The Last London Gangster

By Sidney Wright

Mickey Walker is a notorious and well respected drug smuggler and business man living in London.

After returning home from prison after serving 7 years for smuggling marijuana his life is thrown straight back into the sinister and deceit of London’s criminal underworld.

Mickey has plans to up the ante and smuggle large amounts of cocaine into the UK via his own plane that he keeps in an unused private airfield in Essex.

But with Detective Frampton and the Russian Mafia closely on his trail will Mickey succeed or will this be his final downfall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483564234

Book preview

downfall.

CHAPTER 1

A brand new navy blue and silver Rolls Royce slowly made its way down Caledonian Road towards Kings Cross station. The car then swiftly crossed the junction with the Euston Road before pulling up sedately opposite the grand terminus. Jack King, the driver, was thirty four years old, dark haired, olive skinned, immaculately dressed and had all the appearance of a Wall Street stockbroker. He casually looked across at the mass of people exiting the station and saw the guy he was looking for. His name was Jimmy Walker.

He was standing alone by the bus stop, waiting to be picked up. Jack tooted the horn and lowered the window of the Rolls, he was just about to call out when the tall, slim wiry young man looked up, saw the car then started to make his way across the busy six lanes of the Euston Road. The noise of the traffic buzzed in his ears so Jack pressed the button and watched the window slowly close up to shut out the din.

The good looking young man, six foot tall, well dressed in an expensive suit and Charles Church shoes, walked swiftly over and climbed into the car. He was twenty five years old, had fair hair and hazel eyes, a trademark of the Walker family, and looked a bit like a young late sixties dressed Steve McQueen. He settled himself into the plush leather and walnut surroundings of the Rolls and looked round at Jack.

What time do you call this Jack? I’ve been standing there like a plum for twenty minutes. Where the hell have you been? It’s not like you to be late. Do you know I’ve been propositioned three times already this morning? Two brasses and an Alan Carr look alike. How’s your luck?

Jack laughed as he steered the Rolls out into the traffic.

It must be your good looks Jimmy. Who knows, if you stuck around a while longer you might have even got a freebie. Anyway, I told you to be here between eight and half past so I’m bang on time. I’m gonna have to get you a new watch mate. Any more lip out of you and I’ll put you on the bus you cheeky fuck.

Jimmy looked across at his friend and shook his head.

Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty Jack.

Jack smiled and turned his attention away from his friend and on the road ahead. Although Jimmy was nine years younger than him, they were close. Jimmy was the nephew of the man they were going to pick up from Wormwood Scrubs, his name was Mickey Walker and he’d just served eight years out of an eight year sentence. He’d done the full quota not because he’d been in trouble and lost remission, but simply because he wouldn’t accept any license conditions put down by both the police and the parole board.

In England, in the late nineties, if you received eight years then you served two thirds which worked out to five and a half, the remaining two years six months were served on license at home

Which is all well and good until your probation officer or the police suddenly decide that your behavior has fallen below the required standard or maybe that you are mixing in bad company. The consequence of either of these two minor infringements is to be recalled to gaol immediately.

There was no way that Mickey would get through that license period without a recall and despite protests from his family and friends he stuck it out for the full eight years and for the last four Mickey had refused all visits from anyone except Jack King. He had virtually cut himself off from the outside world, it took a lot of guts to do that and it hadn’t gone unnoticed, by both his friends and the police but that was just the way he wanted it. So he could have got out in two thousand and three but there he was, still incarcerated in two thousand and six.

Jimmy reached over and switched on the air conditioning.

So how do you think he’s gonna be

Jack nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders as he waved a car across the junction of Grays Inn Road.

He’ll be fine, don’t worry. Though I have to say he’s bound to have changed a bit. Eight years is a long time kid, but a pound to a penny he’s still the same guy deep inside, I should know I talked to him enough on the mobile. All he’s got to do is just take his time and gradually come out of himself. Prison is not that bad really, it doesn’t change the essence of a man’s character it just kind of suppresses you, it’s no big deal. He’s just got to get used to wide open spaces and crowds of people again.

Jimmy sat back in his seat and regarded his friend in mock awe.

Wow, listen to the big psychologist sitting next to me here. How come you know so much? You’ve never ever been to gaol.

Jack had one eye on his friend and the other on the slow moving traffic.

Listen kid, I’ve never been to Antarctica but I know its fucking cold there. Anyway what’s with the sarcasm, it’s just common sense. Didn’t you ever go to school Jimmy?

Jimmy shook his head and smiled slowly.

No, but I burgled one once.

Jack laughed as the car slowly made its way past Regents Park and on to the Marylebone Road. He pointed out of the window screen

Who the fuck is this clown in front?

The vehicle ahead of them stalled in the traffic. Jack pulled past it and as he did he pressed the window down and shouted at the driver.

