The Family

'So what do you want, Murphy, and make it quick. I have a notoriously low threshold for boredom.'

'You know a girl called Lisa Mercer, right?'

Billy Bantry didn't move a muscle. 'So what, what about her?'

'She's five months pregnant by Stanley Barclay.'

'And?'

'He wants me to take her out, her and her baby. Offered me forty grand in all. Ten up front, I have that in the car, and thirty afterwards. But I know I wouldn't live long enough to get the rest of the money. I also have no intention of murdering a woman, especially not a pregnant one. I didn't know what to do, then I remembered that she had been rumoured to have had a friendship with you. Just a rumour, mind, and I wondered if you would be kind enough to give me some advice. I keep everything close to my chest and Barclay is relying on that. But,

Mr Bantry, I will do a lot of things for a lot of money, but murdering babies ain't in my resume.'

Billy Bantry was nodding his head; Phillip hoped it was in agreement with what he was saying. Bantry sighed heavily. 'Barclay's scum, always has been. Five months gone? She tried her hardest, but was never going to score the big one. Good- looking girl, though. Nice natured. You did the right thing, Phillip. Women and children have no real place in our world. They are off-limits. So you assume your reputation for never questioning a job was what he was relying on?'

Phillip nodded.

'He must be desperate if he's giving you ten grand up front. Have you ever killed anyone before?'

Phillip shook his head. 'Not yet, no.'

'Do you think you could?'

Phillip nodded, which made Billy Bantry laugh. 'Keep the ten grand, you've earned it. I'll sort out Barclay, the treacherous cunt. Lisa's old man's in Dartmoor, she had no real father figure, so I've always kept an eye out for her in me own way. But you knew that, that's why you came to me.'

Phillip didn't say a word in response. Bantry liked that the boy didn't try and explain himself. He had heard good things about this kid, and he was happy to give him a helping hand.

'Report to me here on Saturday morning, seven o'clock and don't be late. I think you are worth a chance, son, but remember, with me, you only get the one chance.'

Phillip was thrilled at the turn of events. He had taken a big risk, and had known that it could have gone either way. But for all that, he was never going to kill a pregnant woman. Especially one who had friends in high places.

Chapter Twelve

Ted Booth heard the bell in his shop, and walked casually out of his small office in the back. As he entered the shop he saw Phillip Murphy locking the door and turning the sign round to 'Closed'.

'What are you doing? It's only six, I have another five hours yet till I close up.'

Phillip smiled at him as if he had known that all along. 'Sorry, Mr Booth, but I need to talk to you.'

Ted Booth felt his heart sinking inside his chest, and for one split second he wondered if he was on the verge of a heart attack. It wouldn't surprise him. He never felt one hundred per cent. His life was a series of minor irritations, the only things he cared about these days were his daughter and the shop. His daughter had her name up with this one here, and he wondered how long before it would all turn sour. He heard everything in this shop; it was part of his job to talk to the customers, listen to them, know their lives. He was frightened, but he tried not to show that. 'What do you want? Make it quick, I'm losing money.'

'It's about your daughter…'

'I worked that one out for meself.'

'She's round my mum's, refusing to go home. Mrs Booth gave her a clump; she's bruised and battered and determined that she ain't going home.'

Ted didn't know what to do. This boy, and he used that term loosely because he was a man in all the ways that counted, was the reason his wife was nearly out of her mind, and why his daughter was happier than she had been in years.

'She's a child. Fifteen.'

'She will be sixteen in three weeks and, Mr Booth, I need to tell you that she ain't in the frame of mind for going home. I told her to, me mum and dad have told her to, but she's adamant.'

Ted sighed. This man, this boy-man, had a hold over his daughter that he knew he would never be able to break. It had already gone too far. He could offer her freedom and excitement, and that was a heady mixture for his Christine. She craved love, craved attention, and the Murphys would give her that in abundance. He knew there and then that he couldn't compete with them on that score, but he had to try.

'I want her home, she's still legally in my jurisdiction.' Ted felt foolish even saying the words. He knew and Phillip Murphy knew that it was only a matter of weeks. Once Christine hit sixteen her life was her own. And the worst thing was that, in a strange way, he didn't blame her for what she'd done. Eileen had suffocated her all her life.

'Well, Mr Booth, that's your prerogative. But I just want you to know that she's safe. I would want to know that if it was my daughter.' Phillip smiled his amiable, friendly smile. Then, shrugging his shoulders in a man of the world gesture, he said to change the subject, 'This is a big space, ain't it? Just out of curiosity, where do you get your alcohol? Only I know a bloke, and he could guarantee you a much better return for your money. He supplies most of the pubs and clubs around here.'

Teddy Booth felt his heart sink even further; he knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Chapter Thirteen

'You're bright and early.'

Phillip was smiling at Billy Bantry, thrilled at the chance to work for a real crew. He knew he was on a winner; Billy didn't offer his time to wasters, he was a man who only employed the best. Well, Phillip wanted to be the best, and if that meant he had to be a gofer for a while then so be it. He was willing, more than willing, to learn at the knee of a master, and Billy Bantry was a master.

'I can't believe I'm here, Mr Bantry. It's an honour, and I mean that.'

He was sincere, Bantry knew that. He had done his homework on Phillip Murphy and had been proved right. The lad was willing and he was able, more than able, in fact, to take care of himself. He was a lump, but that in itself meant nothing to Billy Bantry. He had taken on bigger men than Phillip and won the war. It was never about size, physical strength, that is. It was about mental strength. The determination to harm your opponent no matter what. Bantry had always been possessed of a cold streak, even as a kid, and he had a big presence, which was more important in his line of work than anything. He was amazed to find that he actually liked this kid, liked his heart. He appreciated that he had come to him quietly and with the least amount of fuss. Lisa Mercer was a nice enough girl, but for Barclay to even think about taking out her and the child was beyond the pale as far as he was concerned. His own child and all! Barclay had had no qualms about offing his own fucking baby. Well, he was now the proud possessor of a pair of cement boots. His disappearance might cause a stir for a few weeks, but unless someone decided to dredge the North Sea, he wasn't likely to be turning up any time in the near future. It suited Bantry; Barclay was becoming a pest anyway, a nuisance, so a valid reason to remove him from the arena was always going to be handy. Plus he had the added bonus of doing his old mate a favour. Lisa's old man would never forget what Billy had done for him, and he wouldn't let him either. Everyone got out one day, and they were always welcome so long as they had something to bring to the table.

'Aren't you going to ask me what happened, then?'

Phillip was too shrewd to fall for that old fanny, but he kept his face neutral and feigned surprise. 'I don't care, Mr Bantry, it's nothing to do with me, is it?'

Billy Bantry laughed, a rare, real laugh. 'You'll do. I want you out collecting with Keith Kenton. He's big and quiet and he knows more about the grab than anyone else in the Smoke. He's expecting you at the Bricklayers' Arms in Hornchurch. Be there by lunchtime.'