Guns Of Brixton (15 page)

    John
Jenner was waiting in the hall and they embraced and Mark felt such a wave of
nostalgia sweep over him that he had to swallow hard. 'Welcome home properly,
Mark,' said Jenner with a catch in his voice. 'I knew you'd come.'

    'You
know me too well.'

    'I
don't really know you at all these days, Mark. But that'll change I hope. Come
inside and get warm. Everyone else is in bed. I've been waiting up for you.'

    Mark
did as he was told, leaving his coat in the hall, and he sat on the couch in
front of the fire as John Jenner poured two large brandies. He passed one to
Mark, sat opposite him and they toasted each other. 'So where do we start,
Uncle?' asked the younger man. 'What do you want me to do?'

    'I've
got an easy one for you first,' said Jenner. 'A little pickup job.'

    'Fair
enough. On my own, or with Chas?'

    'All
Chas wants to do is cook these days, whatever he says. He's getting old. He's
all right as a driver, but anything else…'

    'He
sorted out Martine's old man, didn't he?' 'This is a bit different.' 'All
right, Uncle, I know. A bit dodge, is it?' 'Could be.'

    'Shit.
Talk about throwing me in at the deep end. What is it I'm collecting?' 'Does it
matter?'

    'Course
it does. I've got to know what's what.'

    'The
usual. Just a bit of gear.'

    'Smack?'

    'Coke.'

    Mark
nodded. 'Whereabouts?'

    'Little
Chef on the the A33 towards Basingstoke.'

    'When?'

    'Tomorrow
afternoon. One o'clock.'

    'Christ,
that soon. You were pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?' 'No. Just hoping.'

    'And
what would've happened if I hadn't come back?' Jenner shrugged. 'I'd've found
somebody.' 'What, overnight?'

    'Or
I'd've gone myself. It don't matter, does it? You're here now. You'll go, won't
you? We could use the readies. The old firm's a bit boracic. Those fucking
minders outside are costing me a small fortune.'

    'Yeah,
I'll go, Uncle, but I'm not happy about it. Sounds like you know something I
don't.'

    'Everybody
knows something other people don't.' 'How will I spot them?'

    'Silver
Mercedes van with a black stripe. German plates.' 'Fair enough. How'll they
find me?' 'They know what motor you're using.' 'Which is?'

    'Dev's
got you a Ford Cosworth. Don't look like much apparently, but it drives just
fine.'

    Dev Murphy
had been Jenner's mechanic for as long as Mark could remember, a bad-tempered
Irishman who could charm any engine to do exactly what he wanted. He'd taught
Mark early on how to steal cars, which had been priceless information in later
life. And Dev had been Mark's only point of contact in London during his time
away. They were friends, and Mark had discovered that friends were few and far
between.

    'Sounds
all right. Where is it?'

    'At
his place in Heme Hill.'

    'I
can't believe he's still there after all this time.'

    'He'll
be buried there.'

    'He's
not the only one if what I've heard's true.'

    Jenner
smiled. 'Now you'll need something to keep you company in case there's any
trouble. Can't be too careful,' he said.

    'I
thought everything was going to be cool.'

    'It
will be.'

    'Are
these people all right?'

    'Always
have been before.'

    'Who
are they?'

    'Better
not to ask.'

    'I
don't like this, Uncle…' '

    'You
have to take some risks in life,' said Jenner.

    'Yeah,
sure.'

    'So,
you want something?'

    'I'd
better I suppose.' They both knew what they were talking about.

    'Let's
take a look then,' said Jenner.

    'Still
the same place?'

    Jenner
nodded. 'Come on,' he said.

    They
went down into the cellars that stretched underneath the house. It was cold
down there, and damp, and smelled faintly of cats. Both men had to stoop to get
under the beams that supported the floor above. At the far end there was an
area that was going to be converted into a sort of den, but it had never been
finished. Jenner had lost interest after Hazel had died. Part of it had been
partitioned off, and the walls had been clad in dark pine.

    Jenner
pressed one section and it popped open to reveal the face of a large combination
safe. He spun the dial and pulled open the door. Mark remembered the first time
his adopted uncle had shown him the safe.

    'What
do you see?' he'd asked when he'd opened it.

    The
teenage Mark had peered inside. 'Some readies,' he replied. 'Some papers, and
some jewel boxes. Are they Hazel's stuff?'

    'Yes,'
John Jenner had replied. 'Her best torn. A couple of rings and necklaces I've
bought her over the years. Is that all?'

    Mark
had looked again and nodded.

    'Check
this,' John had said. He'd pressed something inside the safe and the back had
opened inwards, a tiny light had come on and Mark had drawn in his breath
sharply. Inside the hidden compartment had been several handguns hung up on
pegs, plus boxes of ammunition and a couple of leather holsters.

    'Cool,'
Mark had said. 'Very cool.'

    He
felt much the same that winter's night as John did the business again. 'Open
sesame,' he whispered.

    Inside
the front of the safe was a large canvas bag that John Jenner tugged out and dropped
on to the floor. 'The dough,' he explained.

    'How
much?' asked Mark as he hefted the bag. It was heavy.

