Get Even (38 page)

He had bought her a little house nearby so she could move down South, or use it for her visits – that was entirely up to her. But he owed her a great deal and he always paid back his debts. Old Annie had really been good to him, and he had had a great childhood because of her constant grafting. OK, she might not have been there when he came home from school, but she had made sure they had a clean house, good food and all the love he could handle. She had tried her best to put him on the straight and narrow and she had given him the work ethic. He hated it when people tried to portray the Irish as feckless fuckers; they were real grafters. They were all over the fucking world because they had hunted the work down. Did that sound like a race of shiftless fuckers?

He finished his tea and carefully washed up the crockery. Then he went down to the cellar and started round two. He was in a good mood; this time tomorrow he would be at home with his Sharon and the boys. He would be especially attentive to her, and he had told Jack to hold off with any more of these little jaunts for a while. That might placate his Sharon. After all, she was having his child, and he didn’t want her or that baby upset.

He knew that George Thomas could hear his approach because the man was once again vocal with his threats. No doubt about it, he was a game old fucker; he had to give him that. As Ray picked up the sulphuric acid he was sorry in a way that he had to blind him, even partially. He knew the pain would knock the fucker out, and then he would give him a quick shot of liquid oxycodone and Bob was your uncle – as the Southerners said – and Fanny was your fucking aunt. The Two Js could dump him, and then Ray would get the bleach out and scrub his workplace clean. He liked a clean workspace; there was nothing worse than people who left too many clues behind them. It was a fool’s game, and could lead to nothing but trouble.

George’s screams died down to a faint moan and, when he finally lost consciousness, Ray Donovan was actually relieved. He liked the man, and had nothing whatsoever against him. His final job was to shatter his right ankle and basically hobble him. There was no getting away from it: George Thomas had fucked off Micky Biggs royally. But his was not to reason why, as his old mum used to say.

He rang the Two Js and set about cleaning his instruments. Once George had been taken away he would concentrate on the cellar itself. He checked his watch and was pleased to note that if he got his arse in gear he would be in time to catch
News at Ten
. He liked the news; he felt that people should keep up with current events. It was the sign of a lively mind.

George was groaning in pain, and now the noise was beginning to get on Ray’s tits. The sooner he was out of here the better.

Jack was with Micky, assuring him that the job he had requested had been done. Micky Biggs was over the fucking moon, as he kept saying again and again. He put the fifty thousand pounds in cash on the table in a small holdall, and he knew that Jack Johnson trusted him too much to count it while he was there.

‘He did everything I asked?’

Jack nodded imperceptibly. He didn’t like the way Micky was taking such a pleasure in George Thomas’s downfall. Jack Johnson could be funny like that.

‘He was blinded in his left eye, and his right ankle was hobbled, per your instructions. My source tells me they are leaving him on the steps of the Old London, as you also requested.’

Micky was smiling from ear to ear now. He had his business back, and he had meted out a punishment that could in no way come back and bite him on his tiny but well-shaped arse. As Micky sipped his drink he had an almost beatific smile on his face.

He liked the idea of faceless retribution; it appealed to his sense of honour, and Micky, as mad as he could be, was an honourable man. He had treated George Thomas with the utmost respect and that cunt had walked all over him. People needed a lesson in social graces every now and then, and this would send out the word that George had crossed a line and that line had been his downfall. It wouldn’t take a blind dog long to sniff out that Micky was probably in on it, but as long as no one could prove it, he was basically home and dry.

This was definitely money well spent. It had solved the age-old problem of ‘me or them’ – and that was what the world they lived in could often be about. He felt good – his only regret being that he had had to forfeit the bragging rights.

Ray slipped into his house at just after midnight. He had decided that coming home earlier than Sharon had expected would please her. She was still up watching
Beaches
with her mother. He liked Bette Midler but there were only so many times he could sit through that shit. He popped his head around the front-room door, and when he saw the genuine relief on his Sharon’s face he felt almost as if he could cry with happiness. He could be a very emotional man, and sometimes he felt that the great love he bore for this woman and her boys was a weakness. He accepted that it was his nature to be sentimental – he was the same with his old mum; watching her sometimes brought tears close to the surface. She had looked out for him his whole life, and she was a decent woman and an exemplary mother.

