The Jump (36 page)

‘Where are we?’

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Alan smiled grimly. ‘This is a place called Govan.’

Donna faced him. ‘What does that word mean?’

Alan parked in front of a squalid block of flats and shrugged his shoulders.

‘I don’t know. It’s probably a Gaelic word for “arsehole of the world”. Come on, get everything out of the car. We ain’t leaving nothing. They’d smash your windscreen here for a packet of fags left on the dashboard.’

Donna emerged from the car, looking around her helplessly. This wasn’t what she had expected. After Jamesie’s grand house she thought everywhere else would be the same. What on earth could they be doing here?

As they walked into the small block of flats they were nearly knocked flying by three teenage girls who ran through the lobby doors jfflaughing wildly.

The tallest of the girls said something unintelligible to Donna and the other two sniggered. Donna felt her face burning. Whatever the girl had said had been accompanied by a sneer as she looked Donna up and down like so much dirt.

Alan held the door open for her and she walked into the foetid warmth of the block. There were two doors on the first floor. Each had a black binbag outside, overflowing with rubbish. The tiled flooring was filthy; the stench of decay filled then: nostrils. Propped against a wall was a child’s cycle and a large bag of cement. The bag was broken open and cement was strewn all around the floor. It had obviously been there for months. Alan knocked on a battered green-painted door and waited patiently. No one answered. He banged on the door again, harder this time. Donna could hear voices coming from the flat. Loud raised voices, one of them a woman’s.

The door was thrown open by a child of about nine. The boy had short cropped hair, a striped jersey, dirty jeans and a pair of Fila bumpers.

‘What?’ The child’s voice was harsh.

‘Is your dad in?’

He wiped his hand across his nose and looked Donna up and down before answering.

‘Who wants to know?’

Alan knelt down until he was the same height as the boy.

‘Listen, little hard man, is your fucking dad in or not? If he is, tell him Alan Cox is here. If he ain’t, give me the name of the pub he’s in and I might, just might, give you a couple of quid.’

The child stared into Alan’s face, debating whether to tell him anything or to keep his peace. He was saved from answering by the

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them appearance of a small bull-necked man with the biggest beer belly Donna had ever seen in her life.

‘Hello, Alan, me old mate. Long time no see.’

His Cockney accent was like balm to Donna after listening to he thick Glaswegian tones of everyone else. The child moved silently aside to let them pass.

‘Annie! Get the kettle on, girl, we’ve got visitors.’ He turned to Alan, grinning cheerfully. ‘You’ll have to take us as you find us. You know my Annie. She never was a one for clearing up.’

Alan laughed. Then a good-looking blonde woman of about thirty-five walked into the hallway. Her hair was immaculately brushed, her clothes cheap but well-pressed. She had on impossibly high heels, and Donna was amazed to see that under her leggings and the big shirt, the woman was heavily pregnant.

‘Hello, Alan.’ Her voice was pure Scots. She smiled at him seductively, even in her advanced state of pregnancy.

Donna was ignored, and knew instinctively that she would always be ignored by this woman while there were men about. All Annie offered her was a perfunctory glance.

‘I’ll make the tea.’

Her voice didn’t have the harsh tones of most of the Scottish people Donna had encountered, but was soft and musical.

Donna walked after the men into the small front room and was shown to a seat on a surprisingly good leather sofa.

The front room was Annie’s pride and joy. It was filled to capacity with what she termed ‘good stuff. There was a thirty-two-inch TV and state-of-the-art video, the leather suite was black, the walls painted white and hung with pen and ink drawings depicting different scenes from the Clyde. A thick Axminster carpet covered the floor, and the fireplace was Adam style with a black marble hearth. Tables abounded, and a large black ash wall unit dominated the back of the room, covered in all sorts of blue-painted plates, jugs and glassware. Donna secretly abhorred the style but was admiring of the fact that it had been done at all. After seeing the outside of the flats and the hallway, she was pleasantly surprised to find herself in relative comfort.

Alan and the man settled themselves. A small child crawled into the room and Donna was amazed to see Alan pick it up expertly and cuddle it.

‘She’s got big, Jonnie. How old is she now?’