    'Two
hundred K. All old notes. Nothing consecutive.'

    'I
thought you were skint.'

    'That's
it, Mark,' said the older man. 'That's my net worth apart from the house and
the car and all the toys. And I had trouble raising that. That's why I need
someone I can trust to do this.'

    'I
hope your trust isn't misplaced.'

    'It's
not. I trained you too well.'

    'Yeah,'
said Mark, but it sounded hollow even to himself.

    Jenner
grinned, showing his teeth and opened the back of the safe. 'Now what do you
fancy?' he asked. 'Revolver or semi?'

    'Semi
will do me,' said Mark.

    'Prone
to jamming.'

    'But
flatter. Less bulky.'

    'You're
the boss. Colt or Browning?'

    'Got
a Browning niner?'

    'Of
course. Weapon of choice on the mean streets of Brixton.'

    'That'll
do me then. Whatever the brothers go for is OK by me.' John Jenner withdrew a
metallic blue Browning nine-millimetre semiautomatic and gave it to Mark. He
checked that the magazine was out and the chamber was clear before dry firing
the weapon. John passed him a clip and a handful of bullets. 'Got a cleaning
kit?' asked Mark.

    'It's
clean,' said Jenner.

    'I
prefer to do it myself, Uncle,' said Mark. 'No offence, but if I've got to
carry it…'

    'Sure,
son,' said Jenner. 'That's what I like to see, a man who respects his weapon.'
He reached in again and came out with a boxed cleaning kit and a container of
gun oil. 'Holster?' he asked…

    'Why
not? They always stick in my spine when I put them down the back of my pants.
Especially when I'm driving. Now I'm tired. If I'm working tomorrow I'd better
get some beauty sleep.'

    'No
worries.'

    Jenner
shut the hidden compartment, put the bag of money back into the safe, closed it
and they went back to the living room, Mark carrying the gun and accessories.
They swallowed the remains of their drinks and went to bed.

    Once
inside his room, Mark saw that the Bros duvet had been replaced by one of plain
navy blue. He sat on the bed and laid out the cleaning kit on the bedside
table, cleaned and loaded the gun, stashed it under his pillow and went to bed.
After he'd undressed he locked the door. He didn't want any visitors tonight.

    Sweet
dreams, he said to himself, before falling quickly asleep.

    The
next morning Mark lay in bed until he heard movement, then waited for the front
door to slam and he assumed Martine had left for work. He got up then and went
to the bathroom. Afterwards he went downstairs and found Chas in the kitchen.
'Morning,' he said.

    'Morning,
son. I hear you're back for good.' 'For good or evil, one of the two,' replied
Mark, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. 'Uncle John
about yet?'

    'I
took him up a cuppa. He's awake.'

    'Can
I go see him?'

    'Course.
He's expecting you. Breakfast?'

    'Not
hungry, mate.' In fact Mark's stomach felt like his throat was full of cement
and he had to force the coffee down.

    'I'd
come with you today,' said Chas. 'You know that.'

    'I
know. But Uncle John's got this earmarked for me.'

    'Fair
enough.'

    'Right.
I'll go and talk to him. See you in a bit.'

    Mark left
the kitchen and went up the four flights to his uncle's room which took up what
had used to be the whole attic space. He knocked and his uncle called, 'Yeah?'

    Mark
went inside and John Jenner was sitting up with a cup of tea, the day's papers
spread around him, and Lily asleep at the foot of the bed. 'Mornin',' said
Mark.

    'Good
morning,' replied Jenner.

    'How
you doing?'

    'Not
too bad. All the better for you being here.'

    'Thanks.
Can't say as I feel the same.'

    'Butterflies?'

    'Feels
like bloomin' carrier pigeons as it goes.'

    They
both laughed. 'One o'clock, you say, the meet?' said Mark, peering through the
curtains at the outside world. The sky was black towards the south, but the
temperature had risen slightly overnight, and there were only scraps of snow
left on the ground and the bare branches of the trees dripped icy water.

    'S'right.'

    'Silver
Merc van with a black stripe.'

    'Got
it.'

    'I
reckon to allow a couple of hours for the trip, just to be on the safe side. I
want plenty of time to look around.'
'Whatever.'

    'And
Dev's got the motor.'

    'No
danger. It's waiting for you.'

    'OK.
I'll shoot over to Heme Hill about ten. I'll walk there. Go across the park.
Then I'll take a slow wander into the country. Have an all day breakfast maybe.
I might be hungry by then.'

    'Whatever
you want, son. You're the boss.'

    'No
I'm not. Anyway, I'll leave you to get up.'

    'See
you in a minute.'

    'You
will.'

    Mark
went back to his room, checked the Browning again, put on a sweater over his
shirt and the shoulder holster over that. He pulled his clothes straight as
they'd go and holstered the gun, then slipped on his leather jacket and a pair
of thin leather gloves and checked himself in the mirror in the bathroom. Even
with the jacket unzipped, nothing showed. Fucking Dirty Harry, he thought as he
drew the gun that came easily out of the oiled leather. When he went downstairs
his uncle was in the kitchen with the bag of readies.

    'You'll
take care of this, won't you?' he asked.