The Jump (22 page)

Alan Cox sat in his office preparing the menus for the coming week while his chef, David Smalls, stood waiting patiently for his boss’s decisions.

Cox perused the menus and made notes on the typewritten sheets. Amigo’s always had a set menu. It was usually so delicious people chose it immediately. At forty-five pounds a head it was the cheapest way to eat in Amigo’s. There were no house wines here, the least expensive started at seventeen pounds a bottle. In Amigo’s you ate and drank and you expected to drop at least one hundred and fifty pounds a couple for that pleasure. It frequently amazed Alan Cox that people fought to patronise his establishment.

David watched his employer smile slightly, and relaxed. ‘These are good. You can use them from tomorrow. I have changed only two, Monday’s and Friday’s. How many times do I have to tell you I like fish on the menu on Fridays?’

‘Sorry, Mr Cox.’

The older man sighed and puffed on a large cigar. ‘And how many times must I tell you that as well, David? The name’s Alan or Al, take your pick, but please stop calling me Mr Cox. I’m not in my dotage yet!’

David grinned. “I’ll get these down to the kitchens. I thought the pate was particularly good last night, didn’t you?’

Alan jCox nodded. ‘Is it the work of that young kid again?’

.David nodded. ‘He’s certainly got a gift, Alan.’

‘Well, look after him, Davey boy.’

There was a discreet knock on his office door and he called out, ‘Enter.’ As David left with the menus, Alan greeted his maitre d’.

‘Ricardo, what can I do for you?’

‘There’s a lady downstairs to see you, Mr Cox.’

He frowned. ‘Did she give a name?’

‘She certainly did. It’s Mrs Georgio Brunos.’

Alan’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘What’s she look like?’

‘Late-thirties, well-dressed - I’d say she was wearing an original.

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them Slim, not too tall, and she has good legs. Very good bone structure, classic beauty, light makeup. And she is very determined.’

Alan grinned. Then send her up!’ As Ricardo walked to the door, Alan added, ‘What size shoe do you reckon she wears?’ Ricardo paused and thought. ‘A tenner says she wears a size four.’ Alan laughed. ‘You’re on!’

Five minutes later, Donna was on her way up the thickly-carpeted stairs, her drink carried on a small salver by Ricardo, who ushered her courteously into the large office.

Donna’s first reaction to Alan Cox was one of absolute astonishment. He was so big he seemed to fill the entire room with his presence. His hair was gold, a dirty-sovereign colour, thick and luxurious, and cut into a college boy style that suited his tanned face beautifully. His eyes were a deepsea blue that was practically violet. His mouth was full. Only his Roman nose was at variance with his other features, a lasting reminder of his years as a bareknuckle boxer.

Alan Cox had earned his first real stake, five hundred pounds, at the back of a shoe factory warehouse in East Tilbury. Twenty-six fights later, he had made himself a small fortune, had travelled abroad to fight, and had lost only twice, once in Los Angeles to a huge Irishman called Rourke, and once in France, in a barn outside Toulouse, to a Frenchman called Pardou. He could not remember the name of any of the men he had beaten in the other twenty-four fights.

When he smiled at Donna, she saw white teeth, the only flaw being that his two front teeth overlapped slightly, but far from taking away from his general handsomeness, it seemed to enhance it.

‘So you’re Georgio’s wife, then. Pleased to meet you, Mrs Brunos.’ His voice was deep, clear, and although not pronounced, an East London inflection was there nonetheless. He made no attempt to disguise it. Donna felt her hand being shaken firmly but gently by a large meaty fist. ‘How do you do, Mr Cox.’

Alan Cox smiled with delight. Brunos’s old woman, he thought to himself, weren’t a bad little piece.

‘Sit yourself down, love. You can refresh our drinks, Ricardo, and hold the calls.’

The waiter bent slightly from the waist and Alan saw the smirk on his face and grinned to himself. Ricardo knew him better than he knew himself.

