The Good Life (29 page)

That was why you needed to be strong and have the right people around you for times when it seemed fucking hopeless and a sentence seemed to stretch out endlessly. Cain had used his time as well as he could – he was now a proficient cook and he read voraciously. But none of that compared to being able to walk out your own front door for a pint any time you wanted to, or kiss your wife and children whenever you felt like it.

Cain served dessert and then phoned his family from his own private mobile, passing the phone around the table to let everyone wish the young couple well, or to catcall out about the wedding night. It was a jolly evening in many respects, but the men were very subdued when they went back to their cells. Sometimes there could be nothing worse than a reminder of real life.

Hasan Osman was worried about his brother Ali. There was a distinct tension between them for the first time in recorded memory and Hasan knew Ali felt his opinion wasn’t being valued. While he was sorry about that, he had to understand that sometimes the best course of action was to remain passive. Villainy was about using your brains, and aggression wasn’t always the right way to go about things.

Hasan believed that Cain Moran had his head screwed on and, the more he thought about it, the more he could see where the man was coming from in his assessment of the situation. If everything he had heard about the Russians was true, they were formidable opponents who were willing to use extreme violence for the most trivial reasons. Hasan wasn’t intimidated by many people but these adversaries seemed to be worthy of respect. He looked at Ali who was sitting hunched in his chair, every bit of his body language screaming out that he was not a happy camper.

‘Look, Ali, listen to me just this once. Remember in Istanbul when we were young and we went up against the Cercezs family? We thought we had it in the bag but we didn’t allow for the friends they had onside. This is the same fucking situation, mate. The Russians have friends in high places. We have to box clever for now. It’s not over – once we know what we are dealing with we can act accordingly. Surely you can see that?’

Ali didn’t answer.

‘When we meet with Jason tonight I want you to play nice, OK? No matter what he says, don’t rise to the bait. He is the type of bloke who will wind you up even more if he thinks it is getting to you.’

Ali sighed and looked at his brother with an expression of serious dislike on his face. ‘Want me to kiss his cock while I’m about it or is that a step too far?’

Hasan rolled in eyes in annoyance. ‘Do you know something? You can be like a fucking child sometimes. If you weren’t shoving so much gear up your fucking hooter you might see sense in what I am saying. Remember the old saying: never buy from a dealer who uses more than you do. You are getting a bad rep. Everyone knows you spend every night out of your tiny mind. You are the one who will bring this business down, not that cunt Jason Biggs. Sort your fucking head out or find another fucking partner in crime because, honestly, I’m sick to death of you.’

Hasan had never spoken so forcefully to his younger brother before and the shock on Ali Osman’s face was evident. He stood up, and Hasan readied himself for a fight. Ali also liked a knife, and he would need to look out for that too. He knew him well – better than he knew himself.

‘Is that what this is all about? You and Cain Moran becoming best buddies and leaving me out of the loop? I feel like you and Cain Moran are taking me for a cunt. A Grade-A, prize-winning cunt.’

Hasan Osman was torn between love for his brother and a powerful urge to hammer him into the ground. Taking a deep breath to steady his growing anger, he said as reasonably as he could, ‘Listen to yourself, bruv. You sound like a fucking whining girl. Now this is my last word. When we meet with Jason Biggs tonight I do not want a fucking word out of your mouth, no matter what. Do you get my drift?’

Ali Osman reluctantly agreed. He was still burning at the injustice of it all, and was convinced his brother and Cain Moran were colluding against him. He was too coked out of his nut to make rational decisions. He couldn’t see that they were trying to stop a serious war erupting with enemies they knew nothing about. And he couldn’t for the life of him see that all Hasan and Cain wanted was time to find out who they were dealing with before working out the next step. All he could see was that he was not being listened to, and in his book that was tantamount to mutiny.

As always, Hasan had to have the last word. ‘I mean it, Ali, if you fuck this tonight you and me will fall out big time. This is the moment for sensible heads. So try not to vacuum up a whole eighth before the meeting, will you?’

