A Kind of Hush (9 page)

It was six o’clock in the morning and everyone was asleep except me. The fucking armchair that I had slept in had given me a crick in my neck. Why was it that they could sleep and I couldn’t? I thought. I looked at them one by one.

Mick was in one of those chairs that slide back and magic up a foot-rest. His arms were folded across his chest and there was a silly grin on his face. I thought of that advert saying, ‘In your dreams you too could be in Tunisia’. I wondered where he was and if she was worth the dream.

Pete and Den even sleep alike, I thought as I looked at them. Even their bloody hair looked like it had been messed up in the same way. They were both on the settee, one at each end. Both had a leg hanging over the side and both had an arm wrapped around their head. I wondered if they dreamed the same dream.

Wivva slept as hard as he lived, never giving anything away. He was sitting in the corner on a big cushion, knees drawn up, arms folded on the top. His head was lying on his arms with his face turned to the wall. The back of his head had a big ‘V’ cut into his quarter-inch hair - Vinny
 Jones was his hero. His knees were spreading the tops of his arms in a way that made it look like his already well-developed muscles were even bigger. Even in his sleep he was saying, 'Don't truck with me man.'

Si was curled up in a sleeping-bag by the fireplace. He was sucking his thumb and still sniffing even in his sleep. He's a kid, just a kid, I thought. I wondered what would be happening to him if we weren't about. To be honest, I think we all saw a little bit of ourselves in Si, you know, that scared kid bit. It was almost as though we needed him to be around, to remind us of what we once were, or still are.

Tony was lying on his stomach by the window, his arms stretched out above his head. His mouth was wide open and he was softly snoring. His eyes were going nineteen to the dozen so the dream he was having must have been very busy. He talked a lot about his mum last night, calling her names like 'slag' and 'bitch', but we all saw that he didn't really mean it. He still loved her lots, but he just couldn't bring himself to admit it.

Alan? Well Alan was just that, Alan. He was always there, just like the furniture. He rarely spoke, never seemed to have an opinion about anything, but he made you feel fucking comfortable when he was around. I looked at him stretched out in his armchair with his feet crossed and his arms clasped across his stomach and wondered if he ever dreamed at all. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me. I smiled and mouthed the word 'Coffee'. He nodded, we got up quietly and crept into the kitchen.

I suddenly realised that I had never really been alone 
with Alan and for a second or two wondered why. No answers came to mind.

I poured the boiling water into two cups, Alan got the milk and sugar.

'One or two?' he said, holding up the sugar bowl.

Two please,' I said. We took the coffee out on to the balcony to drink and looked at the view. We were fourteen floors up and it was amazing.

I asked Alan how he felt about all that was happening.

'Like what?' he asked.

'You know,' I said. 'All this with Jen and Ali.'

'I don't think about it,' he said.

'But I killed my old man the other night,' I said, and it hit me for the first time. 'Fucking hell! I killed him,' I said.

I hadn't thought about it. You crush a cockroach and you don't think about it, it was the same with the old man. Bloody hell, if someone had told me that one day I would top someone and it wouldn't have any effect on me at all, I would never have believed them. But it meant nothing to me, just like the cockroach. He was here and now he's not and I feel nothing.

'I killed him,' I said.

'So what,' he said. 'If you hadn't I would have. So would Mick or Wiwa or any of 'em. He was scum, he had to go.'

'And what about Gus?' I asked.

'If it happens, it happens,' he said. 'People like that put people like us where we are and no one seems to give a shit but us. If that's what we've got to do to stop them, then fine, I'm game and so are all of the others. We talked about it when you went to see Ali. If we get caught,' he went on, 
'what can they do? Send us down, that's no worse than we've been used to is it? And if we do get caught, we'll be fucking heroes. Bollocks to them, that's what I say. And the sooner they're all out of the way the better.'

I was flabbergasted. That was the longest that I'd ever heard Alan talk and what's more, there was nothing he said that I could argue with.

There was a noise behind us and we turned. Mick was standing in the doorway hugging a can of Special Brew and coughing over his first smoke of the day.

That goes double for me,' he said between chokes.

Chris arrived at about twelve. He looked very serious as he sat down.

T spent the whole day yesterday on this bloody book,' he said, 'and it kept me awake all bloody night. Some of these names are very powerful people.'

'We know that,' said Wivva sarcastically.

'Right, but do you know what it means?' said Chris, leaning towards Wivva. Wivva went quiet and we all smirked.

'What it means is this,' and off Chris went.

