Human Conditioning (15 page)

“What’s got your goat?” she
asked warily, crossing one long leg over the other and running a hand through
her thick, dark hair.

Aiden’s eyes met hers but he
seemed to stare right through her. “What’s it to you?” he replied sullenly.

“Oh, you’re in a great mood as
usual!” Vivien cut in, as if she had been waiting for the excuse to pounce on
her son’s behaviour. “It’s that girl again, I bet,” she added nastily. “Little
whore that she is!”

“Mum!” Kate stared wide-eyed
at her mother in shock.

“Oh, come off it, you can’t
stand her either!” Vivien spat back at her daughter.

“What you starting on her
for?” Aiden retorted.

Vivien turned away from Kate
to glare at her son. Pointing a soapy finger in his direction, she said,
“Whatever it is that’s got you all wound up, Aiden, take it elsewhere.” Her
voice then quietened to a whisper. “Your father’s already in a shitty mood
today and I don’t need you fuelling his fire, got it?”

Aiden pulled hard on his
cigarette then stubbed it out abruptly. “Let’s see, shall we...” he muttered, scraping
his chair across the floor and striding into the living room. Vivien quickly
wiped her hands and followed him, Kate on her heels.

“Are you not doing anything
worthwhile today?” Aiden asked his father, with all the revulsion he felt for
the man poured into his words.

“Aiden! Leave it, will you!”
Kate protested in astonishment.

Like Kate, Vivien was
dumbstruck, and she didn’t quite know whether to launch herself at her boy or
not. She was worried what he might do in retaliation. His tolerance had
lessened and his courage had heightened drastically over the past few months,
and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that he had grown larger in size; he was much more
robust than his father nowadays. If Aiden hit her, not only would he cause her
untold damage, but all hell would definitely break loose.

Duggie took a moment to
register his son’s attempt to belittle him, but when he did, he turned to him
with the look they all knew so well. It was an expression of pure loathing and
disregard. “What you saying?” he growled.

“I’m
asking
if you’re gonna
get off your lazy arse today or just continue to sit here squandering all my
money?” Aiden spat in reply.

“
Your
money?” Duggie
sniggered nastily. He shifted his body around to face his son, his chest out to
express dominance. “Since when have
you
contributed to anything?”

Vivien and Kate stared
wide-eyed from man to man-boy, not daring to speak out of turn. Aiden smirked
arrogantly. “I earn more in a week than you get in six months, you useless
ponce!”

Duggie sprang up from his
chair and gripped hold of Aiden’s throat, his face contorted with fury. Both
Vivien and Kate finally found the will to protest, but did not make contact
with either of them. They both knew full well that their presence no longer
registered in the minds of the two men before them and that neither father nor
son would take responsibility for their actions if either of the women got in
their way. Both men were seeing red, glaring at each other, each more than
happy to seriously hurt the other.

Duggie was so overcome with
anger that the veins in his neck and forehead were pulsing. He spat through
gritted teeth, “You ever speak to me like that again...”

But Aiden only displayed a
pearly-white, megawatt grin, his father’s trembling fingers around his thick
neck having little effect. “You’ll do what, old man?”

The following action came suddenly
and as Duggie’s forehead clashed with Aiden’s nose, Aiden immediately felt the warm
sensation of blood trickling from his nose onto his top lip. Kate was suddenly hysterical,
but Vivien left her to attend to her husband, who was rubbing his head and
cursing. Composing himself, Aiden stood to his full height and smiled once
more. As the blood seeped into the gaps in his teeth, Kate thought her brother
looked sadistic.

Vivien turned to her son. “What’s
wrong with you, eh?”

Aiden sniffed and wiped his
nose with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his cheek, then his lips twitched
up into a sardonic smile. “Forever the caring mother,” he muttered before
disappearing up to his bedroom.

“AIDEN, PHONE!”

Vivien yelled up the stairs to
her son who had been in the bathroom for well over an hour, attempting to clean
the wounds Duggie had inflicted on him that afternoon. When he swaggered down
the stairs, she noticed that he was clean-shaven, his hair immaculate, and he
smelled of a sweet aftershave, and now that the blood had been washed away, his
nose didn’t look too bad – just a straight cut across the top and a faint
purple bruise that, from experience, she knew would spread and grow darker over
the next few days.

