Train of Souls

By George G George

The story starts with Mark being imprisoned in Pentonville for fighting, there he meets Benny Stevens an old time London gangster and a couple of his friends. Mark knows he was set up be his step dad Fujita who is from Pakistan and the head of a predatory paedophile gang. His step sister Tiffany was now thirteen and as far as her dad was concerned ripe for taking, his plan was to sell her virginity then he and his gang would rape her. Marks mum had in her day been a rare beauty, but that was before she became an alcoholic and drug addict. She cares for nothing but herself and getting drugs and booze, her kids were nothing but a pain in the arse to her.
Mark saves Tiffany from her dad’s gang and in doing so he escapes down The Strand a closed down underground station. They are chased by the gang and after getting lost in the maze of old tunnels, they find a train and jump on board. This train though is no ordinary train, this one if full of ghosts or lost souls as they preferred to be called. Every soul on the train is trapped there because of a debt or something they had done in the past, to move on their debt would need clearing. He is tricked in to helping them after they let Tiffany go. The train can travel anywhere on the underground system and in anytime that the underground had been open. When Mark goes back his appearance is changed to that of the time and should he be killed he will return to the train, also any injuries he may have will disappear as well.
The first ghost he helps is Jane Allcock who is the oldest of the souls, she though turns out to be nothing like she seemed. As he goes back in time to 1888 when she died and fixes her problem, this was the time when Jack the Ripper was active and Jane was privy to something that he or anyone else never knew, she knew who the Ripper was. Jack the Ripper wasn’t who everyone thought, and they Ripper’s identity is revealed to him.
Mark helps everyone on the train to move on all except Chad Potts, he is about the same age and like Mark is a West Ham United fan. The two young men strike up an instant friendship and Mark doesn’t seem to notice or care that Chad is a ghost. Chad is the only one who Mark helps more than the rest and this as the story unfolds proves to be his best decision ever.
The train is one of many underground and over ground trains with dead people in and each has a controller, on theirs its Mary Carter who is a little bit older than Mark. Mary is from the 1920s upper class and is posher than posh, she is tall blonde and stunningly good looking a true rival for Helen of Troy. Mark helps thirteen people and is involved in both the First World War and the Second as well, he also goes to the Ball of Souls. This is a place were all the lost souls meet, he and Mary have now both realised that they love each other and have not told each other. The problem they have is that she is dead and he isn’t, still it doesn’t stop them feeling the way they do.

After helping everyone except Mary who had decided to stay and help others in the future, she takes him back to The Strand and walks him to the ticket office to say goodbye for the last time. Things though do not happen that way for them, after he’d picked the door lock to get out.
Mary and Mark confess their love for each other and as they kiss the door bursts open and they are forced out in to the open. He has no idea what will happen to Mary and expects her to shrivel up or something, and they met up with an old friend again.
Mark while in each time has sex with one or more women, he believes its okay and looks upon it as a payment for his help. He doesn’t think it will change anything in his time, how wrong can one person be. After leaving the station they head for his Nans where Tiffany is now living, while there they go through an old photo album. Mark for the first time sees a picture of his Nan and mum when they were young and makes a frightening discovery. He had slept wit

• Language: English
• Publisher: George G George
• Release date: Mar 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311763402

George G George

Born Gary Richard Hagger in the East End of London in 1958 and having a standard school education, he left school and completed a three year apprenticeship in bricklaying, after which he joined the British Army, spending three years in the Royal Green Jackets 2nd Battalion, serving with Andy McNab in Armagh, Northern Ireland in 1979. After serving his time, Gary went back to bricklaying and then started running his own small company, leaving in 2000 to become a site agent for various companies, in that time he designed and built his own skis and bindings why? "simple I could not buy what I wanted so I designed and built them myself and still use them today" and at the age of 54 he retired and started writing.

Book preview

TRAIN OF SOULS

Chapter One

The Door slammed shut and the sound of men and girls laughing woke the young 7 year old boy asleep in the locked wardrobe, he moved to see who it was. The smell of old wood, stale urine and unwashed clothes hung like a fog around him. He could only view the room through the doors key hole and watched as five men and two young girls came in. This was the first time anyone had entered the room except his stepdad Fujita.

His stepdad was a thin man with a shaven head and a thick moustache, his small rat like eyes gave him a scary look which he liked. Having only been in the UK for a few years his accent was still quite strong and his English needed a lot more work. Fujita had come to the UK from Pakistan not only looking for work, but also to escape some local families whose young girls he had abused.

