Takeover, page 7
The other thing he wouldn’t mention was this business today with Stoker had brought it home to him a lot more that he’d care to admit. Although he still felt thirty, both physically and mentally, nothing changed the fact that he was sixty-eight – sixty-nine this year, so it really was important he got everything in place, just to be fully covered when the time came.
10
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Seb barked. Hadn’t he got enough on his plate?
Neil shrugged. ‘Just telling you what was reported back like you asked.’
Seb wiped his hand across his forehead and stared at the ceiling with exasperation. Yes, he had asked to be immediately informed should there be any further infiltration attempts, but he’d expected elbowing around in respect of supplies, not this.
‘What do you make of it?’ Neil watched his brother intently.
Learning forward, Seb slapped his hands down on the desk. ‘I make nothing of it, short of someone pulling a fast one.’ His jaw clenched. ‘And a dangerous fast one at that! Tell me who said this.’
Neil could see the anger in his brother’s eyes. He’d toyed with the idea of ‘forgetting’ to mention this part, knowing it would put the cat amongst the pigeons and in all truth, he didn’t want the hassle. ‘Oh, come on, Seb. Surely you can’t be taking this seriously? It’s got to be bullshit.’
‘Part is,’ Seb roared, ‘but I want to know exactly what was said and by whom.’
Neil sighed. ‘Phil Blunt – the runner with the tat of a spider on his neck, you know the one?’
‘Yes, yes, go on,’ Seb snapped.
‘Well, he took a right kicking. He was about to drop the usual order in for that club we supply on Hurst Street, when some fucker told him the order had already been dropped. By them.’
Seb’s jaw ached as it clenched harder. So these fuckers had overtaken one of their deals? ‘That coke order’s been filched?’
Neil nodded. ‘I’ve spoken to the club and they were offered two quid less a gram, so to be fair, you can see why they changed supplier.’
‘To be fair?’ Seb raged. ‘You’re okay with all of this?’
‘Well, no, but…’
‘Carry on, then,’ Seb flapped his hand dismissively. He wasn’t here for spiel.
‘The bloke giving Phil a kicking said we either accept losing a percentage of our trade, or it would become public knowledge that one of us isn’t a Stoker.’
Seb raked his fingers through his hair. ‘And was this cunt one of these cheap wankers from the Aurora?’
Neil shrugged once more. ‘No idea. A big bloke, red hair. That’s all I know.’ He folded his arms. ‘You’re taking this very seriously. You… you don’t think there’s any truth in what he said about us?’
Eyes narrowing to slits, Seb backhanded Neil. ‘Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you ever insinuate that about our mother, do you hear me?’
Neil stumbled backwards, his hand raised to his face in shock. ‘I didn’t mean that, I…’
‘I want to speak to this runner. Bring him in immediately!’ Seb snarled.
‘What will you say to Dad?’ Neil asked, eyeing Seb warily.
Seb stared at his brother in amazement. ‘Are you stupid? Our father’s lying in hospital with angina, most likely caused from stress, and you’re expecting me to just casually mention that as well as losing one of our clients today, some ginger-haired fuck is trapping off that our mother’s been unfaithful at some point and his sons are actually questioning the validity of it? Have a day off, Neil!’
Neil bit his bottom lip. Putting it like that, it didn’t seem the best idea he’d had all day.
‘Don’t say anything about this to the others either. The less people who know about what’s been insinuated, the better. Get me this Phil bloke in pronto. I need to find which toe-rag will be paying for this crap.’
Nodding, Neil got up. ‘Are me and Andrew still heading to the Aurora tonight?’
Seb slammed his fist on the desk. ‘I don’t know. I can’t fucking think with all these questions. I’ll let you know later.’
After Neil left the office, Seb leant back in his chair and took a deep breath. He’d promised to take his mum up the hospital at visiting time. She was worried sick, but although he was now happy his father wasn’t in any immediate danger with his health, that could change if he knew this sort of stuff was being bandied around and he wouldn’t have his mother being tarnished with tales of infidelity. No way!
