‘I’ve thought about it, obviously I have. I’ve thrown out all my preconceived ideas about these men we’ve been close to for years but even then I just can’t see any of them having the capability or desire to be the boss.’
‘What about Jerry Lemon?’
‘What about him?’
Bobby shrugged, ‘he’s been with me all this time,’ he said, ‘maybe he wants to be Top Boy?’
‘I thought about it,’ I said, ‘but honestly? No, I can’t see Jerry Lemon wanting to take you out of the equation. He’s loyal enough and sensible. He knows he’s making good money right where he is. So, no, I don’t think so.’
Bobby chuckled, ‘that’s what I like about you son,’ he said, ‘I heard all about the way he spoke to you down at the snooker hall, ‘course I did. He treated you like a cunt but when you get the chance to whisper in the bosses’ ear about him, maybe get him on my bad side, you play a totally straight bat. Did it even cross your mind?’
‘Yeah,’ I admitted, ‘but only for a second. So Jerry Lemon doesn’t have me on his Christmas card list, so what? If he’s bitter about something that’s more about him than me.’
‘Trouble with Jerry, he’s old school. He doesn’t like you because he reckons you’ve never paid your dues. You’ve not killed men for the firm, you’ve never been inside or had to punch your way out of the gutter like he had to, like I had to. We both had to fight on the streets every day when we were young, fight for everything, and you didn’t, but that isn’t your fault and it doesn’t make me come over all sentimental for the old days, because they were shite. Jerry had a very hard life when he was a nipper and it’s affected him, but basically he’s a good bloke. I’ve told him right enough that you’ve put money in all of our pockets one way or another. He’s admitted to me privately that the stuff you do keeps us all out of jail but don’t expect him to give you any credit for it.’
I nodded, ‘it’s no big deal,’ so Jerry Lemon had a hard time when he was a nipper. My heart bled for him.
‘And the new breed?’ he asked, ‘Monk and JD?’
‘JD doesn’t know what day it is. He’s been enjoying too much of his own product. Monk’s lads are making their living from house breaking with violence and his main muscle got eleven years not long back.’
‘What for?’
‘Broke into some poor couple’s home and accidentally woke them up, decided he might as well rape the wife while he was there, knocked her old man senseless first though, then tied him up and made him watch. Police arrived while he was still on top of her.’
‘Christ almighty,’ said Bobby, ‘is there no fucking decency in our game any more?’
‘To tell you the truth, I have been through every name I can think of; every apprentice hard-knock and wannabe villain who might have heard of you and thought they could do a better job but there’s nobody in our bloody league, not even close.’
‘Whoever it was, they knew about the Drop,’ he said, ‘and not many do, even in our outfit.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that as well,’ I said, ‘we’ve been sloppy; you, me, everybody. There’s six people who’ve been down south with that money in the past two years. It only takes one of them to boast to a mate or tell some bird they’re shagging and word can spread like the clap. Soon a whole bunch of people know Bobby Mahoney sends money to a top level fixer every month.’
‘You’re right,’ he admitted, ‘it pains me to admit it but you’re right. So what are we going to do about it?’
‘We are going to keep asking people until we hear something useful. We are going to stay sharp and make no mistakes, we are going to tighten things up and make sure there are no more fuck-ups. We are going to ride this one out and we are going to win.’
‘You sound like the boss already,’ he said, ‘you sure you don’t want my job?’ he frowned at me, but I knew it was a wind-up.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I have a better quality of life than you do and I don’t need the stress.’
‘Thanks a bleeding lot.’ He smiled.
We talked some more about business and I was pleased to be back going over the detail again. Eventually, he said, ‘you’re still coming to our Sarah’s 21st right?’
‘I was planning to,’ I said, ‘as long as you still want me there.’
‘Course,’ he said, ‘but do me a personal favour Davey. Stay off the sauce and get her and her daft friend home at the end of the night. They want to go off to some club after the meal and she won’t want her old man there with her,’ he stopped looking at me then. Instead he studied a space on the wall just over my left shoulder and said, ‘with all that’s been going on, I want to be careful, you know,’ I did know. He meant if someone wanted to hurt him, really hurt him, they could go after Sarah. ‘Look after her for me.’
‘Sure,’ I said straight away and he nodded like he was genuinely grateful.
‘One other thing,’ he told me, ‘you’ve not got any answers yet, so it’s time you went to see Kinane,’ I’d known this was coming and been dreading it but I nodded like it was a sensible idea. ‘Get down that gym of his and find out what he knows. He must have heard something.’
‘Okay Bobby,’ I said.
‘And take Finney with you,’ Christ, that’s all I needed. Finney and Kinane in the same room together. Having them both in the same city was scary enough.
TWELVE
Kinane’s gym was called, The Cronk, in tribute to Emanuel Steward’s original, justifiably famous, Kronk gym in Detroit; a place where hard men entered and champions emerged; Gerard McClellan, Dennis Andries, Michael Moorer and Thomas ‘Hitman’ Hearns, to name just a handful of them.
The only thing that emerged from Kinane’s version was a little drug money and some unquestioning muscle, capable of guarding the door to a club on a Saturday night.
‘Stay in the car.’ I told Finney.
‘What? You’re fucking joking aren’t you?’ he growled.
‘It was four years ago and I wasn’t involved remember. He has no argument with me.’
‘Aye, well, maybe but you tell him I’m out here and I’ll rip his arms and legs off if he dares to show his face. Any time he wants. He just has to come out and say the word.’
‘I don’t doubt you would, which is why you’re staying in the car. We haven’t got time for all that macho shit right now. We’re here to find out who killed Cartwright and that’s all.’ He was pissed off at me because he genuinely wanted an excuse to have a crack at Kinane but I was not having that.
I’d never been in the Cronk before. It was a real throwback. Talk about no frills. The entrance was bare except for a framed photograph on the wall, taken about twenty years ago, which constituted the gym’s hall of fame; a 24 year old bare-chested fighter with an IBF Cruiserweight belt fastened proudly around his waste. Glenn McCrory is still the only world champion boxer the north east has ever produced, our very own great white hope.
The only other decoration on the walls of the Cronk was a big fist-shaped hole where someone had taken it out on the plasterboard. I walked past McCrory and on through a door that took me into the main gym.
The smell of sweat hit me as soon as I walked in. The gym was a big, open room with breeze-block walls and a dusty wooden floor. There were eight or nine tough looking men in there pumping iron or shadow boxing. Light shone down on them from a row of old windows set high up in the walls. I knew Kinane had three grown-up sons and, sure enough, some of the guys in there looked like younger, slightly smaller versions of him. They were still pumped up like it was a fulltime occupation to look ripped.
There were no fancy touches here. No modern weight-lifting machines, it was all just free weights, as if anything else was an affront to manhood. A big guy was lifting what had to be in excess of three hundred pounds, the veins on his neck and face standing out with the strain. He was making a noise like he was struggling to finish a shit. He completed his lift, bringing his weights up to his chest then over his head before letting them slam back down again on the floor with an almighty crash. I felt the vibrations through my feet even though I was yards away.