The Good Life (33 page)

‘Really, Loll? I am over the moon. You see, I hadn’t wanted to be the one to do it.’

With that barb he walked away and tried to get out of the bedroom door. At that moment an ashtray hit the mirror, sending it into a million pieces.

He turned back towards her, laughing. ‘Fuck me, Loll, make your fucking mind up! I thought this was what you wanted. You knew from the off that I was married and that ain’t going to change, not for you or for anyone else.’

She was kneeling on the bed screaming at him. ‘Fuck off and leave me the fuck alone, you rotten piece of fucking shit!’

He stood there, the picture of innocence, his arms open wide and a smile on his face. ‘I take it a fuck is out of the question then?’

He continued smiling as he fucked her on the leather sofa in her ‘through lounge’ as she called it. He did like the passionate fuckers – couldn’t resist them. It would make him late for his meeting but this was far too good to pass up.

When he finally got out of Lorraine’s flat he was an hour late and looked as though he had spent the night in a skip. His suit was ruined but he had to admit it had been pretty legendary sex! He had come like a train and now he was knackered.

He had just pulled into the car park of the club when he saw his brother, Jack, getting out of his own car. But before he could call over to him he spotted a very dishevelled-looking Ali Osman in the far corner of the car park pulling out a 12-gauge sawn-off shotgun. He watched in slow motion as Ali shot his brother Jack twice. The first shot lifted Jack into the air, his guts spraying everywhere, the second was straight to the head. All Jason could think was that their mother wouldn’t be able to see her dead son properly before she buried him.

Ali was already back in his car, speeding off as Jason ran to his brother with tears in his eyes and terrible hatred in his heart. He knew the bullets had been meant for him, not Jack. They looked like twins, especially in the dark of the night. If he hadn’t gone for round two with that cunt Lorraine he would have taken the bullet. He would have happily done anything to save his brother.

That fucking animal Ali Osman had shot the wrong fucking person and now he had an enemy who would not rest until he had tortured him to death. As he held his brother’s mangled body in his arms, tears streamed down his face and he wondered how the fuck he would explain all this to his poor old mum. He kept replaying the scene – the sound of the shotgun, his brother’s body flying into the air and the fucker going in for the final kill. This was a hit, pure and simple. It had to be because he’d threatened to take his drug business to the Russians. Well, he would make sure they all fucking paid a hefty penalty; he would make sure they knew to never fuck with a Biggs again.

He could hear the police and ambulance sirens in the distance as he held his brother in his arms. The revellers inside were all clamouring to leave; a nightclub shooting was never good for business.

Cain was told the news at 1 a.m. He could not believe what he was hearing and, even though Hasan assured him he would sort it all out, Cain knew it spelled the end. Jason Biggs would not let this go – why should he? And all the while Cain was stuck in his cell, confined to pacing the fucking floor and wondering what kind of retaliation Jason was considering.

Hasan Osman had told Cain he was going to take his brother out as soon as he had tracked him down. He could lecture all night about drugs, drink and everything else in between, but the bottom line was Ali Osman should never have been allowed to get into that fucking state in the first place. After years of working together, the goodwill between Cain and Jason Biggs had been destroyed in seconds because Ali fucking Osman couldn’t take a fucking joke. If it wasn’t so tragic it would be laughable. Cain had tried over and over to get through to Jason, but his phone wasn’t even turned on. He would be too busy with appeasing the Filth and trying to console his mother and his brother’s grieving widow. Jack had a couple of young sons, if he remembered rightly.

Cain poured himself a large brandy and, for the first time in years, he felt the urge to really harm someone. That someone was a cunt called Ali Osman. Jason Biggs was not a man to be crossed in any way, shape or form, but while Cain was banged up there was literally nothing he could do to alleviate the problem. It would be left to Hasan to do that. Though Cain loved Hasan, he knew he wasn’t the man for the job. Not this time anyway. Jason Biggs would need expert handling, and that was something few people were capable of delivering.

