Dubronsky lay on the ground heaving. Eventually he turned on his side and a trickle of blood-stained mucus came from his mouth. Tommy knelt beside him and grabbed his face, squeezing it.
‘Don’t you ever mug me off again, you ponce! Not ever! Now, you’re going to tell me who’s backing Bolger or I’ll drown you in your own piss. Believe me when I say you’ve pushed me too fucking far. Out with it. I want a name and I want it now!’
The man looked up with fear in his eyes. In all his years of knowing Tommy, he had never seen him like this. It began to dawn on him that he had written Tommy Lane off too soon. The boy, and he was still a boy for all his grown-up looks, was a person he should not have underestimated. Like the Cavanagh girl, he was part of the new breed, and the prospect of what they could be capable of was frightening. All Bolger’s big talk was suddenly forgotten in the face of this boy’s wrath.
‘Tommy, leave go of me! Let’s talk.’
He laughed low.
‘I’ve had it with talking, you short-arsed runt! Now tell me who Bolger’s new friends are, and me and you will get on a lot better.’
‘I don’t know, I swear. All I know is that Bolger came to me and a few others with a proposition. He has a lot of money at his disposal, and a lot of manpower has been bought and paid for. Believe me, Tommy, it was nothing personal, just business. But I swear to you I don’t know who’s behind him. He said once it was a businessman, a big businessman. That’s all. He won’t let on who it is to anyone.’
‘You expect me to believe that and all, don’t you?’
Tommy’s voice held an incredulity that was forced. Dubronsky would save his daughter’s arse if not his own. But he had to be sure the man didn’t know.
‘Tommy, listen to me, I don’t know. Before God, I swear to you I have no idea...’
He let go of the man’s face. Livid white fingermarks were indented upon it. Tommy wiped his wet hand on the man’s shirt.
‘Where will I find him? He ain’t been seen in his drum for a while so where’s he hiding out?’
The little man squinted. Without his glasses he was nearly blind.
‘He’s staying with the Olds brothers down by Upton Park. But I warn you, Tommy, he’s well protected.’
‘How much muscle has he bought? Who are they?’
Dubronsky coughed and spat the mucus out on to the ground before answering.
‘The Olds, the Campbells, the Dennings. Not to mention a lot of the Jewish muscle as well as Maltese. The Marianos are considering his offer and I tell you now, he’s spending money like water.’
Tommy ground his teeth together. Poking his head at the man before him, he said: ‘I don’t care if he’s bought the whole of the smoke. He’s a fucking dead man. And if he’s dead he can’t pay anyone anything, can he. I’ll piss all over his fireworks, you see if I don’t.’
Standing, Tommy walked through the back of the shop to where Jimmy was standing with Ruth. The girl’s sallow complexion was now white. Nodding to her, Tommy walked through the shop and out of the door with Jimmy. Outside he took a deep breath. Picking up a metal dustbin from the gutter, he threw it with all his strength through the shop window. People watched the spectacle with bright eyes. Dubronsky was not well liked, the Uncles never were really.
Jimmy smiled as they walked towards their car. Sometimes he wondered why the hell Tommy wanted him along. He was quite capable of taking on anyone by himself.
In the car Tommy said, ‘Home. Me and you are going to see the Olds tonight. There’s a bundle tonight at Victoria Park, and if I know Ronnie Olds, he’ll be there.’
Willy Bolger nodded at the man sitting behind him in the car. His face was set in a neutral expression and he coughed gently before he spoke.
‘Look, trust me. I’m not afraid of Briony Cavanagh or Tommy Lane. They’re history. Soon they’ll be out of the picture for good. Between us we’ll run their businesses. In six months’ time they’ll be folklore.’
The man in the back of the car whispered: ‘They’d better be. I’m paying you a lot of money to get this off the ground. I want Briony Cavanagh wiped off the face of the earth. I want everything she owns, and I want her out of the way once and for all.’
Willy grinned, showing his tiny pointed teeth. ‘It’s as good as done.’