He shrugged. ‘Nearly a year. She still ain’t attempted to walk. Justin and Wayne were both early walkers but she’s a lazy cow.’ He pushed his face close to his daughter’s and the child grabbed at his

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nose, laughing. ‘Aren’t you, my little darling? Who’s Daddy’s best girl then, eh?’

The child crowed with joy and Donna felt herself relax. If children were in the house then at least this wasn’t going to be dangerous. She felt hypocritical to have judged this man by his home after spending the previous night in the palatial residence of an arms dealer.

This is Jonnie H. Jonnie, this is Donna Brunos, Georgio’s wife.’

As he spoke Annie walked into the room with a tray of tea. She looked at Donna with new respect.

‘You’re Georgio’s wife? Well, well, well. I always thought him having a wife was just a vicious rumour. So you actually exist? Wonders will never cease.’

She scrutinised Donna then, as if seeing her for the first tune, taking in the black suede shoes, matching handbag and expensive silk suit. She registeXd the sheer black stockings, the thick chestnut hair and dark blue eyes - and decided she didn’t like Donna Brunos one bit.

She passed her d chipped mug full of weak tea, the mug she had been going to have herself. Donna nodded her thanks and Annie ignored her once more.

‘So what brings you to this neck of the woods?’ The musical voice was turned on Alan.

‘I came to see your old man, Annie. I have a bit of a tickle for him.’

She smiled, showing even white teeth. ‘As long as it’s not a robbery, Alan. I’m nearly due and all I want is to get this bairn born with Jonnie beside me as usual.’

Alan smiled widely, his teeth sparkling in his tanned face.

‘This is as sweet as a nut, Annie. A good bit of wedge for one day’s work.’

‘How much is a good bit of wedge?’

Annie’s voice was brisk, businesslike, and Donna watched amazed as Jonnie H. waited for his wife to have her say.

‘A good few grand.’

‘And what will my Jonnie be doing for his good few grand?’

Alan grinned again. ‘He’ll be helping me to spring a mate from Parkhurst, that’s what he’ll be doing.’

Annie stared at her hands for a few seconds, digesting what he had said. Then she looked up into Alan’s eyes and said seriously, her musical voice taking on a hard edge, ‘Fifteen grand, eight up front, and my Jonnie is yours, Alan.’

He laughed out loud. ‘Your wife’s a fucking con artist!’

Jonnie H. grinned mischievously. ‘My wife knows my worth, and don’t you ever forget it, Cox!’

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them Alan held the small child up in the air and cooed at her. ‘Your mum’s the best negotiator in the business, sweetheart.’ The baby chortled, her chubby legs moving in a cycling motion. Alan placed the child back on the floor. Looking at Annie he said: ‘Fair enough. It’s a deal. Now, I want you to find me some other men I can trust. No one will know what’s going down until the day before the jump, right? I want men unknown around the south-east, men who are hard, who can take a few knocks and who can keep their traps shut.’

Donna watched Annie carefully assessing what Alan said. Despite herself she was impressed with the woman.

“I’ll tell you what, Alan. I’ve a proposition. We give you the names and for every one you decide to take on, we get a ten percent cut for commission. How’s that? We’ll recruit them for you if you want. Jonnie’s got a few good mates up here in Govan. Christ knows, they could do with the money.’

Alan nodded. ‘That’s the ticket, girl. You do the recruiting. The only stipulation is, they must be able to keep their traps shut, before the jump and after. Especially after.’

‘Understood. Now, who wants more tea? I have a nice bit of ham in. I’ll make a few sandwiches then you and Jonnie can go through the names and their specialities and we can work from there. Would you like to give me a hand?’ She smiled at Donna for the first time.

Donna stood up uncertainly and followed her out into the small kitchen.

‘The bread’s in there and the butter’s in the fridge. Get buttering.’ Donna did as she was told, swallowing down her annoyance at the woman’s attitude.

‘So how’s Georgio these days? We haven’t seen him for a while. Jonnie H. was a good friend of his years back.’

Donna licked some butter off her thumb. ‘Georgio’s fine, thank you, Annie. I’ll give him your best, shall I?’ Her tone was hard.

Annie laughed. ‘You do that. Tell him Annie asked after him. Just that.’