Cain didn’t sleep. He drank and stared at his mobile phone, willing it to ring; he had never felt so desolate in his life. Jason Biggs was a man capable of real cruelty – they all were in their own way. It was what made them who they were. But Jason Biggs had been known to hurt just for the hell of it; he had a penchant for violence. Now he would go all out for revenge.

Cain prayed to God for the first time in years, and asked Him to give Hasan Osman the gift of the gab. Because he was going to fucking need it – for all their sakes.

Jack Biggs’s death hit all the daily papers, and his family’s connection to violent crime was picked over and digested by the nation. It was a hit and the papers loved it as usual, finding any excuse to rehash anything they could find that pertained to the family and their workforce. Jack’s wife Maria was devastated of course, and her beautiful picture adorned all the front pages; the
Sun
had even managed to get a photo of them on their wedding day.

Cain shook his head in bewilderment at what people would do for a few quid. His heart went out to Jason, but it was three days now and still no word. He kept telling himself that no news was good news, but that was getting harder to believe as each hour wore on. Desmond Harker couldn’t get through to Jason, or any of the Biggs brothers for that matter, either. He was ‘incommunicado’, as Des kept saying.

Meanwhile Hasan was still trying to locate that fucking muppet Ali, and Cain had a terrible feeling that this was going to blow up in their faces. He was devastated for Jason’s loss, but he had to get through to assure him it was nothing to do with him or Hasan. It looked like they had been trying to take Jason Biggs out – it looked like a hit.

Ali had thought he was going for Jason, there was no doubt about that in anyone’s mind, least of all Jason Biggs himself. It was an abortion and needed sorting as soon as possible. Cain knew that a lot of the men on the wing were questioning his part in it all – even Desmond Harker.

This was when being banged up really hit home, because he was like a sitting duck in this dump. The waiting was killing him; he felt frustrated and helpless. Cain had to watch his back – with someone like Jason Biggs you had to try to pre-empt them. Think one step ahead. That was the only thing he could do now.

Hasan finally tracked his brother down to an old girlfriend’s council flat in Fulham. He had put a ten-grand price on a sighting and now he had him in view.

He waited until the woman left to take her kids to school before going inside. Kicking in the front door, he removed his brother from the premises with brute force, bundling him into a white Ford Transit where three men were waiting patiently to keep the fucker in line until they reached their destination. It was a small scrapyard in Tilbury, Essex. The man who owned it was renowned as someone who could easily dispose of unwanted items, mainly dead bodies. He would put them through the crusher with the cars.

Ali Osman looked terrified. He was rocking and Hasan realised that his brother – his baby brother who he had always looked out for – was using crack. Ali was crying now as he begged for his life. The paranoid cokehead had been replaced by a coward who just wanted to smoke a pipe of shit and get out of his head for a few hours at a time. Hasan Osman had never felt so ashamed of anyone or anything in his life. That his brother should end up like this, causing so much aggravation, was unbelievable to him. He blamed all those fucking whores he hung with, fucking cokeheads the lot of them, fixated on their next high. And where had that got him?

‘Kneel down, Ali. Just kneel down.’

Ali Osman was in tears; he knew his brother was going to kill him and he didn’t want to die.

‘Please, Hasan, don’t do this. I can go back to Istanbul or Adana. I can hide there . . .’

Hasan sighed. ‘There is nowhere for you to hide, you fucking moron. Don’t you understand? If Jason Biggs had found you first, you would have died long and slow. This is my last act of kindness. You have to go,
canim
.’

Being called ‘darling’ by his brother was the last straw for Ali and he cried like a baby. Gravely, Hasan shot him in the back of the head, execution style, then watched as the men loaded Ali’s body into the boot of a Mercedes sports car that had lost its front body in a crash.

As the whole thing was lowered into the crusher, Hasan said sadly, ‘He would have liked that – he always appreciated a nice car.’

He waited until the vehicle was completely crushed, then he wiped his eyes with a big white handkerchief and, motioning to the other men, climbed back into the van and prepared to leave. Hasan didn’t know then that these Turkish men who worked for him were in awe of him for taking out his own brother in the name of business. Especially considering how close they had been.

