‘I need you to bring me one more packet, Em – this isn’t enough.’
Emmie looked at Jake, sitting smoking a large spliff on the Dralon couch which was making her skin itch, and she decided she wanted to go home. She’d been excited when he’d discharged himself from hospital, thinking they’d spend some quality time together cuddling up watching movies, but Jake had had other plans and Emmie was starting to think he was using her, as well as thinking it’d been a mistake to get involved. If it hadn’t been for her finding the letters she would never have betrayed her dad like this, but it was her way of getting back at him; she wanted to hurt him like he had hurt her.
‘Jakey please, I told you I won’t be able to bring you any more. I don’t know why you want them anyway.’
Emmie leant in to kiss Jake but he pushed her away roughly; she repulsed him. Her spoilt behaviour and her whining had put paid to the idea of screwing her but for the time being, he still needed her.
‘Do you want me to blow you, Jake?’
Jake looked at Emmie’s pouting lips. She was trying to look sexy but it wasn’t working; all it was doing was making her look stupid. He wasn’t even sure she knew how to give a blow job, she was always so frigid and uptight; but his mind was on better things anyway.
He’d only have to put up with her moaning for a little while longer and then he’d be rid of her, but in the meantime he’d have to try and keep his cool with the silly bitch. He was so close, and all he needed was for her to bring him one more package.
He was planning to take over from Chris Wardale, who’d been the main dealer for the Stonebridge area of Wembley. Chris had just been banged up and was looking at a nine stretch for supplying class As, and Jake had seen it as an opportunity for him to stop being a nobody and become a face.
He was sick of being pushed around and although he was a Bellingham, he was so low down in the ranks he hardly got the respect he felt he deserved. If all went to plan, the likes of Alfie Jennings would be sorry they ever messed with him.
He’d been to see Johno Porter who was the number one clinch of the whole of Wembley and a cousin of his mother’s, to ask permission to start dealing on his turf. Johno had laughed at him at first and seen him just as a spotty kid, until he’d showed him some of his supply.
‘And you can get hold of more of this?’
‘Yeah, I told you I’m good for it and it’s quality stuff.’
‘I had been thinking of putting Wardale’s number two in charge,’ Johno said. ‘He knows the area, the customers and what to look out for. It’d be less hassle all round. But I guess family comes before everything else.’
‘I won’t let you down, Johno.’
Johno had grinned, showing his crooked teeth in a menacing smile.
‘That’s right you won’t, otherwise they’ll be fishing pieces of you out of the Thames and I’ll have to explain to your mother what happened. And what’s all this shit I hear about you and Jennings’s daughter? I can’t have you bringing any trouble to the area for a bit of cunny. I can see they did you over good and proper.’
Jake squirmed; he didn’t like to be reminded of what had happened. His body still ached. His ribs were still strapped up, as were his fingers; and by the end of the night, his mouth usually ended up bleeding, causing him so much pain he needed to pack his spliff with extra skunk to dull the throbbing.
‘That’s all finished, she’s out of the picture now.’
‘Glad to hear it. So if we’re going to do this, you need to know what I charge. It’s important for you to understand what my cut is; we don’t want any misunderstandings.’
Jake shook his head and hoped one day he’d be able to exude as much power over people as Johno Porter did.
‘For every three kilos, I expect one.’
Jake was shocked. He was expecting it might be over the top, but one kilo of heroin for every three sold was by anyone’s standards excessive. Without thinking, he spoke.
‘Fuck me, bit steep isn’t it Johno?’
Jake Bellingham saw the sour look spread across Johno’s face, and it was a few moments before it spread into a smile.
‘I like your honesty, Jake. You’re right, it is a bit steep, but when
you’re
a face, you can make the rules. Until then, family or not, that’s the deal. Show me all the goods by the end of the month, give me my share upfront, and you’ve got yourself your first piece of turf. Welcome to the firm.’
Johno had leant across the table and shook Jake’s hand. Finally he was going to become someone.
‘Jakey?’
Jake’s thoughts were broken by Emmie’s whining and her attempts at trying to undo his G-Star jeans. Jake clasped hold of Emmie’s hand and spoke, trying not to let his irritation show in his voice.
‘No thanks Em, I told you what the doctor said; no excitement. I was lucky not to have internal bleeding after what your dad did.’
