Seb looked around Len Reynold’s office, the large room beautifully furnished with antique pieces, a striking contrast to the huge modern window spanning the entire back wall, offering an unparalleled vista of Broad Street, its hotels, clubs and bars.
His father’s office was top notch, but Reynold’s window made this place something else. He’d like an office like this. Maybe one day.
Seb nodded his thanks as a sullen-faced John Maynard handed him a glass of finest whisky poured from a large crystal decanter. He glanced at his father and frowned, noticing him surreptitiously insert a finger in his collar to loosen it.
‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen,’ Len said, his steely eyes scanning the two Stoker men. ‘Shall we get started?’
Mal took a sip of whisky. ‘Yes, I think it’s wise to work together over the reports we’ve had about attempts to encroach on our patches.’
He looked between Len and John Maynard. Not ever being a fan of Maynard, Mal would prefer dealing directly with Reynold, but the man had the right to have his second-in-command present. The very reason why he himself had brought Seb along to the meet.
‘Where did you hear these people, whoever they are, are trying to muscle in?’ Len asked.
Mal shrugged. ‘Some of our runners have been threatened. I presume you’ve experienced likewise? Word has it that it’s stemming from a recently opened place up the Hagley Road.’
Len nodded. ‘After we got your message, we put the feelers out ourselves and yes, it seems we’ve had similar issues. I can’t say I’m happy about it.’
‘You and me both!’ Mal agreed. ‘I’m planning to send two of my boys to visit this Aurora place to see if we can discover anything further. It’s imperative we nip this in the bud.’ Feeling another sudden rush of searing heat to his chest, he loosened his collar once more, realising his brow was beading with sweat. Annoyance crept in. He didn’t want to come over as nervous.
Len tapped his gold pen on the green leather inlay of his desk. ‘I had John visit the Aurora last night. A veritable shit-hole by all accounts. Do you want to take over from here, John?’
Folding his arms, John looked directly at Seb. If the guy thought he could intimidate him with his stares, well think again. ‘The place is a Grade A dosshouse, full of cheap whores and losers. Whatever their game is, they don’t have a chance of infringing on either of our businesses.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Seb countered. ‘But I don’t think attempts to infringe the way they’ve been doing can be ignored.’ He moved his attention to Len. ‘We both have reputations to uphold and we, for one, will not stand by while these gypwacks take the piss.’
‘I can assure you we allow no one to take the piss, Mr Stoker,’ Len said curtly. ‘Measures will be placed to ensure these jokers get the message. That’s if this is something to do with them? We can’t be entirely sure at the moment.’
‘Do we know who owns the place?’ Mal asked, sweat building on his back. He placed his glass on the desk, spotting his fingers tremoring. He glanced at Len Reynold, glad to see that if he had noticed, he wasn’t showing it.
John shook his head. ‘There wasn’t anyone of importance there last night and I did a fair bit of digging. I got the gist that the owner doesn’t come to site,’ he lied.
Seb frowned, watching Maynard closely. More likely the miserable sod had spent his time being serviced by one of the crack-ridden whores he’d mentioned and even that hadn’t put a smile on his bloody face. ‘Then who’s in charge?’
John returned to the drinks cabinet and picked up the decanter. ‘Seems like a hotch-potch of wasters.’ He held up the decanter, offering everyone a top-up. Seeing the shaking of heads, he continued. ‘It could be the place is merely a front for other activities and the main man will emerge once things are in place.’
‘Or it could just be a low-end punk trying his luck and not connected at all,’ Len added.
‘Well, there’s not a lot to see, so I wouldn’t waste your time going. There isn’t anyone or anything there of interest,’ John said firmly. He’d reiterated the same story to Len first thing this morning. It wasn’t like he was going to tell him the truth because he was still processing it himself.
Thomas Bedworth should not be back within the city limits. Furthermore, he couldn’t be. The prick returning after all this time was bad enough, but to be so ridiculously stupid to stir shit up with territories? Bedworth knew damn well who governed those areas, so what the hell was he playing at?
The man had to go and he had to go quickly before he got the chance to drop him in it and cause untold bloody damage.
John scowled. He could not afford for his place to be jeopardised. Certainly not now and certainly not by that loser – that loose cannon. He had to get rid of Bedworth before the truth came out. If he didn’t leave of his own accord, then he would have to make sure that it was orchestrated so that Bedworth disappeared in a way that offered no link back to him.
Seb studied John Maynard with interest. The man knew he was being scrutinised, yet didn’t hold back his obvious dislike for both him and his father. Well, Maynard, the feeling is mutual, mate. Not that you figure.
