The Family (38 page)

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

    Philly watched Jonnie Piper like a hawk - he was fascinated by him. That he wanted his father dead, and yet was strutting about their kitchen acting like everyone's best friend, was just outrageous.

    Philly knew he had to act like he didn't know what was going on, and he felt he was doing a pretty good job of it. Piper would be feeling secure in himself, because he'd assume that Phillip Murphy wouldn't want his sons involved in a murder. But, as his father had explained to them earlier in the evening, that was the genius of the whole plan. It didn't occur to Philly for a moment that no decent man would be dragging his boys into something so serious and so dangerous. Most hardened criminals wanted their kids to be anything but a villain. It was why you earned, to give your kids better opportunities than you had had. Any decent man who had sat in a prison cell for any length of time wouldn't want that for their kids. They would rather see them out and free, not banged up. That was the hardest thing for any parent. But Philly and Timmy took every word out of their father's mouth as gospel; they didn't yet understand that it was really only ever going to be about him and what he wanted, never about anyone else. That was Phillip Murphy - it was how he was made.

    Philly felt he was on the cusp of greatness, and he was looking forward to the night's events. He was a bit frightened that he would let his father down in some way, but he was mostly excited about doing something so outrageous, and dangerous. He still couldn't believe his father trusted them both enough to be involved. If he needed any more proof in his father's belief in them, this was it.

    'Come on then, lads, who wants to walk the land with me?'

    It was just what Jonnie Piper had been waiting for and, picking up his large Scotch, he said jovially, 'Fuck me, Phillip, I thought you'd never ask.'

    They laughed as they walked out the back doors, and changed into Wellington boots. Phillip always kept spare sets for anyone who might be visiting, he knew better than anyone the damage dirt could do to a decent pair of shoes.

    As they began the quarter of a mile walk they were joking around, and Jonnie Piper was sorry about the boys, because they were nice lads. But needs must and all that - he couldn't leave them as witnesses and, once the dirty deed was done, he would put it out of his mind as always. This was kill or be killed, like war, and these lads were what would be known in wartime as collateral damage.

    It was a bright night, and the moon was full, and their voices were loud as they ambled slowly towards what was misleadingly called the 'big barn' but was, in reality, a huge chimney stack with ornamental brickwork, and solid hardwood doors. It looked more like a chapel than a furnace room. Phillip had given the local planning officer a serious drink to get the fucker built in the first place, but it had been worth every penny. After all, Phillip never skimped on quality, that was part of his charm.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

    Colin Banks and Jerome O'Grady were in the barn, ready. They were calm, and waiting patiently for the night's events to unfold. Both were used to this. Colin had committed his first murder when he was seventeen - he had glassed another lad in a pub in Liverpool's Knowsley district. He had done eight years of a life sentence, and came out far more knowledgeable about murder than when he had gone in. Jerome O'Grady, on the other hand, had learned his trade as a drug dealer's apprentice and he had learned early that if you tucked up a drug dealer, you were dead. It was a real cut-throat business, and that was no pun. He had got fed up with it because it was too obvious, and the likelihood of getting banged up too risky. He now worked for people like Jonnie, clearing up their shit for them, and he and Colin made a good earn. Far more than if they were in a normal legal line of work.

    Funny thing was though, people still looked down on them - he assumed it was because they were like the grim reaper. Jerome's wife thought he was a courier; she was far happier thinking he was bringing in diamonds and gold, or even cocaine, than knowing what he really did. Now that
would
freak her out. Colin's wife thought he was a debt collector, and the way she spent she must think he was collecting for Asil Nadir. But it worked for them and, once tonight was over, they would have a drink, get their pay and fuck off home. One good thing about it, as Colin was always saying, the hours were great, and you could piss off from the wife in peace because you could say you had to go to work and she wouldn't question it.

    They both heard muted laughter and, even though the only light was from the moon coming through the skylights, they had a pretty good view of the door. They settled themselves in position. They had chosen American handguns for the job; both were untraceable and had been supplied by Jonnie. The Colt 45 was a big gun, powerful and intimidating. Not something most people would pick in this day and age, but it was the gun of choice for the old die-hards.

