Barking Boy Read online

  “Fuck Freddie Smith.” Tommy pointed his finger toward the older man. “That cunt tucked me up and you know he did, and I ain’t gonna forgot something like that.”

  Exasperated, Mad Dog blew out his cheeks. “Are you trying to start a fucking war? Because that’s exactly what’ll happen. I’m telling you now, lad, if you follow this through, Smith won’t let it lie. He’ll hunt you fucking down, and then what are you gonna fucking do, huh? There’s what, five of you, six if you include me? How the fuck are you going to go up against him and his firm?”

  “Let him.”

  “What?” There was shock in Mad Dog’s voice, as he stared hard at Tommy. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, let him?”

  Tommy sat forwards in his seat. “Let him try to find out who robbed the club. Why would he even think it’s anything to do with us?” He looked around at his brothers. “We’re not the only ones out there capable of robbing a venue, are we? So, why would our names even come up?”

  “Tommy lad, you’re not listening to me. If you do this, then Smith will not rest until he’s found whoever it is responsible, and believe me, this will be one war you won’t win.”

  “And like I said, let him fucking try. We’re doing it.” Tommy’s mind was already made up, and nothing Mad Dog said to him was going to change that fact.

  With the meeting over, Tommy dismissed his brothers. As they filed out of the office, he held out his hand toward Jimmy. “Hold on, bruv, I want a word in private.”

  Jimmy took a seat. He kicked out his legs in front of him, as he waited for his elder brother to close the office door. “What’s up?”

  Tommy paused before speaking. “I may be out of line here, but I know you knew that barman last night, the Irish one.”

  “Nah, I didn’t.”

  Tommy raised his eyebrows. “C’mon, bruv, don’t lie to me. Do you know him or not?”

  Jimmy sighed. “I’ve met him once before, when me and Gary went to The White Horse to collect a debt,” he paused.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He could hardly tell Tommy that he’d been attracted to the Irishman.

  “No, c’mon, what is it?”

  “He was working there behind the bar. It was just something Gary said about him being, you know, bent as a nine bob note,” Jimmy looked to the floor. “That’s it.”

  “Right,” Tommy was thoughtful. “So, if he works at the club, then obviously he is gonna have inside knowledge. I need you to go and see him and find out the score. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to make him talk.”

  “Fuck off, Tommy. No fucking way! I’m not doing that.” Jimmy shook his head.

  “Come on, Jimmy. We need to know when they take the cash to the bank. For all we know, they could keep up to a week’s worth of takings in there.”

  “Tommy, you can’t ask me to do that.” Jimmy locked eyes with his brother, and he blew out his cheeks. “Why me? Why do I have to go and do it? Why can’t you ask one of the others?”

  “Because he fucking knows you, that’s why.” Tommy smiled, taking the edge off of his words. He placed his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders. “C’mon, bruv. I need you to do this for me, please. There isn’t anyone else I can ask, is there?”

  Reluctantly, Jimmy nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” Tommy made his way across the office.

  Remaining seated, Jimmy looked toward the door, his younger brothers and Mad Dog had exited. He was deep in thought. Tommy’s plan for The Palais was troubling him. “Listen Tommy, are you sure this is such a good idea? What Mad Dog said about Freddie Smith, how are we gonna take on a firm if they come after us?” He held up his hand before his brother could answer him. “I know what you’re gonna say, and yeah, thanks to our old man, we can fight, but that’s about it, Tommy. We ain’t gonna win if we have to go up against him, are we? You’re not thinking logically. There’s only five of us, and Smith has got a lot of muscle behind him.”

  With his back to his brother, Tommy stood staring out of the office window toward the scrap yard. “Then we make sure we stay one step ahead of him.” He turned to face Jimmy. “We box clever.” He gave a little grin. “That’s one thing we do know how to do. Trust me, we can do this, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, bruv.”

  “Of course I fucking do.” Tommy replied.

