Head of the Firm

Head of the Firm

Caz Finlay

One More Chapter

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Caz Finlay 2020

Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Caz Finlay asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008405090

Ebook Edition © August 2020 ISBN: 9780008405083

Version: 2020-08-07

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Epilogue

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About the Author

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Prologue

Zak Miller sat patiently on the stolen motorbike with the engine running while he waited for his target to approach. His heart thumped in his chest and the blood pounding in his ears seemed to reverberate off the sides of his motorcycle helmet as its soft leather pushed against his ears. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and focused instead on the rhythmic sound of his breathing – calm and steady, just like he’d been taught. What he was about to do was incredibly risky. It would change the landscape of the Liverpool underworld for ever. The ramifications would be felt far and wide and for years to come. Not only was his target one of the most dangerous and powerful individuals to ever walk the streets of Liverpool, it was also broad daylight, which ensured there were plenty of potential witnesses around. It was a calculated risk, and one that Zak was willing to take. Given that his target was particularly difficult to get close to, and was rarely alone, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to strike when he happened to know exactly where they would be.

Zak prided himself on being the very best at what he did, and he was getting very good money for this particular job. Money that would set him up for life. It would have to. He planned to disappear pretty quickly once this was over.

He could only hear the loud, rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat now as his target approached. Pulling down the visor of his helmet, he took the Beretta handgun out of his inside jacket pocket and edged the bike forward. A few more seconds and he would have a perfect shot. He watched as his intended victim smiled to themselves – they didn’t have a fucking clue what was coming. As their paths crossed he raised the gun. By the time his target had noticed him, it was too late. He fired one clean shot straight through his victim’s neck. Before they had even hit the floor, Zak hit the throttle and sped off out of sight.

Chapter One

Three Weeks Earlier

Grace Carter looked up from her phone as her husband Michael walked over and sat on the sofa beside her.

‘He’s fast asleep now, just like his big sister,’ he said with a grin, referring to their four-month-old son, whom he had just placed in his Moses basket.

She returned his smile as she put her phone on the coffee table in front of them. ‘You are a genius, Michael Carter. He never settles that easily for me. You must have the magic touch.’

‘Yeah. And that’s not the only magic I can do with these hands, you know?’ he said with a wink.

‘Really? What other magic can you do? I can’t recall.’

‘What? You don’t remember? It was only this morning, Grace.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Just over twelve hours ago in fact.’

Grace pulled his face to hers and kissed him. ‘Oh yes, I remember now.’

He put an arm around her shoulder and she nestled against him. ‘So how was work today?’

‘Oh, you know what it’s like. Everyone has a problem, but no one brings any solutions.’

‘Speaking of problems and solutions, I heard another club got raided last night. Did you manage to find out any more about if and when they’re likely to hit Jake’s club?’

Michael shook his head. ‘Not really. But it seems like the plod are insistent on raiding every club in town. You know they like to have a crackdown every so often. It keeps the mayor and the licensing board happy. So, it’s only a matter of time before they target The Blue Rooms as well.’

‘Well, you’d better tell the boys to keep their extracurricular activities to a minimum for a few weeks then,’ she said with a sigh. ‘We don’t want any of our bouncers getting arrested. We’re supposed to be legitimate now, aren’t we?’

‘I’ll have a word with them tomorrow.’

Grace and Michael owned Cartel Securities, a successful business with security contracts across the country. Michael had started the firm himself a couple of years earlier, and at first he’d focused on the thriving Liverpool nightlife scene as well as one-off event management. The business was now considered the premier security company for Liverpool and Merseyside. However, it wasn’t until they’d been married, sixteen months ago, that Grace had become a partner and had taken the business in a whole new direction. It had been both her and Michael’s idea to try and keep the business legitimate. It had worked for the most part, and they’d secured themselves lucrative contracts with shopping centres, building sites and hospitals across the North West and North East.

If that wasn’t enough to keep them busy, they were also co-owners of two successful Italian restaurants with Michael’s brother Sean: one in the up-and-coming Baltic Market area, and one in the heart of Liverpool’s Albert Dock. The latter, Sophia’s Kitchen, was their flagship. Their pride and joy. It had cost them an arm and a leg to kit out with the finest furniture and state-of-the-art kitchens, but it had all been worth it. Now, Sophia’s Kitchen was the hottest place to eat in Liverpool. Their weekends were booked months in advance and the place was permanently packed to the rafters. Grace had been involved in every detail until Oscar was born. Then she’d promised herself at least six months off to spend with Oscar and her daughter Belle. Michael had been happy to take over the reins while she did so, telling her to take all the time she needed. But, although she was technically on maternity leave, Grace was still busy making plans to open a wine bar in the next twelve months.