Hey you ever thought about getting a driving license pal.

A man looked out of the driver’s window, stuck two fingers up at him and told him to fuck off.

Jack smiled as he put his foot down and proceeded to head west towards Paddington and the Westway which would take them out to East Acton and H.M.P. Wormwood Scrubs.

I know Mickey’s my uncle, Jack, but the truth is I hardly know him. I mean I was only sixteen when he got gaoled so all I really remember is him coming round to see my dad and the pair of them disappearing into the living room to talk business all the time. Mickey would pat me on the head on his way out, ask me how school was going and bung me a tenner so I never really spoke to him that much and, as you know, he wouldn’t let me visit him either.

Jack slowly shook his head and smiled at his young friend.

Well of course you didn’t talk to him much, you were fifteen years old for fuck sake. What the hell was he gonna talk to you about? The new games on the PlayStation you got for Christmas or the girls you’d been reefing up behind the bike shed? Smarten up kid, and look, as far as visits were concerned, he told me that he never blanked any of you by choice, only out of necessity.

Jack looked across at him as they pulled slowly past the front of Madame Tussauds where the daily queues had already began to stretch out along the busy pavement. The traffic was slow and a light drizzle started the automatic wipers off as they made steady progress towards the elevated Westway. Jimmy sat back, folded his arms and stretched his legs out.

What do you mean necessity? And how come he was prepared to let you go see him and you’re not even family?

Jack shrugged as he pulled away from the traffic lights.

What he meant was that it was important to him that you didn’t see him in a degrading, vulnerable situation.

Jack sensed the younger man’s hurt and held up his hand.

His words, not mine. Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t shoot the messenger kid. Let me tell you, the reason why he let me visit was precisely because I wasn’t family.

Jimmy looked down at the floor.

I know that you’re as much family to Mickey as any of us Jack. In fact more so than most, I didn’t mean to say that.

Jack spoke as he weaved between the heavy traffic.

Listen Jimmy, although I’m not a blood relative, I’m like a brother to Mickey and you know it. I’ve been with him since we were kids and he’s the best man I ever knew, it’s as simple as that.

Jimmy looked up slowly.

Well how come you never talk about him? And why is it that you never tell me the things that you, him and Eric got up to when you were growing up. Don’t think that I don’t hear the gossip Jack.

Jack glanced at Jimmy and then turned his attention back to the busy road.

You wanna know why? It’s because Mickey told me not to, O.K.? He didn’t want you to admire some of the things he did, I mean the ones that got him into trouble and worse. Fuck me, if he knew exactly what you’ve been up to whiles he’s been away he’d soon change his tune. You’ve got to remember kid, that since your old man died he sees himself as more of a father figure than an uncle and considers it his duty to put you on the right line.

Jimmy looked away and gazed vacantly out of the side window at the hundreds of pedestrians scurrying off to work.

A noble fucking gesture but I’m not a kid anymore Jack, so do me a favor and don’t treat me like one.

Jack shook his head and pointed with his free hand.

I don’t treat you like one and you know it. It’s just that when Mickey went away you were a boy and he still thinks of you that way. Just give him a day or two to get used to the grown up version of you and everything will be fine. Anyway, what the hell’s got into you this morning? What are you on? That fucking juice or something? You’ve been spending a lot of time with those doormen at the club, tough guy, and I’ve noticed that you’ve put on a few pounds. Or is it you’re a bit on edge about the release of the Guvnor? Lighten up a bit, kid, I don’t want a heavy atmosphere in the motor when we pick Mickey up.

Jimmy sat back in his seat and glared at Jack.

There you go again Jack, Mickey this Mickey that. Don’t you get fed up with it sometimes?

Jack tapped on the steering wheel with the diamond solitaire on the little finger of his left hand.

It is what it is. Listen and inwardly fucking digest, Jimmy, without Mickey you’d probably be working on a building site and driving a Ford Sierra right now. Everything we got is mainly down to him and don’t you forget it. You’re twenty five years old and on a couple grand a week, and for what? Security manager? That’s a fucking laugh. You turn up at the club when you want and keep an eye on a half of a dozen doormen for ten minutes at a time and then spend the rest of the night either partying or banging chicks in the office. You got it made kid, so do me a favor and stop moaning.

Jimmy smiled and turned slowly back to the window.

There’s a bit more to me than that Jack and you know it.

Jack gave him a sideways glance.

Yeah, and don’t I fucking know it.

Jimmy leant forward and spoke as he straightened his tie in the vanity mirror. He had the looks of a film star and the icy demeanor of a stone cold assassin when he wanted to, thought Jack.

Everybody knows that Mickey was an ace smuggler Jack, it’s no big secret for Christ’s sake. It was all in the papers. I was only a teenager at the time but I could read you know. So how come you never talk about it?