Ali was so disgusted he didn’t even answer.

Jason Biggs and his brother Jack were in the back offices of their nightclub in Manchester. This was their main place for meeting with people; it was soundproof thanks to the DJ in the main hall and it was very secluded. It also had a private staircase leading down to the basement which was often used when people became a bit too annoying for their liking.

Jason and Jack were very alike in appearance – both were good-looking men, always immaculately dressed – but whereas Jason was a live wire, Jack was the quiet one. Happily married with a couple of young sons of his own, he was the family brainbox – good with numbers and quick to grasp anything he was told. He was the acknowledged number two in the family and he and Jason were closer than close. You rarely saw Jason have a meeting without Jack by his side. Jack had a retentive memory and, in dealings where the detail was critical, his ability to reel back everything he had heard was crucial. Jason Biggs loved all his brothers but would be lost without Jack.

They were waiting for the Osman brothers, satisfied that Cain Moran had talked them into renegotiating the drug money. Cain wasn’t to know that Jason Biggs had no intention of dealing with the Russians. Jason had already sussed that once those Russians got an in, they didn’t give up till they had everything they wanted. And that generally meant everything you had. As far as Jason was concerned this was a win-win situation for him and his firm. He’d played this hand well and a better deal was in the offing. As they sat sipping expensive brandies and smoking even more expensive cigars, the brothers were pleased with a job well done.

As the Osmans were shown into the office, Jason was out of his chair and welcoming them like long-lost relatives. It was part of his considerable charm – when he could be bothered he was a very good host – and this had stood him in good stead in some very tricky situations over the years.

Ali and Hasan sat down and accepted the drinks, though they declined the cigars. Then Jason Biggs opened an office drawer and took out a mirrored bathroom tile covered in lines of cocaine and offered it to Ali with a flourish. ‘I hear this is your preferred recreational drug, Ali.’

It was a genuine joke, but it could not have come at a worse time for Ali Osman, who took it as an insult.

As soon as Jason realised his little bit of fun had offended he laughed, saying, ‘As my old mum used to say, “Don’t take offence, take a gate.” It was a joke, mate, fucking lighten up!’

Ali could feel his brother’s eyes on him and said through gritted teeth, ‘I’m splitting my sides, mate.’

Jason grinned, his natural humour coming to the fore, as he said lightly, ‘You will be splitting the bridge of your nose if you don’t ease up on the gear, mate. I know a bloke who had to have a steel plate put in. Whole thing collapsed. I said to him, “That’s what you get for picking your nose too much.”’

Even Hasan laughed at that; it was an old story but a true one. Ali Osman smiled. Though he had heard it before, what Jason had said still rankled. It was a piss-take, no more and no less. He knew his brother wanted him to play it cool – he would do that for him today but this was the last straw as far as he was concerned.

The negotiations started in earnest and, one hour later, Jason Biggs was thrilled with his new deal. Cain Moran had the right idea: never get mixed up with the Russians, though by all means use them to your advantage. They shook on the arrangement and the meeting was over.

Ali Osman, though, was still smarting from the earlier insult and he was determined not to let this one go. Jason fucking Biggs needed a reality check and Ali was just the man to give it to him. He would show his brother and Cain Moran that he was not to be treated like a fucking mug. Most of all, though, he would show Jason Biggs that sometimes you could push the wrong person too fucking far.

Eileen tuned Molly Moran out as the silly old cow droned on about her marvellous son. She looked across the dinner table at Cain Junior and his lovely bride-to-be and felt a surge of pride. She’d be the first to admit that she had not been the greatest mother. Eileen wasn’t what you would call the maternal type, and she knew deep in her heart that she could take no credit at all for the fact that her daughter had turned out so fabulously. She had often left her home alone as a kid while she went out drinking, she had brought all manner of men back to their home, and she wasn’t what anyone would call a housekeeper. But in her own way she had loved her daughter, just as she loved this big strapping grandson of hers. Now, as he embarked upon life as a married man, she hoped to have more babies to dote on, even if she had never really doted on her own. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Her ears suddenly pricked up at something Molly was saying and she asked her to repeat herself. ‘Sorry, Molly, what was that again?’