Donna smiled tightly. ‘He’ll know who you are, then?’ Annie rested her arms on her huge stomach. ‘Oh, he’ll know who I am, all right, don’t you worry about that.’

They worked in silence for a while, the atmosphere thick in the small confined space of the kitchen.

Annie spoke again. ‘How come you’re with Alan? Georgio wouldn’t like to know you were out and about together, would he? Especially while he’s away. I remember when my Jonnie was banged

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up in Barlinnie, I nearly went out of my mind. Have you any wee ones?’

Donna shook her head. ‘Georgio knows I’m here, Annie. As for children, we don’t have any.’

Annie sneered at her. ‘You don’t look the type to get pregnant, not the way you dress.’

Donna slammed down the knife she was cutting the sandwiches with.

‘And what would you know about that, eh? What are you, some kind of bloody oracle, you know everything suddenly?’

Annie grinned annoyingly. ‘Calm down, Donna. I was only making a statement of fact. I bet you wouldn’t be seen dead looking like I do.’

Donna felt the fight leave her body. What with Alan and now this Madonna of the Scottish Slums, she was finding it hard to cope.

‘Then that just shows you how much you know, doesn’t it? I had two miscarriages and a dead boy, if you must know. I wasn’t very lucky where children were concerned. Satisfied?’

Annie was about to answer when Alan walked into the room.

‘Everything all right, girls?’ His voice was artificially bright. ‘Jonnie H. has gone down the offie for a bottle of scotch. Can I give you two a hand?’

Annie shook’ her head. ‘No thanks, Alan, me and Donna are fine.’ She smiled at him reassuringly and he had no choice but to leave the room.

Annie went to Donna’s side and touched her arm gently.

“I’m a bitch, take no notice of me. It was your lovely clothes and your slim figure that annoyed me. I’m sorry for what I said, heart sorry.’

Donna finished cutting the sandwiches.

‘I don’t want your sympathy, Annie. I just wish everyone would stop treating me like I was something they dragged in off the street on their shoes. I know the impression I create and I’m sorry, but that’s me. I never had to fight for anything in my life until now. But believe me when I say, for Georgio I’d fight anyone.’ ‘Annie smiled again, wider this time, a genuine smile.

‘Och, you’ll do, lassie. And let’s face it, Georgio is worth fighting for, eh? You’re a lucky girl, keeping him all these years. That’s no mean feat. Georgio is too good-looking for his own good. Or anyone else’s for that matter!’

Donna laughed at the underlying message in what Annie said and the two of them bonded then as only women can.

In the lounge Alan sat with the baby and thought of what he had heard Donna snap at Annie.

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them A dead boy. His heart went out to her. Especially after all he had said to her in the car earlier. How could he have been so dumb, so stupid? Donna Brunos was no ordinary housewife, he had deliberately set out to upset her. Now he realised just how he had achieved that end.

A dead boy. The words ran around his head and every nuance of her heartbreak was in those three little words.

A dead boy.

No wonder Georgio was her all. At her age she didn’t have anything else to look out for, to look forward to.

He decided then and there that if it was the last thing he did, he would see that she got what she wanted: Georgio.

He would move heaven and earth to achieve that for her.

Jonnie H. came back with the scotch and the girls brought in the sandwiches, smiling at one another like conspirators now. Alan shook his head at the ways of women.

‘I was going through names while I walked down the offie and I think I might have just the people you’re looking for. Three brothers. They stick to each other like shit on a blanket and they’re all kosher. One went down for five years for a mate, because he wouldn’t grass him. They’re called the McAnultys and they’re bastards, but trustworthy bastards. Know what I mean.’

Alan nodded.

As he listened to Jonnie H. he watched Annie and Donna looking after the baby, saw how Donna put the child on her lap and kissed its downy head. He could see the naked hunger in her eyes and it was like a knife going through his very soul.

He would give her what she wanted; he would hand her Georgio on a plate if that’s what it took to keep her happy.

He only wished he could give her what she really deserved.

I

Chapter Twenty-Five

Alan and Donna walked out of the flats and he checked the car over before they got into it. They were both amazed to find it intact. As they drove out of the inaptly named Harmony Row towards Argyle Street, Donna settled back into the comfort of the seat.

‘What did you think of Annie?’ Alan asked her.