His eyes narrowed. The only person at risk here was the ginger bloke. One for filching one of their coke deals and two, for spouting shit. The guy was a dead man walking.
Happiness radiated from Sam. Thanks to her father’s collateral, Chamberlains were happy for her to take the keys in order to measure up the premises for fixtures and fittings in lieu of the pending completion of the sale. She ran her hand along the stone overmantle of the large back room in the building, scarcely able to comprehend this place would soon be hers.
‘What?’ she laughed, looking at Liam. She realised she must look like a kid in a sweet shop, but she was too happy to be self-conscious over whether she looked silly or not.
Liam grinned, taking pleasure at Sam’s excitement. Beautiful to start with, today she was positively stunning with radiance – the smile on her face so wide, so genuine. How he longed to take her into his arms and press his lips upon hers. To promise her that he would make her the happiest woman in the world every day if only she’d allow him to.
Liam had wanted Sam since the moment he’d first met her. Working for the Reynold firm, he had of course been invited to her customary birthday bashes and her twentieth had been the first time he’d laid eyes on her. That was now ten years ago and although, after spending a couple of nights together in the past, he’d thought perhaps something more was on the cards, she’d never wanted to make things more permanent, but he did.
She’d always insisted she wouldn’t jeopardise their friendship by moving into a relationship. And they were good friends, but it was frustrating.
But now things were on the up, Liam was sure of it. After being promoted several times within the business, he was doing well for himself. Manager of the gaming tables at the Orchid, he knew he was well thought of by Len, but the best moment was when Len had taken him to one side a few months ago to say, in no uncertain terms, that if Liam wanted to make things ‘official’ with his daughter, there would be no opposition from him. Plus, there had been the remark at the meal last night about grandchildren.
Liam grinned. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. Partly because Sam was a top looker, but also because being properly involved with her would ensure his position. As well as the promise of a never-ending stream of cash on tap, when Sam inherited the profits from the business, he’d be sorted for life.
If that wasn’t worth pursuing, then nothing was. Yep, all he had to do was marry Sam or even just get her pregnant to forge an everlasting tie. Now it was a just a case of convincing her.
‘This room will be my office,’ Sam said, almost dancing over to the large sash window.
Liam stared at Sam, framed by the sunlight through the window behind her, and soundlessly moved from the other side of the room towards her.
‘What are you staring at me like that for?’ Sam asked. ‘Don’t you like the place? I know that I’ve been going on and on about it and driving you mad, but can’t you see how beautiful it is? How perfect it will be for what I want to do with it?’
Shaking his head to gain semblance from what he actually wanted to do, Liam smiled. ‘No, I love it. I think it’s perfect too… Just like you…’
Sam’s smile faltered. Don’t spoil things, Liam, please… Turning away, she made a point of looking up at the window. ‘Do you have that tape measure I asked you to bring? I need the dimensions of this window for blinds. I saw some that would be perfect and…’
‘Sam…’ Liam moved closer, his hand brushing a lock of her hair from her face.
Sam hastily moved away from Liam to the other window. Anything to break the awkward situation. Her father’s blatant hint about grandchildren was bad enough, but whatever had been said was sufficient to give Liam a second wind in convincing her he was the one and she couldn’t be doing with that. ‘What’s your opinion of the Stokers?’
‘The Stokers?’ Liam studied Sam’s face suspiciously. ‘What have they got to do with anything?’
‘Nothing.’ Why had she mentioned them? It was the first name that had popped into her head. Sam pulled a small notebook from her bag and made a rough sketch of the room. ‘I just wondered what you thought of them. I bumped into Sebastian Stoker at the market the other day, that’s all.’
Liam’s hackles rose. He’d seen Stoker staring at Sam on her birthday and now the man just happened to ‘bump’ into her in the market? ‘Did he bother you?’ he snapped.
