a meeting with Max. Gary had wanted to speak to Max for two reasons. Firstly, a lot of the places where he was starting to deal were on Max’s turf and he certainly didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Being on the wrong side of Max Donaldson usually meant a long visit to the ICU unit – if you were lucky. If you weren’t so lucky, an even longer and more permanent one to the morgue.
The other reason Gary wanted to speak to Max was because he wanted to get onboard his bandwagon. There was only so far he could go up the ladder unless he was under the wing of one of London’s most ruthless gangsters, and who better than Max Donaldson? Gary could learn from him. He was willing to. Plus, if word got out he was with Donaldson, then it’d take some pair of balls to cross him and Max, and Gary’s reputation as a drug dealer could only get bigger.
It’d taken a lot of bottle for him to face Max; there was an unsettling presence about him which made the toughest of men feel uneasy. Gary certainly wasn’t the toughest, especially when he didn’t have his heavies around as Max had insisted he didn’t.
Sitting in the meeting, Gary looked at Max properly for the first time. The man’s eyelids hung with excess skin over his heavily bloodshot eyes. His face, puffy and rotund without a trace of softness, was home to an array of tiny purple broken veins. Gary watched him snort lines of cocaine off the desk and noticed the size of his hands, making him shudder and fear creep into his pores.
Gary wiped his hand on his black Evisu jeans. His palms were sweating and felt cold and clammy; it was one of the more unwelcome family traits of the Levitt family. He didn’t want to appear nervous. At the same time it was important to Gary he didn’t seem too cocksure. He didn’t want Max to see him as just a wannabe face, a ten-a-penny guy who had ambitions he’d never be able to meet.
It took something to be a face. It took what most people didn’t have; the ability to go that one step further. To take another human being and disregard their right to life. To be able to do whatever it takes to get where you want and, sitting opposite Max Donaldson, Gary knew all those qualities ran through Max like a burst dam. He could almost smell it. He hoped Max might see a trace of the same in him.
As Gary was deep in thought, Max spoke roughly. ‘I hope you’ve got a good fucking reason to call up this meeting. I don’t take kindly to people who waste my time.’
‘I think you’ll be pleased with what I’m bringing to the table.’
‘I don’t want to think and I don’t want anything brought to the table. This ain’t a flipping restaurant. You’re wasting my time mate.’
Max got up and scraped his chair backwards on the concrete floor of the offices on Duke Street. Gary had pulled a favour from an old mate to use some refurbished offices which were on the market but as yet unsold. He’d passed him a few tasty pieces of crack and six grams of the finest coke in exchange for a few hours of the twelve foot by ten foot room, wanting to meet Max on neutral ground. But as he watched Max reach the door it looked to Gary like the whole venture had been a waste of time and money.
He frowned and sighed, knowing he had to grovel and feel like a boy again rather than a man. Perhaps this was all part of Max’s game plan.
‘I ain’t messing anyone around, Max, I wouldn’t do that to you mate.’
Max’s whole face seemed to snarl as he curled up his lip in disgust.
‘First off, let’s get something straight son. No one calls me mate, mainly because I haven’t got any. Secondly, you ever call me that again, I swear on the Virgin Mary, as God is my witness, I’ll slice your ears off. Do I make myself clear?’
Gary nodded, not saying anything, but felt the wave of humiliation and the rush of blood in his cheeks as they blushed a light red. He saw Max glance at his watch – a huge gaudy gold number but clearly expensive creation – and breathed another sigh, this time one of relief as Max came to sit back down next to him.
‘Tell me what you’ve got, but most importantly what’s in it for me.’
‘I’m looking to expand,’ Gary said quickly. ‘I’m dealing a good amount of crack and coke in the clubs but I really want to concentrate more on the crack. There’s much more profit in it as well, as the demand is epic. Clubbers, city workers, smack heads, you name it; they all want to start ebbing out on a rock. Thing is, if I expand, I’ll be treading on your turf. Obviously I’d have to get the nod from you in the first place to do that, but actually, I want you to come in with me. Or rather me come in with you. I’ll be straight with you, Max. I also haven’t got the money to expand the way I want to. I’m a big time dealer with a small time wallet. I’ve got the contacts, the clients and, Christ, I’m willing to do the graft but I need the greens to do it with.’
Max looked thoughtful as he leaned back on the metal chair. He didn’t like many people nor did he respect them, but he had to admit he begrudgingly respected Gary for having the belly to face him. Max knew his own reputation and he didn’t expect it was easy for Gary to have a face to face without his cronies lifting up his balls for him. However, that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy for him. He wiped his mouth and spoke, keeping steely eye contact with Gary.
‘So let’s get this straight. You want me to provide the readies so you can serve up on my turf which you’d have to pay to do anyway. Don’t you think I’d already be serving up myself if I was interested in it?’
‘I dunno, it’s a lot of hassle and I’m willing to take all the shit so you don’t have to. I’ll still give you the cut for serving on your turf, but if you give me the backing I’ll be doubling your money. I’ll make sure after the first layout you won’t have to layout again, but you’ll always be getting a cut of the profit. Turf money and payback on your initial investment even though you’ll already have got that back. My name might not be Richard Branson, but I’d say that’s a fucking good deal. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact I want to learn from you and I ain’t got the readies, I certainly wouldn’t be giving away offers like that.’
‘But I’m a money man. Why shouldn’t you have to take out one of my loans like all the rest of them?’
Gary blinked a couple of times before giving a wry smile.
‘Because I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’d be paying out nearly a grand for borrowing fifty quid no matter how much you’re tearing out me bollocks. That ain’t a loan Max, that’s fucking madness.’
Max stared hard at Gary before opening his mouth, then roared with laughter. He could do business with him. He liked people who showed him respect but also weren’t afraid to tell it to him straight.
‘Okay, we can sort out details tomorrow. I’ll send one of my men to come and pick you up.’
Max got up and straightened his black wool coat and walked to the door. He nodded to his two men who’d been sitting quietly in the corner as they went to stand on either side of Gary. Max looked back at him.
‘I’m curious. I’m wondering if your memory’s not up to much – or were you deliberately not telling me you’ve got your dogs out looking for my son?’
Gary swallowed hard. It sounded as if it echoed round the room. His throat was dry but his hands were sweating and by the looks of the goons standing next to him, looking like they were hungry for a bit of action, he needed to be very careful how he answered.
‘I’ll ask you again, Gary. And I don’t have to warn you it wouldn’t do for you to start spouting me some blarney.