She shrugged. ‘I liked her, but not at first! Once we had had a little chat we were fine, though. I was surprised to find that Jonnie H. was a Cockney. It seemed strange hearing his voice after all the Scottish accents.’

Alan laughed with her.

‘There’s a story there with Jonnie H. and Annie, When he was in the Smoke, he was a sod for whoring. He patronised Shepherd’s Market and Kings Cross. It was a standing joke with everyone. He always went for the rough trade. Then, all of a sudden, Jonnie H. was getting married. We were all amazed. I done the food for his wedding, Georgio will tell you …’

Donna turned in the seat. ‘You mean, he was there? At their wedding?’

Alan” swallowed heavily. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘Nan, of course not. I mean it was the talk of the town, like. Nothing more.’ He saw Donna visibly relax.

‘Anyway to get back to me story. It turned out that Annie, she was only about .seventeen then, was a torn from the Market itself. He picked her up one night in his motor and that was that. He took her away from it all. She was a right looker and all. I mean, she looks all right now and she’s ready to drop her chawy any day. It caused a sensation at the time, but as Georgio said to me once - in reality, Jonnie done himself a favour. He got what he wanted and he’s happy. He paid the toms to do what he wanted. Now he has one on tap, if you like.’

Alan roared at his own humour.

Donna stared at him stonily. They seem very happy to me.’

Alan waved a hand at her. ‘They are happy - happiest couple I’ve

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them ever seen. He worships her. But myself, I couldn’t marry a torn. I know it sounds nasty, like, but I just couldn’t do it.’

He hung a left off Argyle Street and made his way to The Waterloo public house. Pulling up outside, he turned the engine off and faced her.

‘Have I said something wrong?’

Donna shook her head. ‘Annie seems to me to be very much the stronger of the partnership.’

‘Oh, she is,’ he agreed. ‘Before they married he’d do a blag, piss all his money up the wall and be looking round for work again. He also sold himself short. It’s Annie what got him into this business. She’s his negotiator, and she looks after the dosh. That flat in Harmony Row is just a front. Eventually him and her are going to get right out of it, buy a place for cash then carry on from there. She’s shrewd, old Annie. She knew what Jonnie H. could offer her and she took it. Like most brasses she’s loyal to him. They’re always loyal, brasses. Funny that. They’re loyal to their pimps, their boyfriends and their husbands. Never ceases to amaze me.’

He jumped from the car and held Donna’s door open for her.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘This, Donna, is where we pick up the front men. I know a few faces here who can help us.’

She followed him into the stagnant warmth of The Waterloo. It was a known haunt of homosexuals and Donna breathed in perfume, aftershave and sweat as they pushed their way to the bar. The music was loud and heavy. Leather and earrings abounded.

‘Two large scotches, please. Is Nick Carvello in at all?’

The barman nodded and jerked his head at the corner of the room. Alan paid for the drinks and they squeezed through towards Nick Carvello and his friend Albie Doyle.

Nick was tall, slender and very good-looking, with thick red ban tied back in a ponytail and green eyes like a cat’s. Albie was short, dumpy and dressed in overalls. Donna felt as if she had gatecrashed a Village People concert.

Nick squealed loudly. ‘Alan! Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Look what the cat’s dragged in, Albie.’ He was looking Donna over as he spoke. ‘Love the suit, dear, very Sharon Stone. Now let’s sit down and get settled.’

He walked to a table where four men were sitting chatting. He made a waving gesture with his hands and the four beat a hasty retreat.

‘Come and sit down, and let’s catch up. Sit beside me, Albie dear, but first go and get another round of drinks. And ask Phillip if he can

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put on some Stylistics. This shit is giving me a headache.’

He turned to Donna and said conspiratorially, ‘Ever since that shit “Relax” came out, they think we all gyrate to rubbish like that. Sickening, isn’t it?’

Donna smiled, feeling very out of place. ‘You’re not Scottish?’ she said tentatively.

Nick screamed with laughter. ‘Essex born and bred, dear, that’s me. Typical Essex Man if people only knew it. The things I could tell you about that county would make your hair curl up and fall out! Mind you, I was a Londoner for a long time. Ever heard of the London Boys? Bowie wrote a song about us once. I live up here now, doing me bit, like we all do. What’s your name, dear? I hope it’s as glamorous as you are.’