'Twenty per cent of the people in this book are powerful enough to stop any investigation. If you want to get them, then you have to catch them at it. It's not enough that their names are in the diary, anyone can write down names, but it wouldn't necessarily stand up in Court. I got that from my brief.' He looked up at us. 'Don't worry, he can be trusted. It's just that he's seen too many cases fail because of unsubstantiated evidence.' He went on, 'My brief knows a tame copper. For those that don't know, that's a copper who thinks before he acts. Someone who's not going to barge in regardless, but is

willing to wait until the evidence is properly provided. He's also a good friend of my brief.'

He continued, 'Another way to get the evidence we need is to find what's called a weak link. That's someone who's worked inside with them for a long time and is willing for some reason to give evidence against the names in the diary. What I'm saying is, that the diary's not enough on its own if we want to make sure that these bastards go down.'

'Leave it with us,' said Mick. 'We'll think of something.'

'I thought you might say something like that,' said Chris, 'so I brought you a present that I thought you just might need.' He opened up a sports bag that he'd brought with him and took out a sawn-off twelve-bore and a box of cartridges.

'Brilliant!' yelled Wivva. 'Shooters are brilliant, bags I use it,' and he made a grab for it.

'Hang on,' said Mick, taking it before Wivva could get there. 'We'll sort out who uses it and why later.'

'I picked it up when I did the Watford house that Si told you about,' said Chris. 'I thought that one day I'd maybe use it on a proper job, but then what with the new baby and all and the business going so well, it just stayed in the loft.'

'Nice one,' said Mick, 'Thanks Chris, I've a feeling that this could come in quite handy.'

'I don't know what the bloke used it for,' Chris added. 'So make sure if you use it, or if you're stopped, that you don't get caught with it. You don't want all of his shit on you as well. And please, please, take care eh?' He looked very concerned.

Thanks, mate, we will,' said Mick.

Wivva picked up the gun and started polishing it with his sleeve. 'It's nice Chris,' he said. 'Very nice.'

It was near eight o'clock and we'd just finished yet another takeaway, curry this time. We were getting ready to carry out the plans that we'd been making all afternoon when a terrific bang came from the kitchen and bounced all the way through the flat.

'What the fuck!' yelled Mick as we all piled out of the room and rushed to where the noise had come from.

Wivva was standing by the kitchen window with a look of absolute amazement on his face and the now smoking shotgun in his hands.

'It just exploded,' he said. 'I just pointed at this pigeon sitting on the balcony, pulled the trigger and bam! it was gone. Just fevvers, lots and lots of fevvers, hundreds of the fuckers. It was brilliant.' He started to laugh, we all joined him.

'Nothing like starting a new job with a bang,' said Mick as he took the gun and playfully cuffed Wivva around the head.

The phone killed the moment. It was the hospital. Someone had left a parcel for Ali.

It was a shoebox, wrapped in gold foil, with a big red bow on it. Mick and I took it to one side. I opened it. Inside, lying on the top of a layer of white tissue paper was a card. It read: 'Remember Brighton' and was signed 'Love G'. I lifted up the tissue paper.

Underneath was a used condom and a picture of Gus and his two goons with Ali and Jen. They were all naked. A note with them read: 'Stewart will listen to you sweetheart. If he doesn't, well . . . Brighton was nice wasn't it.' I thanked the ward sister, stuffed the box under my arm and we slipped out without Ali seeing us or knowing that we had been there.

'Bastard!' I growled. 'Fucking stinking bastard!' We headed out to Highbury to meet up with the others.

Tony was at the end of the street by some trees, watching the house as we pulled up.

'His motor came back twenty minutes ago,' he said. 'He's got four blokes with him now. Two of them are sitting in the brown Granada outside.'

'Must be expecting something then,' said Mick. 'Better not disappoint him, had we?'

The others joined us, they'd been sitting in the car 
around the corner. We split troops again. Mick took Alan, Pete and Den in the Orion and I had Wivva, Tony and Si.

We cruised slowly past the house making sure that the two outside knew who we were. We carried on around the block. When we turned back into the road again, we saw that the Granada had gone. We tensed, ready for action. 'Looks like this is it,' I said.

Just as I said that the Granada came screaming up on us from behind, headlights ablaze. It roared past me and sideswiped Mick's Orion, slamming it into a parked VW. Mick's engine stalled. The Granada did a high speed handbrake turn and started back. I swung my car hard over to the right as the Granada again spanked the Orion on the side and sped past me; it stopped at the end of the road and started to turn again. I looked at Mick, he was still trying to start his engine.

We heard a loud crunching noise and watched with wonder as the rear door of the Orion was forced open from the inside, ripping up and out most of the metal covering the rear wing. Out stepped Alan holding the shotgun. He stood as calm as could be in the middle of the road facing the oncoming car; he looked massive. I swear his face had a smile on it.