Dressed in smart jeans and a checked shirt, even she had
to admit that her son looked rather stylish and very handsome. Aiden snatched the
receiver from her. “Hello?” he said down the line.

“Aiden, it’s Sid...”

“Oh, alright, Sid.”

Vivien hovered at the bottom
of the stairs and raised an eyebrow. No one had seen Sid for weeks and she
wondered suspiciously why he wanted to speak with Aiden. Aiden scowled at her
and gestured for her to scarper by a flick of his head. Her eyes narrowed but,
when he turned his back on her, she huffed and stormed away.

“What’s up?” he asked quietly,
having noted the grave tone in his uncle’s voice. Something was up, he was sure
of it.

“Do you fancy earning a bob or
two?”

“Always...”

“Good. I need you to help me
with something.” There was a pause and Aiden wasn’t too sure whether he was meant
to say anything to that. Then Sid asked, “Actually, can we meet up?”

“’Course... when?”

“Now. Meet me at the local...”

Fifteen minutes later, Aiden was sitting in The Stag
opposite his uncle, who was looking nervous. Sid kept jumping each time
somebody walked in the bar and he bit his nails between taking gulps of his
pint. Aiden watched him warily. He wasn’t too sure whether or not to ask what
was wrong with him or just let the man speak when he was ready. He opted for
the latter and sat sipping his lager waiting for Sid to talk.

“I’m in a bit of bother,” Sid finally
announced.  

Aiden was not surprised by
this revelation. His uncle was always in some kind of bother. What did take him
by surprise, however, was how worried Sid looked this time. His uncle had
always been able to handle himself. Sid could talk his way out of anything, and
talk his way
into
anything for that matter, which didn’t always bode
well for the man. 

Aiden’s eyes narrowed in
thought. Though Sid was a notorious con artist, he never had before seen his uncle
show such concern as he was doing right now. He was as white as a sheet. “What
is it, Sid?” Aiden asked seriously, and with sheer loyal conviction, added,
“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it, alright?”

Sid took to biting his nails
again. “I need to ask something of you and, when I do, I need you to understand
that you can say no, alright? I ain’t forcing you into anything...”

“What is it?”

Sid took a long swig of his
pint then set the glass down carefully on the table. “I hear you’ve been debt
collecting for Reggie Driscoll. You’re knocking up quite a reputation. Some of
the stories I’ve heard are pretty impressive, Aiden.” Aiden didn’t respond. He
stared at his uncle, willing him to stop procrastinating and get the fuck on
with whatever he had to say. Sid downed the dregs of his glass and announced,
finally, “I need you to help me... take care of some people.”

Aiden’s eyebrows rose. He was
shocked by the request, but he didn’t fear it. He’d never killed before, but
over the past months since Reggie had promoted him to debt collector there had
been times where he had got pretty close and he’d been building up his
resilience since their bust at The Old Blue Last, last Christmas.

When Sid announced those he
was targeting, Aiden leaned back in his chair and exhaled a loud breath between
closed lips. “Fuck me...” was all he could say for a long moment. “Billy Wyatt?
What’s he done now?”

“He fucked me over...” Sid
muttered.

“Again?”

When Aiden had eventually
found out that his uncle was in the nick, he’d also been told that it was Billy
Wyatt who had put him there. He refrained from asking why the fuck his uncle
should be doing business with him again. Whatever had happened, he was quite
willing to help his uncle eradicate that piece of shit in retaliation for
getting him arrested in the first instance.

Aiden added nervously, “And
why the KKKs?”

He’d heard a lot about the
KKKs since Reggie had asked him to keep his ear to the ground. He’d heard
people talking all over the town about their swift rise in
the business
.
He’d been hearing some lively things about that crew. They were thought to be involved
in drug distribution, money laundering, protection and torture, yet all had
been just rumour so far. No one could really get close enough to confirm it.
They were a tight-knit crew, a proper firm. They relied on discretion, probably
with police and politicians in their pockets.

