The Jump (9 page)

Lewis’s sheer force of personality gave him the edge over bigger, more violent men; that and his sadistic mind. He was dapper, almost

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feminine in his dress. He was also shrewd. Donald Lewis had been unable to write his own name before going into Hollandsy Bay Borstal at fifteen; there he had had the three Rs beaten into him, and had never looked back since. He had a natural hatred of any kind of authority, a hatred of women, and also a hatred of most of his contemporaries. Diagnosed as a psychotic, he had spent a lot of money to make sure he wasn’t transferred to Broadmoor. Though the regime was much more relaxed there, you had next to no chance of either escape or, more importantly, parole.

He was a Double A Category prisoner, Maximum Security, which only left four prisons in England which could hold him. He had decided that he would have a stint in Durham in a few years, for a change of scene. Other than that he had no plans for the future except to keep himself alive, run his nefarious businesses, and stay on top of everything going on around him. Lewis was the Baron of Parkhurst, controlling the trade in drugs and tobacco. He also controlled his wing.

He was sitting at his small table now, waiting for his breakfast which was always cooked to perfection in the wing kitchen by a prisoner called Roberts. He was doing a ten stretch and had taken up cookery as a pastime. Being Double A Grade, Lewis could order in food, and the screws bought it for him in Sainsbury’s. It was a joke among them but they accepted it as part of their job. If it kept the lifers happy, they were happy, and the world was an easier place.

As Lewis sipped his tea he smiled.

The laydown had been a pain but he had managed to get a lot of work done. Section 43, which dealt with A and Double A Category prisoners, stated that they could be moved for twenty-eight days at the discretion of the prison governor to a stipulated prison of their choice. Hence the laydown. They were taken away and put in solitary, generally in Wandsworth, which satisfied the governors that they could never plan an escape. The reasoning behind this was that they could be taken at any time of the day or night, with no advance warning. Section 43 was brought in ostensibly for terrorists, but any Maximum Security prisoner was liable to the rule.

His laydowns were a joy to Lewis; he had already bought himself enough staff in the prison service to assure himself an easy stay. His radio was left with him, as were his writing materials and his books. His food was decent and he drank tea and whisky by the gallon. It was the mark of his situation, his reputation, and his considerable bank balance, that he was allowed to live in relative ease.

Having taken to reading in his first year of prison, he was now a knowledgeable man who saw his lack of education as the reason

them behind his criminal career. Now he craved knowledge as a thirsty man craves water, and used it to further his own ends. It had never occurred to him that with an education he could have been a legitimate businessman; he saw his lack of education as the reason to work doubly hard to be a success in his illegal businesses. Such was the temperament and mentality of Donald Lewis.

‘Here’s your breakfast, Mr Lewis.’ The younger man placed a plate of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms on the table.

Lewis smiled up at him and without a word picked up his knife and fork and tucked in.

The other man stood watching until he had started eating then, sighing, with relief, left the cell and made his way back to his own breakfast. It was always a toss up whether Lewis would eat the breakfast or decorate the cell walls with it. Walking into the small kitchen, the cook cursed loudly; his sausage was gone as was his bacon.

Thieving bastards!’

He smiled briefly as he heard laughter coming from the other cells. He inspected the rest of his food before beginning to eat. They were capable of anything in here in the name of a joke, from spitting on the food to putting LSD in your baked beans. He was just nervous at having Lewis back from his laydown. Everything was topsyturvy this morning.

Lewis was mopping up the egg yolk with a slice of bread when he turned to see his minder, Harry Clarkson, standing in the doorway.

‘I’ve brought Brunos, Mr Lewis. Shall I tell him to wait out here?’

Lewis laughed. Putting the bread delicately down he said, ‘No, Harry. Why don’t you ask him to wait in the governor’s office?’

Harry stood still, blinking nervously.

Lewis sighed. Harry was all brawn and no brains but he was a good old stick and would murder for a packet of fags. So he smiled and said, ‘Bring him in, Harry mate, and wait at the door.’

‘Yes, Mr Lewis.’

Georgio walked through the door with an air of confidence he did not feel. ‘All right, Donald? Long time no see.’

Lewis wiped his tongue across his teeth and said, ‘Sit down, Georgio. Me and you need to have a few words.’