  Aiden Coleman smiled as he made his way down the bar. He’d recognised Jimmy the moment he’d laid eyes on him the previous weekend. “What can I get you?”

  Jimmy looked across the bar. He took in the various bottles of alcohol against the far wall, before nodding his head toward the fridge holding the bottled beers. “I’ll have a Bud.” He paid for his beer, then smiled at Aiden. “It’s quiet in here tonight.”

  “It’s still early.” Aiden raised his eyebrows. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? You came into The White Horse when I was working there. You had a problem with the guvnor. He owed you money or something like that.”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy nodded his head. He could feel his cheeks begin to blush. He felt out of his depth, that was the problem, and wanted to curse Tommy for making him come here tonight.

  “I remember.”

  Jimmy smiled. He didn’t know what to say in return, and gulped at his beer to hide his nerves.

  “So, are you on your own tonight?”

  “My brother is meeting me here later.” It was a blatant lie. Tommy had taken Stacey out for the evening.

  There was a twinkle in Aiden’s eyes. “So, they were your brothers with you last week?”

  Jimmy bit down on his lip before answering. The action couldn’t have been more seductive in Aiden’s eyes. “Yeah.” He moved away slightly from the bar. “I’ll see you later.” He gave a wink and began to walk away. He’d done his part and made contact with the Irishman. He’d got the man’s attention, he knew that with a certainty. He placed the bottle, still half full, on a table and left the club.

  Freddie Smith was the top dog of the East End. He took a sip of his brandy, his narrowed eyes watching everything around him over the rim of the glass.

  He snapped his fingers at the younger man stood beside him, and waited for him to bend forwards, so he could speak privately in his ear.

  After listening intently to what the older man had to say, Danny McKay straightened up. He strode purposely toward a group of men across the bar. Without warning, he pulled back his fist and knocked one of them to the floor. “You were fucking barred last week, now piss off.” He shook out the tension in his hand, as he watched the man scramble to his feet and dart out of the bar, before walking back toward the table where his boss was sat.

  Freddie Smith gave a small nod of his head, satisfied. He allowed no one to get one over on him, and it was this fact that had kept him at the top of his game for so many years. He leant forward in his seat. A snarl spread across his face. He crooked his finger toward Danny for a second time. “Keep an eye on that cocky little bastard.” Freddie nodded his head toward a man and woman who walked through the door.

  Looking up, Danny took note of Tommy and Stacey, as they entered the bar. “Do you want me to have a word with him?”

  Freddie shook his head. “No, just watch the cocky little cunt and make sure he doesn’t start getting lairy. I don’t trust him. He’s a jumped up prick.”

  Danny shrugged his shoulders. He had no problems with Tommy and had, in fact, been dealing with him behind Freddie’s back for several years.

  Tommy smiled as he ordered his and Stacey’s drinks. The fact that Freddie Smith was sat just across the bar meant nothing to him. He’d already known that Freddie would be here. He glanced across at the older man and held his pint glass aloft in the air. “Drink, Freddie?” he called out.

  He grinned as Freddie nodded his head. “A round of drinks for that lot over there,” he instructed the barman.

  Tommy continued sipping at his beer. “Just give me two minutes, Stace. I n
eed to go and have a quick word with a business acquaintance.” He nodded his head toward Freddie.

  “Don’t be bleeding long. I’m gonna look like a right lemon stood here on my own.” She planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek.

  “Two minutes, I promise.” He placed his glass down on the bar, and made his way through the crowd toward the older man. “Freddie, Danny,” he smiled in a greeting. “How’s tricks?”

  “Tommy,” Freddie nodded his head. “This is not your usual manor, is it?” He looked around him, emphasising his point. “I thought you only crawled around on that shit hole of an estate that you call home?”

  Tommy began to laugh. “Yeah, well I thought it’d be nice to show the misses how the other half lives for once, and I must say Freddie, it doesn’t live up to expectations. Still stinks of the same old shit, present company the exception of course.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows, silently warning Tommy to back off.

