Chapter 34
Oh, you want the police here now?
Rafe
“Listen, Sterling,” Grant said as we all disembarked from the cars. “This isn’t exactly your scene. Why don’t you let us handle things and you get back to your cosy courtroom?”
I glared at Grant. “Ah yes, because you’ve been handling things so well up until now? The ten stitches in the side of my girlfriend’s head tell me everything I need to know about how you were handling things.”
“Fuck you,” Grant spat. “I didn’t see you protecting your fucking girlfriend either, mate. Not by the way you shook her off at the courthouse like she was shit on the sole of your aristocratic shoe. So don’t go blaming me for not protecting her.”
“I didn’t have all the information,” I said through gritted teeth. “Had I known that Clara was an informant, then I––”
“You didn’t bloody well listen to her!” Grant snapped.
“I know I fucked up. We should have moved against the Masons earlier, but we wanted to be sure. We wanted to build the best case possible, and that meant giving them the opportunity to incriminate themselves even more whilst we were listening. But I never wanted Clara to get hurt. And if she’d have come to me, I wouldn’t have ignored her and walked away. So fuck you and your judgement.”
I tamped down my anger. Grant was right, but the fact remained that he’d had all the facts and he still hadn’t protected Clara when he should have. “Fine, but this is getting sorted today. That’s why I’m here. And remember what you promised?”
Grant gave me a strong bit of side-eye. “That might be a tricky one, Sterling.”
“I don’t care how difficult it is. Let me and my family smooth over the optics after the fact.
Understand?” I’d phoned Dad yesterday and he’d mobilised the full force of the Sterlings’ influence.
Just like me, Dad was a ruthless bastard when it came to getting what he wanted, and he hated injustice.
If the Masons thought they had police officers in their pockets, they were nothing compared to us.
We’d been manipulating this country’s legal system for hundreds of years.
I’d told Dad everything and he’d been just as appalled as I was.
It was rare we used our influence to intervene in any real way, but the power was still there for us to wield.
And wield it we would if it was to protect the woman I loved, even if I’d already failed once on that score.
The memory of Clara sobbing into her friend’s jumper yesterday floated through my mind.
I’m not b-b-brave. I’m scared all the time.
Bullshit was that woman not brave. She was a damn sight braver than half of east London, in my opinion. Nobody had ever dared go up against the Masons. That small woman was taking down an entire crime syndicate, and she didn’t think she was brave?
And bollocks to her being scared all the time. Bollocks to her being scared ever again. I wasn’t having it. Hence my presence at the Mason house today, to make damn fucking sure Frank Mason knew that.
“Fine,” Grant clipped before raising his fist and banging on the front door.
I’d done my research on the Masons over the last few days, so I knew that the massive bloke who opened the door to us was called Pinky, and I knew why. My lip curled as I scanned his beer-bellied body filling the doorway.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asked.
“Good morning, Mr Gibbons,” Grant said in a conversational tone. “We’re here today to arrest all of you and seize all the goods in this property. So if you could kindly move aside, then we––”
“The fuck you are!” shouted Tony Pinky Gibbons. He moved to slam the door in our faces, but my foot shot out to block it from closing.
“We thought you might say that,” I said through a smile before leaning back and hurling my body at the door, using all my weight to shoulder it open.
The solid wood slammed into Pinky’s face with a satisfying thwack, and he staggered back before falling onto his arse in the corridor.
I straightened up, readjusted the cuffs of my suit and then strolled into the house, stepping over the prone form of Pinky to walk down the corridor.
As I walked in, the armed response unit poured in behind me with their riot gear and weapons, fanning out into the house to swiftly secure all the other rooms.
By the time I’d made it into the kitchen, they had everyone there either at gunpoint or in handcuffs. Except that was, for Mrs Mason, who was sitting at the kitchen table in shock.
Grant had offered me the riot gear as well but I’d declined, preferring instead to wear my own kind of armour: a tailored Savile Row three-piece suit.
“What the fuck is going on?” spat Frank Mason as he pushed the officer who was attempting to handcuff him. “You pigs have no bloody right to barge in here! This is private property.”
“Oh, I assure you we have every right,” I told him as various scuffles and arrests were made around us.
“You?” he shouted, his face going red as he pointed at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure that the dismantlement of your organisation was carried out to my satisfaction.”
“Fuck off back to that snitch cunt,” he spat out as he pulled away from the officer attempting to arrest him.
“Rafe?” I turned towards Grant’s voice and he lifted his visor up to make eye contact with me. “Five minutes, right?”
I nodded. “Five minutes will be sufficient.”
“Mrs Mason,” Grant said in a softer voice to Clara’s mother, who was still frozen in shock at the kitchen table. “If you’d like to come with me into the other room until we’ve cleared the entire house.”
“The entire house?” Marie Mason breathed. “You’re taking… everyone?”
“Yes, everyone.”
“But my son, Zach,” her voice rose in panic. “He’s not––”
“Zach has not been at this house for over forty-eight hours, Mrs Mason,” I told her, not taking my eyes off Frank. “Don’t worry. He’s safe.”
“Oh, right,” she muttered, and a wave of disgust swept through me. What kind of mother was this woman? “But I don’t… Frank? What should I––?”
