Serious People (14 page)

There was an awkward silence; not really good for radio. Ronny wondered if he should break into an acapella version of his last single. 

“Sorry listeners back to the show,” Ed said, still trying to find some composure. “As I said a moment ago, you were just listening to a sneak preview of a band that really is, of the moment, who just couldn’t be any more happening. But let’s flip that on its head for a moment and get back to Ronny Wild. Ronny, what do you say to people who might be listening to you right now and thinking? Oh no, not that Ronny Wild; he’s a right loser. He’s out of touch and a real bigot.”

“I think you’re just being a bit immature now Ed,” Wild replied calmly.

“Well I think, a lot of the kids listening right now will be saying; get that old man off the air,” Ed snapped.

“Firstly, I’d say; ageism is disgusting and it truly sickens me. And let me be the first to defend you Ed; you’re not too old for this show. Ugly, yes, but hey this is radio!” Wild said, wrestling for control of the studio.

Ed glared at Wild. “Listeners, sadly not for the first time, we have to say goodbye to Ronny Wild. Thank you for coming on the show today; no hard feelings for getting the Hardman treatment.”

Wild jumped in. “No thank you listeners for tuning in today. I love you all, and it’s great to still know you’re out there.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “And thank you Ed, for inviting me on your show. I had no idea, until today, that your nickname relates to the erection that you have while talking to male guests.”

Ed stared back dumbfounded.

“You fucking try hard!” Wild said, pulling off his headphones.

He stormed out of the studio and headed for the exit. Cazza suddenly appeared out of a doorway holding her clipboard, looking angry. God, he couldn’t deal with a bloody groupie now.

“Look luv you’re too young for me, get over it,” Wild said, walking out of the door.

Things had really not been going to plan lately. There was nothing else for it but to go home get his friend Jack Daniels out and think about the future, how he could get Ronny Wild back on top again.

Charlie O’Neil woke up suddenly, looked around, briefly unaware of where he was, until reminded by the familiar bleeping and whirling sounds of the machines positioned next to Jackie’s bed.

O’Neil was concerned. Concern was a feeling. He had lived with concern for his wife for months now and now he had a new worry—Robert. He wasn’t used to a loss of contact with Robert Payne; they had been close friends for over thirty-five years now and, in that time, there had barely been a day with no contact between them. There were always countless business ideas and challenges to bounce off each other. And in later years personal problems too, ones that Charlie would only truly take Robert’s counsel on.

If there was a reason why Robert was going to drop off the radar for a while, he would have made sure to let Charlie know. Robert was always calm and calculating; everything he did had a reason. Charlie needed his friend right now—whether if for a quick chat or a long heavy one—Robert knew he had to be there. Charlie depended off his friend’s intuition for this, there was no conversation needed at times, Robert just understood to start a chat. This made the last few hours more concerning; no sign of Robert at home, and not answering his phone. Charlie couldn’t get it out of his head that there was a serious problem here.

Charlie grimaced at the thought of life without Robert; he remembered when they first met in the schoolyard, back in the mid-seventies. Charlie would have been best described back then as the most popular kid at school, largely because of his big build and his effortless skill at whatever sport he tried his hand at. He also had a reputation as a bully, this being mainly built through events out of his control, not down on his part to any deliberate power lust. Probably due to his size, other boys deliberately went up against him, to prove their worth to their friends; and he had without fail knocked them all to the floor. There was only so many times that this could happen without infecting his mind with the feeling of dominance and control. He had started with no ambition for it, but after a while he’d come to like the feeling of running the schoolyard. And with it, started to like the feeling of putting someone on the ground with his fists.

By the time Robert had come to fight Charlie, Charlie was the undisputed boss of the schoolyard; everyone knew his name and no one crossed him. He remembered the day, like it was yesterday. He had been approached by a then close friend of his, called Felix, who had asked for his help in teaching a lesson to a scroat who had treated his sister badly.

Though the scroat in question was three years younger than them, he was still more than a match for Felix, who was a small kid with a skinny build, and Felix felt desperate to let this boy know exactly whom he had messed with. Even back then, Charlie knew the power of a favour, so he agreed. And he and Felix caught up with the younger boy at the bike sheds.