Reggie wouldn’t approve of him
getting involved with trying to take them out. On paper, it was in Reggie’s
best interest to eradicate a crew who could potentially overrun his turf, but
the aftermath could be more trouble than it was worth. The last thing he wanted
was Reggie taking a hit on account of him and his uncle.

Sid watched Aiden warily, but
Aiden couldn’t mistake the hope in his uncle’s blue eyes. Sid was softening the
deal with the promise of a grand in payment for sorting out Billy and another £5K
if he pulled off taking care of Kris, Kyle and Kamal. The thought of all that
dough laid heavy on Aiden’s conscience as he thought hard about the
consequences of taking on the KKKs. Deep down, he knew that it was an
unfeasible task. Yet money talked very loudly to people like him, and usually
the loud whirr of greed quietened the most rational of thoughts. 

Even so, Aiden finally announced,
out of the quiet, “I can’t... the KKKs... I can’t put Reggie in the firing
line. They know I work for him. If anything went wrong, they’d come for him...
and me, for that matter.”

Sid inhaled a deep breath and sighed quietly. They both
sat in silence once more before Sid quavered, “They’re gonna kill me, Aiden...”

Aiden felt the blood drain
from his entire body and he closed his eyes. He knew Sid wasn’t exaggerating.
The fear in both his expression and voice confirmed that his uncle had landed
himself in the kind of shit he couldn’t talk his way out of this time. And a
tug from the Old Bill might just not come round quick enough to see him inside
before he got a bullet through his head. 

Aiden opened his eyes and
sighed, “What have you done, Sid?”

Sid pulled a packet of
cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one with a shaking hand. Throwing
the box on the table, he gestured for Aiden to have one and he did. “Billy
fucked up. Ah, shit, Aiden... it was greed, mate. Inside, I was doing a bit of
business with him through one of his lads in the nick with me, Richie Bryson. About
two months before I was released, Billy informed me through Richie about some
diamonds that were being delivered to a place in New Bond Street. He was going
to set it all up and I was to carry out the job with him. See, we figured no
one would suspect me, being as I’d just got out and all. How would I be able to
set up a robbery like that in a week? Anyway, to cut a long story short, Kamal
had already done a deal to rob them himself and it turns out Richie is associated
with the KKKs, so of course he ended up leaking our plans to them. When I went
to do the job, Billy didn’t turn up... I managed to get away, but, as you can
imagine, Kamal ain’t happy...”

“So, why aren’t they going for
Billy?”

Sid shrugged. “Whether Billy
found out about Richie before the job and did a deal with him to clear his
name, I don’t know...”

“Sounds like he ducked out at
the right moment and laid all responsibility at your door...”

“Whatever that slippery fuck
did, I wanna get to the flash bastard before anyone else does... he’s done me
over too many times.” Sid stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.
Taking a long drag, he stared at his nephew. “So? What do you think?”

When Aiden left the pub alone, his mind was whirling with
fear and anticipation. He was angry too. That his uncle could put him in such a
position riled him. Sid had said he shouldn’t feel pressured into doing what he
asked, that it was his choice, but what kind of choice did he really have? He
couldn’t leave him to be butchered. He couldn’t bail on his own flesh and
blood.

His main worry was Reggie and
what chaos his interference with these dealers south of the water could cause.
He wouldn’t be able to tell Reggie what he planned to do. But surely Reggie
would find out?

As Aiden stormed back to the
estate, his disposition was one of deep rage brought on by the unfairness of his
uncle’s request. Yet, as angry as he was with Sid, he was gutted that his uncle
had practically written his own death certificate on account of this little
crew that seemed to be making a very large impression in the East. 

No one threatened a Foster! Aiden knew his name held no
influence over the likes of the KKKs, and this riled him all the more. He
wanted more than anything to make a name for himself and have people like Kamal
eating out of the palm of his hand. Reggie was an influential man, there was no
doubt about that, and his association with him had, so far, been his making, but
when all was said and done, Reggie Driscoll was merely a dealer. It was a
fruitful business, and it could earn you a fairly high ranking in their
society, but Aiden wanted more than that. He wanted his fingers in numerous
lucrative pies. He wanted to be at the top of the tree, not just an influence
inside his borough. He wanted to be known and feared across the whole of the
city, and, today, finding out that his uncle was living on borrowed time, that
Sid had come to
him
for help, made him even more determined to realise
that aspiration.