Donna sat down in a deep leather chair and crossed her legs. She noticed Alan Cox’s interest and cursed under her breath. She should

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have worn trousers. Alan Cox looked the type of man who ate women for breakfast, broke their hearts by lunchtime, and was thoroughly bored with them by supper.

He sat behind his large leather-topped desk, picked up a fresh cigar, cut off the top, and then proceeded to place it in a large glass of beer. Donna watched him in amazement.

‘Give it a better taste, my love.’ He wiped off the excess beer with his fingers then lit the cigar slowly, completely unconscious of his actions. For some reason Donna felt as if she had witnessed something personal and erotic. She hastily lit herself a cigarette to overcome her shyness.

‘So what’s your proper name? Mine’s Alan as you probably know.’

‘It’s Donna, Donna Brunos.’

Alan smiled again, once more looking her over from head to foot. ‘How’s old Georgio getting on then? I heard he got the big one. He’s on the Island, ain’t he?’

Donna nodded. ‘It was Georgio who asked me to come and see you, Mr Cox.’

‘Well, I didn’t think it was Mother Theresa who asked you to drop in, love.’

Donna was saved from answering by Rkardo’s tap on the office door and his serving of the drinks.

When he had left them alone once more Alan said, ‘So, what does Georgio want?’

Donna watched him puffing on his cigar for a while before she answered.

‘Georgio asked me to tell you that he felt you owed him one. That’s his terminology, not mine.’

“I’d never have guessed.’

She smiled at his quick retort. ‘He needs help, Mr Cox, which is why I’m here.’

‘I ain’t got a lot of sway inside, not now I’m out anyway. I can get him a few little bits and bobs like. No drugs though …’ t Donna’s eyes widened. ‘I most certainly would not ask for anything like that, Mr Cox, and I am sure Georgio wouldn’t either.’

Alan grinned. ”All right, all right, keep your hair on, love. I never meant any harm. A lot of people sell a bit of whizz or a bit of puff inside. It helps you to do your time, and gives you a modicum of prestige. A lot of lags wouldn’t touch it out here, but a long one, well, that puts a different complexion on it.’

Donna sighed in despair. This man was one of the most irritating people she had ever come across. He pre-empted all her moves and then proceeded to lecture her afterwards.

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them ‘If you would let me finish, Mr Cox . .-.’

Alan laughed. ‘Oh, am I getting on your nerves? My old mum used to say to me: “Alan, you could talk the hind legs off a table, my son!” ‘ He roared with laughter at his own wit. ‘I lost her a year ago, bless her. I still miss the old bat.’

Donna smiled, while her insides twisted with nerves.

‘Anyway, love, you carry on and I’ll shut up.’

She took another deep breath. ‘Georgio said that you would help him. There’s something important he needs …’ Her voice trailed off.

Alan held out his arms, waving the cigar around, its thick blue smoke spiralling all over the place.

‘Well? What’s he want then?’

Donna stared at the big amiable man in front of her, remembering that he was a murderer. She leaned forward and stubbed out her cigarette.

‘He said before I asked you, to remind you that you and him went back a long time together. That you ran the streets as children, that you were very close.’

Alan grinned. ‘We were. Me and Georgio were like that.’ He crossed his fingers to emphasise the point. ‘He did me a very big favour once, a long time ago. I will never forget that.’

He smiled at her in a friendly way before speaking again. ‘Look, can I ask you something?’

Donna nodded.

‘Do I make you nervous?’

She shook her head and said in a strong voice, ‘No, Mr Cox, you don’t make me nervous at all, why?’

Alan smirked as he pointed out, ‘You just put your cigarette out in my bowl of peanuts.’

Donna looked into the small ceramic bowl and felt her heart sink down to her boots. Among the cashews and other nuts was the glowing ember of her St Moritz cigarette.