“Your husband is going to be indisposed for quite some time, Mrs Mason,” I told her, still keeping my eyes on Frank. “I suggest you get used to living a life where you do not defer to his instructions, as he will not be there to dispense them.”
“Mum.” We all looked over to the door of the kitchen where Ruben Mason was standing, staring at his father.
“It’s over. You’ve got to listen to the police now, not Dad.
” He rubbed his hand down his face, looking utterly defeated.
“We should never have listened to that psycho in the first place. Come on.”
Ruben held out his hand and Marie stood up slowly from the table to make her way to him. As they were leaving the kitchen, Ruben looked back at me, meeting my steady gaze before looking away. Two flags of colour appeared high on his cheekbones as his expression flooded with shame.
“Look after her,” he said, just above a whisper, then he was gone, followed out by the other police officers.
The kitchen door swung shut, leaving Frank and me alone.
Frank looked left and right in confusion. “Where the fuck have they all gone?”
I tilted my head to the side. “I thought you wanted everyone to ‘fuck off out of your house’? Seems they took you at your word.”
Frank frowned. “What’s your game, mate?”
I shrugged. “I requested five minutes alone with you before you were arrested.”
“What’s a poncy git like you want with me?”
“This poncy git is quite unhappy, Frank.” There was an edge to my voice now. “This poncy git didn’t appreciate his girlfriend being admitted to hospital with a head injury yesterday.”
He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t look like she was your girlfriend when you shook her off.”
“That was a mistake I won’t be making again.” My voice lowered as I spoke the next words. “Clara is mine, and nobody hurts what’s mine.”
“Stupid bitch clocked me with a fucking saucepan! She could have killed me!”
“And yet, unfortunately, here you stand.”
“You don’t know who you’re fucking with,” Frank spat out. “I own this fucking city. Nobody fucks with Frank Mason.”
It was at this point that I decided I had had enough of this irritating conversation.
I needed to get back to Clara, and I’d have to stop off on the way to get more Branston Pickle as we were running low.
I did not need to be conversing with this low-life piece of shit for any longer than was strictly necessary.
Frank’s eyes flew wide as I covered the distance between us in a couple of long strides. I put one of my hands to his neck as the other grabbed his coat, and I pinned him to the wall.
“You think you run London, do you?” I said in a low, dangerous voice.
“Get the fuck off me,” he shouted, struggling against my hold.
I wasn’t having that, and he clearly wasn’t listening to me, so I pulled him away from the wall to slam him back against it.
The force of the impact rattled the door next to us.
“You’ll pay for this,” Frank said in between his winded gasping breaths. “I’m the fucking gaffer around here.”
“Don’t be absurd,” I told him, my voice still low and controlled.
“Families like mine have been in charge of this country for centuries. Do you think we came by that level of power lightly? Do you think for a moment we aren’t many times more ruthless than you?
There’s a bridge in Bath that, in order to cross, you have to pay one pound to my family.
People have been paying to cross that bridge since the sixteen hundreds.
When it comes to extortion, you’re light-years behind us.
I have the support of the police, the judiciary, the government and the very people I extort.
You should have thought twice before you decided to yank the chain of a member of the aristocracy, you stupid fuck.
Before you fucked with me and my girlfriend, I was willing to simply prosecute you to the full extent of the law.
Now it’s not just the law I’ll be utilising.
I have influence everywhere. Your family’s gangster activities are child’s play compared to mine. ”
I released him suddenly and he fell forward a couple of steps, rubbing his neck and gasping for breath.
“Where are the fucking police?” Frank asked as he staggered away from me.
I pulled my cuffs down and adjusted my watch as I stalked him casually. The man was not very light on his feet and clearly a stranger to cardio, given how loudly he was still gasping for breath.
“Oh, you want the police here now?” I asked. “I thought you weren’t overly keen on the police?”
He made a lumbering dash for the exit, and I cut him off easily.
“Now, now, Frank,” I said, stepping to block his way when he tried to duck around me. “You’re being unconscionably rude. We haven’t finished our conversation yet.”
“F-fuck off,” he said, real fear in his tone now.
“It might interest you to know that I had access to your daughter’s medical records yesterday.”
He blinked at me in confusion. “What do you––?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have time to match the full extent of her injuries. But I feel it’s sufficient for now to simply go through the ones inflicted this calendar year. Let’s start with the most obvious.”
Frank’s eyes flew even wider when he realised my intention. He swung a clumsy fist at my head, which I dodged easily before driving my own fist into the side of his chest.
“Holy shit,” he gasped as he nearly went down. “You’ve broken my fucking ribs!”
“I do hope so,” I told him. “That was, after all, the intention. Two of Clara’s were broken, so I’m hoping to at least match that.
Now, where was I? Ah yes. I believe this is, in fact, your signature move.
” I drew my hand back, and it flew through the air to connect with the side of Frank’s face with a satisfying crack.
“You didn’t actually break the orbital bone with this blow, and I’m quite sure your bone structure is not as delicate as your daughter’s, given she is half your size, but hopefully we’ll get lucky and you’ll sustain at least a hairline fracture… Oh, do get up.”
The blow had taken Frank down onto one knee. He staggered to his feet and away from me, but I wasn’t done. Not yet.
“Now, on to the wrist.”