Fujita was in charge of the small group and soon the young girls were drunk and taking drugs, a few minutes later the men started to rape the girls. Neither of them had a clue what was happening to them, the drink was strong just like the drugs. I’m having first go at the blonde one. Fujita stated. You do what you like; we’re gonna spit roast this one, said two of the men as they tore the clothes of the helpless girl. The abuse lasted for over an hour before all five men were satisfied; they dressed the two girls and took them away. Mark knew one girl as Jenny Grinder, she was only four years older than him and the other one looked younger.

Mark Tenner had grown into an angry, mixed up young man and had what can only be described as a very short fuse, his punch first ask questions later tactic is what got him another prison term. He was now sitting in solitary confinement and he’d only been in prison one day, not that this was his first time inside. The grey painted cell with an arched ceiling smelled the same as the last time he was banged up, the bed and table were bolted to the floor, as was the chair.

Mark closed his eyes and was taken back to when he was five and the first time he’d met his step dad Fujita. His Nan had brought him home from her house and did what she always had done; she hugged him tight and swung him around.

Hold on tight luv this is gonna be the ride of your life. She would always say.

In less than three hours of meeting Fujita he had been beaten and locked in a wardrobe, the aroma of piss, old wood and stale clothes would stay with him for years. This was the start of a lifelong love hate relationship. Mark loved to hate Fujita.

Fujita was from Pakistan and was a bully by nature; Mark at first didn’t know why his mum had taken up with him let alone marry the man. He learned years later she was an alcoholic as well as a drug addict and Fujita was fuelling her habit plus he needed a British passport and getting married gave him that. Mark never knew his dad so to him what his mum was like was normal. It was two years later when Fujita had given him another beating and locked him in a wardrobe that he found out the truth about him.

Fujita had forgotten he was still in there and had some of his sex gang around; they had brought two young girls with them who were both drunk and drugged. Mark watched through a small hole as the group of men took turns in raping the girls, one after the other.

Fujita was the head of paedophile ring that groomed not only girls they met online or found wandering the streets but they would also use their own daughters and Fujita was waiting for Tiffany to grow up so he could sell her virginity to the highest bidder and then she would be raped and abused by the gang. Mark after hearing about Fujita knew why he showered his step sister with gifts and lots of attention, while all he got was a beating and locked up.

Mark was jolted back to the reality of his situation by the sound of the food trolley’s castor wheels rattling as it was being pushed along the cell block landing. He waited by the Judas hole and moments later it was opened and a tray of warm food was passed to him, also there was a mars bar on it and that was not part of his food rations, he took the tray as a voice whispered.

Benny said thanks and will see you alright when you’re back on the wing.

Mark said nothing but could only presume Benny was the bloke in the showers being beaten up by five other inmates. Normally he would have walked away and would have done so if one of the blokes hadn’t shoved him hard in the back. Fuck off now you little shit or I’ll kick your head in, he’d said. Mark reacted instantly and started punching the man’s face, this made two of the others come and help their pal. With Benny only have having two men against him, the tide of the fight changed in his favour.

Mark was twenty-two years old and six foot tall with dirty blonde hair, he was a good looking young man, which got him a lot of attention from the girls wherever he went. This had one down side as he got a lot of grief from the men. His most striking feature was his eyes; he had one green and one blue. He weighed in at fourteen stone with the physique of a boxer and he was one of those people that you only had to show something once. Unknown to him he had a high IQ.

During one of the few times he’d spent more than a couple of months at school, he had taken the eleven plus and scored 152; a very high score. He was never told of his score or bothered about using his brain as a boy; in his mind you don’t need to be brainy to punch someone out, just tough.

Mark had been fighting all his life, taking out his anger on everyone and anyone that got in his way. The constant beatings from Fujita had turned him in to a punch first ask questions later person, since the age of seven he’d decided to become a fighter and get back at Fujita.

Back in the shower room he put the first man down and head butted the nearest, then kicked the other hard in the balls, he screamed so loud that everyone in the prison must have heard him. As the head butted man was trying to use the wash basin to steady himself, Mark smashed the man’s face heavily down into it. His face exploded as if someone had set off a blood bomb, he crumpled to the floor out cold.

He managed to give the other two a couple of kicks before the guards jumped all over him. He knew they were coming by the sound of whistles blowing and running footsteps on the metal walkway.

