The Survival Game (32 page)

‘When he got all aggressive with me earlier,’ Alisha said, ‘he asked me if I got pregnant on purpose…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I lied to him and said ‘no.’ So, I guess I’m just as bad as he is…’

Ishmael began shaking his head. ‘No, no, no. No way, Leesha. Don’t ever compare yourself to
him
.’

Alisha stared at Ishmael with tearful eyes.

‘He’s a piece of shit,’ Ishmael asserted, ‘you’re made of gold. Like you said, you did what you felt you had to given the circumstances. What excuse has
he
got?’

Alisha sighed. ‘I had to do something. I thought it might make him stop all this shit. You know, mature him, make him responsible.’

‘Hasn’t really worked out has it…?’

‘
No, it hasn’t…
’ Alisha put her head in her hands for a few seconds. ‘I gotta find him, Ish,’ she then declared. ‘Gotta find out exactly what’s going on and tell him to clear off, I don’t wanna know any more.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Yeah. I just can’t cope, Ish. My baby can’t cope.’

Ishmael shrugged. ‘Well, we can find him. And you can leave him. But what about the baby?’

‘He’s only the physical father,’ Alisha reasoned. ‘I don’t want my baby being around a man like that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get near him or her once they’re born.’

Ishmael rubbed his chin and then nodded. ‘Okay. You can stay at mine till we sort this mess out.’

Alisha smiled. ‘Thanks, Ish.’

‘It’s the least I can do. This
is
all partly my fault too.’

‘Don’t say that. You’re a good man. John’s not. You sorted your shit out. He
still
hasn’t. How many more chances can I give him?’

Ishmael nodded. ‘He’s had more than enough,’ he said, echoing the sentiment.

A second of silence ensued. Alisha broke it. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and find this shit head then…’

With that, they left Starbucks to go and look for John Evangelou.

*****

John pulled up behind the jacked M.C.S van. They rendezvoused back at the cache where Dread I and the others were waiting. John stepped out of his car, smiling smugly at Dread I, who came over and put out his hand. John grabbed it and shook it with gusto. He was doing his job prospects no harm at all by coming up with the goods time after time. If he could make it through the day, he might even be able to negotiate for bonuses.
Mmm, a Lexus would do nicely,
re
boy…

That’s if I take the
malaka
’s offer,
he thought as he stared into Dread I’s dead fish eyes.
That’s for another time ’cos right now, it’s all about phase two of the operation—Neocrema Storm.

Phase one was a resounding success. They had the van, which was the key to unlock the front garage door. They already decided beforehand that John’s unit was gonna ride in the back, get inside the factory, and then storm the main floor from the front. All that was needed was to plot the other aspects of the attack.

Sagat came over and joined John and Dread I to do just that.

‘There’ll definitely be plenty of bods inside all tooled up, ready and waiting for this kind of attack,’ John said to them both, explaining things like he was a football manager and their team were about to go into extra time.

‘We’ll have to sandwich ’em and attack ’em from the front
and
back. If we don’t, they could keep us penned in the parking bay, giving ’em time to call for backups. Now…’ John pulled out the fifty pound note he’d sketched the floorplan of Neocrema on, and laid it down flat on the ground. All three of them squatted down around it and started planning like they were playing some kind of sick game of
Risk
. But this was no board game. The bullets were real and you only had one life.

John pointed to the parking bay. ‘This is where the unit inside the van will attack from. They’ve got bods on the door and I’m guessing they circle the perimeter of the factory floor. Remember, they’re cooking up drugs in this place, so they won’t only be protecting the place from the likes of us, but also keeping an eye on the workers in case they get tempted to have a hit for themselves.’

Sagat grinned sardonically. ‘Ya know dat,’ he said.

‘Now,’ John continued, ‘the switch operating the front garage door is inside…
here
. I know where it is, so
I’ll
release it. The next unit will then be clear to enter from the front.
Who’s that gonna be?
’

‘I’ll tek the front,’ Sagat said, nodding his head slowly.