When he hit the edge of the Carlton
estate, his wonder about whether he could be any more pissed off was answered
when he saw Gina getting out of Jason Ryan’s classic racing-green Mini Cooper.

Aiden left the scene before him and raced up to his flat
and up to his bedroom. There was only one emotion he was feeling now, and that
was pure and unreserved rage. Locating his chest of drawers, he opened the top
drawer and pulled out a pen knife, hidden beneath his underwear. He left the
room. Taking the stairs, he stuffed the knife into the back pocket of his
jeans, then left the flat and headed back onto the street below. He peered up
the road to see that Jason’s Mini Cooper and its occupants were no longer
there.

Picking up his pace, he left
the estate and within minutes found himself on the approach of a row of garages
that abutted the estate and belonged to the residents of Shoreditch Park
Gardens across the way. There were six garages in total, yet only one was
unlocked and open. He approached the open garage, his hand instinctively
running over his back pocket, feeling the shape of his knife.

Stepping into the opening, he
watched Jason pull himself out of his car and basked in the look of
apprehension on Jason’s face when he finally realised he was standing there.     

As Aiden stared at him, he
recalled the sight of Gina’s exquisite and sexy-as-hell legs swinging out of
the passenger side of his Mini Cooper, and the way he pulled her close and
pressed his lips on hers. It made him feel angrier than ever. Gina was
his
.
Whether he wanted her long-term or not, everyone knew he was bedding her, and
as far as he was concerned that was tantamount to ownership.

“What do you want?” Jason
asked with more confidence than he actually felt. Having Aiden Foster, known
enforcer, hunt you down would put the willies up anyone, and Jason immediately
began to wrack his brain to think of whether he owed anyone money.

Aiden leant against the wall
of the garage and stared at the wall opposite him, not looking at Jason now.
Pulling down the zip of his jacket, he retrieved a pre-rolled joint from the inside
pocket and lit it up. Jason slammed his car door shut and stared at Aiden to
see him nonchalantly blowing smoke rings into the air. He gulped. “Has someone
told you I owe them money?” Jason asked, trying to fathom why on earth Aiden was
accosting him. Again, Aiden did not answer him, but continued to draw longs
pulls on his joint and fill the garage with its strong herby scent.

As a loaded silence grew
between them, Jason was developing an uncontrollable amount of trepidation. Wracking
his brain still, he idly wondered whether this had anything to do with Gina and,
if just to break the silence, he asked him as much.

Aiden finally turned his head
to face him, and though he was silhouetted by the contrast of light coming in
through the garage door and the darkness of the garage inside, Jason could
still distinguish the hardness in his expression. “What did you two do today?”
he finally said, taking yet another drag and exhaling loudly before Jason
replied, “Nothing.”

Aiden began to tut and shook
his head theatrically. “Liar, liar,” he muttered then flicked his joint out
onto the gravel pathway in front of the garage. Suddenly, he stood upright, the
unexpected motion causing Jason to start. Aiden noticed and smirked to himself.
Turning his full body round to face Jason, he began to bite the side of his
thumb. Frankly, he was summing up how he was going to slit the cunt’s throat in
the most discreet way. His first murder, and he hadn’t had any time to plan it
properly. This was an unexpected turn of events. He was acting on a whim. He
was acting on his temper, as always, but this time he wasn’t afraid. It was
ironic that not an hour before he had been asked by his own uncle to help him
wipe some people off the face of the earth, and here he was about to do the
very same to this menace that had proven to be an inconvenient hitch in his regimented
life. Jason had attempted to trump him on two occasions now – first the cars,
and now Gina – the cars being (and Gina a probability of being) vital assets in
his master plan for himself. Jason was an ant that needed to be squashed and,
more than ever before, Aiden wanted to be the boot that squashed him.