The guards had seen was only Mark fighting which resulted in him being the only one on a charge. One week in the solitary confinement and a month’s loss of earnings wasn’t the problem as he saw it, the problem was who had he fought and how well connected were they? If they were players, then he was in for some hard time.

Mark was no stranger to detention centres or whatever they were called; he’d been in and out of prison and borstal for most of his life. Mark had been through the rough brutal borstal regime many times and had the scars to prove it.

He knew how the system worked and how to work it. The one thing you don’t do is piss off the top dogs, because they hunt in packs and that was bad for the inmate in their sights. Too late now though he’d have to deal with it the best he could, ‘let’s face it’ he thought ‘what choice I have got.’

The week in solitary dragged, he’d spent most of the time counting the bricks that made up his cell and exercising, staying in shape would help, he knew that much. Mark was walking down the landing on A wing carrying his things, he got a few comments but not as many as he’d have expected. The comments he’d normally get were in the way of having his arse shagged or other sexual comments. Maybe his fight had given him a small standing and acted as a warning to all but the toughest not to touch him.

The two guards escorting him stopped by his new cell, he stared hard at them and they at him, ‘never yet met a good one,’ he said to himself. The cell had a pair of bunk beds fixed to the wall a wooden table which had more carvings than St Pauls Cathedral. The two chairs were identical and just as badly carved up; Benny had a photo on the wall by his bed and a shelf full of books. There was a radio playing some sixties songs, it was as sparse a cell as any Mark had been in.

Alright son how was your holiday? Benny laughed with his hand extended, Mark gripped it firmly he knew there was a lot to be learned by a man’s hand shake. Benny Stevens and thanks I owe yer, he said indicating for Mark to store his things. Mark Tenner aint it? Pulled a few strings and got you in here with me.

Marks’ stare told Benny just what he was thinking, I aint no queer son, but I figured you’d be safer with me and my lads than on your own. Mark knew who Benny Stevens was. In his day he’d been a big player, now though he was an old man, Mark guessed over sixty years old even though he could still fight, as Mark had seen.

Benny Stevens had been a top doorman and mob enforcer back in the day, these days though he was well past his best. Benny was around 5’10" tall and heavily built; his arms were as big as Popeye’s. His face was to Mark like someone’s kindly old granddad, he knew better though. Benny may have a nice friendly smile on his face but his eyes were as hard as nails. Benny had been in and out of prison all his life; to him it was like an occupation hazard. What Mark didn’t realise was that he’d now got himself mixed up in a gang war. Just what he didn’t need!

Benny was an old hand at reading people’s faces and Marks was as easy as most, he knew Mark knew him and his reputation. ‘This is a big kid and could be useful in a fight,’ he thought as it seemed that some of Benny’s old enemies could hold a grudge forever. Mark sat on the wooden chair and looked at the old man in front of him. Big bad Benny Stevens, yeah I know who you are, you know them five blokes in the showers?

The one you head butted is the son of an old enemy gang boss and some of his pals, his dad couldn’t do me on his own and nor can he. You’re a tough hard lad might be able to use yer if you’re interested?

I’m a loner, I don’t do gangs, and I deal with my own problems the only way I know how. Thanks for the offer though. Mark knew his last comment showed respect; he’d done the no respect once in prison and ended up in the hospital for three weeks. I’m guessing you aint in for stealing knickers off someone’s washing line? Benny chuckled as he handed Mark a can of coke. There’s one rule in prison that is upheld and that is you don’t ask an inmate what he’s in for, he can tell you but you don’t ask.

Benny had asked his question in such a way that it opened the door for Mark to tell him, his comment made Mark smile. He’d not smiled for so long now he was surprised he still knew how. I got a few enemies on the outside, mainly my step dad plus his friends and family and I got into a fight with three of them, and it seems I started it.

It’s a shame you don’t get on with him it must be hard work bring up someone else’s kid, I hardly knew my dad, he done a runner a few years after I was born.

Don’t fucking want to get on with him, he’s a kiddie fiddling paedophile and so is his family and friends, in fact they even use their own daughters to share around.

Benny’s face turned to stone as he looked at Mark; he then noticed Benny’s whole manner change. The problem is my sister Tiffany is 12 going on 13 and will soon be on their list. While I’m stuck in here she’s alone and I aint there to protect her. Benny took a moment to answer him and when he did it stunned Mark.