Georgio sat down and stared at the small man in front of him. The air of menace was practically tangible, it was so strong. It emanated from Lewis in invisible waves. The complete lack of expression in his voice was enough to make the hair on Georgio’s arms stand up and bristle.

‘Do you know Harry at all? He’s in here because he murdered a

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bloke he didn’t like much. In fact, Harry would murder someone who looked like the bloke he didn’t like much. He’s that type of bloke, see. Now me and Harry have a little arrangement. I tell him what to do and he does it. Do you get my drift, Brunos, or do you want me to give you an example of my power over him? He’ll crush your hands, break your jaw, or strangle you if I ask him nicely.’

Georgio swallowed down his fear and said lightly, The and you go back a long way, Donald. You had me striped up in the Scrubs, and we was always mates. Always. You don’t need to show me your performing gorilla.’

Lewis pushed his plate away and smiled again. ‘How is your harris, by the way? I told them not to cut too deep. Not yet anyway. And I got your message about cutting my throat. Gave me a good laugh, that did.’

Georgio closed his eyes. ‘I had to say that, Donald. I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes if I’d have swallowed that striping without a word and you know it.’

Lewis picked up the knife from his plate and wiped it clean with a napkin. ‘I am going to push this into your eye-socket in about five minutes, Georgio, unless you tell me where my dough is.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Start talking now.’

Georgio swallowed again. This time it was more difficult. His mouth was as dry as the Gobi Desert.

‘Four minutes to go, Georgio. Your time’s running out, my son.’

‘I’ve got the money, don’t worry about that. It’s safe, and it will only stay safe while I’m alive and kicking. I had to have some insurance and hiding the money was it. I wouldn’t tuck you up, Donald, and I’m deeply offended that you think I would.’ ,

Lewis grinned. ‘Deeply offended, are we? I’ll rip your fucking heart out, Brunos, if you don’t tell me where my dosh is stashed.’

Georgio smiled. ‘It’s in a place so safe, the Old Bill would need a . message from St Bernadette before they’d believe it was even there.’

Lewis laughed then, excited. ‘Where is it, Georgio?’

He put out his hands in a gesture of supplication.

‘You know I can’t tell you that, Donald. The minute I open me mouth I’m as good as dead. Only one person knows where that money’s hidden, and that’s me. Until I get me appeal, and I’m outside, you will never know where it is. But I take an oath, I would not tuck you up. Not in a month of Sundays. Your half is safe, as safe as the proverbial houses. While I’m safe, the dough is safe.’

Lewis smashed his fist on the table, making the plate and cutlery clatter on the wooden surface.

‘Fucking safe? Safe What do you think this is - kindergarten?

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them Cross me heart and hope to die? You have access to my dough, and I fucking want it. I set that robbery up. I set it up, you hear me! All you had to do was provide the cars and the guns, nothing else, not a fucking brass razoo. Just the guns and the cars. But you took it on yourself to fucking stick your big Greek conk into things that don’t concern you. Now I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Wilson will be found hanging in his cell at Camp Hill this morning. In fact, they should have found him in the last hour or so. Unless you want the same fate, or worse, you had better start talking to me.’

Georgio didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He took out his cigarettes and lit one slowly, aware of the man in front of him breathing in quick, sharp bursts. Lewis’s temper was phenomenal.

‘I’m sorry, but I ain’t saying nothing. All I can guarantee you is that I have it all stashed away safe as houses. You listen to this. Wilson was going to take your cut, he was. It was only the Old Bill turning up like they did, and my quick thinking, that even saved the dough. I’d had it on me toes with it within minutes of the robbery. I had a feeling something was going down. Wilson was like a cat with a rat hanging on its arse, and the driver was practically a fucking geriatric. I oversaw that blag, and I oversaw it for you! Because you was me mate. And now I have to keep information from you in case you top me, so no one but me knows where the fuck the money is. I ain’t enjoying all this, you know,’ Georgio said hotly. ‘I got eighteen fucking years, remember - eighteen years on the say-so of fucking Wilson. The same Wilson who had help this morning to top himself. So knowing you like I do, I have to have a bit of insurance. If you torture me and I talk, you still won’t know if what I tell you is correct. And the way I feel, you could tenure me till the cows come home and you’ll get nothing out of me. Even Big Harry outside don’t scare me. Eighteen years scares me, Lewis. I don’t want to do it and if I don’t get parole I might top meself anyway!’