O’Neil folded his arms and leant on the side of the bike shed, watching the younger boy unlock his bike. A crowd had started to build around the scene; the talk of the school was that Charlie O’Neil was about to knock someone else out. 

“Oi kid.”

The scroat turned around, “What?”

“You shouldn’t have made Ellie Felix cry. She's my friend’s sister.”

“So? What difference does that make?” Robert said, returning his gaze to his bike’s lock.

Charlie was taken aback by this; he was twice the size of this kid. But, even if you overlooked this, his reputation spoke for itself; most kids would be in tears by now from his presence alone. Who the hell did this boy think he was?

Charlie moved away from the bike shed and stood straight up, proudly displaying his whole height and build. “I’m Charlie O'Neil. You may have heard of me?”

The boy turned and looked O’Neil up and down, then slowly walked towards him, stopping just inches away. “My name’s Robert Payne, but you won’t have heard of me. People who have heard are too scared to say my name.”

There was almost a hush from the watching crowd, due to the Payne’s pure confidence and defiance in the words spoken to O’Neil. Even Charlie felt himself take a subconscious step back, which was something new to him. Sure he was used to kids stepping up against him; but those kids were big and in most cases older than Charlie, not three years younger.

“Look, kid, all I want you to do is apologise to my friend’s sister; simple as that. You don’t need to get hurt today,” Charlie said, very conscious of the crowd, who were still admiring his power.

But while O’Neil was watching the crowd, Payne had seen his chance and let fly a right hook that hit him squarely on the jaw. Charlie rocked backwards, momentarily feeling tears welling up in his eyes. A feeling of shock spread across the crowd, at the sight. The kid knew how to punch; there was no way someone his size should have been able to punch that hard.

A sea of anger flooded Charlie O’Neil’s mind; the anger came from the embarrassment, all these kids had just seen him almost knocked out by this little scroat. O’Neil leapt forward with a barrage of right hooks and upper cuts. Payne seemed to absorb an incredible number of them before going down.

O’Neil looked down at the crushed form of Robert Payne and gave a knowing smile to his audience. “All I wanted was an apology,” he said, turning to the boys and girls that surrounded him with a shrug, and started to walk away. A sense of pride started to return to him; no question who was the boss around here.

“Well you’re not getting that.”

O’Neil turned to see a battered looking Robert Payne gradually getting up off the floor; he shook his head in disbelief.

Payne brought his fists up to his chest, in a boxer’s stance. “C’mon on then,” he shouted back at O’Neil. “You slap like a girl.”

Now why did he have to go and say that? It was clear by the bruises his face was covered in, that he’d taken the beating of his life. Charlie easily could have walked away, job done. But why did he have to say that? There was no way he could let that comment slide, without some from of retribution. O’Neil felt the look from the crowd, who were feverishly waiting for his response, as he pondered what to do. He turned to Payne, whose eyes had settled into steely glare.

O’Neil slowly moved back towards Payne. As he got closer, he feigned a right hook towards the smaller boy, and then slipped straight into an upper cut with his left fist. This all but took Payne straight off his feet and back to the ground.

This time, O’Neil didn’t walk away. He looked down at his defeated foe waiting for him to get up again. Despite this, he couldn’t hide his surprise as the younger boy gingerly started to get to his feet. O’Neil swiftly countered—with a sickening kick to Payne’s stomach. The watching crowd winced.

Finally, O’Neil did start to walk away, confident that the beating he had delivered was enough to require medical attention, let alone plenty to stop the kid from wanting more. The crowd seemed to be sharing this view as they started to scatter.

“Where the fuck are you going!” Payne said in a raspy voice.

O’Neil turned to see Robert Payne once again standing. Who the fuck did this kid think he was, Rocky fucking Balboa? Payne was now partly bent over with pain from a probable set of broken ribs. His face was a swollen mess and even his hands could no longer be as tightly fisted as before.

O’Neil looked Payne up and down. “You are the fucking hardest bastard I have ever met.”

“That’s exactly what your mum says,” Payne snapped back through a bloodied mouth.

