Faceless (31 page)

Maxie looked at his friend in awe.

‘You are one weird fuck, Pat, do you know that?’

They both started to laugh.

‘Leave her be. She was happy enough with the kid, and a good mother and all. Just leave her alone, let her go.’

Patrick’s eyes narrowed as he looked hard at his friend.

‘What’s the matter. Max, you want to go there then?’

‘Of course not, you dick! Don’t start all that. I just think she’s a nice kid. Leave her be. You’re too big for all that crap.’

‘You just don’t get it, do you. Max? I enjoy it. It gives me a buzz every time I break in a bitch and she starts to earn for me. The money is nothing to seeing them brought low - all women are basically fucking whores. Some do it for life with one geezer but that’s still for money, ain’t it? Housekeeping or whatever you want to call it, they still get kept, don’t they, taken on holiday, whatever. Then they have kids and the poor bloke they snared is fucked for life. Well, not me, mate. I dump my kids like I dump my women. No one has any claim on me.’

Maxie drew deeply on the joint and finished it.

‘This calls for a pipe, Pat. I can’t believe I’m hearing all this. She’s just one little bird, what’s the big deal?’

Patrick put his head in his hands and sighed deeply.

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‘I have to trounce Tiff now, don’t I? If I don’t it will be all over the pavement before the week is out and we’ll have more girls thinking they can do what the fuck they like. So I will rip her fucking heart out and laugh while I do it. She thinks she’s on a roll. Well, she ain’t. I want a crew out looking for her and I want her by the morning.’

Maxie was astounded and it showed.

‘You are joking?’

Patrick shook his head.

‘You want me to get the boys mobilised for an errant bird, is that what you’re saying?’

Patrick nodded.

‘Tell them if they don’t find her I will personally beat all their fucking brains in, and that, Maxie, is a promise.’

‘You sure you ain’t in love. Pat?’

Patrick laughed loudly.

‘I’m in love all right, Maxie, have been for years, but it’s with meself! I even shout out me own name when I’m coming!’

Patrick was sure she would be traced so he relaxed. But he promised himself that when he finally got his hands on Tiffany he would teach her a lesson she would never forget. Taking his hard-earned money and trying to run away, who did the whore think she was?

When his fist came into contact with her smooth-skinned face she would finally realise who was the boss in this relationship. He was looking forward to it.

Marie had put everything on disk once more and tallied the overseas accounts. Though the scrap business was lucrative it did not take Einstein to realise that the money spent by Alan, and the money he earned, were two completely different sums. After seeing Mikey Devlin in the office she knew that some sort of skulduggery was afoot, and guessed it would be drugs or guns. Maybe both. They were the real money spinners, she had listened to enough women talking in nick to know that.

She was worried, not just for Alan who was a kind man and had given her the opportunity to be employed but also for herself. She could not risk getting involved even on a peripheral basis with drugs, or any other illegal enterprise, as she was on licence and would stay on it until she was dead. Her whole life could be jeopardised through his shady dealings and she could not take that chance.

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There was already too much going on for her with her kids and her family. She needed to be able to think and it was getting harder by the day. Every second was filled with thoughts of how to sort everything out, and every second told her it was useless, that she could do nothing because she had to keep such a low profile. Patrick Connor was the problem, she knew. He had taken any chance of a decent life from her and from her daughter. History repeating itself. Now her mother was on her conscience too.

She was hurting and Marie couldn’t even go and see how she was because Louise had no interest in her. Would just want her away, as far away as was humanly possible. She remembered her mother yelling at her once that she wished she would die so she would not have to listen to any more tales about her and what she had done. Now Marie could understand her point of view. Hearing about her own daughter’s downfall had broken her, so Christ knows how Louise must have felt all those years ago. And the same man who had brought her low was now doing the same thing to her daughter, her little Tiffany, whom she wished with all her heart was just a regular young girl with a regular life.

