Guns Of Brixton (43 page)

    'I
don't carry anything with my name on, ever,' replied Tubbs, who'd purposefully
dumped anything that could identify him before meeting Mark. 'Strictly cash.'

    Karl
riffled through the notes he found and pulled an approving face. 'You can say
that again.' Then to Moses: 'He's clean. No wires, no weapons. Just cash, and
plenty of it.'

    'Gimme,'
said Moses, and the third man handed him the money. 'Get dressed, boy,' Moses
said to Tubbs.

    Tubbs
did as he was told, looked in the stained mirror and touched the bloody lump on
his head. 'Here,' said Moses and handed him the handkerchief he'd used to wipe
down the bar. 'No hard feelings.'

    'None
taken,' said Tubbs, dabbing at his face.

    'Outside,'
said Karl, and Tubbs, now fully dressed, walked back into the bar.

    'He's
clean,' Moses said to Beretta. 'And he brought us a present.' He handed the
cash over and Beretta slid it into his pocket. 'How much?' he said to Tubbs.

    'Two
grand or thereabouts.'

    'What
you need all that for?'

    'Just
walking around money.'

    'Nice
place to take a walk. Fair enough. Now what did you want with me?'

    Tubbs
looked at the other faces in the bar and said: 'Like I said, it's private.' 'Yeah.'
'So?'

    'Siddown,'
said Moses, then to the barman. 'And get him what he's drinking. And another
round for us.'

    The
quartet moved to a spot behind the pool table, out of hearing of the rest. Once
the barman had brought them their order and was safely back on his perch, Tubbs
said: 'I need some powder.' 'Who doesn't?' asked Moses. 'Where you from again?'
'North London,' replied Tubbs. 'That's a big place,' said Beretta. 'Holloway.'

    'How
long were you away?' asked Moses. 'Two years.'

    'For
what?' Beretta again.

    'Weed.
Got captured with a big bag. Cops didn't take kindly to it.'

    'They
tend not to,' said Moses.

    'Now
it's bloody almost legal,' said Tubbs.

    'Wrong
time, wrong place,' said Beretta and sniffed loudly, which was the cue for
Moses to bring out the coke again, and all four hit on a line each. 'This is
good stuff,' said Tubbs. 'You got more?' 'More than you can afford,' said
Beretta. 'How much?' asked Tubbs.

    'How
much we got, or how much is it?' said Beretta. 'Both.'

    'You
might be grass,' said Moses. 'Why should we tell you?' 'You've got my two
grand. And there's plenty more where that came from.'

    'Our
two grand now,' Beretta corrected him. 'OK, your two grand. Take it as a down
payment.' 'We're taking it anyway,' said the third man. 'Sort of a gesture of
faith on your part.'

    'Whatever,'
said Tubbs. 'You got any now?'

    'You've
got no money,' said Moses.

    'I
can get more.'

    'When?'

    'Tonight.'

    'Maybe,'
said Beretta. 'You got a phone number?'

    Tubbs
reeled it off and Moses made a note of it in a little book. 'We'll think about
it, Mr Tubbs,' he said. 'We'll ring you later. Or maybe tomorrow. Or maybe
never. We need to check a little. Make sure you ain't five-oh. You get my
drift?'

    Tubbs
nodded. He wondered what they'd turn up, if anything. He had a small record
from way back, but that was under his real name, which he hadn't supplied.

    'Now
go,' said Beretta. 'We'll talk later.'

    Tubbs
left the bar and climbed into the BMW, which he drove through the narrow
streets of Brixton, before parking up and calling Mark Farrow on his mobile.

    'I
met 'em,' he said. 'Not nice people. They told me Blakey was dead. Thanks for
telling me. I felt like a right wanker.'

    'I
never knew. Sorry, mate. So what happened?'

    'They
gave me some lumps and took the two grand I was holding.'

    'And?'

    'And
nothing. They're doing some checking on me. But they're so stoned I don't
reckon they'll even remember my name in half an hour.'

    'It's
risky, Tubbs. If you want to pull out, do it now.'

    'No,
Mark. They've got lots of dope, and I want us to get it.'

    'This
is crazy,' said Mark.

    'No
worries,' said Tubbs. 'I'm going round to Eddie's. They're going to phone me.'

    'When?'

    'Whenever.
Could be they're dialling now, could be next week, could be never. I'm sorry
about the cash, Mark.'

    'No
problem. Did you make a fuss about it?'

    'No.
One of them had a gun on me at the time. But I told them there was more where
that came from.' 'Good.*

    'You
figure they'll try and take the rest?' 'Yeah. That's why we hit them first.'
'But I want that gear.' 'Sure you do. We'll work something out.'

    Tubbs
went round to Eddie's flat, dug him out of bed and told him what had occurred
at the pub. Eddie sat, bent over his first cup of tea, listening, then said:
'Christ, Tubbs, this is getting heavy.'

    'We
knew it would.'

    'They
could've killed you.'

    'No
pain, no gain, my man.'

    'So
what now?'

    'Now
we wait.'

    And
wait they did.

    Meanwhile
Mark was looking forward to his date with Linda.