Donna looked into his perfectly made-up face and said: ‘It’s Donna, Donna Brunos.’

She saw Nick’s eyes widen. Then he looked at Alan quickly before saying sotto voce. ‘We are a lucky girl, aren’t we?’

Donna was saved from answering by Albie coming back with the round of drujKs.

‘Oh Albie, you are a darling. Albie, meet Donna Brunos. Georgio was hiding her from us all for years. Pretty as a picture, isn’t she? Love the hair. Is it natural?’

Donna found his high breathless way of talking amusing, especially as he jumped from one subject to another so hastily. She realised that most of his questions weren’t to be answered but were delivered as compliments.

‘So, Alan, What’s to do, dearie?’

Alan grinned and knocked back his scotch. ‘Stop fucking camping it up. You know I hate it.’

Nick’s face was serious as he answered in a deep voice, That’s why I do it, love. Got to give the punters a show, eh?’

Alan sighed. ‘I’ve got a bit of business for you and Albie. I need a boat, a straight house - and I mean straight - and some supplies.’

Nick sipped his rum and Coke and licked his lips before answering.

“What kind of boat do you want, and where do you want it docked? If you’re travelling over the water, I’ll get you a nice fishing vessel. If you need a speedboat, I’ve got a choice of three. You tell me what you want to do and I’ll tell you if I can do it, how much it’ll rush you and whether or not I think the risk is worth it. I don’t do drug running any more. My Petey got a life for it and I don’t need the hassle, OK? Now it’s your turn, Alan, and keep it short and sweet.’

Donna was amazed at the turnaround in Nick Carvello. Now he was like any other businessman, except instead of a suit he wore a

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them bright green Lycra bodystocking, and green-eyeshadow to match. The Stylistics came on singing ‘Betcha, By Golly, Wow’ and Nick listened to Alan while swaying in time to the music.

He looked at Donna and winked in a friendly fashion.

Alan began talking. Donna was amazed at the way he didn’t take any notice of the people around him. He seemed at home with them.

‘I need a fishing boat, but one that can shift, know what I mean? I need a house to hole up in just in case we don’t make it to the boat in time. I need a good crew, trustworthy, who can keep stumm. I also want a chart for getting over to Ireland. That’s where the parcel is gonna be landing first off.’

Nick nodded. ‘This ain’t nothing to do with the Irish, is it?’ His voice was hesitant.

‘In a way. He’s half-Irish and we’re gonna spring him.’ He nodded towards Donna as he spoke.

Nick grinned. ‘I get it - old Georgio is for the off! In that case I’ll work you out a good deal, Alan. A mate’s a mate after all, and in my game you can do with as many of them as possible.’

He held up his glass in a toast and swallowed down the rest of his rum and Coke. ‘Another round, Albie dear, if you don’t mind.’

Albie smiled and went to the bar once more.

‘He’s very quiet, isn’t he?’

Nick laughed gently. ‘So would you be, love, if someone cut your tongue out.’

Donna wasn’t sure whether it was a sick joke. She looked askance at Alan who nodded his head slowly.

Nick carried on talking. ‘He was a rent boy with me years ago, before I came into my present occupation. A punter done it because he didn’t like the blow job. I’ve looked after him ever since. I found him and I kept him. I’ve got a thing about strays.’ His voice was once more pure camp and Donna knew it was to hide the sadness behind his words.

Inexplicably she felt tears come into her eyes and Nick, seeing this, held her small hand in his large scarlet-nailed one. ‘Sad, love, I know. But he’s all right now. I give him a good life, dear. You’re too chicken-hearted. I’m the same. I cry at Lassie films.’

Alan watched the incongruous twosome and shook his head in defeat.

Donna was holding her own and making friends wherever they went. It could only augur well for the future and Georgio’s jump. He smiled at her, watching her beautiful face as she stared into Nick’s heavily made-up eyes.

She had passed the test, she had held her own, and Alan realised

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that in a lot of ways she was an asset to the operation. Everyone had always wondered about Georgio’s wife; Brunos was into so much more than Donna would ever be able to comprehend. She was an enigma to people, for she was interesting, and she looked and acted shrewd. In fact, he told himself, if she’d been anyone else’s wife …

Georgio and Chopper sat in their cell and played poker. Chopper was holding all the winning cards. He took a deep swig of the prison hooch - a dangerous whisky made from potatoes and smelling suspiciously of paint-stripper - and breathed out harshly as the alcohol burned his mouth.

