Brixton Prison they were sitting ducks.
Every day they worried that the Regans, or Zara Ezra, for that matter, had paid someone off to do away with them. In fact, Guy strongly believed his days were numbered and it led to him coming out in a permanent rash. Benjamin, as big as he was, was really just a fat pussy. He only had clout on the outside because he had men behind him. Those same men ran a mile to avoid the looming trouble when he and his father got nicked. They were all well aware of the Regans’ and Zara Ezra’s reputations and were shit-scared of any repercussions.
After exercise was over, Trenton and his two sidekicks, brothers Wasp and Zane King, met up on the landing. Each brother had a glass shard tightly bound to a stick.
‘Tooled up?’ asked Trenton.
Wasp, a small, chubby, bearded man, with only one tooth in his head, nodded and looked down at his hand. ‘Yep, I ain’t used this in a while, but she’s still as sharp as the day I made her.’
Trenton then looked at Zane. ‘And you?’
Zane didn’t answer. He just nodded and chewed on his gum.
As they made their way along the landing, a senior officer gave them the once-over. He didn’t like to see the three characters together. They were devious, and, worse, dangerous. Yet, as he was spying Trenton, Boomer was clocking him, and he instantly called out, ‘Oi, Gov, can I have a word?’
Senior Officer Gladding recognized the deep growl coming out of Boomer’s mouth and spun around. He liked the wing to run smoothly. Any hiccups from Boomer, and the inmates would all be on lockdown, and then the nightmares would begin. ‘All right, Kitson?’
Boomer leaned against the wall and waited for Gladding to approach; he wanted him distracted.
‘I’ve got this bit o’ skirt coming up on a visit. Any chance you could organize a family visit? Ya know, in one of those private family rooms?’
Gladding sighed and felt a little uncomfortable. He hated saying no to Kitson, but the lifers were only allowed one family visit per year, and he’d already had his quota. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise, ’cos you’ve already had yours this year, and we don’t want to draw attention. The number one governor is clamping down on special treatments and keeping a close eye.’
Boomer quickly peered over the officer’s shoulder to see Trenton slip into Guy Segal’s cell and Wasp and Zane slide into Benjamin’s.
‘Fuck me, I thought that would be easy, a man of your power and status.’ He gave his twisted grin and watched as the officer squirmed. ‘Aw, all right, mate. Look, don’t worry. I tell ya what. Can ya get me some of that hair gel, so that I can at least look the part when she turns up?’
At last, Gladding relaxed his shoulders. ‘Yeah, sure, I can get some for you.’
He was about to walk away when Boomer stopped him. ‘So, how’s your son getting on with the new football team?’ he asked, knowing that once Gladding started boasting about his son, he would talk forever. The question worked, and Gladding pushed back his shoulders with pride and gave Boomer a rundown on how brilliant his son was at scoring two goals for the new team. Inside, Boomer was laughing because Gladding’s son was only eight years old and anyone listening would assume he was playing against Manchester United.
* * *
As Trenton entered the old man’s cell, he quickly closed the door, causing Guy to jump and turn around. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ His voice sounded firm, yet it didn’t suit his Wee Willie Winkie appearance.
Trenton held up his bare hands. ‘Just a word, mate.’
Guy’s thinning hair and long white beard were kept well groomed, and Trenton noticed that on closer inspection, the man was quite solidly built with a look that was pretty much daring.
‘And what word would that be?’ asked Guy, bitterly.
‘Cor, you’re cocky for an ol’ dead man walking, ain’t ya?’
Guy’s jaw shot forward in a temper. ‘Just ask your fucking questions and leave me in peace.’
Trenton stepped forward. ‘Barak, your brother. What’s he up to?’
Guy’s frown deepened as he twisted his head. ‘Barak’s dead!’
‘Fucking liar, he’s in Poland. Now, I was polite, and I asked you nicely, but now, I won’t be so polite, so what the fuck is Barak up to?’
Guy’s face dramatically paled, and his eyes widened. ‘I am telling you the truth. He’s dead. I went to his fucking funeral.’
‘Mikey Regan says you’re one evil cunt. And your son’s no better. He had his bird’s hand chopped off. You’re a right slimy bastard, so I don’t believe ya, and no one cares what happens to you either fucking way!’ Suddenly, he pulled his tool from his back pocket and held it up. At the same time, he showed his heavily stained teeth and chuckled. ‘Now then, I think I’ll let me blade ask the fucking questions.’
Guy backed away, his body trembling. ‘I promise you, he’s dead. I swear I was there when they lowered him into the grave. Please …’
Trenton was fast, and in one fluid movement, he slashed his jagged knife across Guy’s face. Guy clutched the loose flaps of skin and was about to scream when Trenton grabbed him and threw him on the bed, plunging the weapon into his stomach. With his hand over Guy’s mouth, he glared into his eyes. ‘Now, you, ya ’orrible prick, will tell me where this brother of yours is and what he’s up to, or you, pal, will fucking bleed to death.’
Guy could feel the dull pain and knew he was in trouble. Without any help, it was true he would bleed out. He stared back, trying to think of what to say, but the fear of death was consuming him. He just couldn’t put his thoughts into any logical order. Then he heard the muffled screams from next door. His son. They had got his son. His eyes filled with tears. It was over. He knew one day the Regans would have him and his son killed, but he didn’t think it would have anything to do with his brother.
‘Now, I’ll remove my hand, and you’re gonna tell me everything you know about Barak, and if I’m satisfied, then I’ll press that emergency button. If not, I’ll plunge you again. Got it?’
With beads of sweat covering his brows and a sickening feeling as though he was underwater, Guy could only nod.
Trenton pulled his hand away. ‘Talk!’
The thick blood was covering his sweatshirt and pooling on the bed. Guy knew he didn’t have long.
‘Please, believe me. He really is dead. He was buried at Golders Green Jewish Cemetery … on Hoop Lane, two years ago … through old age.’
Trenton stared at the old man. He was obviously telling the truth. He then watched as the man took his last breath. He was dead. Trenton looked down at himself. Luckily, he didn’t have blood on him. He cleaned the knife in the sink, washed his hands, and crept away. The landing was quiet. As he clocked Gladding still chatting to Boomer, he slipped into the next cell. Wasp and Zane had gone over the top.
‘Lads, clean up and let’s go.’
Zane was covered in blood and Wasp was