He looked at Emmie and saw her cheeks flush; he knew she felt guilty and he was happy to play on it. She was a spoilt brat trying to play the sexy grownup when really she was just a child; but she was also needy and seemed pretty fucked up, and that suited Jake Bellingham down to the ground.
‘Maybe I could see if I could get another packet. I’m sure he won’t miss it, and anyhow, he’ll never guess it was me.’
‘That’s my girl. How about you run along and try to get it and then we can concentrate on us? Perhaps when you do come back, maybe you could try that blow job you were talking about.’
‘What about the doctor’s orders?’
‘What about them?’
Jake winked at Emmie, amazed at her stupidity. Couldn’t she see the only reason he was being nice to her was to get his own back on Alfie? He was going to enjoy using Emmie to help him get his revenge.
Alfie counted the packages for the sixth time, crouching on the floor of his office. He couldn’t have made a mistake. it was hardly rocket science to count up to thirty. But it wasn’t thirty he was counting, it was twenty-three. Twenty-three packages of heroin when there should’ve been thirty.
It’d only been two weeks ago he’d taken five out from behind the fake fireplace and sold it to Scottish Charlie, and he was certain there were thirty left. Seven packets missing was equivalent to nearly seventy grand.
Alfie chewed on his thumb, spitting the skin out of his mouth and onto the wooden floor. He knew he wasn’t losing his mind, so he wanted to know how the fuck they could’ve done a disappearing act.
However, Alfie knew
how
they came to vanish was the least of his worries at the moment. He was supposed to be handing the packages over to Oscar today and now he was well and truly fucked unless he came up with another seven packets – or seventy grand.
It was useless even trying to stall Oscar. He knew he wanted it today. Oscar had told him it was going to be couriered to Newcastle by some of his men and distributed up there, so everything had already been arranged.
This heroin had been separate from the stash he and Oscar had owned together, which had already been given to the Albanians in exchange for the first lot of girls. This batch had been his and his alone, therefore it was his responsibility and he had no business partners to turn to now it had started to go wrong. The only way of replacing it was to buy some more from his contacts or give Oscar the money back he’d already paid for it. Either way, it meant coming up with some money, and Alfie knew that was impossible.
His money flow had been tight recently. He’d ploughed a lot of money into the club, bought some flats in Stratford which had been going for a song with the money he’d got from selling the smack to Oscar, and the remainder had paid for his share of more girls and that had completely wiped him out after he lost nearly five hundred grand on a bad money deal. The money situation was tighter than it’d ever been since he’d started out. Once upon a time he’d have sneezed away seventy grand in a day, but things were different now. Seventy grand might as well be seven million. He owned a lot of properties but most of them were re-mortgaged up to the hilt.
The only person Alfie knew with the sort of amount he needed was Vaughn. Picking up the phone, he dialled his number.
‘Vaughn. It’s Alf; I’ve got to pull in a favour. Can you shoot over to me? I’m at the house in Essex.’
After the phone call from Alfie, Vaughn had jumped in his car to make his way down to Essex. The phone call had been tense, with Alfie sounding worried but pretending he wasn’t. Vaughn had known him long enough to know when he was under pressure.
Vaughn always enjoyed going to the Jennings household and seeing the family. He had a soft spot for Janine and even though she was a loudmouth, he couldn’t help but like her. Emmie had always been in his heart from the moment he’d seen her. Sometimes when he looked at her it made him regret not having children of his own.
Today was going to be the exception to the rule, however. Today Vaughn knew he wasn’t going to enjoy his visit; and once he’d finished, he doubted Alfie would either.
Janine opened the newly painted cream front door and greeted Vaughn with a welcoming hug. ‘Alright Vaughnie, how’s it going?’
‘Fuck me Jan, you’d put a grizzly bear to shame, nearly broke my ribs. Where’s the old man?’
‘Moping about in his office. He’s been like a skunk without his stink all morning. I dunno what’s wrong with him.’
‘How’s Emmie?’
Janine smiled at Vaughn. She always appreciated the way he asked after Emmie and treated her like his own; not that the little cow deserved it – she was turning into a little minx and it was starting to get on her nerves.
