Homecoming Blues

  Act 4

 

  I dropped Jamie off at her drum in Albion Place, Clerkenwell.

  She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

  I was shocked.

  "What's that for?"

  "You're the first man who's ever been honest with me Jimmy, especially about what you are going to do," she said.

  "You could have lied but you didn't, thank you."

  I smiled, and she turned away, and walked through the communal door to the building.

  I was knackered and needed sleep. That would have to wait; dad was still in danger. I drove away from Jamie Lee's place and looked for a phone box, I needed to call Paulie see if he had found anything out.

  Finding one two streets away I found a parking spot and called his flat, I had no idea of his mobile number. There was no answer so I got back in my car and headed for the pub.

  The time was ten thirty when I pulled up outside, Paulie was just opening up. He must have been staying here. He saw me climb out of the car and a grim look came across his face.

  He quickly ushered me inside and locked the doors. Immediately I knew something was wrong, and I feared plod was on to me over what was essentially a massacre back at the Manor house. It was worse than that.

  "I don't know how to tell you this Jimmy," he said, fear etched into his features. "Use words, Paulie or hand signals, but just tell me!" I almost screamed at him.

  "Your dad's dead." He looked at his feet as if the act of checking out his foot ware would erase from history the words he had just spoken. I looked at him not quite understanding what he had just said. He told me again and the effect his words had, was as if someone had hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. My legs lost all feeling and I collapsed against the bar. My mouth moved like a fairground Goldfish and a tornado whirled through my brain. I managed to pull myself together enough to ask how.

  "Malpas. Your dad tried to get away. He striped Malpas who lost it and well, him and Danny. . ." His voice trailed off.

  "Where's Duggan now?" I asked hoarsely.

  "Don't know. He's gone off the grid."

  "Get me a whiskey."

  Glad of something to do, Paulie dashed behind the bar and busied himself with my drink. The crack of doom had just gone off over my head. I took deep breaths to calm the hammering of my heart and steady my thoughts. Paulie handed me the whiskey and I drank it straight down, allowing its fire to finish off my calming ritual. I slammed the glass down on the bar; Paulie jumped. I took one more deep breath and blew it out slowly. A serene calm descended and I felt my strength returning.

  "Where did it happen?"

  "One of Duggan's warehouses down on the docks."

  "And his body?"

  Paulie shrugged, “You’re not gonna like it, he's part owner in a pig farm out in Essex. . ." I held my hand up to stop him. I did not need to hear anymore.

  "He'll know you’re coming for him, Jimmy. He's gonna try and do you first."

  "I know. He'll stay underground till he knows it's safe. Then he will crawl out from under the rock like the rat he is.”

  "I take it you got Jamie back?"

  "Yeah, it got a bit messy too."

  "So, what's the plan then mate?"

  "I'm gonna find him, rip his head off and fucking piss down his neck, that's what I'm gonna do!" Paulie knew I meant it too.

  The phone started ringing; Paulie jumped like a shot dog, reached over and answered it. He listened for a second before holding out the handset and mouthing Jamie Lee's name. I stepped behind the bar and took the phone off him.

  "Yeah," I said curtly.

  "Jimmy, I just heard about your dad. I'm so sorry," she sounded like she had been crying, her voice hoarse. I said nothing, she went on, “I called dad's mobile. That spunk bubble Malpas answered and took great pleasure in telling me what he and Danny did."

  "Do you know where they all are?" I gripped the handset so tightly I thought it would shatter.

  "Where he always goes when the heat is on, a Mansion down on the South coast near Hastings."

  "Thank you Jamie Lee," I said, “I know that was hard for you to tell me."

  "It wasn't, he's not my dad anymore, and I don't know him. One more thing, he's let the Russians know it was you who killed their men, and put a price on your head-two million to whoever tops you."

  Great, that is all I needed. All the jizz monkeys in London will be chasing this bounty and on the other side the Russians; an excellent combination.