Jack pulled the Rolls into the inside lane and swiftly closed the gap on the car in front.

Look Jimmy, now Mickey’s coming out you’re going to find out about all this anyway so I’ll keep it simple. Mickey was a shit hot pilot, as we all know. That guy could bring a plane down on a fucking postage stamp, load it and be back in the air in ninety seconds, trust me I’ve been there when he’s done it. He loved planes even when we were kids, what boy didn’t? The difference with Mickey is that he did something about it. As soon as he was sixteen he joined the A.T.C. and the government paid for his wings, something they would come to regret if I’m any judge. Anyway he had a pilot’s license by the time he was seventeen, a rare thing in those days. You know all this shit so why ask me? Why do we have to go thru’ it all again?

Jimmy looked across at him sharply.

Because you’ve only told me bits and pieces, that’s why.

Jack pulled up at the set of lights where Baker Street meets the Marylebone Road and decided to let Jimmy into a few company secrets.

Anyway, any chance he got he was up at North Weald spending his money flying. We thought he was nuts but deep inside I think he knew what he was going to do all along. All he needed was the right contacts and his own plane.

Jimmy looked curious.

Well, how did that come about?

Jack accelerated away from the junction and made rapid progress on to the next set of traffic lights. He pulled up at the Edgware Road intersection and swore under his breath as he pointed accusingly at the dense traffic ahead of him.

Do you know that in about two years’ time the motor car will be rendered totally fucking useless in London. I already have to pay that bloody congestion charge every time I want to go down to Leicester Square for a steak burger at Ronnie’s. I used to moan at the five pound price tag now it cost me a tenner a time, I think I’ll stick to the company cars in future. Thank fuck we got an address inside the zone otherwise we’d go bankrupt.

Jimmy waved a hand in front of Jack’s face.

Hello Jack, are you listening to me? Is there anybody there?

Jack pushed his hand away and tried to concentrate on the road ahead.

Don’t fuck about kid. I’m trying to drive here.

Jack tried to shake him off but Jimmy was insistent.

Why is it that every time we get to something of interest about Mickey, you go off on a completely different tangent?

Jack raised his eyebrows.

Tangent ay? We are getting posh. What did you do kid, go to the doctors and leaf through a reader’s digest while you were waiting to see if you got a dose or not.

Jimmy nodded and viewed Jack with suspicion.

Once again Jack, anything to avoid the fucking subject, you make a fucking joke out of everything just to fob me off all the time. And by the way it wasn’t reader’s digest it was the Sunday Times supplement and the test came back negative, thank fuck.

Jack laughed and tooted his horn at a pedestrian who was crossing the road between the slow moving traffic.

Come on Jack, what happened next? You’ve started so you may as well finish.

Jack looked at him out the corner of his eye.

What’s this all of a sudden? Mastermind!

Jimmy refused to give up and pressed him further.

Yeah, and you’re the guy in the big black chair, so start talking.

Jack smiled slowly as he pulled up at a pedestrian crossing and looked on as a crowd of school children made their safely over the other side of the road.

Well I suppose you’re gonna find out eventually. Just don’t tell Mickey that it was me who told you. Got it, kid?

Jimmy waved his hand dismissively.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it, but I think that Mickey would have the brains to work out where I got the information from, don’t you Jack?

Jack gave up being evasive as he knew that with Mickey coming out of gaol the kid would get to know everything anyway. He tried to keep it as brief as possible.

Well, it’s all pretty simple really. Mickey used to hire a plane from a flying club and tell the owner he was going down to Kent or somewhere and he did but also started to creep across the channel. On one of these little trips he found an old abandoned world war two airfield in the middle of some woods somewhere between Calais and Lille, he never did tell anyone exactly where. I went there with him a couple of times but after we crossed the water I was fucking lost so I didn’t have a clue where it was on the map. Anyway he landed there a few times, no one either saw or took any notice of him and he liked the feel of the place. It was miles from anywhere and had prospects, those were his exact words

Jimmy sat back fascinated and listened closely to every word.

As you may or may not know kid, when you make a flight into a foreign country you have to log a flight plan at Heathrow. Do it often enough and you’ll have customs and police crawling all over you. Well, Mickey found a way past all the paper work and their radar and spotter planes and could make it in and out of France without anybody knowing. This was about nineteen ninety three, ninety four and cannabis was making twenty two hundred pounds a kilo but coming straight up from Spain into France Mickey could get it on the ground there for around twelve hundred. "Now

The car in front pulled up quickly and Jack had to take evasive action, he swerved the Rolls round it with ease then pulled up at a set of traffic lights. He looked slowly across at Jimmy and went on.