The man slipped out of the car and walked along the Bayswater Road where he hailed a cab. Willy watched him go with contempt. What a fool. He’d handed over large sums of money and Willy had taken it without a second thought. If the man had had any sense he would just have had them taken out. It would have been cheaper. But for some reason best known to himself he wanted Briony Cavanagh stripped of everything she had first. Willy pocketed the wad of money the man had passed to him at the start of their meeting and smiled again. Who gave a fuck? he thought. So long as the money kept coming he could do what he liked. As he drove towards Hoxton he daydreamed of being the Baron of the East End. The first Baron who was also a pimp. He would be in control of just about all the women who worked the streets. The prospect pleased him. It was his dream come true. Plus he would enjoy taking out Miss Cavanagh, the feisty bitch! She needed knocking down a peg and he was just the man to do it.
He had heard the whispers that Lane was looking for him. Well, let the fucker look. There was no harm in that. But he wouldn’t find him. Tommy would see him when the time was right, and then he would be the last person Tommy Lane saw in his life.
Briony had just finished drying herself when Tommy came in the bedroom. She stood naked, her tight belly emphasising her small breasts, and Tommy dived across the room and grabbed her. His hands were freezing and Briony screamed. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently he kissed her mouth tenderly.
‘You still look like a kid, especially with that mad hair all over the place.’
‘Well, I don’t feel like one. Let me up.’
Tommy leant on her with all his weight, pinning her to the bed.
‘No. Why should I?’
Briony laughed. ‘Because I’m bleeding well freezing that’s why! Cissy never even bothered putting a fire up here today.’
‘I’ll warm you up, girl.’ He felt Briony consciously relax and stifled a sigh. It was always the same. She would allow him inside her, that was all. He felt an urge to bite her, make her feel something if only pain. As if she read his thoughts, she whispered to him. ‘I’m sorry, Tommy.’
The tiny voice was desolate and he pulled her to him, breathing in the mingled scents of soap and perfume.
Pulling himself back, he looked into her face. The deep green eyes had golden flecks that made them luminous. They were framed by deep, long black lashes, that were a startling contrast to her hair. As she was now, scrubbed free from cosmetics, with her hair tumbling around her, she looked good enough to eat. She looked like the girl he had fallen for. Only a few lines around her eyes betrayed her troubles and her age.
His eyes roamed over her body to the fine white lines just inside the pubic hair, the only evidence of womanhood she displayed. Her small breasts were unmarked, as were her thighs, but a few rogue stretchmarks glistened on her stomach and Tommy loved her more for them. Because they reminded him, as they did her, of what she had given up. Had had taken from her.
Briony ran her slim fingers over them tenderly.
‘Sally’s coming on Saturday, I’m going to arrange to see Ben if I can.’
Tommy nodded solemnly. Sally was Benedict’s nurse. After Isabel Dumas had stopped Briony seeing the boy, she had cultivated his nurse. Briony now saw him only from a distance but it helped to soothe the ache inside her.
Lowering his head he kissed her belly tenderly.
‘I love you, Bri.’ His voice was husky with pent-up emotion and Briony pulled him on top of her and kissed him, her fingers expertly unbuttoning his trousers. As she caressed him he became hard. He pulled off his trousers and lay beside her, kissing her breasts and neck, murmuring his love for her. Briony slowly unbuttoned
his shirt, running her nails gently across his back, feeling the goose bumps appearing on his skin. As he entered her, he groaned. She gripped him with her vaginal muscles, pulling him into her expertly, cold-bloodedly, like one of the girls who worked for her. He felt the familiar feeling of sadness envelop him. He rode her hard, thrusting himself inside her until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of her, and she loved him then. Kissing him gently, whispering endearments. Enjoying his nearness. And as always he forgave her for his hurt. The feeling he was using her and being used in return. Because he knew that Briony was incapable of the feelings she generated in him, and the saddest part for him was what she was missing. But he petted her as he knew she liked, and kissed her.
They lay together for nearly an hour, both lost in their own thoughts. Both wanting to speak of their real feelings and both lost for words.
Finally, Briony stirred. Slipping from under him, she put on a silk wrapper and built up the fire. It was early evening and the sun was slowly disappearing. She put on the bedside lamps and smiled down at Tommy.