Lewis sat back in his seat. He acknowledged that Georgio was trying to save himself; he accepted that. He also knew Georgio had had every intention of keeping a large portion of Lewis’s money himself. What riled him was dial Georgio now had the whole pack of cards, even the jokers. Because Lewis knew, in his heart of hearts, that everything Georgio said was true. Only he knew where the money was, and that was his insurance.

Donald Lewis, his eyes alight with malice, smiled and said: ‘Georgio, we’re friends. Friends shouldn’t argue, especially not over money. I admit I’ve been a bit hard on you. I’m overwrought. But I’m sure that me and you can sort something out. You keep your peace, I accept your logic. But if, and I mean if, you get your parole

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and leave here, you’ll be accompanied by a friend of mine until what I own is in a safe place. If you lose your appeal,’ he laughed gently, ‘then I’m afraid we’ll have to reassess the situation.’

Georgio breathed a heavy sigh of relief. ‘That’s fair enough, Donald, but then you was always fair-minded. I accept what you say. I admire you, you know. You’re a big man, a man with a reputation, yet you’ve got scruples. I know from experience that I can trust you implicitly. I only wish you afforded me the same consideration.’

Lewis grinned again, less hostile this time. ‘Oh, but I do, Georgio, I do.’

He stood up and held out his hand. Georgio knew he was being dismissed.

Getting up, he shook the cold hand before him and left the cell.

As he reached the door Lewis said, ‘By the way, Georgio, how’s your wife? Lovely-looking girl that. I hear she’s been a good little lass while you’ve been banged up. Not a lot of women like that these days. Pretty girl, if I remember rightly. Nice legs.’

Georgio turned and looked into Donald Lewis’s laughing countenance.

‘Be a shame if anything was to happen to her, wouldn’t it?’

As Georgio marched back to his own cell his head was reeling. One thing was paramount: he had to get out of this place, and he had to get out of it as soon as possible.

His appeal could take up to three years. It was this thought that frightened him so much.

Three days with Lewis breathing down his neck was a nightmare. How would he cope as the days stretched into months then years? One thing was certain: he was not going to give Lewis one iota of the money from the robbery. It was his, he was entitled to it, and it came to nearly three-quarters of a million pounds. If his plan came off, he would be sitting pretty for the rest of his life. No more robbing Peter to pay Paul on the building sites, no more worrying. He was waiting to see how long it took Donna to realise that the only real money they had was invested in the house. He didn’t even own the cars; they were on leasehire. His credit was nearly up with the building suppliers and the money from the car lot was like pocket money. He had been living beyond his means for years.

But then, didn’t everyone? It was the dream of the young Tory government in the early eighties.

Borrow now, pay back later.

Well, the paying was always the hardest pan, and all his life Georgio Brunos had avoided doing anything he didn’t like.

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them Donna sat in the restaurant in Canning Town, watching as Pa Brunos prepared Kleftiko, his large, chubby hands moving around the worktop deftly. He was singing softly to himself. Donna breathed in the smells of the kitchen, the oregano, basil and red wine which were always present.

She sipped at her own white wine and sighed gently. ‘Pa, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course you can, my little angel. Anything you like.’ Donna licked her lips. ‘Do you think Georgio will get his appeal? Only when I spoke to the barrister today, he sounded, well, a bit offish …’ Her voice trailed away.

Pa Brunos wiped his hands on his apron and hugged her to him hard, kissing the glossy brown hair with a smacking sound. ‘Don’t you be a-worrying. My Georgio is an innocent man. The laws of this country will make sure he is released. You probably caught the man when he was busy. We’re all short when we’re busy.’ Donna smiled gently. ‘You’re not.’

Pa laughed, a deep chuckle. ‘I’m not with you, but with Maeve I shout like a lion! I scream at her to leave me in peace.’ ‘What does Maeve do?’ Donna responded to the twinkling eyes. ‘What does she do? She gets that Irish temper of hers out of her pocket and she screams into my lughole and I am sorry I ever said one word!’