On the M25, Hasan said to no one in particular, ‘Fucking drugs, they make such a cunt of people.’

Jenny and Eileen were worried. It seemed Cain was convinced that Ali Osman’s actions would have far-reaching consequences. He had warned Jenny to be careful, to get all the premises swept for bombs and to stay away from the offices for the foreseeable future. Jenny thought he was being over the top and did her best to placate him, but he wouldn’t listen to reason and kept telling her that Jason Biggs was a man who always paid his debts. Jason’s brother was dead and he would be convinced that the hit had been planned for him. Which, of course, it was, but it had been Ali’s idea and no one else’s.

‘Honestly, the way he is carrying on, Jen, you would think we were caught up in
The
bleeding
Godfather
or something.’

Jenny smiled. ‘It’s being banged up, Mum – everything takes on a significance of enormous proportions. Cain is a worrier, that’s all. He thinks he is looking out for us.’

‘Putting the fear of Christ up us, more like!’

‘Try to understand, Mum. He’s been away a long time and he feels like he can’t protect us like he used to. Now let the fucking subject drop, eh?’

Jenny was cross because, if she was honest, her husband’s paranoia was actually scaring her. He was a lot of things, her Cain, but he wasn’t stupid. If he thought there was a threat then she would take him seriously – even if no one else did. She was aware, though, that she mustn’t frighten her family with her worries. Linda was pregnant and the last thing she needed was to be panicking about something happening. But it would be Christmas soon and that would take everyone’s mind off things.

Cain Junior was so excited about his first Christmas with Linda, and they would be spending it at Jenny’s place. She was cooking for them all, Linda’s parents and Molly included. She couldn’t leave the poor old cow out, even though she was like the spectre at the feast.

‘I tell you something, I think this Christmas will be a good one, Jen. I am really looking forward to it.’

Jenny smiled. ‘So am I actually.’

‘I always loved Christmas.’

Jenny didn’t answer. She could remember too many Christmases where there had either been a strange man in the house or her mum had gone on the missing list. She didn’t say that, though, as it was water under the bridge now. One thing she had learned over the years was that you couldn’t dwell on the past. It was not worth the upset – all it did was break your heart again and that was a fool’s errand.

Christmas was hard for Jenny; it was when she missed Cain the most. She liked to surround herself with people – it gave her a purpose – and she would cook and serve and tire herself out before going to bed and crying in private. She hated Christmas with a vengeance as it reminded her of just how much she had missed out on over the years. Not that she ever let on, of course. Her son needed good memories, and she had always been determined to give him just that. Good memories were what made life worth living. She should know – they had been keeping her going for years.

Hasan Osman had travelled to Manchester to see Jason Biggs. He had no choice in the matter, and it was with a heavy heart that he sat in the hotel waiting for the meet. He was pleased to be in a public place, though he knew Jason was shrewd enough to understand that he wouldn’t have come otherwise. This was Hasan’s chance to persuade the man that his brother had acted alone and tell him that he had taken him out himself as a result. He only hoped he could be convincing enough to make Jason see the truth of the situation. It was his idea of a joke that had caused it in the first place – not that he would say that, of course. He would explain his brother’s coke taking and his paranoia and hope for the best. It was all he could do.

In reality Hasan blamed himself. He should have taken better care of his brother; he had always tried to look out for him, but he was a grown man who had made his own choices. There was nothing anyone could do now. He missed him and was sad to think that he wouldn’t even get a proper burial. Even though Ali had not been the most observant of Muslims, he still deserved at least that. But needs must when the devil drives and Hasan had done what he needed to do for the greater good.

Just then he heard someone speak his name and, as he turned to answer, he was shot three times in rapid succession. The shooter calmly dropped the gun and walked quickly away as pandemonium ensued. Hasan’s last thoughts were of his mother in Istanbul and how she would cope with the loss of both sons within twenty-four hours.