  "My dad wants me to go join him, but fuck that, I'm coming to you."

  "No!" I snapped, “It’s too dangerous for you to be near me. Get out of London; get far away; at least till all this is over."

  "No way! The safest place to be right now is next to you. I'm coming over."

  With that, she hung up. I replaced the phone and filled Paulie in on what she had told me.

  "Fuck a duck matey peeps; you know how to have a homecoming party don't cha!"

  Despite the situation, and the heaviness inside of me, I laughed. Paulie always had a habit of saying something totally bollocks and thus lightening the mood. I poured myself another whiskey and sipped at it as I thought over what I was going to do.

  "Whatever goes down, I got yer back. Fuck ‘em all they are all mugs. We'll do for the lot of them," Paulie said as he pulled himself a JD and Coke.

  "Can you get hold of any Claymore mines?" I asked him but not holding out much hope.

  "Is the pope Catholic? Does a pope shit in the woods? Of course I can."

  I looked at him. How did he do it? He really had made some contacts since I last saw him.

  "I was only joking. How the hell can you lay yer hands on some of them?"

  He tapped his nose and winked, “Ask me no questions."

  Paulie grabbed his jacket which was lying on the bar and knocked back his drink.

  "I'll be back in a bit, don't go nowhere." With a wave he disappeared out the back. I took my drink and sat in one of the bench seated booths which lined the wall at the side of the long oak bar. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. I put my feet up and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. A big mistake I know, but fatigue was setting in and all I wanted was to sleep away all the aches, pains and loss.

  Two of the scariest noises in the world are the click clack of double hammers on a Shotgun at close range. The scariest thing to see is the twin barrels of said Shotgun not a foot away from your face. This is the sight which greeted me on opening my eyes. Above the barrels hovered the face of Frankie Shenton. I might have known he would be the first to try for the reward.

  "Wakey, Wakey! Sleeping beauty and don't move a fucking muscle," he hissed.

  His greasy smile beamed with triumph.

  He stepped back and ordered me to stand up. Without a word I did as he asked. He made his first mistake by not putting distance between us.

  The gun remained inches away from my face.

  "What's this all about Frankie?"

  His second mistake was engaging me in conversation. People like Frankie, their brains worked slowly to process information. He opened his mouth to answer me and I grabbed the barrel with my left hand and my right behind the trigger guard. Stepping out of the blast area I pulled the barrel down and the butt upwards, twisting and stepping forward Shenton flipped over and crashed to the floor. Reversing the Shotgun, I pointed it at him.

  "Now, I will ask you again. What's this all about?"

  I knew the answer; I wanted to hear it from him.

  He had both hands up covering his face. A whining noise came from his mouth.

  "Jimmy, don't kill me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He curled up into a ball. I pressed the gun hard up against his cheek.

  "I ought ta blow yer fuckin' brains all over this pub, you snivelling little bag of diseased pussy batter," I screamed at him, "Get off your skiddy arse and fuck off out of it. You just earned a lucky one, pal."

  I kicked him in the ribs an
d he climbed to his feet. Without a backward glance he headed for the door.

  He pulled on the handle but found it still locked. He started to turn back to me when the doors flew open smashing him backwards. Two men in leather biker clothes came through the smashed doors and started spraying the bar with automatic gunfire. A line stretched along Frankie's chest and he jerked like a demented Flamenco dancer.

  I dived over the bar. Landing on my side, all the air in my chest whooshing out of me. Bullets smashed all the optics above the bar and the different spirits doused me. I was beginning to smell like a Towie cocktail. I monkey crawled along the bar while bottles exploded and mirrors were smashed. I heard the empty click I had been waiting for and burst up from behind the bar and fired at the two gunmen. Both barrels hit them in the chest knocking them over a table. Their weapons, AK 47s, flew from their hands landing next to the Pool table. I swung the gun back towards the door but realised it was empty so threw it on the bar.