    As the door opened, they were both ready, holding out the guns as if they were playing a part in a film. The two boys were amazed to see them there, and Jerome saw the fear cross their faces as they took in what was happening.

    He felt almost sorry for them.

Chapter One Hundredand Twenty-One

    'Let it go, Veronica, will you? I'm sick of hearing about it.'

    Phil Senior was annoyed; he wanted to watch the telly, not have another post-mortem on his son's life. As far as he was concerned his Phillip was a fucking lunatic, but a well-heeled, functioning lunatic. The boys had to learn a craft at some point, so why not now?

    Veronica was not pleased at her husband's reaction to her worries. She expected him to agree with her, that was how it had always been. Plus she was genuinely worried. In contrast to her Phillip she wasn't sure that her grandsons were capable of making a living on the rob. They were too well brought up after all the money her son had weighed out for their educations. 'Don't you ever think about anything else except drink, sport and telly?'

    She watched as her husband shrugged in the chair. 'What else is there to think about in this house? Unlike
you
, Veronica, I ain't obsessed with my eldest son, am I?'

    She stood up, and he saw the anger burning out of her bones. He knew he had gone too far. But he wished she would for once stop talking about Phillip; she was like a fucking stuck record, saying the same things over and over again. Who gave a flying fuck? Not him that was for sure.

    'You bastard! You ain't interested in any of your children, that's the trouble - you never were. You ain't interested in fuck- all unless it's the pub.'

    He got up and, going out to the hallway, he pulled on his coat.

    'Where are you going at this time of night?' Veronica said, following him out.

    'I'm going to the pub, there will be afters there, as per usual, and I can sit in peace and have a drink without you giving me GBH of the earhole.'

    When he had slammed the front door she walked back into the front room and started to tidy up furiously, removing her husband's glass, the plate he had used for his sandwich, and fluffing up the cushions on the chairs. She hated him at this moment in time, really hated him. She was half tempted to phone Phillip and tell him what his father had said. But she wouldn't. Phillip would kill him, and she knew that as well as she knew her own name. But she was so worried about those boys; they were far too young for the firm, far too young and far too naive. She had a bad feeling on her about it, and she couldn't shake it off. She just didn't want anything bad to happen to them. It was a filthy, dangerous game Phillip was in and, even though her whole family were involved somehow, she didn't want it for Christine's sons. Because Christine would never be able to cope with them being a part of their father's world and, if she was really honest about it, neither would she.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two

    Phillip saw his sons' faces, and stifled the urge to laugh. They were both white-faced with shock and horror at what they had walked into. They were diamonds the pair of them, twenty-four carat gold. He looked at Jonnie Piper, who was smiling triumphantly. Jonnie was standing there like he owned the fucking gaff, short-arsed and full of bravado. Phillip acted shocked, worried, but he wasn't - the man hadn't been born yet who could scare him.

    'What's going on, Jonnie? What the fuck are you doing?'

    Jonnie Piper laughed, the relief now it was actually happening was almost overwhelming; once he had outed this ponce he was home and dry.

    'What's it look like?' He was all loose limbed and, thanks to the expensive whisky his host had kindly provided for them, he was almost in a party mood.

    Suddenly Timmy took a run at Jonnie and, using his sheer size, knocked him off his feet. Then Philly was on him as well. Phillip watched, proud of his sons' bravery and, pulling them off the man, he said loudly, 'All right, you lads,
relax.
These two are with us.'

    Jonnie Piper lay on the floor, felt the cold of the concrete even through his good suit. He glanced at the two men he believed he could trust and felt the sick sweat of dread as it drenched his body.

    Jerome laughed before saying, 'You know your trouble, don't you, Jonnie? You're a fucking cheapskate.'

    Jonnie knew when he was beaten. He had cut his face on his whisky glass when Timmy had taken him down. He was bleeding heavily, but he knew that was the least of his problems. Philly and Timmy now realised that it had all been set up by their father, and they were relieved as well as vexed.