You ever thought that maybe you were set up son, I mean with you out of the way the coast is clear. Benny said. Mark had thought it was strange that the three men who had jumped him knew he could beat them in a fight; he sat quietly for a few minutes as the realisation sank in.

Tiffany was now alone and if she was attacked it would be his fault, Benny watched as the kid’s brow frowned and his hands opened and closed. If this lad hadn’t intervened, he could well have been badly beaten or worse even dead. So could he help him out as a repayment?

Benny wasn’t the big player he used to be but he was still owed some favours. Benny sat and listened as Mark told him about himself; it seemed Mark lived in Bow not far from his old stomping ground.

Tomorrow Benny had a meeting with his Lawyer, who was as straight as a cork screw, ‘let’s face it who wants a straight lawyer.’ Benny said. He sat and talked to Mark for over an hour and got the full story, So you’re on remand and go to court in a week? ‘Yeah but it’s a foregone conclusion they got a copper as a witness and I aint got no one."

How come social services aint done nothing? ‘Don’t know never asked.’ Benny took a pencil and paper then sat at the small table; he took a pair of old glasses from the drawer and went to put them on. No one knows about these and it stays that way, right? Mark shrugged his shoulders; it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Benny asked a few more questions as he made some notes on the paper.

Mark found himself liking Benny, he may have had a bad past but for all that he was an easy going bloke the sort you befriended quickly. It turned out Benny was a bigger player than Mark had realised, this could be a good thing or bad, which way this was all going to go he had no idea. The next day Benny left to meet his lawyer and was gone for some time. Mark sat and thought about what Benny had said about being set up. Mark felt he was right, there could be no other explanation for it, but how did they get the copper to back them he wondered.

His train of thought was broken by one of the inmates speaking quickly to him as he walked past his cell. Ready yourself son there’s three of ‘em coming for yer. Mark was on his feet in an instant and grabbed the bed end that Benny had shown him and slid it up the sleeve of his shirt, with this tool he was at least on par with the gang. He stepped out onto the landing and faced the men as they walked confidently towards him, at twenty feet away Mark let the bed end slip from his sleeve into his hand, he was no new comer to this sort of fighting and felt quite at ease with the situation.

The smiling men stopped instantly and all their eyes went to the green metal tool in Mark’s hand. You don’t know who I am do yer pal eh? Na didn’t think so…Wes, Wes Taylor. The smallest one said, Mark recognised him as the one he’d head butted and smashed his face into the basin. Holding his hard stare Mark smiled slightly, he knew who he was. Wes Taylor was a player, but he relied solely on his dad’s reputation. On his own he was nothing, nothing but a coward and a bully.

Wes was of medium height and build, his face must have had a few ugly sticks broken on it, and he had a fixed snarl made worse by his hair lip. His face was a face only a doting mother could love; to anyone else he was hideous.

Wes sort of smiled back and from nowhere a shank appeared in his hand, then the other two did the same. Mark never took his eyes from Wes’s. He knew they’d tell him when he was going to attack, then a loud voice bellowed from below.

Problem up there gentlemen? Shouted Mr Saints the head guard.

No problem Mr Saints. Wes called back, and as if by magic all three shanks disappeared and they turned and left, Wes called over his shoulder. See yer soon…Dead man walking. His two mates roared with laughter and Mark watched them go as the sound of their laughter decreased. Wes’s laugh reminded Mark of a pig grunting as it was eating, he’d heard one once when in a farm borstal, the thought made him smile.

Mark was reading the Sun newspaper when Benny returned; he sat on the bed facing Mark. Heard you had some visitors? ‘Just the usual council scum,’ he replied laughing. Sorry I got yer into this son; still I think you may have some good news soon. I now work for a bloke with a lot of betting shops and he’s got some top punters on his books, and I mean tops, you know like MP’s, police and more. I asked him if he could help you as a favour to me and he said he’d look into it, top man is old Potty and his old woman’s got the biggest tits you’ve ever seen. Mark looked strangely at Benny, even though he pushed him for more information he got none. Benny and Mark went to the food trolley and Wes was waiting with his crew. They moved towards them just as two men cut them off, Wes stopped, staring hard at them both.

Fuck off Elephant boy, snarled the huge one and the other slapped Benny on the back. Alright Benny hope you’ve gotten us a good room in this fine hotel of yours. He laughed. Not only the best but the bridal suite, now it was his turn to laugh. Mark meet Bob Crenshaw and Mac, don’t ask me his last name because even he don’t know it. Mark shook hands with both men and then left them to catch up; it was obvious they were friends from way back.