'Charles fucking Bronson or what!' screamed Wivva. It was without a doubt the most exciting thing that I had ever seen. Alan was at that moment, I'm sure, everything that any of us ever wanted to be.

We all began to scream, 'Shoot the bastards, shoot the bastards!'

He fired both barrels and reloaded. The first two shells smashed into the front of the Granada creating clouds of steam. Alan fired again, this time hitting the windscreen. 
The nose of the car scraped the ground as the brakes were slammed on and it started to skid out of control. It screeched past me and caught Alan low on the leg spinning him into the air. The car then careered off into a tree and exploded into flames, no one got out.

We ran to Alan who had landed some fifty feet away from where he had been hit. He was a mess. His right leg was twisted crazily underneath his body, blood was pouring from so many places that it was hard to see how best to stop it. Mick was kneeling beside his head, he looked up and said, 'Don't bother, he's dead. His neck's broken.'

We fell quiet.

A screech and a roar came at us from behind, we all turned and dived for cover. The Merc sped past hitting Alan again, smashing him into the kerb, then it roared off down the road.

'After it!' screamed Mick as we all piled into our cars and sped off, Wivva grabbing the gun on the way.

We lost the bastard at the bottom of Blackstock Road.

'He must have doubled back up by the Arsenal,' said Wivva.

We couldn't hang about, we could already hear the sirens of the Old Bill. So keeping to the back streets where we could, we limped home to Hackney. Not a sound was made by any of us. No speaking, no coughing, no moaning, nothing.

Mick was grazed all down his right side. Pete and Den had a few bumps and bruises but were otherwise okay. We were all sitting quietly drinking beer. Wivva, with tears in his eyes said, 'He was a fucking hero, they ought to make a film about him.'

Pete and Den began to talk about the strength he used to open the car door.

'How the fuck he pushed that thing open, I'll never know,' said Pete. Then he just winked at us, smiled and got out, we didn't even know he had the shooter until it went off.'

'Great bloke, the fucking best,' said Wivva now openly crying. .

Si called his uncle Chris.

'He'll be here in half an hour,' he said and put the phone down.

'I've got to protect Ali,' I said.

'No need,' said Chris. 'She's not important to Gus any more. He may get her when this is over, just to teach her a lesson, but for the moment he's got more than enough on his plate trying to deal with you lot. He only approached her to get to you remember. Now that he knows who you are and probably where you are, he thinks that he can pick you off whenever he wants to. His only mistake so far was in underestimating you all. He thought that he was just dealing with a load of kids, but he was wrong.'

'Too right,' said Wivva.

Chris went on. 'It's likely that he'll sit back for a while to lick his wounds and take stock of the situation, but that doesn't mean that you can relax. He's got to get you all, you still have the book. And even if you didn't have it, you've read it and that makes you all very dangerous to him.'

'So what now?' I asked.

'Now you get careful, very careful,' he said. 'If you're going anywhere in the cars, each of you go a different 
way. Don't stay together unless you have to. As for what you do about Gus? Well you've unnerved him and he made mistakes when you took the battle to him. You've got to keep that flowing. Don't let him breathe. It seems that he has problems if he can't control the moves.'

'But where do we find him?' asked Mick.

'He'll be back at home,' said Chris.

'Not after what's happened surely?' I said.

'Why not,' said Chris. 'He's got the front and probably the contacts that can keep him well out of this. After all, it was something that happened in the street. The Granada was probably nicked. The goons were hired for the job, Alan's got form, if he's identified the Bill will think it's a gang war.'

'But he hit Alan wiv his motor,' said Wivva.

'I know mate and I'm sorry,' said Chris.

'Fucking hell, he's covered every way ain't he,' I said angrily.

'Yep,' said Chris. 'You don't get what he's got by being stupid.'

'Let's go get him then,' said Wivva, jumping to his feet.

'Later,' said Mick. 'Let them clean up the street first. He won't expect us to come back at him tonight.'

'Can we eat then,' said Wivva. 'I'm fucking starving.'

'Good idea,' said Tony. 'Come on, Si, let's go get some Chinese.'

Si, Tony and Wivva then raced each other down the stairs - all fourteen floors of them.

'You'll take care of him, won't you?' said Chris.

'Who?' I asked.

'Si - you'll take care of him.'

'Course we will, he's tougher than you think, you know.'

'I know,' he said. 'I wanted to take him home with me but he wouldn't hear of it.'

We were relaxing, winding down a bit when Tony and Wivva came bursting back into the room.

They've got him!' they shouted together. They've got Si!'