Maura's Game (2 page)

She nodded and picked up the phone.

“Listen, Roy, I’ll be on my way soon, OK?”

She replaced the receiver and looked at the man she had loved for half her life.

“So this is it then? Finitosberg? Goodbyesville?”

He didn’t answer her. They stared at one another for long moments. No other woman had ever affected him like Maura Ryan and no other woman ever would, he knew that. Had always known it.

“I’ll pick up Joey, OK?” he offered.

Maura nodded.

“Thank you for that anyway.”

He smiled.

“I’ll take your Merc Joey prefers the convertible. Loves the impression it creates.”

She grinned.

“He’s a Ryan all right. Only the best will do.”

Her words were not lost on Terry but he didn’t bother to answer her. If only she could see things from his point of view. See what she was doing to herself and her family by keeping up their seedy clubs and their whores. The lifestyle they lived bred danger and violence. That was the law of the street. Even though he knew that this latest problem was something that couldn’t be left unattended, the fact she was still getting involved against all his advice galled him. And the fact that he knew she was enjoying it. That was what really got his back up. She was truly alive again for the first time in years and it showed. He had never really been enough for her and they both knew it.

After a few seconds he said, “You’d better take my BMW. Mustn’t keep Roy waiting, eh?”

He was telling her he wasn’t leaving her right this minute. They hadn’t broken up yet. She felt her heart lift as she realised it. If only he could see that she needed to be involved with her family’s business; it was all she had ever known really and the second big love of her life. It gave them the life they both enjoyed, the opportunity to do whatever they wanted, and he had reaped the benefits as much as she had. Terry reminded her of her mother sometimes. They both enjoyed their affluent lifestyle but hated and despised the way the money for it was obtained. Hypocrites, the pair of them.

But Maura smiled at him, because when they were alone and they touched, everything else was forgotten. It would be all right. They could put this behind them too. At least, she hoped so.

Maura wondered uneasily if this argument might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back. But if he was coming home then at least she could try and talk to him again. Explain exactly what was going on. Surely he’d understand then?

“I love you so much, Terry.”

He didn’t answer her. Instead he picked up her keys and walked out of the house. She stood at the picture window and watched him get into her car. The workmen were gone and she was glad. They had been there for the best part of the morning and afternoon.

Terry opened her car door it was never locked and she watched his tall frame bend as he got inside. As he placed the key in the ignition he smiled at her and she was pleased. She really believed then that they would get over this latest spat.

The explosion sent her hurtling back through the beautiful room she had painstakingly created. Landing heavily on the sofa, her back screaming with pain, the last thing Maura heard was the telephone ringing endlessly.

Then merciful oblivion.

Chapter One

Roy Ryan was terrified. He snatched up the phone immediately it rang. On hearing his wife Janine’s voice he slammed the receiver straight back down.

That was all he needed now, her and her great big galloping gob for the next three hours. If moaning was an Olympic sport, his old woman would get the gold. The phone rang once more and he ignored it, knowing it was going to be her again with her usual whining. Janine was a piss head and he hated her more at this moment than he had ever hated her before.

He put his head into his hands and stifled an urge to sob. Fear was making him sweat. He could smell himself, feel the moisture pooling beneath his arms. Where the fuck was Maura? She should have been here ages ago.

Probably still in bed with that prick Petherick.

Roy felt a moment’s shame at the thought. She was entitled to have Terry; had fought hard enough to get him. But no matter how Roy weighed it up, Petherick would always be a filth, not only to his way of thinking but to everyone else who counted. Roy was convinced that this was what lay behind their latest trouble. Someone was gras sing big time, passing word of forthcoming blags to Old Bill, and it seemed the Ryans were seen as the likely culprits. Ex-filth in the family did not augur well in their line of work unless of course the filth in question was known to be one of your own. Which Petherick never had been.

In fact, he was such a stuck-up ponce he barely acknowledged any of them, looked down his nose at them even at their mother, and she thought the sun shone out of his hairy copper’s arse.