Bob was a huge man and known for his meanness to all but his friends, his shaven head and scarred face was enough to scare anyone. Mac was much smaller with broad shoulders and a mop of bright ginger hair with a beard to match; he was also covered from head to foot in tattoos. Both men were in the same line of work as Benny.

A little later all three came in to his cell. Mark here saved me from a kicking from that Taylor boy and his gang, the lad can handle himself Bob I’ll tell yer that for free. Bob wasn’t impressed. To him Mark was just a kid; Mac on the other hand took to him straight away.

So you are handy in a fight then son? asked Mac.

I can look after myself if that’s what you mean Mac.

Mark knew enough to know he needed to tread carefully now as these men were real players, this could be really good or really bad. The men chatted freely about football, boxing and women and then Mac asked Mark. Never thought of taking up boxing son? There’s money in that game if you can make it.

Tried it Mac and got thrown out, it seems head butts and kicking someone in the balls isn’t in the Queensbury rules. This sent all four of them into a bout of wild laughter and it was some minutes before they stopped. What about cage fighting then? That sounds right up your street. Mac asked. Mark thought for a moment then shrugged his shoulders, he’d never given it a thought but now he was giving it a lot. ‘Yes cage fighting, that was what he would do, yep that was for him.’ He thought.

Mac offered to help him, although Mac was a small stocky man he was once an accomplished wrestler. He could see that Mark was a good stand up fighter but cage fighting always goes to the ground, this is where it is normally won or lost. So his cell was cleared and he and Mac went at it, no punching was the rule and to his amazement Mark found himself on the ground and grimacing with pain in a matter of seconds.

Mac laughed at him and this only angered Mark more, he flew at Mac, he ducked and spun around and Mark was down again tapping out. How do you do it Mac? Mark asked rubbing his arm. Mac showed him in slow motion a lot of moves and Mark repeated them, he was a natural and in a few days was holding his own against Mac. On the Friday they went at it again this time no quarter was to be given, the time for holding back was gone, as Mac said. You only really learn the hard way, so he and Mark stood stripped to the waist in opposite corners of the cell facing each other.

Benny tapped a tin mug to start the match and the combatants went for each other. Mac was truly amazed at the amount Mark had learned. Each man was testing and probing for a weakness. Mac dived low at Marks legs; he countered by grabbing his head and pushing down with all his weight. Mac grunted as he hit the floor and Mark went for an arm lock, he didn’t get it but still held the advantage.

Mac tried all the moves he knew to break free but was unable to, he looked up at Mark and nodded, ‘Nice work let’s call it a day son.’ Mark let him up and Mac offered him his hand which he took, in a blur Mark was on the floor with his arm up his back. Submit son? Mac roared.

Yeah, yeah submit. You cheating bastard. Mark snarled.

Mac just laughed along with the others, ‘that was your last lesson son, never let an opponent up when he’s down, keep him there, or fucking run as fast as you can.’

Mark got up and sat on the chair rubbing his sore arm as Mac grinned at him. He knew he’d learnt a valuable lesson one he would not forget. Bob was shaking his head at the two of them, ‘what’s your problem fat boy?’ Mac said to Bob.

Fat boy is it? You ginger dwarf, have you two finished your full contact ballet lessons? What’s next, fucking hand bags at ten paces? he roared, as did Benny while Mark smiled. Mac took this insult to heart, to anyone on the outside it looked like he did. Mac and Bob had been friends for over forty years now and could say anything to each other and neither would ever take offence.

Bob was way over weight, not that it bothered him, he lived for the day and bollocks to tomorrow. Did yer fucking hear that Mark did yer? Bloody full contact ballet my arse, at least I know what shoes I’ve got on. The last time he saw his prick the Beatles were number one in the charts. Now it was his turn to laugh and he really over egged it. Mark thought it best to stay out of their little argument.

Here Benny have you shown Mark the North punch? said Bob.

No mate aint had time he has been too busy cuddling Mac on the floor.

This made everyone except Mac roar with laughter, and he sat there with his arms crossed shaking his head. Fucking wankers, piss off the lot of yer, then he burst out laughing. After they’d stopped Mark asked Bob what the North punch was, the big man leaned back and made a big thing about rubbing his chin.

Don’t supposed you’ve ever heard of George North have yer son?