She stared at the bowl, her face scarlet with embarrassment. ‘I am so sorry.’

Alan realised that she was near to tears and felt sympathy wash over him. He had assumed she would see the funny side of what she had done. Instead she was lighting yet another cigarette with shaking hands.

He watched her tightly drawn face as she pulled the smoke into her lungs, saw the faint circles under her eyes and the chipped nail varnish on the third finger of her right hand.

He saw the way she was sitting bolt upright in the seat, as if she had

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a poker stuffed down the back of her very, expensive suit, and the way her left eye twitched at the corner every now and then.

This was one very uptight lady, yet he had heard through the grapevine that she was running the whole shooting match for Georgio while he was banged up and, more startling, that she was making a bloody good job of it.

She was an anomaly all right, and he decided that he liked her a lot. She was too good for Georgio, he knew that. Much as he liked Georgio, he also knew him very well and this little lady was probably unaware of the half of it where her husband was concerned.

Alan stood up and walked around the desk. ‘Look, calm yourself down and I’ll pour you a nice brandy. Take a few deep breaths. It was only a few nuts, Donna, nothing major. I’m not going to bite your head off or anything, no matter what you’ve heard about me. I draw the line at killing women or children.’

He watched her face pale at the words and knew immediately that his reputation had preceded him. He was sorry, because he hated to intimidate anyone he didn’t need to. His murder charge was what made his restaurant select; people whispered about it, and he played the part of the bad man gone straight. He was a perfect example of the villain gone legit. In fact he was legit. The fact amazed even him at times. He had no qualms about what he had done, rarely thought about it now, though there had been a time when it was on his mind constantly. But he had paid his so-called debt to society and now was free and clear. It was a long time ago and unless he was reminded of it, like now, he didn’t think about it for weeks at a time. He went to his globe drinks cabinet and poured out a large brandy. He took it back to Donna and placed it in her hand. ‘Look, love, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but divide it by four and then halve it. I am a legitimate businessman, I am seeing you even though you didn’t have an appointment, and I promise faithfully, cross me heart and hope to die, not to murder you or anyone ejse tonight. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

Donna looked up into his face and felt a flush of shame roll over her. He knew what was wrong with her, the man could read her like a book.

‘Drink your brandy,’ he said kindly, ‘and then just come out and say what it is Georgio wants. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to him. I owe him one, as he so succinctly put it.’ He smiled at her disarmingly.

Donna took a large gulp of the brandy, feeling it burn her throat as she swallowed. Looking into his face, she gathered up her courage and blurted out: ‘Georgio wants you to get him out.’

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them She saw Alan’s face drop, and it was his turn to go white. Donna sat watching for long moments before she spoke up. ‘Did you hear what I said, Mr Cox?’

Alan Cox nodded. ‘I heard, and there’s only one thing I can say.’

Donna swallowed hard. ‘What’s that?’

‘I think I’ll join you in that brandy.’

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Chapter Fifteen

Alan sipped his brandy and stared at the woman opposite him. She was smoking nervously. He got up and once more replenished her glass.

‘I’m driving.’

Alan nodded. ‘Don’t worry. If push comes to shove, love, I’ll get you driven home by one of my lads. They’ll deliver your car for you at the same time. I do it for a lot of my customers. Why does Georgio want out so badly? I mean, he ain’t asking me a small favour, is he? He’s asking me to risk everything for him.’

Donna shrugged. ‘All I can say is, Georgio said to remind you exactly what he did for you, though I can’t because I don’t know what it was.’

Alan smiled faintly. ‘Then I’ll tell you, shall I?’

He relit his cigar and settled himself once more in his seat. ‘Your husband and I grew up together in Canning Town. Unlike Georgio’s, my family weren’t exactly respectable. My old man was a drunk, spent more time in the pub than he did in the house. I don’t have to paint a picture, you look the type to watch Channel Four!’ He smiled at her again. ‘Well, old Pa Brunos, he took me under his wing, like. He used to take me and Georgio boxing together. I could have gone professional, but I didn’t. Instead I became a street-fighter. A bareknuckle man. I’m a big bloke and I attracted a good crowd of people.’You’d be amazed at the types who turn up to see two blokes punching the fuck out of each other.