‘Okay. You’ll have to take out the two bods on the door, but they shouldn’t be too much trouble,’ John informed him. ‘The trouble will start once we attack ’em from the front and they naturally move to the back of the factory floor for cover. We wanna get in and out quick, doing ’em untold damage in the process,
and
find the twins before they have a chance to call for back up, or Old Bill. Also, we’ve gotta get in and out before anyone nearby gets wind of what’s going down and
they
call the cops. By the time we get the front garage door open and Sagat’s unit is inside to join us, my unit might’ve taken a few down, but I reckon there’ll still be a lot of ’em inside, believe me I’ve seen ’em face-to-face…’

‘How many?’ Sagat asked.

‘Up to fifty. Definitely around thirty who can handle weapons at least. So, we’ll have a gunfight all right.’

‘So what the plan?’ Sagat asked.

‘There’s a fire exit at the back…’ John pointed at the doorway he’d drawn at the opposite end of the factory from the parking bay. ‘If another unit enters from here, we’ll sandwich ’em, attacking ’em from all angles, there’ll be nowhere for ’em to hide. The only problem is that the back door will be locked from the inside and it ain’t coming down from the outside, it’s too thick. So we need to get it open it from the inside.’ He sighed. ‘We need someone to get past ’em unnoticed once we push ’em back, and open up the fire exit.’

‘Who gonna do that without getting heself popped?’ Sagat asked.

John shrugged and looked at Dread I. Dread I stared back with his dead eyes, contemplating. After a second or two, he stood up and looked around him with eagerness. The alleyway was full of their boys, awaiting orders. They were anxious, their feet itchy, wanting action. Dread I sized ’em up one at a time. But he kept coming up dry.

Then, finally, he spotted one that was perfect. ‘Kid,’ he shouted.

Kid stepped forwards, all four feet five of him. He had the moodiest expression John had ever seen on a ten year old planted on his mug.

‘Com ’ere!’ Dread I ordered.

Kid bowled over to the men and squatted down in their circle, undaunted, unfazed. His face was cold, neutral, as if he’d never felt a single emotion in his short life. His eyes were glazed from drugs, but held an awareness that was well beyond his physical time.

‘We gotta lickle job for ya,’ Dread I told him.

Kid just nodded his head slowly and silently like an experienced hitman just handed his next target. John was sure the little
malaka
didn’t even know what fear was. It was like he was made of stone,
gamota
.

John nodded his head. Nodded it in recognition that this ‘kid’ would fit the bill for this task perfectly.

He had no doubt about it. No doubt at all.

*****

Ishmael parked up outside a small row of shops. He had a look around. ‘This the place?’ he asked Alisha.

Alisha glanced up at the sign above one of the shops. ‘Yeah, this is it—Hornsey Food & Wine.’

Ishmael got out, went over to Alisha’s side and opened the door for her. He helped her out of the car, and then stood on the pavement hands on hips, staring at the shopfront. Boxes full of fruit and veg were piled up outside. The windows were cluttered with posters and stickers—a National Lottery sign, local ads written on cards, a worn out yellow poster that read ‘photocopies 5p each.’

Ishmael walked past her towards the shop. ‘Right, come on. Let’s go in and see if he’s inside like he says he is.’

Alisha nodded in agreement and followed. When they stepped inside, a bittersweet aroma of herbs and spices hit Alisha’s nostrils, while some music was playing in the background in a language she didn’t understand. John played her Greek music once and she thought the music she was now hearing sounded a little like that, but the words didn’t sound the same. She looked behind the counter straight away to see if John was there. He wasn’t. Instead, a stocky Middle Eastern looking man perched on a wooden stool was behind it. Ishmael walked straight up to the counter.

The man stood up, placed his palms on the counter, and stared at him. ‘Yes, boss,’ he said.

Ishmael turned back to face Alisha.

She stepped forwards towards the counter. ‘Is John here?’ she asked the shopkeeper.

A confused expression emerged on his face. ‘Who?’

‘John. John Evangelou. He works here.’

The shopkeeper’s mouth turned downwards and he began shaking his head slowly. ‘No one called this works here.’

Alisha sighed. ‘Somehow I knew you were going to say that. Do you know a man called Aziz?’

‘
Aziz
?’ The shopkeeper thought about it for a second. ‘
Aziz?
No. No, Aziz.’

Alisha began nodding her head in total understanding. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Sorry to trouble you.’

‘No problem,’ the shopkeeper said before taking a seat on his stool again.

‘Come on, Ish. Let’s go.’ Alisha turned and left the shop.