However, the legitimisation of the Carter empire appeared to have bypassed the younger generation, and together Grace’s son, Jake, and Michael’s twin boys, Paul and Connor, had taken over Grace and Michael’s previous mantle of being the principal suppliers of cocaine, ecstasy and weed, as well as whatever else anyone needed to get their hands on, to the Merseyside area. This also involved using Grace and Michael’s bouncers as dealers when the need arose, which was fine as a rule, except when the police and the licensing board were sniffing around looking for reasons to close places down.

The Blue Rooms was Jake’s club, left to him by his father, Grace’s ex-husband, Nathan Conlon. When Nathan had owned the place, it had been a seedy lap-dancing club – which had suited Nathan’s character down to the ground. To Jake’s credit, when he had first taken over, he’d turned the place into one of the most successful clubs in Liverpool. And with Jake’s wife, Siobhan, at the helm, it had become one of the leading Liverpool nightspots. But since Siobhan had left work to have their daughter, Isla, a year earlier, the place had lost some of its class. It was still successful, but more often than not it was dogged by rumours of drugs and brawling, and more than once Grace or Michael had had to call in favours from the various officials they had on their payroll to stop the place from being closed down.

‘Any chance that our kids will actually listen though?’ Grace said with a sigh.

‘Who knows?’ Michael replied with a shrug. ‘You do realise they’re invincible, don’t you?’

Grace laughed. ‘Oh yes, of course. I forgot about that.’

‘I remember when I used to think I was invincible. Seems like a lifetime ago now,’ he said with a smile.

‘Now you’re all old and wise,’ Grace said as she nudged him in the ribs. ‘So they definitely won’t listen to you.’

‘Well, if they don’t listen to me, I’ll call in the big guns – you.’

They usually did listen to her, but all the same, Grace gave a sigh. ‘I do worry about them though, Michael. What if one day they really do stop listening to us?’

Michael turned his head to look at her. ‘They know what they’re doing, Grace. They’re not stupid. Young, and quite possibly a bit arrogant, but not stupid. They’re not out there doing anything that we didn’t do ourselves at one time or another.’

She nodded at him, but wasn’t entirely convinced.

‘And besides,’ Michael added, ‘they will always listen to you.’

Before she could respond, he silenced her with a kiss.

Chapter Two

Connor Carter closed his eyes and leaned back against the leather headrest in the back seat of his Range Rover, while his girlfriend, Jazz, rode him like her life depended on it. Despite being nine years older than him, she had the most incredible body he had ever seen. And she could do things with it that made his toes curl. Since he’d met her five months earlier on a night out in Manchester, he’d been completely besotted with her. The only potential blot on the landscape was that she was a married woman. And not just any married woman. But when he was with Jazz, Connor didn’t care. He’d convinced himself they were too clever to get caught. They were always discreet. They used his car, or cheap hotels in the arse end of nowhere. Connor hadn’t told anyone about Jazz except for Paul, and he would trust Paul with his life.

‘Fuck, Jazz,’ he breathed when they were finished. ‘You’re something else, girl. Do you know that?’

‘I do my best,’ she purred at him as she licked her lips.

The vibration of Connor’s mobile phone in his pocket put an end to his post-sex haze. Jazz lifted her thighs off his as he reached into his pocket to retrieve it.

‘What?’ he snapped as he answered the phone to Gary Mac, one of his best soldiers.

‘Sorry, Boss, but there’s been a problem at the collection point. Someone must have known we were going to be there. They were waiting inside the container for us.’

‘What? Is everyone okay? Is the gear okay?’

‘We’ve got the gear. But Vinnie Black’s been shot in the stomach.’

‘Shit!’ Connor snapped as he jumped up, sending Jazz sprawling onto the seat beside him. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed to her.

‘Where is Vinnie now?’

‘The lads took the gear to the warehouse, and I dropped Vinnie at A and E. I left the stolen plates on the van, and I was in and out, Boss, so no one will know who dropped him off. But we couldn’t just leave him like that.’

