Shaun woke drenched in sweat. No light emerged through the bars at his window, apart from the feeble orange glow that clung to cities late at night. No birds sang.
His nightmare still gripped his heart, Meg’s words echoing in his mind. “You killed the man who would have cured me.”
Shaun shook his head. “He isn’t dead,” he whispered.
Not only that, but Meg had said no such thing, had never had reason to do so in the real world from which she’d departed three years before. The ache of seeing her again, even in the shifting landscape of a dream, brought tears to his eyes. A quite unfamiliar emotion, guilt, enveloped him.
That was exactly what Kat wanted to achieve, he reflected bitterly. As soon as the police told her that her brother had been found with his throat cut, she’d rounded on Shaun. Icily, she’d informed him her brother was developing a cure for cancer. His wife, Kat said, would turn in her grave.
The police had arrived in the nick of time; the first occasion in his life when he’d been pleased to see the Old Bill. Kat would have put a bullet in his brain for sure, or left him to starve, even before she knew about her brother. Her eyes, like cold, hard chips of jade, haunted him as he drifted back to sleep.
Morning came. He paced his cell, remembering the sheer boredom of prison, contemplating his future with dread. Even if his brief could reduce the charges, Shaun was bound to serve a long stretch. Right now, he’d been arrested on one count of murder and two attempted murders, the latter still a surprise to him as he’d imagined Jeb would actually manage to kill someone when he put his mind to it.
Poverty awaited beyond the prison sentence. His business activities were on the wrong side of the law, and it wouldn’t take long to establish that. Everything he owned – the house in Wanstead, the casino, nail bars, property and car – all would be seized by the government. It was their revenge for the taxes he’d never paid, he supposed.
He would have to break it to the boys. Finally, they’d have to earn a living, by fair means or foul.
“You’ve never seen me in a place like this,” Shaun said, when they visited. “I haven’t been inside for nearly thirty years. Not nice, is it?”
Ben pushed his floppy blond fringe back from his brown eyes. They were wide as saucers. He nodded.
Jon, the younger one, stared at the bars. “Seen worse on TV,” he muttered.
“I’m too old for this lark,” Shaun sighed. “Prison’s for younger men.” He could handle it, though: the poor diet, pointless work, enforced idleness and tedium. There would be business to do inside and he’d acquire useful connections. His crimes, and certainly his fists, commanded respect.
Ben shrugged.
“You’ll both need to work,” Shaun began to say.
“Gaming,” Ben said.
“That’s your hobby,” Shaun said, speaking slowly, as if to an idiot. “I mean, you’ll have to earn money.”
“I will, at the gaming tournament. I’m in line for twenty grand prize money, representing north London,” Ben said, to Shaun’s astonishment.
“A prize for playing computer games?”
“Yes, at Excel, next week. It’s the national tournament, right? Thousands of people pay to watch. I’m favourite to win it.”
“You?” Shaun was shaken at the news. It was as if his son had a secret life. He found himself gripped with pride. “Where can I place a bet on that?”
“I’ve got that sorted,” Jon said.
“Jon’s running a book online,” Ben said dismissively. “On the dark net.”
“What’s that? Is it legal?” Shaun asked.
“Well, duh,” Jon replied. “Anyway, what about your criminal empire – who’s going to lead that for you? The drugs, the fencing, the casino?”
“How do you know about those?” Shaun asked. He’d never said a great deal about his work to his sons, at least not once they’d made it clear they had no interest in doing any.
“It was all over primary school,” Jon said, rolling his eyes.
“Did it get you into fights?” Shaun asked, remembering occasions in his childhood when he’d desperately wished his father wasn’t in and out of prison.
“None I couldn’t win,” Jon said contemptuously.
Shaun studied his younger son. He was taller than Ben, dark haired, his face a jumble of angles. Shaun had looked the same at that age, until his features settled into a more pleasing picture.
“Let me run the business while you’re away,” Jon said. “Just tell me how to get started – and who I can trust.”
“If there’s one thing we’ve learned in gaming, it’s that you need to know who your friends are,” Ben said.
“Strategy’s important too,” his brother added.
There was hope then, a chance they’d succeed. Shaun hardly knew his children, yet they were his own flesh and blood. Somewhere, beneath those idle facades, lay the genes for a thriving criminal enterprise. His brain went into overdrive, as he tried to distil a lifetime’s knowledge and experience into thirty minutes.
“The casino’s sorted,” Shaun said. “Vince will take care of it. You know Vince, don’t you?”
Ben and Jon both nodded. Vince had been a frequent guest at barbeques and other family parties, in the days when Meg was around to organise them.
“You can trust him,” Shaun said. “Up to a point, anyway. If you think he’s ripping you off, send word to me.” His nostrils flared. “I can make trouble for him – when I get out, definitely. Almost certainly before then, as well. People know I’ve killed a man who crossed me. That counts in this world.”
Jon nodded. “What about the rest?”
“Keep up the bootlegging. The team may think about going freelance. Offer them a bigger cut to keep them sweet. Don’t bother with the drugs, girls and stolen goods. Too risky. Great money, but also a great chance of being grassed on or taking a knife in your back. If I was starting over, I wouldn’t touch them, knowing what I know now. And set up a couple of nail bars and hair salons. A tanning centre. Hot dog stands where the students hang out. Cash businesses, that’s what you want. Maybe a laundromat. You can literally wash your money clean.” He shrugged. “You’ll pay a bit of tax, but it’s worth it, because you’ll keep what’s left.”
Shaun fidgeted. He had to impart an uncomfortable truth. “Life is going to change,” he said. “My brief says everything I own will be taken away by the law. You need to look after yourselves. Take what you can and run, if you need to. And especially, if someone makes you an offer for the casino, a good offer, take it and run off to Spain.”
He ought to tell them about the money too. He doubted they’d squander it. They rarely smoked, drank or touched drugs as far as he could tell. Video games left no time for anything else. “There’s fifty grand in used notes up in the loft,” he said. “It’ll keep the two of you going for a year or so if you’re careful, so don’t spend it all at once. And don’t leave it somewhere obvious, where the Old Bill will find it, or an idiot with a death wish coming round to rob you. Only fools stick cash under mattresses. There’s a machete under mine for emergencies; nothing else. Put one under yours too. The loft’s a good bet for concealing valuables. Nobody ever looks there.” He knew all the common hiding places and had burgled most of them in his time.
“Thanks,” Ben said. He patted Shaun’s shoulder. “We’ll visit you, Dad.”