O’Neil’s look hardened at the words said against his mother. His body stiffened and assumed a predatory pose once again; there was no way he took any bad mouth about his Mum…

But today was going to be an exception; his face broke into a broad grin—and he laughed.

Payne’ stance remained unchanged, still not sure if he was going to get a further beating.

“You’re not going to let him get away with that are you Charlie!” Felix said, practically jumping off his feet in animation.

“You’re joking Felix. This boy deserves some respect,” O’Neil replied firmly.

Felix started to roll up his sleeves, “Well if you don’t, I’ll bloody finish him off.”

“I reckon that even in this state that kid would kick the shit out of you Felix”, O’Neil said, putting his hand on Felix’s chest.

“And anyway, Robert Payne’s now under my protection.”

Felix looked back at O’Neil, wanting to argue but understanding the futility of it. O’Neil turned to look at Payne, who didn’t even give him a nod of thanks.

From that day, there started a fearsome partnership between Charlie O’Neil and Robert Payne. O’Neil identified with Payne’s infectious spirit; he was both the most intelligent and hardest bastard he knew. It seemed that anything was possible when they were stood shoulder to shoulder. Even a day ago, when they were stood in the hospital together, just them both being there, made Charlie feel they could beat this illness, that they had Jackie covered.

O’Neil looked across at Jackie, with all the pipes and tubes leading in and out of her body. The utter helplessness of her condition washed over him.

Charlie O’Neil felt broken.

DI Khan must have heard all the whispering and muffled laughs, as she followed DS Early through the open-plan office to their newly dedicated ops room.

This situation was probably nothing new to her; she must have been used to not being liked by her fellow officers. A university graduate, who was female, and ticked the ethnic box—yep she was always going to get somewhere in the police. Early remembered a time when the job was about policing; about people who put scumbags inside, people who did the things others were too scared to do and make sure families were safe in their homes. Khan would not have survived back in those days.

They were almost at the door of the ops room when a young scruffy looking detective raised his hand. “Ma’am.”

Early looked back momentarily, expecting Khan to keep walking and ignore him; but she stopped her in her path. Early sighed. He was hoping to get to the ops room without being noticed; now he might be placed in the position of either having to defend his new boss, and by default joining her in being considered a liability by all the other real police officers, or of leaving her to her fate. 

“Yes Detective?”

“We’ve heard you’re trying to do a Capone on Charlie O’Neil?” the detective said, failing to suppress a smile.

“Sorry Detective, I don’t know what you mean?” Khan said.

“You know, look through his bank statements and make sure he’s paying all his taxes and stuff.” The detective was managing to keep a straight face, but laughter had burst out behind him.

Khan’s face flushed and she walked quickly through the door into the makeshift office that was now her ops room. Early tried to stay neutral to the situation and followed Khan inside. Khan took a seat behind a table with a flip chart in front of it, with photos of different men plastered all over.

Despite Early being sure she must have experienced these types of colleagues before, he could still see that she looked flustered. “They’re just screwing with you. They know you’re new and…”

“And I’m a woman?” Khan finished.

“No—well —maybe…” Early said, stumbling over his words.

“Can we get on with it Detective Sergeant?” Khan snapped.

“Of course Guv, but I was going to say that it’s because you’re a lot more senior than them and so much younger. It’s just jealousy,” Early said.

“Thank you DS Early.”

Khan was visibly calming down now.

“On the back of the questions you were asking yesterday, I’ve put together a list of potential and alleged associates of Charlie O’Neil and Robert Payne,” Early said, gesturing to the board in front of him. “Of course, you’d find little on the books that connects them to anything.”

Khan scowled as she studied the board, which showed a number of men’s faces staring back at them. The two men at the top were Charlie O’Neil and Robert Payne.

“There are only five men on the board, two of which are Payne and O’Neil.”

Early shrugged, looking back at Khan. “Bear in mind, Guv; you’re investigating people who, on any criminal database, will show up as completely innocent men. Those guys outside this office would say that even the other three people have never have had proven links to our two boys.”

“Innocent? Let’s call them, unprosecuted so far…” Khan corrected.

“Think you’ll find that’s the same thing in court Guv,” Early said, looking back at his boss.