‘No, of course you couldn’t. Any idea who was behind it?’

‘Yep. I’m back with the lads now and we’ve got two of the little fuckers.’

‘Nice one, Gary. I’ll call Paul and Jake and we’ll be there as soon as.’

‘Sound. We’re at the warehouse.’

‘Sound,’ Connor replied and ended the call. He turned to Jazz. ‘I’m so sorry, babe, but something’s come up.’

‘It’s okay,’ Jazz said with a sigh. ‘I’d better be getting back soon anyway before he notices I’m missing. Can you drop me back at my car?’

‘Of course, babe,’ he said before giving her one last kiss. Then, while Jazz got herself dressed, he dialled his brother’s phone number.

Jake Conlon looked at the quivering man on the floor in front of him. Ian Thomas was a scumbag known locally as The Thrush, because he was so fucking irritating. He was a part-owner of a knocking shop, the aptly named Number 69 on the Dock Road, and with Jake and the Carter twins’ permission he dealt drugs from there too – drugs that they sold him for a good price. He sold to the girls mostly and Jake supposed they needed something to get through the day when the likes of Ian Thomas and his mates were their clientele. The day before, Paul had received a phone call from one of the girls, Sasha. He and Connor had gone to school with her and she’d been a reliable source of information for them since she’d started working at Number 69 three years earlier. It was surprising the level of information that was divulged to the girls by some of the punters. So, seeing the potential business opportunity, the Carter twins had ensured that every girl in Number 69 had become their eyes and ears, and, by association, Jake’s too. Sasha had told him that Ian had been taking the good-quality merchandise that they prided themselves on, and had been cutting it with all kinds of nasty shit. Two of the girls had become so ill they’d been hospitalised, and one had almost died. Paul had promised her that they would sort it as soon as they could – and so here they were.

‘Please, Mr Conlon,’ Ian snivelled. ‘I didn’t do anything with your drugs.’

‘What? Are you calling my esteemed colleague a liar then?’ He turned to Paul, who was sitting on the bonnet of Ian’s battered Fiat Panda, holding a baseball bat as though it was his baby. ‘He says it wasn’t him, Paul. He thinks you’re a liar.’

‘No!’ Ian wailed. ‘I never said that. I never, Mr Carter.’

‘Well, if it wasn’t you, then who has been cutting our drugs with rat poison?’ Paul said as he jumped off the bonnet and sauntered over to Jake and Ian.

‘I don’t know,’ Ian cried. ‘I don’t know. But please, it wasn’t me.’

‘If it wasn’t you, then you must know who it was. Because if you don’t, that means you’ve been leaving our good-quality gear unattended. Either way, we’re not happy,’ Jake snarled.

Suddenly the sound of the Z Cars theme tune filled the air as Paul’s mobile phone started ringing.

‘All right, Con?’ Paul said as he answered.

Jake listened to the one-sided phone call and realised there was something else requiring their attention.

Paul hung up the phone. ‘As fun as it is to watch Ian piss himself, we don’t have time for this, Jake,’ he said sternly.

‘Shame,’ Jake replied.

Ian looked at his captors with a mixture of fear and relief on his face. Jake smiled as he realised Ian had obviously misunderstood Paul’s instruction.

Paul handed Jake the baseball bat. Ian scuttled backwards until he reached the brick wall and could go no further. He held up his hands in defence and let out a bloodcurdling scream as Jake brought the bat down. His hands and fingers took the brunt of the first blow so Jake struck him again for good measure, this time across his shoulders and chest. For his parting shot, Jake kicked Ian in the face, breaking his jaw.

‘Your share of Number 69 is ours now, Ian. Don’t go there again,’ Paul reminded him as they walked away, leaving him howling in pain.

Chapter Three

Jake, Paul and Connor arrived at the warehouse on Canal Street together, to find Gary Mac with his two sons standing in a semi-circle. In front of them were two young lads, who looked no older than eighteen, strapped to chairs with cable ties and gagged with gaffer tape.

‘Fucking hell. It looks like Fifty Shades of Grey in here,’ Paul said with a chuckle.

‘Are these the fuckers who tried to rob us?’ Jake asked incredulously.

Gary and his sons nodded. ‘There were two more but they got away,’ Gary said.