Ishmael followed.

When they were outside, she turned to face him. ‘Well that wasn’t very surprising was it?’ she said in a dry tone.

‘How many lies is this guy gonna try and feed you?’

‘How many am I gonna swallow before I catch on?’

‘Where do you think he is?’

‘He could be anywhere, Ish. Doing any
thing.
’ She shook her head and placed a hand on her forehead. A headache was developing.
What shall I do?
she asked herself.
Wait at the caravan for him to come back?
She wanted to have it out with him NOW. She couldn’t sit there twiddling her thumbs till he decided to return. And what if he came back out of his head like last time? She wanted to confront him now that Ishmael was with her just in case he got all aggressive again. She had to tell him how she felt
today
.

Her mobile phone was hanging on a cord around her neck. She grabbed it and dialled his number.

Voicemail.

She growled.

‘No luck?’ Ishmael asked.

‘No.’

‘What are we gonna do?’

Alisha shook her head and stared at the shop sign.
Hornsey Food & Wine, what a fucking joke!
‘I’m leaving him, Ish,’ she replied in a firm voice. ‘My mind’s made up now. One hundred percent.’

Ishmael tapped the roof of his car with his open palm. ‘Good! Get in the car and we’ll go get your stuff. You can stay at mine.’

Alisha chuckled dryly. ‘You’ll get to see the mansion I’m living in…’ she stated, her voiced brimming with irony.

‘That bad is it?’ Ishmael asked.

‘Just wait till you see it…’

‘
Okay,
’ Ishmael said in a slightly unsure voice. ‘But, I don’t think I wanna…’ He got in the car and Alisha just stared at the shop, shaking her head. Inside she was fuming, livid. It was all lies, lies, lies, all bullshit, and she just didn’t want it in her life any more. This lie was one too many, and the behaviour earlier
and
the drugs, the final straw. It was over, and in her heart, she knew it. And that was final.

She glanced down at her hand. At her wedding ring. She hadn’t taken it off since she first put it on during their wedding ceremony. Not even once.

But now she pulled it off and held it between her thumb and index finger. She lifted it up to the sky. The diamond glittered beautifully against the grey cloudy atmosphere.

She sighed. ‘And that’s final,’ she said to it. She placed it in her pocket and then got into Ishmael’s car, slamming the door shut behind her.

‘All ready?’ Ishmael asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Thanks, Ish.’

‘It’s the least I can do, Leesha.’ He smiled warmly at her, and she smiled in return, even though inside, she felt as low as she’d ever felt in her life.

Ishmael started up his car and joined the traffic. Alisha stared blankly out of the window, stroking her belly and wondering what shitty things her now ex-husband was getting up to right then.

*****

Ten of ’em squeezed into the back of the M.C.S van, five lined up against each side. John sat at the head of his line, his gun jammed into the back of the kidnapped driver’s head. He let him know in no uncertain terms that if he tried anything, he’d be pulling the trigger. The driver complied, scared shitless. They headed for Neocrema, Sagat’s unit close behind.

John looked his men over one by one. They were all excited, eager, armed to the teeth, their faces masked in bandanas, shades, and baseball caps. They looked like twenty-first century highwaymen. Dick muthafucking Turpin ghetto style. And they were
his
men,
his
regiment and suddenly he was back in the
strato
, and he’d just been appointed to sergeant. And as they moved along Tottenham High Road, John realised that this is exactly what it would’ve been like rolling into battle. As he looked over his men he knew not everyone was gonna make it out alive, but that was what war was all about. Casualties, loss of life. It was the whole fucking point.

His eyes fell upon some silver cases on the van floor, the kind of thing crazy doctors in Sci-Fi films carried their plutonium in. Shortbredd opened one up, pulled out what was inside and stared at it. In his hand was a small glass vial containing a yellowish liquid.

So,
John thought.
That’s amber
. He held out his free hand and Shortbredd handed it to him. He inspected it with a keen eye. He’d seen so many different types of drug—plant, powder, pill, tab, liquid, but never one kept in a vial like that.
What were you supposed to do with it? Shoot it, drink it, burn it? Who fucking knew and who cared,
gamota
?
By the end of the day, there would be no more amber, he promised Marek. He tore off the foil cap, tipped it up, and allowed the contents to spill all over the van floor.