‘I’m presuming you’ll continue putting tabs out on whoever is bankrolling the place?’ Seb questioned, his clear green eyes now on Len. ‘Especially as you’re planning on stepping down.’ He purposefully moved his gaze to John, glad to see his words caused a nerve to twitch underneath the man’s eye. ‘I mean, it’s not the best timing to hand the reins to a woman if shit is about to hit the fan.’
Irritation rankled at the base of Len’s spine. He studied Sebastian Stoker. The man was clearly a force to be reckoned with – Mal Stoker had done well with this son of his, but the self-assured arrogance of the man needed to go if they were to join forces on this latest development.
He fixed his eyes on Seb. ‘Firstly, Mr Stoker, I have no plans to retire any time soon, of which I’m sure you’re aware, being as you were privy to my announcement. Secondly, my daughter is more than capable of handling things should the need arise.’ Not that Sam would have to, but that wasn’t the point.
Seb held his hands up in submission. ‘I meant no offence, Mr Reynold, and I’m very glad to hear that you have no plans to retire. My father has always maintained that we’ve enjoyed a cordial arrangement between our businesses.’
Mal shot his son a glare, wanting to wipe the smirk Seb wore clean off his face. Why did Sebastian always have to rock the boat? They were joining together on this latest infiltration of their territories, weren’t they? He wanted things to remain amicable between the two firms. Just because Seb didn’t agree with, as he put it, being ‘pally’ with the Reynolds, it didn’t give him the excuse to chuck pointless digs around.
Another burst of heat and a fresh wave of perspiration broke out on Mal’s forehead. It was no good. Sweat would run down his face any minute. This was so embarrassing. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow with a shaking hand.
‘Are you all right?’ Seb whispered.
‘Yes, yes, I’m…’
‘He’s far from all right.’ Len watched Mal closely, then reached for the telephone. ‘I’m calling an ambulance.’
Gloria placed Len’s plate on the table, then put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Hunter’s chicken – your favourite.’
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Len squeezed Gloria’s hand, then watched her move around the other side of the large oval dining table to sit down.
He was a lucky man. He’d fallen in love with Gloria from the off and now, all these years later, he was still fortunate enough to have her at his side. To him, she was the most beautiful creature. Even in her sixties, she had a huge helping of timeless beauty and he thanked his lucky stars that he’d been so blessed. Most people couldn’t say they’d been so lucky.
Shoving a forkful of chicken in his mouth, the delicious cheese topping melting on his tongue, Len frowned at the sadness on Gloria’s face. ‘What’s the matter, love?’
Gloria looked up, her blue eyes misty. ‘I was just thinking about Malcolm Stoker. I’m worried, Len. I mean, you’re older than him and…’
‘Mal Stoker will be fine,’ Len soothed. ‘People of our generation are tough nuts, Gloria.’
Admittedly, he’d thought Stoker was having a heart attack when he’d first seen him go that funny colour and clutch at his chest. And he’d done the decent thing by vacating his own office when the ambulance arrived to give Stoker some privacy, but as they’d carted Mal out, the younger Stoker said the paramedics suspected it was angina.
Gloria smiled weakly. ‘It’s all getting too close to home. First you talk about retirement and then doing that thing with your will, putting our Sam in charge… And that bit you said about when you’re no longer here…’ Faltering, she put her fork down and swallowed the fast-forming lump in her throat. ‘I can’t begin to think of that being a reality, but when something happens like it has done today to Malcolm Stoker, it puts things into perspective…’
Len grinned. ‘Now don’t you be worrying your lovely head about any of that old bollocks. Mal is different to me in as much that he worries too much. The man is stress on legs – always has been. By rights he should have developed angina by thirty, rather than sixty!’
Gloria laughed sadly. ‘Maybe, but none of us are getting any younger.’
‘Correct, but it changes nothing. You’re stuck with me for a lot longer yet, Glor, that I’m sure of.’ Len reached across the table to take his wife’s hand. ‘Talking of which, I must finalise Samantha’s building purchase sometime this week too. I want her to move ahead with that as soon as possible.’
The other thing he needed to do was get his solicitor to draw up the documentation to ensure John had the legal clout to run things after he’d dropped off the twig, otherwise Sam really would be lumbered and she’d never forgive him. Not that he would mention any of that to Gloria.
The other thing he wouldn’t mention was this business today with Stoker had brought it home to him a lot more that he’d care to admit. Although he still felt thirty, both physically and mentally, nothing changed the fact that he was sixty-eight – sixty-nine this year, so it really was important he got everything in place, just to be fully covered when the time came.