Mark had heard the name somewhere sometime but when he couldn’t remember, so he shook his head. Well son George North was a living fucking legend, he was unbeatable in a fight. Right Benny?

Too fucking right the man was awesome, no fucking awesome, you had the best and then the best of the best and right on top of all them was George North, the man was Titan, a living legend.

So what’s the North punch when it’s at home? asked Mark.

Watch yer lip son, don’t ever take the piss out of George North because I won’t have it. Right? Growled Bob.

‘I meant no disrespect Bob, just asking that’s all."

Mark was savvy enough to know he’d over stepped himself; he thought he would ask Benny later when Bob and Mac had gone. The North punch is a real show stopper, that’s if you can do it right. Benny can, but me I just can’t do it. Go on Benny show him? said Bob. Benny stood up and indicated for Mark to do the same, he wasn’t sure now what he was getting himself into.

Mark started sweating for the first time; all he could see at that moment was pain and lots of it. When he was scared all his senses went into over drive and this was no exception, he could smell all the different odours on each man, he could even hear Jones radio four cells away.

Right Mark you can take a good shot to the guts can’t yer? So get ready, Mark put his hands on his head and waited. I’m goner peel you one off from the shoulder and see if you can take it." Benny said as he prepared to punch Mark in the stomach, he tensed and waited.

Benny stepped forward and drilled Mark one hard solid blow, he was forced to take a step backwards and grunted. Mark grinned at Benny, he knew he’d taken his best shot and had not gone down, ‘was that it?’ he asked cockily. A big mistake. Mark still had his hands on his head as Benny grinning whispered into his ear. No son, Benny hammered six short fast blows to Marks ribs. He cried out and went down holding his right side; his ribs were killing him as he staggered back to his feet. He felt like someone had put a jack hammer to his ribs and pulled the trigger, he couldn’t believe the speed and power Benny had generated.

What the fuck was that? Mark groaned.

That’s the North punch son, Bob said as they all laughed at him.

Mark took a few minutes to recover, then sat down on the chair and waited for the three men to stop laughing. Finished? He said. Benny ruffled his hair and Mac handed him a jar with clear fluid in it, he took it and held it to the light. Moonshine, porcine, spud whisky. Call it what you like it’s what we make and drink in here. Mac said.

Mark handed it back to him, ‘Thanks, but no thanks Mac. I don’t drink, smoke and definitely no drugs, that’s a mugs game. Mac shrugged his big shoulders and drank the lot, as did Bob and Benny. Benny can you teach me the North Punch?" asked Mark. ‘Maybe, maybe not. There’s not many that can do it, well do it right anyway.’

I bet Mark can Benny, look how fucking fast he picked up my stuff,’ Mac said as Bob commented again. What them moves you got from the Bolshoi fucking ballet?" This started another round of laughing; Mark watched the easy way these men had with one another.

Benny spent the whole weekend teaching Mark and like Mac was amazed at how quick he picked it up. The North punch was a short fast blow, the hand never travelled more than six inches but when done right it was devastating. By the Sunday evening Mark was, as Benny would remark later, as good as him if not better.

The next morning after breakfast Mark was ordered to the Governor’s office, he sat outside for over half an hour waiting before he was called in. Mark stood in front of his desk at attention, as he’d always done in borstal.

Please sit down Mr Tenner, I have had a call from the CPS today and it seems the case against you has been dropped, due to the only witness refuting their evidence. Would you know anything about that Mr Tenner?

No sir.

Really, well you seem to be one lucky man Mr Tenner, he said in a soft fatherly tone, which suddenly changed. Personally I think you’re a lying piece of shit and should our paths cross again you not find me such an accommodating person. Is that clear Mr Tenner? the last few words were almost spat out at him.

Mark just nodded, he was speechless, this meant he was a free man, ‘Benny, it had to Benny’s doing.’ He thought. Two hours later Mark was let out of the front gate of Pentonville Prison, he had a train pass and five pounds in his pocket.

Chapter Two

Mark stepped outside of the big blue gates, stopped and took a deep breath of free air and it tasted good, it was so much better than prison air. Turning right he set off down the A5203 passing the black and grey walls of Pentonville prison.

He whistled to himself as he passed The Cally pub on the left, stopping at a shop for a can of Tango then continued on. At the crossroads of Market road and Mackenzie Road he stood for a minute looking around, he was still trying to come to terms with his release. The old Victorian building, which was now a Methodist church, looked out of place against the new housing opposite.