  Tommy took heed of the warning, and smiled to take the edge off of his words. “You never know. I might even become a regular here.” He looked around him at the upmarket bar. In actual fact, the bar wasn’t his cup of tea. It was too poncy, and full of city blokes wearing suits.

  “What the fuck do you want, Tommy?” Freddie snarled, his patience was being tested. “Is there an actual purpose to you being here, other than trying to wind me the fuck up?”

  Tommy shook his head. “Just a friendly hello, mate, that’s all.”

  “Well, you’ve said hello, now you can fuck off.”

  Tommy smiled. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m going.” He began to walk back toward Stacey.

  “That’s right, fuck off. You might be the kingpin on that estate of yours, but out here in the real world, you’re fuck all.”

  Tommy stopped dead in his tracks. He could feel his temper begin to rise. The smile slipped from his face, and was quickly replaced with an expression of contempt. He bit back a retort, closed his eyes, and counted to three, before moving forward a few paces. Blowing out his cheeks, he battled to regain his composure. Only when he’d composed himself, did he continue to walk toward his wife. Once he’d reached the bar, he gulped down his beer and glared toward Freddie. The exchange with the older man had made him even more determined to rob the club.

  Mad Dog Harris was concerned. He lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Beside him, lay Lillian Chambers. He threw the duvet away from him, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Lillian turned onto her side to face him. She reached out and touched his back, her fingertips caressing the smoothness of his skin. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  Mad Dog glanced over his shoulder toward her, and sighed. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

  Lillian gave a small smile. “Tommy?”

  “Aye lass, got it one.” He stood up and pushed his hand through his hair. “He’s getting in over his head, and won’t take heed of mine or anyone else’s warnings.”

  Lillian was thoughtful. She was fond of Tommy. “Maybe he needs to figure it out by himself. Let him make his own mistakes. It’s the only way he’ll learn.”

  Mad Dog nodded his head. That was exactly what he was afraid of. Young Tommy would learn all right. Freddie Smith could very well end up ordering his heavies to kill him. He’d need to have another word with the boy, he decided. He owed that to Davey at least.

  “Are you not content with having the old bill two steps behind you, you want Freddie Smith on your back as well?”

  Tommy rolled his eyes. For over an hour, Mad Dog had been trying to convince him to change his mind about the robbery. “Freddie Smith can go fuck himself.”

  Following Tommy through the betting shop, Mad Dog threw up his arms. “Tell me, Tommy, is this about the money, or is it about you getting one over on Smith? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just want to get one over on Freddie Smith.”

  Tommy turned to face Mad Dog. “What do you fucking take me for? Of course it’s to do with money.”

  “Look lad, forget about this job, you know Smith is going to hunt you down. Have you even got any idea of what he does to people who annoy him, let alone rob from him?”

  “No.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. He picked up a stack of papers and flicked through them. “Look, I know what I’m doing. This isn’t the first job I’ve done, is it?” He turned to face Mad Dog. “You know me. I’ll plan it all out, I always do, so what’s the problem?”

  “The problem, lad, is Smith will end up killing you over this.”

  Tommy grinned. “Maybe that’s the key to it all,” he tapped the side of his nose. “Freddie Smith isn’t the one who does the actual killing, is he?”

  Mad Dog was confused. “And how exactly is that going to help you?”

  “Like I keep saying, let me deal with this. I know what I’m doing.” Tommy patted the older man’s shoulder as he walked away from him.

  Mad Dog watched as Tommy walked from the shop. He sank into the nearest chair and wiped his hand across his face. He’d done all he could. There was nothing else he could say. There was no getting through to the boy.

  Danny McKay took a sip of his brandy. “So, what can I do for you, Tommy? Same as usual, is it?”

  Tommy looked around him before answering. Despite choosing a quiet corner in the Becton Arms public house, there were one too many customers around for his liking. He waited for a couple to pass by their table, then sat forwards in his seat. “No, I’m after sawn-offs this time.”