Molly Moran looked straight at Eileen before saying slowly and sarcastically, ‘I said – my son will be out before we know it. He’s broken the back of his sentence now. Only another few years.’ She looked at Linda then, who had already guessed that the conversation was about to turn nasty, and continued, ‘Then you will see what’s what in this family you’re joining.’

Even Jenny took umbrage at that insinuation, and Eileen snapped quickly, ‘What’s that supposed to fucking mean?’

Cain Junior closed his eyes in dismay. Why did his nan always have to rock the boat after a few glasses of whisky? He reached for Linda’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

‘What I mean is, once my son is back in his rightful place as head of this household—’

That was it. Eileen was on her like a greyhound on a hare. ‘Head of what fucking household? My daughter has kept this fucking place going for years, darling. She is also running his fucking businesses for him while he is banged up. When he finally comes home he will be down on his knees thanking her for keeping everything going so smoothly against the odds.’

Molly laughed at that. ‘We all know exactly what she had running smoothly, as you so eloquently put it, and it wasn’t a fucking business.’

‘
Nan!
This is supposed to be my special night with Linda. That is enough ancient history for one fucking night if you don’t mind.’

Molly was astounded at her grandson’s words. Never had she expected him to talk to her like that. But Cain Junior had really had enough.

‘You’re a bitter pill, Nan. You think I only know your side of that story? Well, I know both sides, so let it fucking drop. You naused up your place in this family and you did it with malice. No matter how many times you tell yourself otherwise, I know the truth and so does my dad. I’ve spoken with him about it.’

Molly turned pale with shock and no small amount of fear. What had they been saying to Cain about her behind her back?

‘You’ve always got to put your ten pence worth in at every fucking opportunity. Well, it stops now, OK? My mum is the best in the world. She brought me up single-handedly and she gave me everything she could. I’ll tell you something for nothing – I almost wish she would get herself a bloke sometimes. I know how fucking lonely it is for her on her jacksie and I wouldn’t hold it against her, even if you would. I love my dad, but life is for living and my mother has never really lived her life as she should. That’s because she loves your son, and if you can’t see that then you are even more of a stupid woman than I thought.’

Everyone at the table was staring at Cain Junior in shock. Eileen was thrilled with her grandson’s words; they had needed to be said and she was glad that someone else was doing it!

Molly stood up unsteadily with tears in her eyes; her whole face was flushed deep red with embarrassment. That her grandson could say those things to her in front of that young girl was more than she could bear. She had been humiliated and, what’s more, a little voice in the back of her head was telling her she deserved every word.

‘Sit down, Molly – you’re going nowhere.’ Jenny’s voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that everyone at the table could hear.

‘I will ring for a cab, Mum. There’s no way I am dropping her home tonight. This was supposed to be a lovely evening to welcome my fiancée into the family. Well done, Nan, you’ve ruined it.’

As he left the room, Molly looked towards Linda who was bowing her head down to her chest. The embarrassment was radiating from her too.

Jenny shook her head sadly and said to Molly, ‘Well, that was certainly a turn up for the books. You did ask for that, Molly.’

Molly Moran remained standing. Her humiliation was complete and she didn’t know how to rectify the situation with her grandson and his fiancée. She knew it would always be between them now.

‘Well, good on Cain Junior if you ask me,’ Eileen said. ‘You’ve caused a lot of grief in this family, Molly. By rights my daughter should never have let you back through the fucking door after the stunt you pulled. I’d have kicked your arse the length and breadth of the fucking road. If your Cain had to choose between the two of you, he would choose my Jenny just like her son did. She is the one who has always loved them both, always been there for them. Cain Junior got it in a nutshell when he said he wished she’d had someone in her life, even briefly. She strayed just once. Once in twenty fucking years. If that doesn’t tell you how lucky that son of yours is I don’t know what will.’