‘Well, me and Georgio, we still kept in touch. He got into his building laik and I got into the boxing scene. So professionally we were worlds apart, though Georgio used to come and see me fight, and we’d have the odd drink together in The Bridge House. Twelve years ago, I beat a man to death not five minutes from where we’re sitting now. It was in Chinatown, actually. I did it in full view of a lot of people and I got life imprisonment. I am not going to tell you why I did it, that’s a secret known only to me and a couple of other people.

While I was inside Georgio looked after my family. My wife

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them divorced me. I accepted that, we’d grown apart anyway. But Georgio looked after them all. My son was at Ampleforth, Georgio paid his fees, and my daughter was at home with her mum. She went to a convent nearby. Georgio made sure she had enough money. You see, when I got life, a certain person I was in partnership with did a runner with all our money. My wife would have had to sell the house, everything, to make ends meet. I wrote to Georgio and he came up trumps for me. He also sorted out the slag who’d tucked me up. I did seven years before I was eligible for parole and I was out after eight years and five days. Georgio did a lot for me.

“I’ll never forget him for that. I also told him that I owed him one, and I stand by that statement now. So you can tell him that I will move heaven and earth to help him, but I can’t make any promises. What he’s asked me is a biggy. But if it’s at all possible, I will make it happen. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’ Donna shook her head, unable to take in what the man had said. Georgio had done all that and he had never once mentioned it to her. And though she admired and respected him for helping this man’s family, another part of her was grievously wounded that he could have done all that without giving her so much as an inkling of it. He had never once mentioned it to her. She did not even know this man or his family had existed until today. ‘How’s he bearing up?’ Alan asked now.

Donna sipped her drink to wash down the tears that had welled up inside her.

‘Very well under the circumstances. He hates it in there, though. He was fitted up. A man called Wilson pointed the finger at him.’

‘I heard about that. Shame he’s brown bread, ain’t it? No chance of making him change his statement now, is there?’

Donna shook her head again. ‘None. There’s a man called Lewis involved. Georgio got into something with him, and now Lewis is on the Island with him. He’s making things very difficult for Georgio. He got in with the big boys, I’m afraid, right over his head. Now this is the upshot.’

‘I know Lewis of old,’ Alan said. ‘Georgio should have had a bit more savvy than to have done any kind of business with him. He’s an arsehole, if you’ll pardon my French. A ginger beer and all. I heard Lewis loves it in there, like a holiday for him. I also heard he bought himself out of Broadmoor. The man’s a psychopath. I can understand why Georgio wants out. If Lewis is on his tail, he’s better off as far away as possible. Has he decided where he wants to go?’ Donna shook her head. ‘Well, I’ve got a villa in Spain. He could hole up there for a while. I

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own a timeshare complex out there. Nothing fishy, all my places are top class. I don’t rip anyone off, never have. I got into the timeshare there a few years back. I have a large place myself I use to take me kids on their holidays. My little grandson is four now. You’d love him. Right little hard man he is.’

Donna found herself smiling at his proud voice. ‘How old are your children?’

‘My Lisa is twenty-five and my son Alan Junior is twenty-one. I am forty-nine years old, before you ask.’

‘I never knew Georgio had done so much for you. He never said anything.’

Alan smiled. ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? It’s between me and him, the same way all this will be between me and you. I ain’t making any promises. I’ll look into this thoroughly, and if there’s a chance, then we’ll be off.’

Donna finished her brandy in one gulp, grateful for its burn. She had never felt so misused in all her life. Georgio could be cruel at times, so cruel. He’d lived a completely separate life from her and she had never realised it until now.