    Looking
forward to it more than he thought he should, especially as he knew he'd put
Tubbs in harm's way. The day dragged by like a snail on downers. He kept
checking that his phone was switched on, but he heard nothing from Tubbs, so
when the appointed hour arrived, he arrived at the flat in Balham and rang the
bell. Linda answered the door wearing a simple black dress and black nylons,
with high heeled, strappy shoes. She'd curled her hair slightly, her eyes were
mascaraed and her lips a deep shade of red. She looked wonderful. Mark stood in
the doorway until she offered him her hand. 'Are you going to stay out there
all night?' she asked.

    'No,'
he replied. 'I just can't believe how great you look.'

    'Takes
longer every year,' she said.

    'I
don't believe you,' he said. 'It's natural.'

    'Tell
that to Estee Lauder. Now are you coming in or not? It's getting chilly and I'm
not dressed for it.'

    'That's
true.' 'But I'm dressed for something.'

    'What?'

    'Don't
be naive. I went shopping this afternoon.'

    'Where?'

    'Soho.'

    'Really?'

    'Yes.
A little shop I know called Agent Provocateur.'

    'What
do they sell?'

    'You have
been away for a long time,' she said, dragging him in, slamming the door and
pulling up the hem of her skirt to show off stocking tops and pink, lacy
suspenders. 'Underwear,' she said. 'The most outrageous in London. I blushed
when I bought it.'

    'For
me?'

    'No.
For the milkman. Of course for you, silly.'

    'I'm
flattered.'

    'You
should be. They cost me an arm and a leg. Now get upstairs. And you go first. I
don't want you looking at my bum.'

    'Isn't
that why you bought the underwear?'

    'Maybe.
But later. I've cooked.' They went upstairs, Mark in the lead. At the top he
stopped and turned.

    'Wait
a minute,' he said. 'Now you're looking at my bum.'

    'And
why not?' she said. 'It always was your best feature.'

    'Charming.'

    'All
the girls at school thought so, and it hasn't gone south - yet.' Mark smiled
and went into the living room where the table was set for two and was full of
warm odours from the kitchen next door.

    'Hmm,'
he said. 'Smells good.'

    'So
it should. I've been slaving over the oven for hours.' Mark suddenly felt a
constriction in his chest and his eyes filled with tears. What a waste of all
those years - we could've been together, he thought. Years we'll never have
back. Years wasted.

    'Are
you all right?' asked Linda.

    'Fine,'
he replied. 'Never better in fact.' 'Then take off your jacket, sit down, have
a drink. Anything. You look like you've seen a ghost.'

    'No.
Just thinking.'

    'Well,
don't think. It's bad for the brain. Just enjoy.'

    'I'm
sure I will. I'm starved.'

    'Good.
I'll open the wine.' She was as good as her word and produced an expensive
bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge.

    'I'll
do it,' said Mark.

    'I
love a masterful man,' said Linda and kissed him, handing him the bottle. Her
perfume was subtle but powerful and Mark's head swam as he inhaled it.

    'Like
it?' she asked, noticing his reaction.

    'Love
it. Smells even better than dinner.'

    'Seventy
quid an ounce,' she said. 'No rubbish here.'

    'I know,'
he said and made a grab for her, but she danced out of his reach.

    'The
wine,' she said. 'Quick, before it warms up.'

    'Yes,
OK, the temperature is rising.'

    'So I
noticed, big boy,' she said. 'And that ain't the only thing, is it?'

    Mark
reddened at her remark. 'Don't tease me,' he said.

    'That's
just what I intend to do. I've got a late pass tonight and I mean to.make the
most of it.'

    Mark
felt for the switch on his mobile phone, then pulled his finger away guiltily.
He had to stay in touch with the outside world, much as he would have liked to
put it out of his mind. 'We will,' he said.

    'We'd
better. Now open that bottle whilst I check on the potatoes.'

    Mark
did as he was told and filled the glasses waiting on the table. He picked up
his as Linda came back. 'About another fifteen minutes,' she said.

    He
reached for the other glass and handed it to her, that old, familiar
electricity sparking as they touched. 'A toast,' he said. 'To us.'

    'To
us,' she echoed and they clinked their glasses and drank. Mark's mouth filled
with the smoky taste of the wine.

    'That's
beautiful,' he said. 'Perfect. Just like you.'

    'Thank
you,' she replied. 'Now why don't you sit down,? You're making the place look
untidy.'

    Once
again, he did as he was told, sitting on the sofa whilst Linda took one of the
dining chairs. 'Sit by me,' he said.

    She
shook her head. 'Not now. The way I feel the dinner might burn.'

    'Would
it matter? There's plenty of takeaways in the street.'

    'Don't
be so bloody cheeky, Mark,' she said. 'I've not worked my fingers to the bone
all afternoon for us to have lamb korma out of a foil container. There's
starters, roast lamb with green beans, and a pudding.'

    'You're
the only pudding I need,' he said.

    'You
bad boy. Just remember that everything comes to him who waits,' and she crossed
her legs provocatively, once again showing her stocking tops and the soft white
thighs above.

    'It
is getting warmer in here,' said Mark. 'Do you think we could open a window.?'

    She
blew him a kiss, put down her glass and went back into the kitchen, swinging
her backside as she walked, and Mark wondered whether his appetite was greater
for the food or for her.