Roy sighed again. His eyes were hurting from lack of sleep and he had a day’s growth of stubble covering his face. He really did need to get some sleep but now wasn’t the time.

Nearly ten years of peace in the city and now suddenly all hell was let loose. But why? Who lay behind all the arrests, all the aggravation? Someone was stirring it big time, and his family had to find out who it was before they lost all credibility with the bedrock of their business: the big league criminals of London and the south east. Today, they were starting a round-up of all disgruntled former associates. They were going to be made to come up with some answers. But where the hell was his sister? They couldn’t pull this off without Maura.

Janine was smarting from her husband’s rudeness. She was gritting her teeth in anger and it made her face seem even more haggard than usual. She poured herself a large gin and swallowed it neat, feeling the burn of the liquid as it slipped into her sagging belly. She closed her eyes to savour the feeling and as she opened them caught sight of herself in the mirror opposite.

She felt the sting of tears then. She looked older than her years, much older. Looked nearer seventy than sixty if she was honest with herself.

On the sideboard was a photo of her on her wedding day and Janine stared at it for long moments, remembering how she had felt then with her brand-new husband beside her and a baby growing inside her belly. Remembered her long red hair that had attracted so much attention and ultimately attracted Roy.

If only she had listened to her mother and father! They had had him taped from the first glance, him and his family. But like many a bride before her, she had been sure she could control her man. As it turned out no one could control him, not even the Metropolitan Police and God knew they’d tried enough times. But she had wanted him, wanted him like she had wanted no other man in her life before or since. And the big problem was she still wanted him, always had and always would. Yet she knew he despised her.

She poured herself another large gin and swallowed a couple of Valium. Mother’s little helpers. The thought made her smile, something she rarely did though in fact if she’d realised, it made her look less haggard and much more approachable.

If only you knew in advance how your life was going to turn out.

She lay on the sofa and thought about her daughter Carla, the baby she had borne with so much hope and then disliked from her earliest days. Because she was a rival female and commanded a besotted Roy’s undivided attention something she herself had never done if she was honest. Carla was more Maura’s daughter than hers now and that suited Janine. The auntie and the cuckoo in the nest were welcome to one another. But Janine’s son, her Benny Anthony, named for his dead uncle, he was a different kettle offish. He was hers. Whatever Roy thought, he was hers alone. Even though his father had made him into a version of himself, Benny was her heart. Her son was everything to her and Janine knew that once he saw through his father he would come back to her. Eventually Maura and Roy would show themselves for what they really were and then she would be waiting for her boy with open arms.

It was a fantasy she loved. It kept her going even though deep inside she knew it would never happen. Benny was a Ryan from his thick dark hair to his size twelve feet. He was like a born-again Michael Ryan, his dead uncle’s double. And not just his physical appearance. Benny thought like Michael too. This was what really frightened her in her more lucid moments. But whereas Michael had adored his mother Sarah, her own son loathed Janine and wasn’t afraid of showing it.

She shook her head to clear it of the horrible thoughts she was having about her only boy. He would learn, and learn the hard way. The same as his mother had. He was cute enough to see eventually what all the other Ryans were: scum.

The thought made Janine smile again. Cheered her up. She poured out another large gin and gulped it down neat. She was asleep within the hour.

Belmarsh Prison, Special Secure Unit Vic Joliff was laughing, the picture of jollity a big bald bastard with hard little black eyes creased in mirth.

“You’re sure? It was definitely Maura Ryan, and she was good and dead?”

Petey Marsh nodded solemnly.

“Whoever was in that motor was dead as a fucking doornail, far as I can gather.”

Vic rubbed his hands together.

“Give the screw that relayed that message a good drink. We’ll use him again. So Maura Ryan’s out of the picture… Piss off, I want to think.”