Another part of her mind was telling her that the things she had found out about him, had she known them at the time, would only have caused her sleepless nights. Georgio had probably guessed this, which was why he’d never told her, but had looked after her according to his lights. As far as her husband was concerned, he had done well by her. She had to hold on to that thought.

Anything he had done, had been for her as well as himself. She had lived a good life with him, she had had everything she’d wanted, more than anyone could want in fact. They had travelled the world, lived like kings, she had accounts at Harrods and Fortnum’s to name but a few. She had never questioned where all the money came from, she had just spent it. If she had known, she would have been worried and Georgio had always been at pains to stop her worrying about anything.

Alan watched the different expressions flickering across her face and sighed. She seemed a nice woman, a respectable type, definitely too good for Georgio.

‘Come or4 let’s go down and get something to eat,’ he suggested. ‘All this drink is making me hungry.’

Donna stood up unsteadily. She felt much better after she had consumed a large plate of spaghetti marinara, the clams still having the salty tang of the sea. It had been cooked to perfection. She wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and Alan poured out a glass of sparkling water for her.

y

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them ‘Drink that, it’ll dilute the brandy.’ Donna did as she was told. That was excellent!’ Alan smiled. ‘I’ve always liked me grub. Banged up, the food is terrible unless you cook your own. Lots of old lags become quite good cooks on a long stretch. Sex and food are the two most important things to men - and not necessarily in that order!’

Donna laughed with him. He was an attractive personality. Big enough to win attention wherever he went, Alan Cox was also gentle and kind. The kindness shone through his rough exterior, especially when talking about his children or his grandson.

“I’m going to start putting feelers out in the morning,’ he promised her. ‘I take it Georgio wants you as the go-between?’ Donna nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

Alan grinned. ‘You don’t sound too sure.’ She finished the glass of water and said seriously, ‘I don’t know anything any more, Alan. I thought I knew a lot once. About my husband, my life. I thought I was settled. I thought I would carry on as I was until I died. I felt safe. Now, I have a husband who’s doing eighteen years, I am sitting in a restaurant with a man who, if you’ll forgive my saying it, murdered someone in cold blood not far from where we’re sitting, and I am planning the escape from prison of someone who didn’t even have the decency to tell me he kept your family for years. I am beginning to wonder if I actually know him. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder exactly what Georgio is capable of.’

Alan heard the loneliness and the hurt in her voice. Realised that Georgio, as usual, had ridden roughshod over the little woman in front of him. She was out of her depth, way out of her depth. She was frightened, intimidated and worried, deeply worried. She wasn’t the usual villain’s wife. That sort, even if they didn’t know for sure, could take a shrewd guess what the score was. This girl, or woman, was as green as the proverbial grass.

He clicked his fingers together and a waiter came over. ‘Bring a bottle of my good brandy, will you? And two glasses.’

Donna snapped, ‘I don’t want any more to drink.’

Alan frowned and snapped back: ‘Well, you’re having some. You need a livener, girl. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, dangerous work. You could end up in clink, love. So if I was you I’d think long and hard about how deep you get in all this shit. Talk it over with Georgio, tell him to find someone else to do his running around. He will, he’s a known face. You’ve done your bit by coming here.’

Donna stared down at the tablecloth, biting back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue.

‘He can’t trust anyone but me. I already know that.’

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Alan sighed. ‘Then he’s a lucky man, and you’re an unlucky woman. If we’re to plan this thing together I need someone who won’t cry their eyes out at the first sign of trouble, do you get what I’m saying?’

Donna nodded.

‘It’s going to be dangerous, and it’s going to be hair-raising. It’s going to cost the earth and it’s going to take a lot of our time. The Old Bill will be sniffing round, the Serious Crime Squad will be yapping at our heels, and the Sweeny will know something’s afoot within twenty-four hours of me putting out feelers. There’s enough grasses in Soho alone to turf Wembley stadium. Do you think you can handle all this?’

