‘So the other docks will eventually close?’ Maura kept her voice neutral. In fact, she was flabbergasted.
‘Oh, yes. Within the next five years. That’s why no money’s going in there. The more rundown and depressed the area gets, the more we can justify reclaiming the land. Job creation et cetera.’ He smiled at her. ‘I am afraid that we live in a world where the masses are spoonfed bullshit, if you will forgive the expression. The average man on the street buys the Sun to look at a pair of breasts. In reality, he’s reading Tory propaganda. Whoever is in office at the time all this begins, be it Tory, Labour or, God help us, Screaming Lord Sutch, will be jumping on the bandwagon. Funding it, giving out grants. “We’ll give you money to make money” . . . that’s every government’s policy. Personally, I think it will be the Conservatives, but I’m not worried either way. This has been sewn up for a long time. Now, drink your tea while it’s hot and I’ll explain to you more fully. I think you will find it fascinating.’
She and William Templeton smiled at one another. Maura shook her head slowly and said, ‘And they have the nerve to call us villains!’
In 1976 the Docklands Joint Committee published the London Dockland Strategic Plan. The Ryans and Lord Templeton were on their way.
Book Three
THE DOWNFALL
It is a strange desire to seek power and to lose liberty - Francis Bacon, 1561-1626
What will you give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver - Matthew, xxvi, 15
Chapter Twenty-two
12 February 1985
Geoffrey Ryan parked outside Le Buxom. It was not yet nine o’clock in the morning. He picked up his briefcase from the passenger seat of his dark blue BMW, locked up his car and went into the club. The cleaners all greeted him. In 1980, a restaurant had been opened in what had been the basement. This meant that the club was open nearly twenty-four hours of the day. He went down there to discuss the day’s menu with Peter Petrillo, the head chef, who had finished a ten-year stretch in Parkhurst then been given the job by Michael Ryan.
Geoffrey looked over the menu briefly and nodded his head, as he did every day. Then he ordered coffee and went up to his offices. He lit a cigarette and, settling himself into his chair, began his work for the day, going over the figures for the clubs and wine bars - a new acquisition of Maura’s to cash in on the yuppie boom. When he opened a drawer to get his calculator, he saw it was missing: Michael had been in and taken it again. Putting his cigarette out, he pulled himself from his seat and made his way to Michael’s office next door.
Although Geoffrey had the larger office, most of the business was done by Michael and Maura from the smaller office. He knew deep inside that they had given him the larger office to placate him. Also, the smaller office was always referred to as Michael’s office when in reality it was Michael’s and Maura’s.
He frowned as he walked through the door. He never came in here unless he absolutely had to. The room was empty. He looked on the large desk for his calculator, moving papers and files haphazardly. As he turned away he noticed that the small filing cabinet was unlocked, the keys still in the lock but the top drawer slightly open. He shook his head. Walking to it he pushed the drawer shut and was about to lock it when he stopped dead. Biting his lip he pulled the drawer back open. This was the one place he and the others were barred from. Only Michael and Maura had access to it. Now by some twist of fate it was open to him and he was torn between a desire to know what was in there that was so private and fear that he’d be caught looking. He decided to take his chances. Checking the corridor outside, he shut the door quietly and went back to the filing cabinet. He pulled out one of the files and began to read it. After a few minutes he forgot his fear of Michael and Maura, and took the file back to his office. A deep rage grew inside him as he realised just what he had stumbled across.
Maura and Leslie were in Brixton. They pulled up outside a block of flats. Leslie got out of the car and opened the door to let Maura out. Having locked the car, he followed her up the filthy stairs that led into the block of flats. They were low rise flats, only two storeys. Maura walked along the balcony until she came to No. 28. She knocked on the front door, which was opened by a little girl of about eight. The child was half caste and, Maura noticed, extremely thin and emaciated.
‘We’re looking for Jackie Traverna’s house. Is this it?’ Maura’s voice was friendly and kind.
‘Yeah. But she’s in bed.’