Sam frowned. ‘No, why would he bother me?’ Truth was, Seb Stoker had bothered her. She couldn’t read the man and that bothered her.
‘Seb’s bad news. I’ve heard things about him,’ Liam hissed. ‘I presume you’re aware the Stokers are your father’s rivals?’
Sam bristled. Yes, she’d finally remembered that, but also knew her father and Malcolm Stoker went back years. ‘Rivals perhaps, but enemies, no,’ she said curtly.
‘Don’t trust them. Old school tactics are all very chivalrous, but even so…’
Sam’s irritation mounted. ‘I think my father can make his own judgement with how he operates. It’s set him in good enough stead in this game for the past forty years. Casting aspersions on a family with their father in hospital isn’t very becoming either.’
‘Sam, I didn’t mean…’
‘I need to get back to work.’ Sam shoved her notebook back into her bag, the enjoyment of the day deflating.
Liam’s heart sank. He should have kept his opinions to himself. Mal Stoker was decent enough, but Seb was a different kettle of fish and he didn’t like the man one bit. He certainly didn’t like the thought of Seb bothering Sam. Not when it was important she kept her full attention on him.
Walking out the door of the big old building and watching as Sam locked up, Liam leant against the wall. ‘I’ll drop those keys back if you like? Save you some time?’
Sam’s irritation faded. She always found it difficult being cross with Liam for long. ‘Okay, thanks.’ She chucked him the keys and stood back, admiring her new building, a smile creeping back onto her face.
‘Let me take you for dinner tonight.’ Liam wore his best lopsided grin that he knew Sam found endearing. ‘Let me make up for annoying you…’
‘Well, I…’
‘Come on. You promised we’d go to dinner soon. Just you and me.’ Liam raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ll even let you talk about blinds, curtains and cushion covers all night if you want?’
Sam laughed, all annoyance gone. ‘Go on then, but I’ll hold you to that. I’ll make you carry all the paint I’m planning on ordering too!’
Liam smiled to himself, watching Sam wrapped in her tailored suit walk back to the office. He’d carry anything she liked. He’d paint the whole place pink with a toothbrush if it made her happy and guaranteed him a percentage of her coming money.
11
‘Not now, you silly tart!’ Tom barked, brushing the woman away. ‘Can’t you see I’m bloody busy?’ And even if he wasn’t busy, he wouldn’t want a go with her.
He glanced contemptuously at the woman’s veined, saggy breasts half-hanging out of her light pink top and cringed. For fuck’s sake, surely they could do better than this lot? Good job the punters were all so wasted by the time they moved on to the women, they didn’t notice quite how bashed with the ugly stick they all were.
Shrugging, Tom swigged from his vodka and continued flicking through his notebook, gratified by last weeks’ takings. Very nice…
And Jock had the audacity to initially doubt whether the gambling side of things would be a goer? Well, he could eat his words now because out of the three sides of this venture, the gambling was the most lucrative at this time.
Pulling out his cigarettes, Tom sparked one up. But that would soon be changing. Jock’s earlier visit had proved as much. Another successful infiltration of a patch. Okay, so on this occasion it was necessary for the runner to be roughed up, but shit happens.
Now they’d got control of that particular patch, it was one up the nose for the Stoker firm because it was one of their patches.
Tom glanced around his tiny office on the first floor of the Aurora. A few more weeks and he’d be able to kit out this place a lot better. At the very least, he’d make his office more fitting for his station. He eyed the cheapo desk in front of him with disdain. That could go for a start. He’d get himself one of those posh, solid wood ones, like the ones in old films.
Leaning back on his chair, he stopped abruptly, feeling the plastic bending under his weight. A proper desk chair was in order too.
Tom pulled out a wrap of cling film from his pocket and carefully cut a line of cocaine on his desk. Chopping at it with his switch card, he fashioned it into a nice thick line, then hoovered it up his nose through a rolled-up fiver. Now there would be a lot more of this for his own consumption at no extra cost, too.