‘I managed to get away, darling.’

She was straight into his arms and Ivy looked on happily. This was a real love job and she was so pleased for her girl. She said her goodnights and left them alone.

Sharon was thrilled to have him back a day early and she knew then that he had come home just to be with her – just to stop her worrying – and she felt bad about her thoughts. Ray loved her and he loved her boys. She was blessed with this man, and she would put her fears out of her mind in the future.

Ray was happy to see the relief and pleasure on Sharon’s face. He knew that he had done the right thing and, as he held her to him lovingly, he wondered absently how George Thomas was getting on at the hospital. Then he put the matter completely out of his head. The one thing a man should never do was take his work home with him.

While Sharon made him a late-night snack, he checked on the boys. They were both asleep; one good thing about that school was that they concentrated on sports and, for boys like these, that was important. He remembered that they had another boxing night soon, and he was determined to take them with him. They always enjoyed meeting some of the older boxers. It was a nice treat for them; Lenny was a good fighter, but young Liam was a natural. If he chose to, he could go far in that world. He had the temperament needed for a professional fighter and he could parry and dance with the best of them. Most of his opponents had been hard pushed to even land a punch, let alone dodge the boy’s right hand. Ray was proud of them both; they were turning into nice young lads. Very polite to their mother and helpful to him when he asked. They were asking cheeky questions about the businesses as well. He knew that Sharon was not too pleased about that, but those two would go their own roads.

Ray went around and locked up the house. He loved this place; it was everything he had ever wanted and more. Best of all, he knew that Sharon was happy and content here. Once the baby arrived they would be complete as a family. He hoped for a boy, but a daughter would be almost as good, and his mother, he knew, secretly wanted a granddaughter. She had stepped in as nan to the boys and they adored her just as much as he did.

As Ray settled back into his life he was well pleased with how much he’d achieved and how much he had to be grateful for. He knew that there were a lot of men who would kill for what he had. He also knew that he would kill anyone who tried to take it all away from him.

George Thomas was in the operating theatre for five hours. He had lost an eye, and his ankle had to be reconstructed using metal plates and pins. His handsome face was ruined for ever, and he would never be the same man again. When he eventually awoke in intensive care, he gradually pieced together a timeline.

For the next two months in the hospital, only one thing kept him going and that was how he would find out who had harmed him and, more to the point, who had ordered it. He had his suspicions, and every time Micky Biggs visited him, all solicitude and compassion, he was more and more convinced that he had found the culprit.

Lesley Scott was listening to her husband’s laboured breathing and she knew that he was not long for this world. She looked at the man she had married all those years before and felt her futile tears as they finally ran down her wrinkled face. She had aged considerably since her husband’s attack, but that didn’t bother her too much. It was seeing Big Lenny brought so low that had really affected her.

As he lay there breathing his last, having already received extreme unction from his priest, she remembered the huge, handsome man she had married. She had looked beautiful that day and she had felt hope for her future. Some of those hopes and dreams had come to fruition. When she had given birth to Lenny, her husband had been like a dog with six lampposts. She could see him now in her mind’s eye, holding his little son in those enormous hands and laughing with delight. She thought of her son on his first day of school, all scrubbed and smart with his satchel and his packed lunch. He had been such a handsome boy, and tall for his age; he had towered over all the other kids in his class.

Everything had been perfect, until Lenny had brought that whore among them.

Not content with just having the son, after he had been brutally murdered she had then set her cap at his father. Lesley shook her head at the very thought of it. It was a disgrace!

That Sharon could walk around like she did, while decent people were vilified and ostracised, was beyond her comprehension. Why couldn’t people see her for what she was? See through her veneer of goodness to the putrid filth that lay beneath those sparkling blue eyes.

Big Lenny Scott’s breathing was getting shallower now and she knew the time was nearly upon them. He had been left less than a man, and he had never got over it.

The police had not even really given a flying fuck as to why or how it had happened to her husband – but why would she expect any more? That witch had everyone around her under her spell and she was protected on all sides. She was living a charmed life now in her mansion in Essex with its electric gates and swimming pool. Where was the justice in that?