He moved a hundred kilo’s a time and we made a fortune, you do the math kid. Eric, myself and Bobby shifted the lot in and around London and it sold like hot cakes. People couldn’t get enough of it, it was good dope straight from the Atlas Mountains and it beat the hell out of that soap bar shit that was knocking around at the time. To bump the price up we used to soak it in Lambs Navy Rum for a day, then we’d dry it out and sell it on as Red Lebanese. The Rum gave a special aroma and the punters loved it. That method put another two hundred pound a kilo, a smile on everyone’s face and fucked our competitors wholesale in the process.

Jimmy looked at Jack and smiled.

And whose idea was it to soak it in Rum?

Who do you think?

Jimmy smiled knowingly and shook his head.

Yours?

Give that man a cigar.

Jack indicated then pulled the Rolls into the outside lane where he checked his rear view mirror and then continued.

Mickey bought his own plane in the first month and registered it in a company that I set up for us, you know the type that’s all nominee directors and brass plates that don’t mean shit. In eight months we made our first million, it was beautiful. We were twenty three years old and we had cracked it, you don’t know how good that felt kid.

Jimmy smiled knowingly as he looked across the front of the car at his friend.

I might not know exactly how it felt but I’ve got a pretty good imagination Jack.

It was something that we always spoke about as kids and now it was all starting to come true, we were walking on air. The biggest problem we had though was not earning enough money, but safely washing it up. Anyway, I soon found out how to take care of that.

Jack smiled in a way that he always did when he’d found out the solution to a financial problem.

We bought the club in Soho plus a few shops and commercial properties and I kept Mickey out of the picture on paper in case it all went pear shaped. Everything was based in a company I put together for us in the Canaries and that’s how we have our own set up. We have an English company that pays all the wages and acts as a consultancy but it’s all financed by the one overseas. All my years at business school were put to good use and we ran rings round the authorities. You always know when you’ve done a good job kid when your actions bring about a charge in legislation and that’s exactly what mine did. We fucked them, wholesale.

Jack shrugged his shoulders and spoke as if it was all so simple.

Mickey’s security as the founder of the whole thing lies in the mother company in the Canaries. I own twenty five percent and so did Eric up until recently, the other fifty percent is Mickey’s. Your great uncle is a non-shareholding director and with his overseas status he ties up a lot of loose ends for us. This may sound complicated and beyond reach of a twenty six year old, which was how old Mickey was when he got lifted, but believe me kid, I was taught by the best and Mickey was one of the fastest learners I ever knew. Not that it really mattered as I mainly took care if the business end of things and Mickey would trust me with his life.

Jimmy looked over at Jack with respect.

Fuck me Jack that’s a great story. You could easily write a book with all that shit.

Jack put his foot down and overtook several cars in the matter of seconds. He gave Jimmy a sideways glance and pointed with his index finger.

That’s only the fucking half of it. Listen Jimmy that story stays in this car, you got it? Don’t mention any if this to Mickey and especially not your great uncle Bobby. Once Mickey knows some of the things you’ve done for us he’ll probably tell you this and more but for the minute don’t say anything, understood?

Jimmy turned his head sideways and looked casually out if the window.

Yeah, I understand. But what are you so worried about? Mickey’s done the time for it. What’s the big deal?

Jack looked across the road at a police car swiftly making its way through the traffic in the opposite direction. Its blue lights were flashing and the siren wailing as it cut a swathe through the early morning traffic. He looked over at the driver who was waving his arm frantically, signaling for the cars in front of him to move out of the way, then turned his attention back to their conversation.

"The big deal kid, is that the Court somehow or another accepted that it was Mickey’s first run, they didn’t believe it for one fucking minute but as they couldn’t prove otherwise, they had to take a pill and go with just what evidence they had. Anyway, without any flight plans lodged there was no way they could say for sure how many runs he made. They found very little cash and no bank accounts, however because of what they called the sophistication of the operation it was trousers down for Mickey and the judge smacked his arse with an eight, which turned out to be bad news for all of us. Wed lost our main source of income and our leader but on the plus side no hidden assets were ever found or even pursued by the courts.

That’s why we’ve all been so quiet over the years. Understand?"

Jimmy sat back in his seat and nodded.

Yes, all understood and inwardly fucking digested. If you’d told me all this when I asked you the first time, I wouldn’t have kept pressing you about it. What was it, did you think you couldn’t trust me or something?

The traffic started to break up and the Rolls moved swiftly on to the Westway flyover. The acceleration for such a big motor was astonishing and within seconds they were cruising at sixty mph in total silence.

Jack turned and looked at Jimmy in earnest.