Georgio laughed. ‘I don’t know how you can drink that shit.’

‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ Chopper grinned.

The cell door was opened by one of the night screws, a tall heavy set man with a large handlebar moustache.

‘Lewis is out of danger and should be back on the Wing within ten days,’ heyfnnounced. ‘I’ve got a message for you, Brunos. Mr Lewis says you’re to be his eyes and ears till then.’

The door clanged shut.

‘I don’t know what Lewis is playing at,’ Georgio said.

Chopper shuffled the cards expertly. ‘Don’t you? I do. He knows your head’s in the noose so he wants a grass. He figures you already owe him and you’ll want to even the score a bit. It’s common knowledge he wants a hefty wedge from you and you ain’t saying where it is. He thinks you’ll spy for him to get in his good books - it’s as simple as that.’

Georgio stood up and stared at himself in the small mirror leaning on the windowsill. His thick black curly hair was showing grey around the sides; his deepset eyes had bags beneath them. He noticed the prison pallor was already evident.

‘Don’t worry, Brunos, you’re still good-looking.’

He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t understand you, Chopper. According to Lewis we was deliberately banged up together. You were his eyes and ears in here, so to speak. He gets a caning, and you want to be number one. What’s your scam? Come out into the open and let’s clear the fucking air.’

Chopper laughed. ‘You make me die, Brunos. You was a big fish in a little pond—’

Georgio cut him off. Then that just shows how much you know, don’t it? If I wasn’t banged up in here with Lewis and his silly henchmen, I’d have wasted that ponce ages ago. I’m getting sick of this place, I’m warning you. I’m sick of the smell, the setup, and the

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them people. Don’t push me too far, Chopper. You don’t scare me and your juvenile name don’t scare me.’

‘But Lewis does, I take it?’

Georgio nodded, his face set. ‘In here he does, yes, and if you’re sensible you’ll bear that in mind. Lewis owns this nick, he has the dosh that’s needed to do it. He owns about two-thirds of the prison service in one way or another. Believe me when I tell you he could walk out of here in the morning if he really put his mind to it, but he’s shrewd enough to realise he’s too well-known to go on the trot. And he’s British through and through, like a fucking stick of Blackpool rock. He couldn’t hack living in Spain or South America. Anyway, his mother wouldn’t go and you know what he’s like about her. He’ll do his time here, with a holiday now and again in Durham or somewhere else to break the monotony, and he’ll own them nicks.

‘He went out a while ago on a fucking day trip to see his Harley Street surgeon. On the way back him and the two screws had dinner with one of the biggest blaggers this country’s ever known. Lewis is no silly old bastard. He’s a dangerous, vindictive and shrewd customer. It would do you good to bear that in mind, if you’re thinking of stepping into his shoes.’

Chopper lit a paper-thin roll-up and grinned. ‘Anyone would think you were worried about me.’

Georgio shook his head. That’s just it, Chopper - I am. I don’t want to see you sliced up in the John one morning, because that’s what’s going to happen to Timmy, and he knows it. Lewis will be off on one of his jaunts soon, Durham probably, then we can all breathe more easily for a while. But take the advice of someone who knows. Lewis isn’t worth the hag he’s gonna be causing you if you carry on this vendetta with Big Ricky. Even that black ponce will draw in his horns once he knows Lewis is on his way home.’

Chopper listened to Georgio in silence, taking in the words and also the inflection in his voice.

‘So I take it you’ll grass for him then?’ he said.

Georgio shook his head and smiled. ‘Of course not - what do you take me for, eh? I’ll give him a load of old fanny. I don’t want a knife in me ribs off someone else, thank you very much. I have enough trouble getting through the days with Lewis on me back. Enemies I got plenty of, I don’t need to make any more.’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Chopper’s voice was low, genuinely interested.

‘I’m telling you this, Chopper, because we are banged up together, and as Timmy once pointed out to me, if you get torched one night, so do I. Just before I came in here Lewis had a bloke burnt alive on