Donna kept her head down, frightened to look at the big man opposite her.

‘You will be dragged through places you didn’t even know existed, with people you can only imagine in your wildest nightmares. I ain’t trying to frighten you, just letting you know the score. If you’re going to shit out, I’d rather it was now, before you know too much about what’s going on.’

The waiter came to the table with the brandy and glasses. While he served them, Donna was grateful for the respite, and forced herself to appear calm.

Alan gave her a balloon glass half-full of brandy. She took it gratefully.

‘So, what are you going to do, love? See Georgio and tell him to get someone else?’

Donna took a gulp of brandy, wincing at the burning in her throat. ‘I think I will be all right, Mr Cox.’

The name’s Alan,’ the big man grinned, ‘and I’ll take your word for the other. But I warn you now, love, one sign of you cracking and you’re out. Georgio can give me a back up in case I need it. I can’t visit, so everything has to be done with a go-between. Now I don’t care who it is as long as they’re reliable. I’d prefer a geezer, but I expect you know that already.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

She took a cigarette from her pack and Alan lit it for her. Donna’s hands were shaking so much he had to steady her fingers with his free hand.

‘Oh, you’ll be all right, will you? You’re shaking like a leaf now, and we ain’t even started planning anything!’

Donna leaned across the table and hissed, ‘Why don’t you shut

up

Alan laughed out loud. ‘I like a bit of spunk. I only hope you’ve got

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them a big reserve of it, Donna, because believe me, my little love, you’re going to need it.’

Alan had arranged for Donna to be taken home. As he watched the car disappear around the corner he sighed. He began a leisurely walk around to Dean Street where he entered a doorway. The small drinking club had been there since he had been a boy. The man who owned it was called Fido. No one knew his full name or anything about him. Alan was a welcome customer. He was rich, well-dressed and well-respected, and he could have a row: the perfect credentials for Fido’s place.

Fido sat in a small booth and Alan joined him without being invited. Fido was thin to the point of emaciation; he was also chafic white with sparse grey hair, and he looked like a gangling civil servant.

‘Hello, Alan, long time no see. What can I do you for?’ ‘I need a message delivered on to the Island. Private. I don’t want it to get to the ears of a man called Lewis.’

Fido laughed softly. ‘I can arrange that. I deal with Lewis’s messengers anyway. He’s a slag, but he pays well. Who’s the message for?’

‘Georgio Brunos. Just tell him Alan said, find a number two. He’ll know what I’m talking about.’ ‘It’s as good as done, my son,’ Fido assured him. A woman in her forties walked over to the booth and Fido ignored her as she spoke to him, not even glancing in her direction.

‘Come on, Fido, where’s Jerry? I know he’s been in. Jack told me he has.’

Fido, carried on ignoring her as he spoke. ‘Don’t you ever ask me anything about anyone again, Vera. If you do, I’ll stripe your face till the cows come home, all right?’

Vera, a large redhead, turned and walked away, her back ramrod straight with temper.

Fido sighed softly. ‘I wish these toms would get a handle on their pimps, Alan. In my young days they stuck to their mark like shit to a blanket. She’s looking for him to give him his wedge and the fucker’s nowhere to be seen.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Today it’s.all different. No finesse any more. I yearn for the good old days meself. Soho died in the sixties, you know. Once they legalised everything, the fun went out of it.’

‘You’re still here though, Fido.’

He grinned. They’ll take me out of here in a box, mate.’ He

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paused for a few seconds before saying: ‘Brunos is doing an eighteen and Lewis is riding his back. Sent two blokes to rough up his old woman, I heard. They’ve disappeared and now Lewis is like a monkey with a red-hot poker up his arse. I took the messages. I don’t like him so you’re lucky. I take his money and do me job, but that’s it. I owe him no allegiance, so I’ll give you a bit of advice gram.