‘What have you been doing today?’
He stared up at her and smiled.
‘To be honest, Briony, I’ve been chasing up Bolger.’
‘What’s the rub? Have you found out who this mysterious backer is?’
Tommy shook his head. ‘Nah. It seems our Willy is staying round with the Oldses. Ronnie Olds hates him, I know that for a fact. He’s always hated ponces. Ronnie’s strictly robbing and villainy. But here’s a lot of dosh being spent, and I’ll be honest, Bri, it’s beginning to worry me. Someone wants us out of the picture for good. We’re not talking healthy competition here, my love, we’re talking death and destruction. Namely, mine and yours.’
She sat on the bed and put her hand over Tommy’s. ‘You’re really worried, aren’t you?’ Her voice was shocked.
Tommy bit his lip and nodded.
‘To be honest, girl, I am. There’s something going down here and I can’t get to the fucking bottom of it. I’ve been tramping the pavements like a madman and I can’t get nothing from no one.
‘Whoever’s backing Willy is very shrewd, and I think we already know that, and he’s arsehole fucking lucky. Because Willy ain’t mentioned him to anyone. Also, whoever it is ain’t a villain, because Willy’s buying up anyone who’s anyone.’
He sighed and wiped his hand over his face. His thick hair was tousled. Looking at him in the firelight, his face drawn, a feeling of fear stole over her. If Tommy Lane was scared then there was definitely something to be nervous about.
‘So what’s to do? Do we sit here and shit ourselves or do we go out and find the fucker? You tell me.’
Her tone was aggressive as she wanted it to be. She was frightened now herself, really frightened, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.
Despite himself, Tommy laughed. Only his Briony would be prepared to go out looking for someone who could be the death of them. She’d pick up a chair and fight anyone!
‘Tonight there’s a fight over at Victoria Park. Olds will be there, maybe even Willy. I don’t think we can wait for Mariah to have her meet. I think we need the element of surprise, don’t you?’
Briony nodded and grinned.
Tommy leapt from the bed and lit one of his cheap cheroots. ‘Ring for a bit of scran. Bacon and eggs will do, anything. I’m starving. Then I’ll round up all the boys and tool them up. We’ll go there tonight and give them a run for their fucking money. If I’m going down, I intend to take a good few with me.’
Briony rang the bell.
‘I’ll get myself washed and dressed. I think we should get there as the first fight comes on. That way we’ll slip in easier.’
Tommy looked at her and shook his head.
‘Oh, no! You’re not going. That ain’t no place for you, or any woman come to that. You’re staying here. Sort out the clubs, the houses, anything. But you ain’t going near the places tonight!’
Briony faced him. Putting her hands on her hips, she said: ‘And who’s gonna stop me?’
Tommy walked to her and pushed his face close to hers. ‘I ain’t never raised a hand to you, Briony, nor to any woman, but I’ll give you the leathering of your life if you set one dainty foot near that place tonight!’
Tommy rounded up twenty of his best men, including Abel Jones and Jimmy Reynard. In the basement of a slum in Wapping, Tommy displayed his arsenal and the men each picked out a weapon and secreted it on their person. Knives, guns and coshes were the order of the day, and as they all left to go to the fight there was a general air of excitement. Most of the men had grudges against the Oldses and the Campbells, so were looking forward to the fight. Tommy smoked cheroots one after the other as the cavalcade made their way to Hackney. They arrived just after nine.
The first fight was already taking place and the park was literally packed out. Tommy and his men pushed their way through the crowds, looking for Ronnie Olds. He would be made to tell them where Bolger was hiding out, even if it meant losing his testicles during the conversation. Tommy was now acting on pure adrenaline. His heightened awareness made him more aggressive than ever and he pushed through the crowds with a grim look on his face. He wanted this sorted once and for all. The chance was he would end his life here tonight but it was a chance he was prepared to take. Tommy noticed Jimmy and another man buying themselves roast chicken from a vendor. Walking over to them, he grabbed Jimmy by the throat.
‘What’s this then, Jimmy, a fucking night out or what?’