‘I think she will see me. Just take me to her, my love.’ Maura’s voice sounded false, even to her own ears. She had lost the knack of talking to children.
The child shrugged her skinny shoulders. As if to say, who cares? Maura followed her up a dark narrow hallway and into a small bedroom. The place was messy, the bedroom entirely taken up by a large double bed, though Maura guessed that when Jackie was on her feet she kept it clean and tidy. In the giant bed lay Jackie herself. Her coffee-coloured skin was shining with a film of sweat.
Maura gasped when she saw her. ‘Leslie! Get in here.’
He ran in the room thinking that Maura had come across some kind of trouble.
‘Fucking hell!’ His voice was shocked.
In the bed lay Jackie, recognisable only by her wiry Afro hair. Her face was so swollen she looked as if she had been attacked by bees. On each of her cheeks was a large stripe which went from the corner of her mouth to rise up until it disappeared into her hairline. Jackie looked up with sad eyes.
‘Maura.’ Her voice was muffled.
‘All right, Jackie. All right, mate. Who did this? Was it Rubens . . . Danny Rubens?’
Jackie nodded her head, fear in her eyes.
‘Don’t worry now. I’m going to see you’re looked after.’
‘Thanks. Can’t . . . speak.’ The woman could barely move.
‘I know. I know. I’ll be back later. All right?’
She smiled at Jackie, but inside she was fuming. ‘Come on, Leslie. Get your arse in gear.’
Once they were back inside the car, Maura lit herself a cigarette and said, ‘Pick up Lee and Garry. We’re going to pay Rubens a little visit.’
Geoffrey had been reading the file for about an hour. He was still reading it when Michael came into his office. Geoffrey looked up at him, the hurt in his eyes almost a tangible thing. Michael saw the green folder and tried to play for time.
‘Any more coffee going, Geoff?’
Geoffrey ignored him. Picking up the folder, he threw it across the desk.
‘Thanks a lot, Bruv.’ His voice was flat.
Michael sighed. ‘For Christ’s sake, Geoff. You’re not my keeper, you know.’
Geoffrey lit another cigarette, his hands trembling.
‘That’s just it, though, ain’t it, Mickey? I ain’t nothing.’
‘Look, Geoff, you know what they say. What you don’t know, don’t hurt you.’
Geoffrey pulled on his cigarette and let out the smoke through his nose, looking like a belligerent bull.
‘You’ve mugged me off, ain’t you?’
Mickey laughed. ‘Come on, Geoff. I would have told you eventually. Why are you making such a big deal?’
Michael’s voice was getting tight. He did not feel like all this today.
‘I’ll tell you why I’m making such a big deal, shall I? I’ve just read this crap.’ He pointed to the green folder. ‘And I realise just what I am in this firm. I run the clubs, sort of. I run the wine bars, sort of. I watch over the bookies and the cab ranks. While you and Maura - marvellous fucking Maura - do the real work.’
‘Leave her out of this.’ Michael’s voice was hard and low.
Geoffrey stubbed out his cigarette. ‘No, I won’t leave her out of all this. She’s the cause of it all. Since the day she came into this firm you’ve pushed me out.’
Geoffrey’s voice was high and he knew it sounded hysterical, but he did not care. He had to get this thing sorted out, once and for al
l.
‘You’re talking crap and you know it, Geoffrey. Now give it a rest, for fuck’s sake.’
Geoffrey began shouting, all caution gone now. ‘No, I will not give it a rest! I read, by accident, that you are about to embark on the biggest gold robbery this country’s ever known, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me I would have been told eventually! And when was that gonna be? When it was in the papers or on the news? Just what kind of cunt do you take me for? What else has been going on behind my back, eh? Well, answer me then.’
Geoffrey had risen from his seat and stood in front of Michael who was a good three inches taller and at least two stone heavier. Both knew that if it came to blows, Michael would win hands down. Geoffrey did not care.
Michael tried once more to pacify him. ‘Keep your voice down, Geoff. There’s no need to let everyone know, is there?’
