mess and other people’s was what it was messy with.
Lab burners, glass vials, measuring jugs, pans and packets of opened baking powder lay scattered about the room in disarray. Then of course there was the cocaine. The cocaine to make the crack.
Gone were the days of Gary having to buy a few rocks of ready-made crack, earning so little it didn’t even pay for a week’s grocery shopping. He was moving up in the world. Here he was with his own crack lab in his kitchen, and Gina Daniels couldn’t have been prouder.
‘Come over and help me. No good just bleedin’ sitting there Auntie Gina, you know I was never good at cooking.’
The joke was lost through the white mask Gary wore, guarding his lungs against potent crack fumes. He bent over the pan and watched the combination of water, baking soda and cocaine sizzle and bubble as it started to form white solid lumps. On occasion he’d put white candle wax in the mix to help the crack keep its off-white colour and to help it to form into small solid pieces. Today though, he could tell from the pungent smell – which managed to seep through, even with the mask on – that the coke was already cut with more than enough shit to risk adding anything more. He needed his clients to be able to smoke the stuff, not make a Madame Tussauds waxwork out of it.
He wanted to get the crack cooked and out on the streets. If people were going to take him seriously there needed to be a constant supply. That way no one would get it into their head that it was alright to muscle in on Gary’s turf and start serving up to his customers.
He wasn’t the biggest coke and crack dealer around by any means, but Gary Levitt reckoned he was the most ambitious. He had a game plan to take over all the clubs in Soho and the West End and he wasn’t prepared to settle for anything less. To do that though, he needed to get a certain person on side. Unfortunately that person was none other than Max Donaldson.
Thinking about Max naturally brought Gary’s thoughts to Nicky. The roughing up he’d received the other day had sent him underground, no doubt worried about the money he owed. No one had seen him.
He needed teaching a lesson. Gary certainly didn’t want people to think he was being soft on Nicky because he was Max Donaldson’s son. He couldn’t have anyone thinking he was afraid to do what was necessary. Of course, in truth there was a part of him that was afraid. He’d have to think about how to handle the situation very carefully, especially if he wanted Max to give him the go ahead to start serving up in the clubs.
Pouring the mix into a muslin cloth to drain away the excess water, Gary suddenly felt tense.
‘What’s the matter Gal, you look bunged up?’
‘Have you seen that junkie mate of yours lately? I want a word with him.’
‘Nicky? I’m seeing him later in the cafe, got a little bit of business to sort out. Do you want me to give him a message?’
‘Yeah, tell him if I don’t have my money by the end of the week the only thing he’ll be banging on will be a fucking coffin lid.’
Gina walked along Wardour Street. The early summer sunshine was nowhere to be seen as a dark rain cloud came and stayed over the one square mile of Soho. She thought about the money Nicky owed Gary and it worried her. She liked to get what was owed to her. For two weeks running Nicky had short-changed her, pretending Johnny hadn’t paid the amount he usually did for Harley. She wasn’t stupid but Johnny was thinking Nicky would be more trustworthy than her when it came to money just because Maggie was his sister. She knew exactly what was going on. Unlike her nephew Gary, she didn’t have the ability to beat it out of someone, but what she did have though was more powerful than any clenched knuckle. She had information. Information she knew neither Johnny, Maggie or Nicky would want reaching either Max or Frankie’s ears.
As she continued to walk Gina suddenly caught a glimpse of Nicky at the top of the street and immediately broke out into a half-hearted jog, amusing the group of builders standing outside the amusement arcade on the corner of Winette Street with her feeble efforts.
‘Nicky! Nicky!’
Finally, Nicky turned around, giving Gina a quick smile whilst his eyes darted back and forth.
‘Nicky, I hope you weren’t trying to ignore me? We had an arrangement to meet in the cafe, remember?’
‘Listen, can we make it later? I have to be somewhere.’
‘This ain’t got anything to do with the money you owe is it? Not trying to hide away?’
‘No.’
Nicky blushed.
‘Why am I getting the feeling you’re not quite telling me the truth?’
Nicky didn’t answer; he found it was always best to do that. Let the other person say what they needed to say and hope they’d be satisfied with that. Gina pulled Nicky into the quiet of St. Anne’s court as she continued to walk towards Lola’s Cafe.
‘Anyway, I’ve got a message for you; Gary says he wants his money and if you ain’t got it, then there’ll be ructions.’
This time Nicky swallowed hard.
‘Why are you looking worried, Nick? Don’t tell me you ain’t got his dough?’
‘It’s fine. I told him I’ll sort it and I will.’
‘Well then you ain’t got anything to worry about. Come on, you can buy me a bacon sandwich, I’m starving.’
Nicky sat opposite Gina Daniels in Lola’s Cafe and felt sick. He pushed the toast on the plate away from him. It seemed every week he needed to keep making a new notch on his belt to stop his trousers falling down. The cocaine had taken his craving for food away. It’d taken his craving for everything away – everything but the coke.
He looked at Gina with her knock-off cream Burberry coat done up to the top button and saw she was happy to eat for the both of them. She hungrily grabbed his unwanted toast, stuffing a piece in her mouth and squirreling the other piece onto the blue chipped sideplate.
‘Maggie wants to talk to me.’
‘Well then, talk. I don’t know what you’re worried about Nicky; we’ve got her eating out of our hands like a dog. I don’t think Johnny’s bothered. He hasn’t come to visit Harley in almost nine months, plus he certainly won’t want people knowing about her. As for Maggie, well any nonsense from her and I’ll just tell her I won’t look after Harley. That’ll soon shut her up.’
Nicky glared at Gina. He disliked her and always had done but no more so now in the way she was talking about his sister. Then he supposed he was no better. He and Gina were two of a kind when it came to money – albeit for different reasons.
He didn’t like the situation he’d found himself in but what could he do? He loved Maggie and never wanted to do anything to hurt her, but he was in debt up to his eyeballs to Gary and he was starting to owe Gina money after spending her cut of the cash Johnny gave him on coke. Not to mention the odd person here and there from in and around Soho. He needed at least a couple of hundred a day to feed his habit but that was nearly impossible to find.
‘Perhaps Johnny isn’t bothered about Harley – but he will be about his money. What happens when he does find out? He won’t be too chuffed when he