Feeling the burn at the back of his nose and the rush building in his head, Tom grinned, his heart pounding as the cocaine took effect. Today was a good day and it would be even better by later on.
He yanked at the stiff desk drawer and pulled out the piece of paper where he’d scribbled down the address he’d found. Now he could post that letter.
Tom’s face split into a grin. Or he could nail it to the front door along with a mouldy chicken? At least that would save a stamp… Tempting as it was, realistically that was a no-go unfortunately.
He’d get to the post box and then, after that, the first port of call was to check out the address and make a decision when to start the blackmail. It didn’t matter whether he started with Reynold or Stoker. It was irrelevant which of them had purchased that slag Linda’s kid. Rumours stuck better than the truth and if he played his cards right, he’d get a proper pay-out for keeping schtum. Now Maynard knew he was back, he would come in useful too.
Tom’s eyes glistened with excitement. Maynard would not want anything mentioned that could cause him problems. And he could cause Maynard plenty of problems. Big problems.
Judith stared at her husband and felt like bursting into tears all over again. She’d been crying since it happened, including the best part of last night and most of the day. She glanced at Seb, standing at her side in the doorway of Mal’s private room off the coronary ward, and smiled weakly.
‘He’s okay, Ma. Just asleep. I tell you what, you sit with him and I’ll leave you to it for a while. Give you some time to chat when he wakes up.’ Seb kissed his mother on the cheek and left the room.
He didn’t like seeing his mother upset like this and neither did he like seeing his big, strapping father reduced to lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by wires and bleeping machines. He liked it even less that someone should cast doubts about his mother’s reputation. Doubts that one of his own brothers thought to question?
Seb’s anger simmered. The bastard who thought they could steam in and cause problems with his family would be dealt with sooner rather than later and, if things went to plan, that would happen tonight.
As Seb left the room, the shutting of the door caused Mal to stir. Blinking, he adjusted his eyes to the bright overhead strip lights. Seeing his wife, he smiled. ‘Hello, love.’
‘Oh, Mal!’ Judith cried, rushing towards the bed. Bending down, she planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘You gave me a right scare. You gave all of us a scare!’
Mal motioned for Judith to sit on the plastic chair at the head of his bed, dismayed to see her hands trembling and her eyes red and swollen from crying.
He loved his Judith to bits. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for her. His resolve strengthened. The last thing he wanted was to inadvertently put his darling wife through pain and worry.
Okay, so it had cost him a bloody small fortune over the years keeping her in posh frocks and the latest household gadgets. Christ, he’d even bought her a brand-new video recorder at the first opportunity, betting at the time even the Queen was getting hers on the tick from Radio Rentals. And none of that included the house Judith insisted he bought. Or the holidays…
But he wouldn’t change her for the world. She’d stuck faithfully by his side whilst he’d built the business up; she’d turned a blind eye to all the comings and goings that she knew were far from legit, but best of all, she’d given him four strapping sons. For that alone, he couldn’t have been more grateful.
The day Sebastian was born, Mal had thought all of his boats had come in. He’d been the proudest father ever. With Seb’s dark hair and green eyes, he was a chip off the old block – a heir for the nicely growing business. Then along came the twins, Andrew and Neil, and finally Gary – the one they’d never expected, nor planned for. The runt of the litter, with a different constitution to the other three, but it hadn’t mattered. He loved them all.
And, Mal thought with a smug smile, his sons were the one thing he’d always have over Len Reynold… Although that rivalry wasn’t quite as acute after the man’s decency when he’d collapsed at the meeting yesterday.
He glanced at the cuff monitoring his blood pressure with growing annoyance. As much as he hated to admit it, having a turn like this had put the fear of God into him. He’d thought for a moment that his time was up, which further underlined how much he dreaded leaving Judith. He also knew what it meant.
Judith took Mal’s hand, snapping him from his thoughts. ‘Mal, I…’
‘You don’t need to say anything, love. I know…’ Mal said, squeezing her hand gently.