Petey left the cell in double quick time. He didn’t really like Joliff, no one did, but his sort were an occupational hazard when you were on a lump. And better him than the fucking Paddies in here who gave themselves airs because they were so-called ‘politicals’. At least Vic Joliff was an old-style villain with the money, the kudos and the sheer lunacy to be the main man. But though Petey had to work for him, it didn’t mean he had to like him, did it?

He wondered briefly what Maura Ryan had done to Vic, and if this was payback. Everyone knew he could still call the shots from his prison cell, and word on the street was the Ryans were not the family they had been in Michael’s day, but Maura was generally seen as a force to be reckoned with. Still, if she was brown bread, and according to the message she was splattered all over Essex, then it left her brother Roy in charge, and as everyone knew he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the Ryans’ drawer. Stephen Hawking’s position as brain of the century was not about to be usurped.

Petey rolled himself a nice joint and tried to relax on his bed. The days were long in here, too long. If Joliff was out for a turf war, one good thing would come of it at least. It would help to relieve the fucking boredom.

Petey smiled to himself. There hadn’t been this much excitement on the wing since someone half-inched the video recorder. Even after the third cell search they still tried to say it was a con who’d nicked it. In fact, in the most secure prison in Europe, with such high security, it seemed blindingly obvious to them all it could only have gone walkabout with a PO. Still, such was life.

He sighed and lay back, still trying to relax, but it was hard with the constant noise and the relendess boredom. Prison life could be a living death though the real finite kind could be arranged there too, whether by your own hand or someone else’s.

He heard Joliff’s high-pitched laughter and put his hands over his ears, hoping the Ryans took him out for revenge sooner rather than later. What an arse hole

Petey finished his joint quickly and gave up on relaxing in favour of a good hard stint in the gym.

Benjamin Anthony Ryan was big. Huge, in fact. He trained with weights and consequently had a body like an Olympic champion. Benny was proud of his physique, worked on it constantly. Today he was in Pat’s Gym in East London and was sweating profusely, his hard-featured face red from exertion.

He saw his minder Abul Haseem walking towards him, mobile glued to his ear and his handsome face looking pained for once instead of showing his customary smile, and guessed that something had come on top.

“What’s up?”

Benny’s voice was low. He did not want to attract any kind of audience to what he was about to hear.

Abul shook his head slowly before answering.

“Someone’s bombed your aunt’s drum, that’s all I know.”

He watched the changing expressions on Benny’s face which registered stark incredulity and seething anger in under a second.

“Fucking what?”

People turned to stare, hearing the fury in Benjamin Ryan’s voice.

Abul turned off the phone and whispered, “Not in here, Benny. The car’s outside and your father is expecting you at the hospital, OK?”

Benny followed him without a word, grateful for the fact he had a mate who could keep so calm in a crisis.

And this was a crisis, of Olympic fucking standards.

He felt the sting of tears, and was unsure if they were for his aunt or from sheer anger. Either way, he could happily cry like a baby.

Abul, a friend since school and more like a brother than a mate these days, squeezed his shoulder.

“Let’s find out the score first, eh, mate?”

Benny nodded.

“I will personally kill the cunt who thought they could get away with a stunt like this. And if she is hurt, I swear on oath I will take that cunt apart with my bare hands and an Airfix toolkit.”

Abul closed his eyes momentarily. Benny had a thing about gluing people’s eyes shut; said it scared them shitless and Abul agreed with him whole-heartedly there. But the thought still made him feel sick.

In a waiting room at Oldchurch Hospital Sarah Ryan shrugged off her eldest son’s arm and cried, “For Christ’s sake, Roy, I’m not in me dotage yet!”

Even in her eighties she was still hale and hearty. Smaller than ever, she seemed to be shrinking on a daily basis but was mentally as tough as she always had been and this was conveyed by her voice.

“Look, Mum, let me get one of the boys to take you home. This is going to be a long night…”

She interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

“I’ve had a few of those over the years with you lot. Especially with Michael and your toe rag of a father. Now tell me what the shag is going on!”

Roy stared at the tiny woman before him and marvelled at her strength of will.