Mark punched the air and jumped up and down for a few seconds, then realised what he was doing. He set off again down Caledonian Road towards the Caledonian underground station and home. It was then that Tiffany’s face popped in to his mind and this sent a new sense of urgency to him, Mark increased his pace.

He soon reached the old underground building; Mark took a moment to look at it in some detail. Why he liked old buildings was a mystery to him but he did, it seemed the only normal sane thing about him. The station was built of red blocks and bricks, it had five big arches and in large gold writing it read CALEDONIAN ROAD and had a separate entrance and exit.

Mark bought a single to Bow and went to the platform and waited, he checked the underground map even though he had memorised it years ago. If he hadn’t been locked in the wardrobe then he had been locked in the garden shed where on one of the walls was a map of the underground, and out of shear boredom he’d studied it.

Caledonian Road was on the Piccadilly line, so he would have to go Leicester Square on the Northern line and change at the Embankment, from there the District Line to Bow Road and home. What sort of reception awaited him he didn’t know, not that it bothered him anymore.

Fujita was no match for him alone, but if he had his family with him then that was a different matter. Not that he would have backed down from them. Just then Benny’s voice came into his head. It was some advice that this bloke George North had given him as a young man. There’s a time to fight and a time not to, Benny had made a big deal about this so Mark took note. He understood the meaning after Benny had taken a long time to explain it to him. It means sometimes you have to run, there’s no fucking shame if your way out numbered. When that happens you go back and get ‘em one at a time. Fucking savvy son? Mark nodded, he had liked Benny. It was now seven thirty in the evening and no one knew he had been let out of prison yet.

Bow road police station was on the corner of his road; over the other side were the railway arches where he’d go penny for the guy each year as a kid. That seemed so far in the past. His house was half way down Addington road. All the old large Victorian houses had gone and had been replaced with new builds. They had no style or character at all, just breeding boxes for the scumbag masses.

Mark turned down Addington Road just as a motorbike skidded to a stop next to him and he was instantly ready to fight. The rider took off his helmet and grinned at him, then put the bike on its side stand and got off. Mark Tenner, what you doing here? wanker. Mark grinned back at the rider, ‘Steve fucking no knob Johns, tosser.’ Mark replied.

Thought you were away again?

Nah I told yer Steve it’s not what you know but who you know. He laughed.

What do yer think of my bike? Not bad eh! She’ll do 140mph flat out.

Mark walked around the bike and Steve was right, the Honda was a corker, the chrome parts glistened under the lamp light. Wanna go for spin? Got a spare lid, Mark was in no rush to get home, why should he be. Yeah come on let’s go and show me what she can do. Mark said.

Mark had one hand on the strap in front of him and the other on the back rail above the seat. Steve was a thin lad and always wore a leather biker’s jacket even in the summer time; he said it made him look bigger and tougher. He and Mark had struck a friendship at infant school. Mark dealt with a bully giving him some shit and they had been firm friends ever since.

Steve opened the throttle and sent the Honda hurtling down Bow road towards Mile End, he weaved in and out of traffic like he was born to it. Mark was amazed that Steve could throw the bike around so easily with him on the back; all Steve had said was for him to lean when he did and not to sit upright. After ten minutes or so they stopped at the bottom of Addington road and Malmesbury road and Mark got off. You’re fucking mad Steve do you know that, he said laughing. I think I’ve heard that somewhere before, he replied in as serious a voice as he could before laughing loudly.

Mark was squatting down looking at the bikes engine; it was a beast of a thing when Steve said. Aint that you’re Tiffany? Mark stood up and saw Tiffany being escorted out of their house, she was flanked by four men and Fajita was leading them. Tiffany’s birthday was today she was now thirteen and she’d had her first period, this was the sign that Fajita had been waiting for.

Tiffany had long black hair down to her waist with stunning looks, the mixture of Indian and western had given her the best that both races had to offer and strangely she had blue eyes which was a rarity. Her skin was young and smooth; she had small pert breasts and a face to die for and at 5’9’’ she was tall for her age.

She was ushered into a black cab along with all four men and Fujita. As the cab pulled away Mark sprinted down the road. He watched as it turned and went right towards the city, racing into the house he looked around and found his mum.

Tina was lying on the sofa with a half full bottle of gin on the floor, she looked completely wrecked. Mark took the smouldering cigarette from her hand and stubbed it out, the place stank of booze and fags Mark hated it.