Jimmy put the piece of greasy chicken back on the barrow and followed Tommy sheepishly. He was starving. Unlike Tommy he hadn’t eaten since the morning and his stomach was gurgling now, with only a few pints of Watney’s inside it.
Tommy walked along, keeping up a stream of abuse.
‘I don’t fucking believe you, Jimmy! What next? Shall we have a break and watch the poxy find-the-lady bloke? Or, I know, how about we go and have our fucking fortunes told?’
They were approaching the area where the fighters were; a ring had been roped off and the money men were milling around. Tommy spotted Ronnie Olds by a small marquee. He signalled to his men and they all surged forward together. Ronnie was busy taking bets and didn’t see Tommy ‘til it was too late. Tommy was beside him with a false smile on his face and a dangerous grip on Ronnie’s arm. Looking at the old woman who was trying to place a bet, he said, ‘Sorry, love, this bookie just closed. You’ll have to go somewhere else.’
The woman, a known penny lender, looked at Tommy in temper and said: ‘Balls! I wanna place a bet. I’ve been queueing for half an hour!’
Tommy looked down at her and said between gritted teeth: ‘Fuck off, Grandma, or I’ll shove your money right up your arse!’
People began to move away then, guessing there was trouble afoot. It was Ronnie Olds’ trouble and not theirs. The old woman contemptuously spat at Tommy’s feet and went along to the next bookie, complaining loudly.
Tommy pushed Ronnie into his marquee and the two men faced one another.
‘You’re out of order, Lane. You’ve no business coming here and pushing me around.’
‘Bollocks, Ronnie. All I hear lately is you and the Campbells and that slag Bolger. Well, tonight’s the night I pay my fucking debts, and I’m starting with you, matey.’
Ronnie Olds was a big man, big and cumbersome. Tommy knew this and had planned accordingly. Pulling a boning knife from his waistband, he slashed it across Ronnie’s beer belly. The blade went in about an inch. Ronnie watched in dismay as blood began to seep out. The boning knife was so sharp he hadn’t even felt any discomfort. But he was cute enough to know the pain would come. He held his stomach with both hands, unsure whether the knife had cut deep enough to spill out his guts. Once they left the body you were dead. White-faced, he staggered back, his heart beating too fast, sweat appearing on his forehead.
Tommy slashed him again, lengthwise this time. Making a red cross on his stomach.
&
nbsp; ‘You fucking ponce! You thought you could fuck me up, didn’t you? You thought that Bolger was the dog’s bollocks. Well, he ain’t, mate. He ain’t, but I am. You want violence, I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna take out every one of you, even your fucking drunken old man. You want fear, well, I’ll make sure you get more than you ever dreamt of in your poxy little life!’
He took the knife and wiped it across Ronnie’s face. Slicing through the skin until the cheek flapped down exposing the bone.
Both men stared at Briony as she walked into the tent with Mariah Jurgens.
‘Hurts, don’t it, Ronnie? Stings I should imagine. Well, thanks to you one of my girls was tortured like that by your mate Willy Bolger. Now, where is he? Tommy’s mob-handed and so are we. Me and Mariah just picked up every piece of shite in the Arab quarter of the docks. So you’d better start talking or we’ll just round up your brothers and cut them ’til they tell us what we want to know. Won’t we, Tommy?’
He stared in amazement at Briony and Mariah. They stood there, dressed up to the nines without a flicker of fear on their faces. Mariah grinned maliciously.
‘By the way, Ronnie, we’ve rounded up Micky Campbell too. He’s outside in my car now with Marcenello, the Maltese hero. An Arab friend of mine is watching them for me. You know big Kousan, don’t you, Ronnie? He’s the one who chased you off his manor with a meat cleaver not six months ago when you was trying to get into the dock industry. Well, he don’t like you and I think we can safely say, you don’t like him. So tell us where Bolger is.’
Ronnie looked at the three people in the room. He was gradually feeling a faintness stealing over him. Not just from the loss of blood but at the realisation that here were three people who could not let him live after this night’s work. It was all Bolger’s doing, with his packed wallet and his smarmy tongue. He was as good as dead, and he knew it. Being a nasty man, if he was going he wanted to take as many with him as possible.