‘Out, ain’t she. But I’m telling you V, she’s winding me up like a bleedin’ jack in the box. I swear I’m going to swing for her. There’s something going on in that girl’s head and by Christ I’m going to get to the bottom of it.’
Vaughn gave Janine a loving squeeze of the arm. She never changed; whenever he saw her she was either moaning about Alfie or Emmie, but Vaughn knew she loved them both ferociously.
‘Go through, he’s in his office. Maybe you can cheer him up.’
Vaughn Sadler doubted that very much.
The mahogany office wasn’t to everybody’s taste, and it certainly wasn’t to Vaughn’s. It always reminded him that people who had money didn’t always have taste. He knew a lot of it was down to Janine buying
Country Living
magazine and trying to emulate the lifestyle, thinking having a panelled office in a mock Tudor Essex mansion somehow made her part of the landed gentry.
Vaughn yawned; he was only half listening to Alfie explain about the smack, and about Scottish Charlie.
‘I reckon I must have counted it wrong and somehow Charlie did me over good and proper, but how? That’s what I can’t get me head around. I had my eye on the ball every moment, but what other explanation could there be? He’s the only one who’s been near the stuff – but fuck me Vaughn, I’m sure I never left the room. But the more I try to think about it, the less I can remember anything.’
Vaughn looked at his friend; he really didn’t give a shit who took it, whether it was Scottish Charlie or Welsh fucking William, it meant nothing to him.
‘So Vaughn, look, I’m short of the readies at the moment and I need a loan. We can say twenty per cent on top. I can’t have Oscar on my back.’
Vaughn finished off the expensive brandy and put the glass on the small table next to him. He looked at his brown suede brogues and saw they needed a clean. Sighing, he spoke.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Alf.’
Alfie’s face dropped and Vaughn saw the panic on it. ‘Okay, let’s say thirty per cent interest. Christ, you drive a hard bargain.’
‘It’s not the interest; I’d be happy to give it interest free.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘The problem’s you, Alf. You lied to me.’
Alfie was puzzled; he’d no idea what Vaughn was talking about. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘I asked you about the girls, Alf, and you looked me straight in the face like I was a cunt and told me you weren’t farming. I did a bit of digging and I found out you are. And now you expect me to give you a loan. No chance.’
‘It’s business. For fuck’s sake, Vaughn, the only reason I didn’t tell you was I knew you’d be like this. Since you’ve retired you’ve lost your balls.’
Vaughn stood up and faced Alfie, standing over him in height and menace. ‘I’d watch what you say if I were you. I haven’t lost anything. I’m old school; pimps and brass is one thing, been around forever and always will. But what you’re doing is bang out of order.’
‘You’re kidding yourself; it’s exactly the same. Buying and selling flesh. The strong and the vulnerable. In our game there isn’t room to be fucking soft, you know that.’
‘It isn’t my game and it will never
be
my game, Alf, because I won’t deal with nonces and I won’t deal in this.’
‘A hooker’s a hooker, no matter where they’re from.’
‘They are, but there’s a big fucking difference between toms and traffic. Okay, you’ve got the pimps, but you and me both know the majority of toms choose that life. Granted sometimes life chooses them out of need, greed or fuck knows what else, but they’ve still got their freedom to come and go – they haven’t got cunts like you and Oscar locking them up and choosing their life for them.’
‘You’re a fucking romantic, Vaughn. The brass here are as trapped as the rest of us.’
‘Maybe so, but I’ve told you my point of view and I won’t play any part in it.’
‘But you’re not playing any part in it. I’m asking you for a loan.’
‘You don’t get it, Alf; whilst you’re doing what you’re doing, I don’t want any part in you.’
Vaughn ignored the desperation in Alfie’s voice as he pleaded with him.
‘You can’t do this to me! We’re mates and we have been for years. And what about the promise you made my brother? What about that?’
Vaughn headed for the door but stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know Alfie knew about that – but then why wouldn’t he? Years ago he’d told Janine about it and telling her anything was like reporting it on CNN. Angrily he turned round to face Alfie.
‘Don’t you dare use that against me, Alfie. I promised to look out for you, but that didn’t include you being able to do exactly what you wanted and I stand by like a fucking noodle and foot the bill. So like I say, stop doing what you’re doing and then we can talk.’