‘I bet everyone does bloody know! Everyone except me, that is.’ He prodded his chest. ‘I’ve stood by you through thick and thin, from day one. But since that fucking leech Maura came on the scene, I’ve been pushed out. It’s been you and Maura . . . Maura and Michael . . . the dynamic duo. Batman and Robin’s got nothing on you two. She was shagging an old Bill and yet you treat her like visiting royalty.’
Michael’s hand went up to Geoffrey’s throat. He slipped his other hand around his brother’s neck and squeezed.
‘Let’s get the violins out, shall we? Geoffrey’s little heart is broken! You ponce! You disgust me.’
He hurled Geoffrey away from him and went to the window, running his hands through his hair.
Turning back, he thrust out a finger. ‘I’ll tell you why Maura has taken your so-called place, shall I? Because she’s got more bollocks than you will ever have! You’ve been like a bloody albatross hanging around my neck all my life. I’ve had to carry you ever since we were kids.’ Michael wiped his hand across his face, agitated and annoyed. ‘If you’d been left to your own devices, you’d have been banged up years ago. And you’re jealous of your own bloody sister because she has what it takes. She sussed all this out.’ He gestured around him wildly. ‘You couldn’t organise the proverbial piss up, mate. You could never have figured half of what she has. You fucking wind me up! You always have done.’
He pointed at Geoffrey again, his face contorted with temper. ‘Shall I tell you something? You’re working here because Maura suggested it. If it had been left to me, I’d have had Gerry Jackson running this show, mate. I’d have dumped you years ago. But, no, Maura said: “Family first.” I swallowed, but deep down in my heart I didn’t give a toss.
‘Now if you don’t like it, you can piss off. But I tell you this now. If you ever . . . ever . . . speak about her like that again, I’ll bury you. Now do me a favour and fuck off before I really lose me rag.’
Geoffrey stared at Michael, dumbstruck. He could feel the waves of resentment coming out of every pore in Michael’s body. He realised something he had known secretly for years, something he had never dared admit to himself before: he irritated Mickey. And yet he would have died for him. He was the only brother left who was not married or living with a girl. Even Michael had a regular boyfriend. He had lived his life for Michael.
He straightened himself up slowly and, picking up his jacket and car keys, walked from the office. As he came down the stairs into the foyer he realised that the cleaners had all stopped work. They had been listening to everything. He could feel his face burning with humiliation. He left the club and got into his car as if in a daze. That Michael could have spoken like that to him! He felt sick with the realisation of what had just happened. And with the fact that nothing could ever be the same between them again.
Maura and the three boys were at Danny Rubens’ gaff, a terraced house in Tulse Hill. Lee banged on the front door hard. It was opened by a young girl who looked about seventeen. Though knowing Ruben’s taste, Maura thought she was probably about fifteen, top whack.
‘Is Danny about?’ They pushed past the girl into the house.
‘He ain’t up yet. He don’t get up before twelve.’
Garry smiled at her. ‘Well, it’ll be a nice change for him then, won’t it?’ They all began to walk up the stairs.
‘Who is it, Estelle?’ A deep brown voice bellowed the words down the stairs. The four walked in its direction.
Maura and her brothers noticed that the house was very well decorated and very clean. Inside Danny’s bedroom, Maura smiled at him.
‘Well, well. You are a big boy, aren’t you?’ Danny Rubens was lying in bed naked. He pulled the duvet over himself. He was still half stoned from the previous evening but alert enough to know he had invited big trouble to his house.
‘Shut the door, Garry. We don’t want everyone hearing Danny’s screams.’
Danny’s big black face was sweating and his eyes were like dark brown pools in his head. His head was shaved and Maura could see a vein pulsing, just below his right eyebrow. He was scared, very scared, and that was just what she wanted. Danny Rubens had taken to body building while doing a three-year stretch for aggravated assault. He was enormous and that usually gave him the edge.
‘What you want?’
Maura laughed. ‘Cut the coon talk, Rubens, you’ve never been out of London in your life.’
Garry, Leslie and Lee guffawed at this. They knew how to play the game. Maura pulled the duvet from his body, leaving him naked and exposed.