    Phillip hugged his boys to him. 'You were fucking great, but lesson number one, my sons, never believe what you're told, no matter who is doing the telling, right?' They nodded in unison like little boys in front of a teacher. 'You never walk into any situation like this without a weapon, or back-up, such as these two nice gentlemen here. But for all that, you've got heart, and that's ninety per cent of our game. I'm fucking proud of you, at least you would have gone down fighting.' He looked at Jonnie Piper and said, 'They did good, Jonnie, don't you think?'

    Jonnie nodded his agreement, but he didn't really give a fuck - all he could think about was what Phillip had in store for him. He wouldn't put anything past Phillip Murphy. After all, he wouldn't be too happy about anyone trying to take out his lads, no one would.

    'Can we get this over with, Phillip?' Jonnie's voice was low, and Phillip had to admire the fact he wasn't begging like many other men would be.

    'Do it.'

    Colin and Jerome each shot Jonnie Piper three times, and the two young lads watched, fascinated, as he bled out on the concrete floor. Afterwards, Colin lit a cigarette while Phillip poured them drinks from the bar he'd had put in for events such as this. All the time he kept a close eye on his sons' reactions.

    Philly had already shrugged it off, it was over and done with, but Timmy, he could see, wasn't in the least bit calm yet. He was breathing heavily as Phillip saw him walk over to Jonnie's body. Lifting his foot, he crashed it into the man's face with every bit of his considerable strength. Even Jerome and Colin winced at the sound of crunching bone and sinew.

    'Fucking piece of shit! Thought he was gonna fucking take us out.'

    Philly pulled his little brother away and, putting his arm protectively around his shoulder, he said quietly, 'Calm down, will you? Dad wouldn't let anything happen to us.'

    Phillip Murphy knew then, that out of the two, Timmy would eventually be the brains of the outfit. Unlike Philly, who was a good kid, Timmy would never trust anyone again. Not after this. He would use it as his yardstick for the future. It had been a good learning curve for them both. It was really only Breda's outrage at him wanting them to be blooded that had made him change his plans to have the boys kill Jonnie. Now he was glad he had because it had given him a valuable insight into his sons, and the differences between them. Philly was weaker - not physically, but mentally. Timmy took onboard everything, and he would use the knowledge to his advantage. Philly would be a good leader, but Timmy had the potential to be a great one.

    'Come on, boys, drink up and let's get this ponce into the furnace. Then you two can scrub and bleach the floor. Remember, industrial bleach removes everything a forensic will be looking for. So pour a whole drum down the drains, all right?'

    They both nodded.

    'Right then, young Colin and young Jerome, your poke is waiting for you in that cupboard over there. Separate bags, and used notes as requested.'

    Phillip waited until they had removed their money, checked it, and put their weapons inside the bags he had provided, before he opened another cupboard and brought out a large pump- action shotgun. He shot the two men one after the other, the sound deafening, even over the roar of the furnace. Then, looking at his sons' stunned faces, he said jovially, 'Lesson number two, never leave a fucking witness, it only causes you worry. People talk and, with the best will in the world, you never know
when, where
or
to whom
they'll do that talking. Now the only people who know what really happened in here are us. And we're family, so that don't count.' He waited till they had digested that bit of information before clapping his hands and saying loudly, 'Come on then, chop chop, this lot won't get up and jump into the incinerator themselves!'

    He left them clearing up and walked back towards his house slowly, well satisfied with the night's events. He heard cars pulling up, and knew that the rest of the family had arrived. He was in the mood for a party now. He had everything he wanted and, more importantly, he had everything Jonnie Piper had wanted. His boys were both going places, and he would work hard at winning back his wife's affection; he would be successful, he was sure of it. He would get his family back proper, because at the end of the day, family was all you really had, all you could really rely on. And he had a family to be proud of, a family that most men could only dream of having.

    Phillip Murphy was a very happy man.