Khan folded her arms in irritation. “Do you think you can talk me through the criminal connections to O’Neil and Payne that we do have?”

“You know there are other big criminals we could look to go after. We might have a stronger chain to follow up in other cases and—I tell you—they’ll still be names,” Early said, looking back at the flipchart.

“I’m after Charlie O’Neil,” Khan replied firmly.

“Ok, well, alleged criminal connections,” Early said not making eye contact and turning quickly back to the board. He picked up a marker pen and drew a line from the Payne and O’Neil’s photos to the face of a man who looked in his late forties, his greying hair in an Elvis like quiff.

“Michael Dunne—known as Mickey—no criminal record.” Early’s words were clipped; again he made no eye contact. “If we follow the assumption that O’Neil and Payne are an organised criminal firm, Mickey is what we would call, if this was an Italian-American mafia family, a
Caporegime
.”

“They are not a mafia family,” Khan corrected.

“No Guv, but as the Mafia were once the most recognised organised criminals in the world, I find it easiest to define other organisations along their lines, at least in terms of the roles individuals play. And there are analogies.”

“Fine, carry on.”

“OK, as Caporegime, we think Mickey is in command of all the different criminal factions of O’Neil and Payne’s empire. He is also, very nicely, listed as Head of Operations for
O’Neil & Payne Logistics
,” Early added, smiling. “He is highly loyal to O’Neil and Payne. We can tell the continuous links, through different forms of employment, to one of or both the duo over the last twenty years.”

“Is that overly rare?” Khan shrugged.

“Yes,” Early nodded. “And there’s another thing—his little baby was murdered in what we believe was an attempted hit on his life. But he said nothing to us, not a word. Stayed in O’Neil and Payne’s employment throughout.”

Khan grimaced. “His child was murdered?”

“I’m sure there are countless benefits to a life of crime; but your family’s safety wouldn’t be one of them,” Early grimaced.

Khan did not return the smile and waited for him to continue.

“Mickey’s nickname on the street is Mickey the Bag, as he's always seen carrying a sports bag around with him. We think it has concealed weapons in, but we have never had the opportunity to follow this theory up. There have, of course, been many criminal allegations made against Dunne—everything from GBH to murder. He has been to court thirteen times but always acquitted.”

“Thirteen, lucky for some,” Khan quipped.

“We have always believed that Dunne was part of the bank robbery team in the eighties, but needless to say, he always had an alibi,” Early said, now drawing a line from Mickey to a large black man, who could be aged anything from thirty to fifty. “Leroy Elkins, forty-eight years old. An interesting connection as he does have a criminal record.”

Khan now looked interested. “Tell me more.”

“Numerous convictions; GBH, ABH, armed robbery, extortion, burglary…” Early looked back at Khan. “Do you want me to go on?” he asked.

“No, but I’m not hearing the connection with O’Neil?” Khan replied.

“Well, there obviously isn’t a criminal connection between them; but this boy does have form and that’s makes him very interesting. Particularly as we can actually put him on this chart,” Early said, not looking back at Khan, just focusing on the flip chart.

Khan’s eyes lit up. “Ok, tell me more then.”

“Various stints inside, due to burglary and different forms of theft and assault. Like I say, nothing illegal linking him to O’Neil though,” Early said, looking back at Khan.

Khan didn’t hide her disappointment.

“But we do have numerous photos of Elkins together with O’Neil and Payne. And if we track back through various closed cases, we also have numerous witness statements where they are referred to as good friends,” Early continued.

“Is that it?” Khan asked, irritation back in her voice.

“We also think, he has links to some Yardie groups…” Early began.

“No, I mean, is that it in terms of connections to O’Neil?” Khan said. “Why have we even got photos of these guys together if there’s no real evidence there!”

Early didn’t have an answer, he was hoping a chart of hopeless links might be enough to put the woman off.

“What about Payne? Any pictures of Elkins with him?” Khan asked annoyed.

“Nothing. Payne might as well be another successful executive.”

“Fine, who’s the last one?”

Early drew a line across to the last photo. The final man was in his forties and had dark Latin looks.

“Who’s the Antonio Banderas look alike?” Khan said, tapping her fingers on the desk.