‘I’m here about a girl of mine - Jackie Traverna.’
‘Ain’t never heard of her.’
Maura opened her bag and lit one of her cigarettes. Every action was watched closely by Rubens. She puffed on her cigarette until the end glowed.
‘I’ve been hearing stories about you, Rubens.’ Maura pointed to her brothers. ‘Hold him.’
Leslie and Lee went to the bed and, after a struggle, held Danny Rubens down on it. Maura gestured to Garry. ‘Hold his legs open for me.’
She drew the cigarette smoke into her lungs and watched impassively as Rubens tried to fight his way out of the situation. Finally he was lying spreadeagled on the bed. ‘Now I want you to tell me why you striped up one of my girls.’
Rubens was absolutely terrified. His eyes were stretched to their utmost, showing all the yellow whiteness.
‘I tell you, sis, I ain’t never done no harm to no black chick.’
Garry punched him in the face.
‘If you ain’t never heard of her, how do you know what colour she is?’
‘I guessed, man. I guessed.’
‘Oh, shut up, you black ponce.’ This was Leslie. ‘Let my sister speak.’ His voice was slow and bored-sounding. Rubens thought he would wet himself with fright.
‘I have heard, Mr Rubens,’ Maura stressed the Mr, ‘that you have some rather big ambitions. One being to become the Pimp Extraordinaire of the West End. I also hear that you are after some of my girls.’
She sat on the bed and opened her bag. Rubens was holding his head off the bed, straining his neck to see what was going on. He was naked and vulnerable and did not like it.
Maura took a snub-nosed .38 special from her handbag. Rubens’ eyes were now like flying saucers.
‘What you want with that!’ He was nearly crying.
‘My sister is going to blow your balls off, Danny. One by one.’
Leslie’s voice was jocular.
Maura held the gun against Rubens’ genitals. He could feel the hard coldness of the steel against his skin. She rubbed it gently along the length of his penis and under his testicles. Rubbed it slowly, dreamily, as if she was enjoying it. Then she took another long drag of her cigarette. Rubens, who had been ‘The Daddy’ while he was in Durham jail, who had been working the streets nearly all his adult life and who could instil fear into most people, burst into tears. They ran from his eyes and down his face. Great bubbles of snot billowed out of his nose and his gigantic shoulders heaved.
‘Please . . . don’t shoot my cock off!’ He sounded like a small
boy.
Garry, Leslie and Lee were laughing again.
Maura put her cigarette butt on Rubens’ stomach. He felt the burning through his tears. Maura left the cigarette on his belly, so the embers would scorch the skin slowly and painfully. He was howling in pain.
‘Where’s your Stanley knife, Danny?’ Maura’s voice was soft and gentle, as if they were lovers on a picnic.
‘I swear . . . I swear to you I ain’t got no Stanley knife.’
‘Pain is a terrible thing, isn’t it? Jackie Traverna was in pain, Danny, she was in such terrible pain.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Now it’s your turn.’ She nodded at Leslie who took a Stanley knife from the pocket of his jacket. He held it glinting over the man’s face.
‘What’s it to be, Danny boy? Cheek or cock? It’s up to you. But make your mind up quickly or I might just do both.’
Danny was staring at Leslie’s face and knew he was not joking. He saw, even through his fear and his tears, that he had met with a will much stronger than his own.
‘Please, man. Please.’ His voice was just a croaky whisper.
‘Face it is then!’ Leslie grinned and pulled the Stanley knife from Danny’s eye down to his mouth. He cut deeply and confidently. The blood came out slowly, as if not sure what it wanted to do as the layers of skin gradually unfolded. By the time he had repeated the action on the other side of the man’s face, the blood was pumping out with each of his heartbeats. They all stood up as if of one mind. As his hands were released, Danny brought them up to his face. When he took them away, his palms were stained with deep crimson blood.
He screamed loudly, painfully, like a hare caught in a trap.
‘Don’t ever get ambitious for anything or anyone that belongs to me, Danny. Next time you might not be so lucky.’