She needed somehow to frighten off Patrick Connor, make him leave her child alone. But how? She knew she had to do it but wasn’t sure how the fuck she could achieve her aim.

In her heart Marie acknowledged that she had been planning to do something drastic since the time she had been to her daughter’s flat and seen the state of her. It was trying to work out what that had been the problem. She was willing to go away again, this time for ever if it gave her child the opportunity to make something better of herself. Without Pat, the girl would stand at least a chance in life. With him hanging round her neck, she was finished. Marie knew that better than anyone.

She heard a noise and turned to see Mikey Devlin in the doorway. He smiled at her, wired as usual, and Marie stared back at him for long seconds before she spoke.

‘Can I help you?’

She had a good voice, deep and husky.

Mikey grabbed the crotch of his trousers lewdly and answered, ‘Oh, yes darling, there is something you can do.’

Marie stared at him, the same dead-eyed look she had perfected in prison, and retreated into silence. Once again it was her salvation.

Mikey was uncomfortable.

She sat there on the typing chair staring him out, her face

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completely expressionless and her eyes telling him she had no interest in him whatsoever, that he was nothing to her but a nuisance. For the first time in years he felt embarrassed.

Women usually wanted him. He knew it was chiefly because of who he was and what he did. He accepted that and used them as and when the fancy took him. They were a type, and they were a type he was used to. They wanted a bit of gear, a few quid, a good night out and the glory of spending a few nights on his arm. It was a good deal. He got laid and they got a bit of kudos.

Some were only kids, but grown-up enough to fill a short, low-cut dress. Others were grown women with a good mouth and the nous to bring him off and make him laugh. He was used to a different reaction altogether from the one he was getting from this good-looking, cold-hearted, murdering bitch before him.

He was high as a kite and now he felt malicious. He would bring her down, get a reaction.

‘Murdered any of your mates lately?’

He was grinning at her, daring her to answer him.

She smirked back at him and it made her look very sexy.

‘No. Have you?’

Her answer threw him as she knew it would. He floundered.

‘Very fucking funny!’

She shrugged and carried on staring at him. He soon realised she would not speak unless spoken to. For the first time in years he was uncomfortable with a female and the knowledge amazed him. She was actually making him feel nervous!

‘You done a lump, love, and I respect that…’

She interrupted him, saying scathingly, ‘Fucking right I done a lump, and to be honest I did it well. I kept me head down and me trap shut. If you ever get a double life I hope you can cop pounds as well. I dealt with the scum of the earth in there. I was A-cat and I done every maximum prison in the country and learned how to take care of myself. So I resent someone like you, who has never done a bit of bird in your life, talking to me like I am a cunt.’

It worked as she knew it would. He was a hard nut, but one who had never had to smell a real prison, let alone sleep in one. The nearest he’d got was a night in the cells for a D and D. She knew that in his world the fact she had done a lump would bring her the respect she wanted, and she was going to use that to her advantage because this man could be the saviour she was looking for. If she 210

played him right she might just be able to use him to get her daughter a decent chance in life.

Mikey stared at her for long moments and she knew he was battling it out with himself whether to smack her one for her front or afford her the respect he would give a male lag.

‘You got a big trap, lady,’ he said finally.

She laughed.

‘And you have a big ego. If your cock is half the size you’d be worth a fuck on the strength of that alone.’

Her words were so outspoken that he started to laugh. No one had challenged him like that in years. She was the first person to give him grief since he could remember.

She laughed with him, the tension in the cabin evaporating in seconds.

He saluted her.

‘I apologise. You have the creds and I have to give you the respect due. Come and have a drink with me. Friendly, that’s all. Just as friends.’

She picked up her bag and grinned.

‘If you are very, very good you can buy me a sandwich too.’

He was still shaking his head at her front and smiling as they drove out of the yard. Alan drove in. When he saw them in Mikey’s car together he felt as if someone had punched him in the solar plexus. He felt bereft because he thought the world of Marie and realised that his feelings for her were far more serious than he had first thought.