It was never a question of trust, Kid, it was all on a need to know basis. Do you honestly think it would have been wise to make a twenty year old aware of all this? The only reason I’m telling you now is that in the last year or so I’ve seen you grow up and you’re now part of the firm. Your whole life is around what we do, you have no friends outside the business and that’s what I was always looking for in you. I knew that you were something special ever since you were a kid, but if you were gifted but cursed with a big mouth then you’d have been no use to anyone, least of all us. That thing you did for us at the Angel has changed you. You can’t do something of that magnitude without it showing in you to a certain degree but the main thing is you kept your mouth shut and gave nothing away with your body language

Jimmy looked out of the window absent mindedly at the rooftops below the flyover.

Thanks for the character analysis Jack.

Jack shrugged his shoulders and signed.

You can laugh Kid, but I’ve seen it, I just don’t want others to. You’re a natural born predator and its starting to show. You’re going to have to learn to disguise what you are, that’s the essence of being successful in your line of work. It’s no good people knowing what you are and you feeding off their sense of awe, you have to be a chameleon in this day and age, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Just carry on acting the fool and playing the comedian for the time being, anyway it suits you. Fuck knows what Mickey’s going to say when I tell him about your little exploits, he’s got to be told you know.

Jimmy nodded slowly and looked across the front of the car at his best friend.

Yeah I know, I’m ready for it. When are you going to mention it?

Jack stared at the road ahead and thought for a moment.

I’ll pick the right moment, don’t worry.

How do you think he’ll take it Jack?

Jack looked pensive and sat back slowly in his seat.

That’s a good question. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Jimmy scratched his head and looked out of the side window.

Do you think he’ll want to get rid of me?

Jack threw his head back and laughed.

Don’t be fucking stupid. He loves you and even if he is angry at first when he finds out how good you are at what you do, he’ll be pleased, however the chances are that he’ll never let you know that.

Jack pulled the Rolls into the fast lane, glanced sideways at his young friend and smiled.

In many ways you remind me of Mickey more than you do your own father. On the surface of it you’re a nice polite young man, but inside you’re as hard as iron and twice as cold. Your dad was a great fella but it has to be said he was reckless, he didn’t give a fuck for anyone or even himself for that matter and he was always gonna die young, Jimmy.

Jimmy momentarily appeared distant and looked vacantly out of the side window.

I know that, Jack, even he knew it, I heard him say so himself. Anyway he’s gone now and nothing can change that.

Jack nodded in agreement.

That’s a hard outlook Kid, but it’s the right one. I’ll tell you one thing Jimmy, he might not have been able to think or fight like Mickey but trust me, he was the bravest man I ever knew. I saw him get pasted one night by this fucking giant of a doorman and he kept on getting up and swinging at the guy, no matter how much punishment he took he just kept getting back up. He insisted that none of us join in, Mickey wanted to hammer the bastard but your old man was having none of it. I mean, how the fuck could he let his younger brother fight his battles? He had too much pride for that. In the end this fuck just gave up, he was exhausted, he couldn’t breathe and your old man got up off the floor and finished him off.

Jack suddenly looked serious and glanced across at Jimmy.

Your dad lost three teeth, had two broken ribs and suffered a fractured jaw that night. He spent the next five days in bed before he could get up and walk about. I went to see him the day after the fight and he had a head like a football, it was swollen to fuck, and what did he do? He just looked up at me through virtually closed eyes from his pillow and laughed. He was a fucking nutcase, no one teaches you that kind of bravery it’s something you either got or you haven’t and your families got it in spades. Don’t ask me where it comes from, that’s just the way it is Kid, so get used to it. This is our road.

Jack edged the Rolls off the Westway and down the Acton turn off.

How good was Mickey in a fight Jack?

Jack indicated right and pulled up behind the car in front.

A different fucking league Kid. Just take my word for it.

They circled a mini roundabout under the Westway flyover and turned left into Du Cane Road, but instead of heading straight to the prison Jack pulled the Rolls into the kerb and took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. He pressed the auto dial button and waited for a reply.

Tony? It’s Jack. What you got for me?

Private investigator Tony Palmer was on the other end of the line.

Listen Jack, I’ve been here since eight just like you told me and you were right. I’ve seen two cars park up and their definitely from the Met. There’s a Passat and a Mondeo and both of them without dealer logos on the number plates. If these guys are undercover they’re fucking idiots, they may as well have stuck blue lamps on their heads and decorated their cars with crime scene stickers. I’ve managed to get photos of all the four cops in them and I think one of them is Frampton. I’ll download them to you back at the office later.

Jack nodded slowly and thought for a moment.

Good work Tony, but do me a favor, next time let me decide who they are and whether they’re idiots or not will you? You just do as you are told and give me what I asked for, understood?

Understood Jack. I’ll email the photos to your office as soon as I get back.

Jack shook his head and looked up at the calf skin headlining.

No you won’t. You’ll send them to me when I tell you to, I don’t want anything coming through that computer unless I’m there, got it?

Got it Jack.

Jack hung up, looked out the window for any oncoming traffic and pulled away.