Tina had been a rare beauty in her day. His Nan had once told him she was a real head turner until she hit the drugs. Mark had never seen any pictures of her as a young girl, so had no idea what she looked like back then. Tina’s blonde hair was knotted and lined with grey; her face had more lines in it than Waterloo station. She reminded him of the witch from the Wizard of Oz, Tina was so thin now he was surprised she didn’t break in half, and the aroma she was giving off made him gag.

Mark knelt down and lifted her head to speak to her.

Mum, mum where’s Tiffany gone?

Nothing, she just laid there. Steve came in and shook his head at the scene in front of him; Mark tried again this time with more urgency.

MUM, mum wake up, where’s Tiffany gone…WAKE UP FOR FUCK SAKE, mum where’s Tiffany?

This time the loud shouting woke her and she tried to sit up, Tina fell forward and Mark caught her.

Where’s Tiffany gone mum?

She put out her hand and tried to grasp the bottle of gin. Mark pulled it away and held up for her to see, ‘Where’s Tiffany? You want this then tell me or I’ll pour it on the floor.’

Nooo its mine give it here,

Where’s Tiffany?

Marks voice was hard and he couldn’t care less about her just as she hadn’t cared less for him, Tiffany was his only concern. Tina stared hard at him, her eyes burned in to his and the hate was almost touchable.

I should have had you ripped from me before you were born, you ungrateful bastard.

The words were spat out at him and Steve couldn’t hold back from saying ‘Fucking junkie slut.’ Mark turned to him and knew he was right, he unscrewed the bottle top and started to pour a little gin on the carpet. Tina screamed and tried to grab the bottle from him, he moved it out of her reach.

Where’s Tiffany gone?

Tina started to cry and plead. If you were a good son you’d give me the bottle and not torment me she begged.

Last chance where’s Tiffany gone? and he started to pour the gin away.

Hotel Strand Continental, Fujita has some friends that are paying top money for her and then he and his gang will have her afterwards. Ha, ha, ha you’re too late, ha, ha, ha.

Mark glanced at the clock on the wall it was 8.50 pm, he stood up and turned to go and as he got to the door Tina shouted. Give me my bottle you bastard, Mark spun and hurled it at her. The bottle smashed into her face with such force it broke her nose and split her lips and the blood flooded across her face. Tina took no notice of her injuries and downed what was left in the bottle in one, then laid back and passed out. Mark watched for a moment as the blood ran down her face and on to the dirty sofa, then he went outside to Steve.

Where the fuck’s the Hotel Strand Continental? Mark said despairingly.

It’s on the Strand, the clues in the name. he said. Mark threw him a stare and Steve knew his joke was in bad taste. Sorry mate it just slipped out, he said apologetically to Mark. I can drive you there if you want me to and it’ll be quicker than that cab on this baby.

How do you know where it is? What are you some kind of walking fucking street map?

Nah doing the knowledge for me cab licence aint I, jump on let’s get going.

They roared off and the Honda flew along as they weaved in and out of traffic, Steve shot down the A11 to Tower Bridge and then on to the Embankment. He had two way radios in the helmets and was giving Mark a running commentary as they went, not that he was really listening. The bike suddenly banked hard right on to Lancaster Place and then another hard right brought them on to the Strand.

Steve stopped the bike fifty yards back just as the cab with Tiffany in pulled up, Mark dismounted and was about to remove his helmet when Steve stopped him. Keep it on mate there’s cameras everywhere and that bastard won’t recognise you either.

‘Thanks but what about you? There’ll know who it is by the bikes registration.’

No chance it aint mine I, I sort of borrowed it for a while. I’m gonna return it though.

Mark shook his head as he headed for the group of men with Tiffany; they were talking to a man outside the Hotel. The man was making a bad job of trying not to be seen talking to Fujita, he spun the post card rack around at the shop next to the small entrance. Mark had picked up a Pizza box from the bin outside the Pizza Express shop and walked towards them like a delivery boy. The group glanced at him as he approached then carried on talking, Mark stopped by the nearest one and said. Pizza for Mr Fujita?

He had his right fist clenched under the pizza box as he slowly opened it; Fujita looked surprised but not alarmed. A big mistake on his part. Fujita looked at the empty box for a moment then turned to one of his gang and was about to say something when Mark struck.

The box and his fist hit Fujita square in