job where you dealt with the public. Even the ever-ebullient Margaret was looking decidedly shifty and the punters were all glad to leave the office and jump into the nearest cab.

Sharon came in at four in the afternoon with Ray and went through to her tiny office. She could sense the tense atmosphere and she was affected by it more than she would have believed possible. Even with the protection of Ray Donovan, she was feeling real prickles of unease. When Reggie Dornan and two other men turned up at five o’clock, she started to feel physically sick with dread. But she refused to leave; she understood that, whatever happened, she needed to be there or she would always regret it.

She was running three lucrative businesses: the cab ranks, the betting office and the loan company set up shortly before Lenny died. She was a woman in what was usually a man’s world and she felt she had to show that she wasn’t frightened of standing up for herself. True, the men were here to do the defending, but instinct was telling her to stay put and have her say.

She could feel Ray watching her and she knew that he thought she should go home to her children and leave the men to sort everything out. Whereas Reggie appeared to understand what she was feeling; she was shocked to realise that he admired her for her stand. The two heavies didn’t really give a fuck either way, or, if they did, they were not sharing their opinions.

Sharon made endless cups of tea and coffee and Reggie kept the conversation going so everything seemed as normal as possible. The drivers, though, were more aware than ever of the tension in the rank and more than a couple went home, unwilling to be caught up in whatever might happen.

Sharon’s mother had the two boys overnight in case anything kicked off at the house and Jack Johnson was never off the blower, getting regular updates and revealing whatever he could find out to them. Reggie and Ray discussed the situation in low voices when the need arose and Sharon, realising she had not eaten since that morning, wondered how people in war zones lived in this state of perpetual fear of violence. Inwardly she was trembling like a poplar; outwardly she was aware that she looked very calm.

It was seven in the evening when the first blow was struck. It was a drive-by and three shots were fired through the windows of the cab rank. It was a miracle that no one was seriously harmed. Margaret’s screaming was heard all over East London, and it took an injection by the local doctor to finally shut her up.

David Bannerman was like a man possessed after his wife explained what had occurred at his home. It was his good luck that, shortly after talking to her, he had a phone call from Jack Johnson who was asking around about the whereabouts of Jamie.

Davie was well aware that there was aggro between Jamie and Jack Johnson over Lenny Scott’s holdings but, until now, he had not given any of it a second thought in relation to his family. But after that cunt’s behaviour in his home, threatening his wife and terrifying his child, Jamie Brewer had become what he classed as fair game. Davie Bannerman would happily serve him up.

He assured Jack Johnson that his main aim in life was to see that filthy, rotten piece of dog shit Jamie Brewer six feet under and, if necessary, he would do the fucking job himself.

Jack Johnson guessed rightly that once again Jamie had shat on his own doorstep. He was almost smiling as he explained the latest turn of events to the irate man on the other end of the phone.

Jamie Brewer was in The Volunteer pub in Barking, listening to his father as he lectured his son for the umpteenth time about the fact that he could not go around threatening his own family and shooting up fucking cab ranks willy-nilly.

James Senior was more than aware of his son’s failings but, as much as he irritated him, Jamie was still his eldest son and he had to make sure he kept his own temper in check. Nevertheless, sometimes he felt he could quite happily take the fucker out himself. Like most people who knew young Jamie, he believed his boy was living on borrowed time because, eventually, he was going to upset the wrong person. But explaining that to someone who had no intention of listening to anything he saw as even remotely a criticism of his own good self was basically an impossibility. It did not stop the man from trying though. He was also warning him that Davie Bannerman was baying for his blood and was threatening him with immediate extinction on sight.

Young Jamie took all this in his stride. He was still on an adrenaline high from shooting up the cab office; he was hoping that he had hit someone – that appealed to his sense of melodrama. In fact, he was hoping that he had taken out the giant Northerner who had been given to Sharon Scott as some kind of bodyguard! For fuck’s sake, she would need an army of Titans to protect her before he was finished. He had always wanted Lenny Scott’s holdings and he would not rest until he had them firmly in his hot little hands.

James Senior watched Jamie as he completely disregarded everything he was trying to tell him and, eventually, fed up with his son’s attitude, he walked out of the pub and drove himself home. He only hoped that Davie Bannerman got him before anyone else. He wouldn’t have to avenge Bannerman’s treatment of his son, that was family business and Jamie had stepped over the line. But with Jack Johnson and Co. it would be completely different.

Reggie Dornan was fit to be tied. Whatever they had been expecting, shots fired while the offices were open was definitely not part of it. How no one had been seriously hurt could only be put down to a miracle. There were just a couple of cuts and abrasions to attend to, which, considering the amount of glass that had been flying around, really was miraculous.

Sharon had been fantastic; she had calmed people down and dealt well with the police. Ray had made himself scarce before the arrival of the Filth and took the two heavies with him. There was no need to alert the whole world to their presence. The cab drivers were shaken but kept their traps shut. Everyone acted as if the shooting had been as unexpected as a vicar at an orgy. The police were not fools but they knew when it was pointless to push too much over certain matters.

By ten o’clock the windows were boarded up, the drivers had gone home and Sharon gratefully downed a large brandy with Reggie.

‘You holding up all right?’

Sharon looked at the man and remembered that, at the first shot, he had thrown himself on top of her. That had to count for something.

She nodded. ‘Thanks, Reggie. For protecting me . . .’

He knew how hard it was for her to say the words so he smiled widely – a smile that, frankly, he didn’t think he had in him.

‘Look, Sharon, I know how you feel about me . . .’ He hesitated before saying, ‘And Lenny.’

She held up her hands as if to ward him off. ‘Don’t! I mean it, Reggie – I will not discuss him with you.’

She felt the familiar disgust rising inside her and she wished that he had died too. If he had died she would never have had to think of any of this again. Just looking at him reminded her of her husband’s treachery. She was ashamed of her thoughts but she could not deny them. It didn’t matter how many Elton Johns or Lily Savages came on the scene. She could never forgive her husband for lying to her the way he had and for letting her live a life that was a lie for all those years. When she looked at Reggie she wondered at how powerful hatred could be. Because she hated this man with a vengeance.

‘There’s nothing you can say that will make anything different.’

Reggie knew when to retreat. He refilled their glasses and watched sadly as she gulped at her drink. Her hands were shaking suddenly and he saw the shock had finally set in.

‘Come on. Drink up and I’ll run you to your mum and dad’s. You need a hot bath and a couple of sleeping pills.’

She sighed. ‘What happens now?’

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Now, Sharon, we hunt that cunt down and sort him out. Jack can’t let this go and neither can I. He stepped over a line today and that is why we have to take him out of the game once and for all.’

She nodded almost imperceptibly. She had guessed as much. ‘Maybe I should just have given him what he wanted.’

Reggie grinned and she saw how handsome he was, how like Lenny he looked, and she felt the sickness that always assailed her when she thought of him and her husband together.

‘You don’t give spoiled brats what they want, Sharon. Plus, if you had rolled over he would have taken everything you had. That’s his personality, the kink in his nature that makes him so greedy for everything he sees. Do you know the worst thing? Every business he gets his hands on, he ruins. Runs them into the ground and fights with his workforce, his partners, whoever. He is a nutbag, plain and simple. And by tomorrow he will be a fucking dead one.’