We’ll do a drive by Jimmy, keep an eye on your side of the road and I’ll watch mine. Look out for a parked Passat or a Mondeo both with cops in them.

Jack drove the Rolls down Du Cane Road past Hammersmith hospital and slowed down slightly as he reached the main gate of Wormwood Scrubs Prison. The Scrubs was a large Victorian gaol with five one hundred metre long four story wings complete with huge turrets and surrounded by a twenty five foot wall. It looked a grim place, even on a sunny day.

Jimmy pointed over to a long row of cars.

There’s the Passat Jack, complete with the Chuckle brothers up front.

Jack was busy looking out of his side.

I got it. Now where the fuck is the Mondeo?

Jimmy pointed over to a car no more than thirty yards away.

Over there, but it looks empty.

Jack nodded as they pulled slowly by.

That’s the one though. Take a look at the number plates, there’s no dealer logo.

Jack moved on to the end of the road, swung the Rolls around in a complete circle and went back the way he came. He passed the gates once more and then parked outside the hospital. Jimmy looked over at the entrance.

What time will they let him out Jack?

Jack stared over at the gate and shrugged.

What am I all of a sudden? a fucking clairvoyant.

Jimmy smiled as he let down the window.

Come on stop screwing around will you? What time did he say to turn up?

Jack looked down at his watch.

Its O.K. we’re early, he told me to be here by nine o’clock. What I didn’t want to do was get here with Mickey left waiting by the gate looking like the forgotten man holding nothing but a brown paper bag and a pair of prison plimsolls.

Jimmy threw his head back and laughed at the image conjured up by his friend. Jack ignore him and took on a serious note.

Now remember Kid, as soon as we start to see that electric gate move back, we exit the car and walk over there. Understood?

Jimmy sat back in his seat and looked across the front of the car at his friend.

You have to fucking stage manage everything don’t you? You’re worse than Andrew Lloyd fucking Webber sometimes Jack. But what about the Law? Does it matter that they see us picking him up?

Jack looked back at him surprised.

Why the fuck should it?

Then why get Tony to stake the place out?

Jack smiled knowingly as he watched an ambulance turn slowly into Hammersmith hospital.

Always know your enemy Kid. I just had a feeling that Frampton would want to have a look at Mickey and it seems like I was right. He was the cop that nicked him all those years ago.

Jimmy nodded.

Even I know that. I heard it got a bit personal or something. Is that right?

Jack held up his hand.

Just leave it at the or something for now, Kid.

Jack checked his watch, looked over at the gaol and then tapped impatiently on the steering wheel.

CHAPTER 2

Across the road and about ten cars down from them was the Passat. Inside the car sat two men, one a Detective Inspector and the other, the driver, a Detective Constable.

I do wish that you would cheer up a bit Jones, you’ve got a face as long as a fucking milk round this morning. What the hells the matter with you?

Jones stared straight ahead from the driver’s seat and groaned.

I just can’t see why we have to sit here all morning waiting to see a con come out of gaol, boss.

The man sitting next to him turned his head and slowly looked him up and down.

Oh you can’t can you? Well, that’s one of the reasons why I’m Detective Inspector and you’re just a Detective Constable, Jones.

He was forty years old and had short dark hair with rugged good looks and was both stocky and fit looking. He was what was known as a face in the Met. A shrewd cop and a guy who could more than stand up for himself. In short he was a dangerous man and he made sure that both villains and his colleagues were well aware of that.

Many of the cops in the Met were tough guys when there were ten of them kicking a suspects door in or on an armed response team cruising the streets in a tuned up BMW but off duty they were nothing. They’d run for their lives if they ever came face to face with a real villain, especially one who was hell bent on revenge but Les Frampton wasn’t like that. He’d dished out a good hiding to more than one rogue who’d made the stupid mistake of confronting him when he was off duty and his colleagues both respected and feared him for that.

Legend had it that, a few years ago, there was a chief inspector in the yard who wouldn’t get off Frampton’s back and made life extremely awkward for him. At the annual Christmas party he was found unconscious in the toilets having been badly knocked out. He never fully recovered from this savage assault and was eventually pensioned off the force. Everybody knew it was Frampton who did it but it couldn’t ever be proved and besides, this D.C.I. was never well liked either by his men or his superiors so most of them were glad to see the back of him. The bosses at the yard cut Frampton a bit of slack and let him loose amongst the villains of London and he did a good job of rounding them up.

There was plenty of suspicion back at the yard that he was a greedy man and took money under the table, around the table and on one particular occasion reputedly took the whole table but there was never any evidence to support that and certainly not enough to warrant a court case or dismissal from the force.