  I was about to jump over when two more men entered, both pointing Sig Sauer pistols at me. Christ where were they all coming from. Another man walked in. He was dressed Armani style, with a trimmed black goatee where his chin should have been. The way he carried himself he must be the boss man.

  He looked down at Frankie and sniffed then glared at me.

  "You are Jimmy Dalton?" he said with a thick Russian accent. No doubt this was Nicolai Chevko, the head honcho of Gulag Thirteen.

  "Nah, I'm the spirit of the fucking Pub," I replied with more bravado than I felt.

  "Ah, that cock ah ney cheek. I love it."

  I put both my hands on the bar and hung my head.

  "Look, I have had a really shitty day so don't give me any of that crappy Hollywood bad guy shit and just kill me already."

  Chevko shook his finger at me.

  "That is the trouble with you English people, you do not know how to savour the finer things in life."

  He brushed some imaginary fluff from his trousers then looked directly at me.

  "You have cost me a lot of money Mr Dalton. Normally I stay away from the business end of things, but I wanted to look into the eyes of the man who had the balls to go up against me," he said. He smiled then added, “Then, I wanted to kill him." He pulled out a MP4 Grach, the standard Russian Military sidearm, and aimed it at me.

  I looked at his trigger finger and wondered if I would be fast enough to dodge the bullet which was about to come my way. I had no plan and was too tired to fight anymore. At least I would get to see my dad again if there was a heaven.

  A sound like a car backfiring twice made both me and Chevko jump. His weapon discharged, and a burning sensation flared along my right arm as the bullet creased me. The two men covering me flew forward, blood spurting from the newly created holes in their heads.

  A sight for very tired eyes stood in the Pub doorway. Jamie Lee, just like the female version of the angel of death swung my H & K Usp towards Chevko and shot him in the face. He flew back arms wide like a starfish and crashed into the bar before crumpling to the floor.

  She looked at me.

  "Thought you might need some help, hotshot."

  Her legs gave way as her face turned a whiter shade of pale and she collapsed. I jumped over the bar and picked her up and carried her to a bench seat. I returned to the door after getting some rope from behind the bar and secured it as best as I could. Last thing I needed was a punter coming in and seeing the bodies. Jamie Lee's eyes fluttered open when I returned. She sat up holding her head.

  "Sorry, that was a bit girly wasn't it?"

  She gave me a half smile.

  "You are a girlie so it's okay," I laughed, “Where you learn to shoot like that?"

  "One of the many things I've picked up hanging round me dad's lot."

  She looked at my arm.

  "Oh my god you’re bleeding."

  She jumped up and went behind the bar, returning with a first aid kit. Without a word she cleaned the wound and put a dressing on.

  "There, all better now," She smiled.

  “Fuck-in’ ‘ell is this the result of one hell of an orgasm or what?"

  We both turned at the sound of Paulie's voice. He had returned through the rear entrance of the Pub.

  "We had some visitors while you were gone," I said.

  "Fuckin' A. Nina, the cleaner from Argentinas' gonna have a fit!"

  He dumped a black bag on the bar.

  I walked over to the bar; Paulie looked round shaking his head. I filled him in on what had happened. He looked down at Chevko.

  "So that's the big Rusky boss man then. Fuck me; you two don't do things by half do you?"

  "Shut up and help me get these bodies in the back room, then we gotta go. No telling if someone’s called plod."

  After we had secured the bodies in the back room, which dad had used for after hour Poker nights, we locked up the pub and piled into the car. I let Paulie drive as in my current state of exhaustion; I probably would have killed us.

  "Okay, where to?" Paulie asked.

  "Head south, towards Hastings. We need to find somewhere so I can have a few hours’ kip."

  For what I had planned I was going to have to be fresh and on the ball, Mr Duggan's punishment was now fully formed in my mind. Jamie Lee had asked me to do it quick but things had changed. He may not have been present at the death of my dad, but he sure as hell was responsible.

  Act 5