“Yes him—we don’t have a name for him. His photo is listed on Interpol and FBI files, in connection to the flow of drugs going in and out of Mexico; but we know almost nothing about him. He has mainly been pictured in Juarez, a city in Mexico. This leads us to believe he could be a big player in the Cocaine distribution network from Mexico into the states and Europe; or maybe he’s just a Mexican business man.”

“A big player, with no name,” Khan said shaking her head. “The link to O’Neil?”

“He was once pictured at the logistics base of O’Neil and Payne… it’s enough to pose the question…”

“So what you’re saying is that a Mexican business man was pictured at O’Neil’s and Payne’s logistics office. I’m assuming they make many legal imports form Mexico?”

“From what I remember, they import a number of products from Mexico. They have a number of contracts with some of the major grocery companies.”

“So you’re telling me that you could have some of Tesco’s senior managers up there?”

“I’m telling you that if you only wanted provable business relationships pictured up there, that O’Neil and Payne’s faces would be the only ones you saw,” Early said, putting his pen down.

“Unbelievable, in short we have nothing,” Khan said, standing up. “How can this be the case? No one’s this good! If we walked into some dodgy pub anywhere in London and asked them to name a notorious gangster, then Charlie O’Neil’s name would be the first one to be mentioned!”

“These are all potentially serious criminals; any investigation into organised crime is never easy. And if we knew more about them, well—let’s be honest—they wouldn’t be on the street, simple as that. However, the reason some of them might not have records or any firm links is because they’re good at what they do,” Early said, taking a seat in front of the board of photos. “Or maybe they’re straight now. Maybe they decided to put the dough that they made from robbing banks into something straight. Maybe all the chat you mention is just street urban legend shit.”

“No, I don’t believe that; we keep going after O'Neil, and we start some real detective work, DS Early,” Khan said, taking her raincoat off a stand in the corner of the room. “We’ll start looking around and seeing what we can find.”

“Ok, but where do we begin?” Early asked.

“The O’Neil & Payne Logistics base,” Khan said, taking a notebook out of her pocket.

Early didn’t like the idea of visiting O’Neil & Payne Logistics; he’d tried to talk Khan out of it for most the journey as subtly as he could. He shook his head, as he pulled the unmarked car up to the locked gates of the haulage company; this was a bad idea. He looked across at Khan who was transfixed on the desolate yard.

“It’s empty,” Khan said, frustrated, as if she had hoped it would be full of people packing and unpacking lorries in a busy daily operation.

The base was situated in the middle of a busy trading estate on the outskirts of West London. The yard had a small building in the centre of it with tall shelters surrounding all sides, which would easily offer protection to fifteen to twenty large lorries.

“I had heard the economy hasn’t been kind on logistics businesses,” Early said, unwinding his window and lighting a cigarette.

“I have looked at the accounts of this business, and their annual turnover is over five million. I’d like to know how they’re achieving that with an empty yard,” Khan said, still scanning the yard for some kind of clue.

“Maybe they start work really early?” DS Early said sarcastically. “Where to next?”

“Let’s pay Robert Payne a visit,” Khan said, turning away from the empty yard in disgust.

It was turning into a real waste of a day. Early hadn’t even had a coffee and it was practically lunchtime; after the wasted journey to the empty logistics hub they took a slow journey back into town in the heavy London traffic.

They had now been parked outside Payne’s house for over an hour when Early tried to make some conversation. They had earlier arrived and pressed the buzzer next to the gates of Payne’s property for a full ten minutes before deciding to decamp back to the car.

Early took some photos out of his wallet and showed them to Khan; she looked down and saw the ageing policeman with a woman of around his age and seven children surrounding them.

“That’s us and the grand-children,” Early said proudly.

“Very nice,” Khan said managing a smile.

Early could see that Khan hated talking families; this went with what he saw as the stereotype, cold career driven woman he thought she was.

“Yeah, me and the Mrs. have big plans for retirement,” Early continued, not completely sensing Khan’s disinterest. “We’ve got a little flat in the Algarve; I took an advance on the pension. That way, we can take the grand kids out there from time to time.”

“Are you planning to emigrate?” Khan said with no interest in his answer.