He wasn’t stupid enough to show any of his ill-gotten gains and not many of his victims had the guts to swear anything against him, so any corruption allegations made against him always seemed to fall on stony ground and he never showed that he had money. The villains he nicked were often big mouthed and captured because they would drive around in flash cats or spend fifteen hundred pounds on a bottle of champagne without showing so much as a penny paid in income tax, so he was hardly likely to make the same mistake himself.

Everything he skimmed off the top went into his Spanish account that nobody else knew about but himself. He hadn’t even told his wife about it, in fact his wife probably would have been the last person he would have told.

The man sitting next to him was D.C. Jones, an amiable young cop who stood at six feet four and weighed eighteen stone. He had dark curly hair a broken nose and the look of a gypsy prize fighter about him. Frampton used him as his sidekick for he wasn’t completely stupid and yet he wasn’t really clever enough to be deceitful. He looked up to Frampton and appreciated the leg-up he’d been given by his senior officer.

Frampton tapped his knee with his pen and looked out at the passing traffic as he pontificated.

The way to look at this Jones, is as a reconnaissance, a re-acquaintance if you like. I’ve not seen Walker for eight years and people change in such a long period of time. The system could have either famished or nourished him and believe me I only have to take one quick glance to find out which. So look and learn my son.

Jones seemed uninterested and looked casually at his watch.

If you say so guv.

Frampton nodded slowly.

I do say so. Ten years ago when I nicked him, I was just an acting D.S. on the Regional Crime Squad, but now I’m D.I with S.O.C.A. with, in the appropriate circumstance, a license to kill. Big difference Jones. The world has changed and we’ve all had to change with it. Today, police officers like you and I are here to make Regan and Carter from the Sweeney look like Mel and Sue from the Great British Bake Off.

Jones laughed and shook his head as he looked over towards the prison walls. Frampton raised his hand in a cautionary gesture.

It’s not funny Jones. I picked you to work with me for two reasons lad, one, because you look the part and two because I knew you were the type of cop that would always come round to my way of thinking. The fact that you’re a lot better at asking questions than you are at answering them, is neither here nor there because you are here solely to watch my back, keep me company and learn the business.

Jones glanced casually over at the gates of the prison.

So you keep telling me, guv, but I’ve never seen you come to gaol to watch the release of a con before, so what’s unique about this fella?

Frampton looked at him out the corner of his eye then sat back and folded his arms.

He’s not unique, to me he’s just another criminal but, if he’s anything like he was before he went away, he’s to be watched Jones. People like Mickey Walker have a nasty habit of getting on in this world and its coppers like us who are here to make sure they don’t. Anyway, he made some nasty allegations against me many years ago and I have a long memory. As you may or may not know Jones, an elephant might be considered an amnesiac compared to me and if it turns out he’s back grafting on my manor then he either pays the piper or goes back in the shovel. Even you can grasp that, can’t you lad?

Jones looked over slowly at his boss.

I’m not an idiot guv.

Frampton looked sideways and regarded his colleague with contempt.

You are what I say you are Jones. If I didn’t give you a leg up when I did you’d still be sitting on the side of the A40 nursing a speed camera and a bacon sandwich and don’t you forget it.

Jones sat back in his seat and folded his arms defensively.

How can I guv? With you here to remind me all the time.

Frampton pulled up his sleeve and looked impatiently down at his watch.

Someone has to Jones. Now where the hell is Walker? Its nine o’clock, he should be out by now. What the hell’s going on? The prison system is at bursting point, you’d think that they would be throwing them out early not hanging on to the bastards till the very last minute.

Frampton and Jones looked over at the prison gate completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

CHAPTER 3

In the reception of Wormwood Scrubs stood five men, two looked like drug addicts who had just done short sentences, two more appeared to be regular criminals dressed in tracksuits and trainers and the fifth guy was wearing an expensive sharp cut suit, shirt and tie, Gucci shoes and an Omega Pilots watch.

He was six feet tall, stocky with thick dark hair on the top of his head and sharply shaven at the sides and looked for all the world like a young Jack Dempsey. He was good looking and visibly powerful, but there seemed to be no menace in him. He looked calm, almost serene.

He stood apart from the other prisoners and completely ignored them. He looked relaxed and showed no signs of anxiety despite the fact that he was being released into a world that he hadn’t seen for eight years. He glanced down slowly at his watch, it had just turned nine. He heard keys turn in the lock and a moment later a prison officer poked his head around the door.

Walker, could you come this way please?

Mickey Walker looked over at him nonchalantly.

Are you talking to me Turnball? If you are, it’s Mister Walker to you. I’m a free man now.

The other cons all laughed as Turnball stuttered and looked down at the floor.

O.K. Mr Walker would you kindly step this way please? Mr. Coates would like a word with you before you go.

Mickey walked over to him.

That’s better and said without the slightest trace of sarcasm, Turnball.

They left the lock up and made their way down the long corridor to an office by the reception exit. A senior officer looked up from his desk and gestured towards an empty chair.