‘You get a look at them?’ Connor asked.

‘Only a fleeting glimpse. Didn’t recognise them.’

‘Thanks, Gary. You and the boys can get off now.’

Gary signalled his sons to follow him. ‘Night, fellas,’ he said on his way out.

Jake stared at the two young lads in front of them. Their eyes wide in terror. Their legs trembling. One of them had a suspicious wet stain on the crotch of his jeans. Ordinarily, a scene like this would be right up Jake and the twins’ street, and they would think nothing of making an example of anyone who tried to steal from them. But these two looked like a pair of terrified kids.

As if reading his mind, Connor spoke. ‘What the fuck are we gonna do with these two?’ he said with an exaggerated sigh.

Jake shrugged. ‘Beats me, lad,’ he said as pulled up one of the chairs and sat down. ‘Paul? Any ideas?’

‘We could just shoot them in the head?’ Paul suggested, although Jake knew he had no intention of doing so. They had no guns on them for a start.

The two captive youths began to shake their heads furiously.

‘Let’s hear what they have to say for themselves then,’ Jake said with a nod.

Paul approached the two youths and ripped the gaffer tape from their mouths.

‘So?’ Paul snapped.

Immediately the two of them started babbling. All Jake could make out were the words sorry, melon and dare.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ Connor muttered and walked away.

‘Oy!’ Jake shouted as he stood up and walked over to them. ‘You weren’t fucking crying earlier when you shot one of our mates, were you? You pair of spineless little pricks.’ He kicked one of the chairs, almost sending it toppling over. ‘Calm the fuck down and tell us who you are and who you’re working for.’

The one who’d pissed himself continued to cry but did so quietly, snot and tears pouring down his face. The other one, who had a mass of curly blonde hair, seemed a little more composed, so Jake focused on him.

‘You! Curly! Tell us who you’re working for,’ Jake demanded.

Curly shook his head. ‘No one,’ he stuttered. ‘No one, I swear.’

‘Fuck off!’ Paul snapped. ‘You expect us to believe you and him, and your two mates who done a runner and left you in the shit, independently decided to rob our gear? Knew where it was coming in and ambushed some of our best lads? Do you think we’re fucking stupid?’

‘We didn’t know it was yours,’ Curly snivelled. ‘We just thought we were going to nick a bit of weed from some lads. We had no idea what it really was, or that it was yours.’

By this point Connor had walked back over to them.

‘This one’s telling us some fucking porkies,’ Paul said to his brother.

‘He’s not,’ the other one suddenly wailed.

‘Oh, I forgot you were even here. Stopped crying for your mummy now?’ Jake said to him.

‘I’m telling the truth. I swear,’ Curly pleaded.

‘Tell us what happened then. Everything. Including who shot Vinnie,’ Connor demanded

Curly took a deep breath. ‘Someone told us—’

‘Who?’ Jake snapped.

‘We don’t know his name. We met him in a pub in Birkenhead. We’d never seen him before.’

Jake raised an eyebrow at the twins. This was getting more ludicrous by the second.

‘Look, I can explain, I swear. Just let me explain,’ Curly pleaded.

‘Go on then,’ Jake replied. ‘Let’s hear your fairy-tale. But I want details, Curly. The more detail you give me, the more likely it is that you will live to see the light of another day.’

Curly licked his lips. ‘Me and my mates, Jay’—he indicated the sobbing lad beside him at this point—‘and Richie, were drinking in the Brass Balance pub in Birkenhead when we started to talking to this fella at the bar. We’d never seen him in there before.’

Jake opened his mouth to ask a question, but Curly pre-empted him. ‘He was late thirties. Average build. Clean shaven. Brown hair. He was wearing a Hugo Boss tracksuit top. That’s all I remember about him. He said he knew about this load of weed that had been left in a container near the docks, and how it was just sitting there for the taking. He said it was some real good-quality weed. Then, some lad who was a few years above us in school, Kenny Bailey, came in. Kenny’s always been a bit of a nutter so when he heard what this fella was saying, he persuaded us to go and take this weed.’

‘And you thought this was a good idea why?’ Jake snapped.

‘We were off our faces. We’d been doing coke and drinking Jaeger bombs all day. We just wanted some weed.’ He sniffed. ‘We weren’t thinking at all.’