If she got caught up with Mikey Devlin then she was heading straight back to prison, and he only hoped she saw that before it was too late. He kicked the tyre of his car and hurt his foot. As he jumped around the yard he was swearing his head off.

The two men watching from the right-hand side of the yard wrote everything down in their notebooks.

Tiffany had heard that someone was looking for her. She also had a good idea who it was. Her newfound friend had scored for her again and they had cabbed it across London to a squat near Docklands. It was a dive, worse than the place they had left, but by all accounts it was safe.

She was freebasing once more and the oblivion she craved so much was a long time coming. She was becoming immune now and needed more and more to get the high she was seeking. A

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dark-eyed girl with red hair and bad skin offered her a needle. Tiffany looked at it for a few seconds before nodding.

It was an urge she had, a craving to get off her face and out of the present. That seemed imperative to her at this moment. Patrick was bringing her down, worry about him ruining her high.

The girl injected her in the arm and Tiffany lay against the wall and waited for the first rush to come over her. When she slumped backwards the girl rifled her clothes, took her shoes and jacket and left the squat five hundred pounds richer and better dressed than she had been in weeks.

Tiffany was still out of it when Maxie found her.

As he looked down on her skinny body lying in the filth of the squat he felt sadness come over him. She had defecated, wet herself, and white milky vomit hung in strands from her mouth. Heroin always made people sick the first few times. To be a heroin addict took time and effort.

The two men with him looked at her in distaste.

‘I ain’t picking her up, Max.’

Eddie Loyal was adamant about that. Big and blond, he was dapper and well-dressed.

Maxie grinned.

‘You are because Patrick wants her and whoever delivers her gets a grand for their trouble. Should cover the cleaning bills.’

Eddie shook his head in disgust.

‘Always me, I always get the fucking shit jobs.’

Maxie was laughing; he could relax now she was found.

‘Just pick her up, white boy.’

In the car on their way to Pat’s office in Spitalfields Eddie was still moaning as he negotiated the traffic. Maxie lit another joint, and said loudly in the voice of W.C. Fields, ‘I always wanted a white chauffeur!’

Even Eddie laughed at that and they cracked jokes until they got to the gym.

Tiffany, in the boot of the Mercedes, could hear the noise but had no idea where the fuck she was. She vomited again and the sour smell made her eyes water.

The fear had not set in yet. She was still too out of It to realise exactly what was happening to her.

Marie ended up having an early dinner with Mikey. He was enjoying her company, she was being charming and chatty, and it had occurred to him that this woman had done more time than anyone

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he knew. In his world the ability to do a long stretch and come out relatively normal was something to be proud of. He admitted to himself if not to her that he could not have handled it.

‘You find a place inside yourself and you retreat into it. You have to free your mind and then you don’t feel so confined. It was the smell I found hardest to cope with. The stench of other people:

sweat, despair, hatred and anger. It’s a smell you never, ever forget. And it’s a smell you never want to go back to, believe me.’

He nodded, fascinated. Men didn’t come and open their hearts about their stretch. Men kept quiet about it all or bragged about how they’d done their bird on their head. No trouble.

But this woman was telling him about things he could only imagine. She was putting into words his greatest fears. He watched her eat, she was graceful and precise in everything she did, and he suddenly felt protective of her.

‘What were the screws like?’

She shrugged.

‘I was A-cat, as you know, so I went to maximum security. Like Durham - well, Frankland. The Island. I was kept away from the men, of course.’ Marie smiled. ‘But I was treated pretty much the same as them, I expect. Cookham Wood towards the end. Plenty of women doing lumps there. Most women, though, had killed partners or kids, or were drug dealers. It was the same everywhere you went. That fucking smell felt like it was following you from place to place.’

He was nodding again, aware that they were getting a lot of strange looks in the pub restaurant from his cronies and friends alike. For him to be seen with a woman over the age of twenty-five was unusual, but actually to be having a conversation with one was unheard of. He found himself enjoying the experience.