  Danny’s eyes widened. “You want a sawn-off shot gun?”

  Tommy shook his head, annoyed. “Is there a fucking echo in here? Yes, I want a sawn-off.” He paused. “In fact, I want five.”

  Danny narrowed his eyes. Silently, he studied Tommy, and was immediately suspicious. This wasn’t what Tommy usually bought from him. What was the little fucker up to this time? He knew one thing for sure. Whatever it was Tommy Carter was involved in, he obviously meant business. The fact that he was taking sawn-off shot guns with him, was more than enough to prove that point. “You’re going up in the world a bit, aren’t you? What have you got yourself involved with this time, Tommy?”

  “What’s with all the fucking questions?” Tommy’s voice began to rise, and he looked around him, checking that no one else had overheard their conversation.

  Danny held up his hands. “I’m just concerned, mate, and to be honest, I’m more than a bit surprised. This is not what you usually buy from me, so obviously this must be a big job you’re planning on doing.”

  Tommy shrugged his shoulders. Danny would find out soon enough what the job entailed. “Let’s just say, this job comes with more risk than usual.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows.

  Tommy took note of the questioning look Danny gave him, and he sank back in his seat. He was getting sick and tired of having to explain himself. “I know what I’m doing, so spare me the concern. Can you get me them or not? Or do I need to take my business elsewhere?”

  Danny exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I can get what you need.”

  It was exactly what Tommy had expected him to say, and he gave a satisfied smile. His plan was falling into place nicely.

  “Right, so that’s the guns taken care of.” Tommy looked around at his brothers, as they lined the walls of the scrap yard office. His eyes settled on Jimmy. “How’s it going with the barman?”

  A snigger came from where his younger brothers were stood, and Tommy glared across at the culprit. “You got something to say, Mitch?”

  The smile quickly slipped from Mitchel’s face. He could feel his elder brother’s eyes on him and he pressed his lips together, his cheeks flushed.

  “Well?” Tommy stood up. He pointed his finger toward all of his brothers, the authority in his voice stopping them dead in their tracks. “If any of you have something to say, then you’d best say it now. So, come on Mitchel, what’s so fucking funny?”

  “Nothing.” Mitchel look
ed to the floor, clearly embarrassed.

  Tommy glared at his younger brother. “So,” he said, tearing his attention away from Mitchel and back to Jimmy. “Have you found anything out?”

  Jimmy blew out his cheeks. He glanced nervously toward his brothers before speaking. “From what I can gather, they’re a bit erratic. Sometimes they’ll cash the takings on a Monday morning, other times it’s been as late as on a Thursday afternoon.”

  Tommy was thoughtful. “So, I was right. They keep up to a weeks’ worth of takings in there, if not more.”

  Jimmy nodded his head. “It looks that way.”

  “Okay, well, see what else you can find out. And the rest of you, back to work.” As his brothers filed out of the office, Tommy put his arm out, stopping Gary from walking past him. “You all right, gal? What are your thoughts on us doing this job? You’ve not really said too much about it.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Gary’s tone was harsh.

  Tommy was taken aback. Even after all these years, there was still conflict between them. “I don’t know, I just wanted your thoughts on it, I suppose?”

  Gary gave a bitter laugh. “And when have you ever valued any of our opinions? If it’s not done your way, you don’t want to know.” He took a step closer to his brother and looked him in the eyes. “You’ve already made your mind up about this job, and that’s it as far as you’re concerned. All we are to you are your puppets: do this, do that. You control everything we do. Look at Jimmy, he didn’t even want to get involved with that barman, but you made him.”

  Tommy’s eyes were wide. “Is that what you think? Is that what you all think about me?”

  Gary stared at his brother. “Work it out for yourself, Tommy. You’re a fucking joke, mate, a complete and utter fucking joke, and the only reason they all follow you around, is because they’re too scared not to.”