Take a seat Mickey.

Mickey nodded.

What you got in mind Coates? A pre-release pep talk?

Coates smiled and leant back as he viewed his prisoner.

Easy Mickey, it’s got nothing to do with that and you know it. I wouldn’t insult one such as you with all that bullshit. No, what I want to know is if our little arrangement is all set to continue?

Mickey took the seat, crossed his legs and looked across the desk at the prison officer.

You leave it till I’m at the gate to bring this up? What the hells the matter with you Coates? Is this some kind of half-baked sting or something? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Mickey got up and signaled for Coates to do the same. He walked swiftly behind the desk and rubbed him down. He then checked the drawers of the desk and the bookshelf behind them. Coates looked completely surprised by this behavior and held out his hand.

Are you paranoid of something Mickey? Do you honestly think I’m going to entrap you so you can serve another six months and sink myself with just two years between me and my pension? Come off it, if I was going to get you it would have been a long time ago.

Mickey viewed him with suspicion and then smiled slowly.

I guess you’re right. I seem to be extra cautious this morning for obvious reasons.

Mickey sat back down and relaxed. Coates followed suit and got straight to the point.

I can understand that, you’ve been away a long time you’re bound to be a bit edgy. Now look Mickey, what’s going to happen now you’re going?

Mickey thought a moment before answering.

Listen Coates, we’ve had a good run for nearly three years now so maybe it’s time to call it a day. I know for a fact that you’ve earned a small fortune out of our little scam, so why not hang your hat up and be done with it as you might go to the well just once too often.

Coates leant forward over the desk and spoke in earnest.

Mickey, I’ve got two more years in this bloody job and this is such a good thing that I don’t want to let it go.

Mickey sat back in the chair, crossed his legs and viewed the Senior Officer with suspicion.

Do you think that’s wise?

Coates thought carefully for a moment.

Only time will tell if it’s wise or not but I’m pretty sure that it’s safe. The only place I can get caught is the gate and as you know I’ve got that all straightened out, at a price and let’s face it, I’d be a fool to jack it in while its running this smooth.

Mickey got up, walked over to the coffee maker in the corner of the office and poured himself a fresh cup, he took a sip of the hot drink then after a moment or two he turned and faced Coates.

Fair enough, but I’m out. Handling the stuff while I was in here, if it came on top, would have been a slap on the wrist for me, but conspiracy to feed it into prison as a civilian carries a five year sentence so you can forget about me. Understood?

Coates looked over at him and nodded slowly.

I’ll get my man to phone Oggy on the wing tonight and tell him to carry on as usual but he’ll also inform him that I’m out of it. The courier will contact you tomorrow and drop you off another three nine bars. Have you got that mail order bank account I told you to open up?

Coates smiled broadly.

Yes of course, I did exactly as you told me to and the money that flows in there hasn’t rung a single bell. It’s all gone just like you said it would.

Mickey pointed his cup at Coates.

Every time the balance reached twenty grand did you transfer it to the Spanish account I told you to get?

Coates sat back in his chair and opened his arms wide.

I did just as you said and there’s not a scrap of paper at my house that has a single thing to do with any of it. If the police raided me tomorrow they’d end up with a big handful of nothing.

Mickey walked back over to the desk and looked down at Coates.

Good. Now we get back thirty six hundred on every bar. Right?

Coates nodded slowly as Mickey continued.

That’s almost eleven grand every two weeks. Three nine bars come to a grand, call it ten grand clear profit every fortnight. Oggy gets three G’s for moving it on the wings and I get the same for administration so that leaves you with four thousand pounds for every deal. That’s over a hundred grand a year for a guy on a wage of twenty five K per annum, no wonder you want to keep it going Coates. Just make sure you look after Oggy, he gets the Red Band job, my double cell and no drug tests. Got it?

Coates nodded in agreement as Mickey put the cup down on the desk and sat back down. He crossed his legs and looked across the desk at the officer before continuing slowly.

Then I see no reason why trade should not continue, but just remember one thing Coates, if the shit ever hits the fan and I’m mentioned in any shape or Form by you there will be a price to pay, trust me on this. Any trouble you could drop me in will never be worth what I would bring down on you. I hope I’m making myself absolutely clear.

Coates held his hands up and looked a little worried.

Crystal Mickey. As of this point, you’re out. I’m fifty five years old and ready to retire, do you honestly think I want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder? You must be fucking joking mate.

Mickey got up and straightened his tie.

Just so long as we understand each other Coates and don’t ever call me mate. Someone might be listening. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to be on my way. It’s been an experience doing business with you, and I hope never to see you again.

Coates stood up and reached across the desk for Mickey’s hand but Mickey turned his back and ignored him.

"Take it easy Mickey and look after yourself. I’ll get one of my boys to