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  If I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anybody.

  I took a taxi to where I needed to be. I didn’t drive a car so me getting anywhere was always dependant on lifts off folk or a taxi. The fucking public transport was a joke and I had stopped taking the bus because of the arseholes who get on it. I’m not saying I’m too good for public transport, not at all, it’s just the social menaces such as the scallys and chavs just grate on me. The last time I took a bus was the time I was on leave and ended up fighting with a bunch of them. I had asked this young 18 year old lad to turn the music down on his phone.

  He had gangster rap blasting out with ‘fuck your bitch’ this and ‘you motherfucker’ that. The thing is there were people with kids on the bus.

  Whatever happened to headphones I wondered?

  Yeah, so anyways, I asked, he refused, I grabbed the phone and threw it out of the window. Three of them came at me, but they were little bitches who couldn’t fight for shit so I gave the three of them a few whacks and got off the bus before the driver called the police. People actually clapped me as I walked off.

  So arriving at my destination I walked into the popular Connelly’s Club and met the owner, Mr Jack Swayby. I had known Jack years back and I had put in some time with him when he was getting his club kitted out. I managed to get him a cheap stage for his acts to use, so Jack owed me a favour. Jack was great. He agreed to what I wanted.

  I went into the staff room as Jack introduced me to the chef and a few of the waiters. I talked with them and slipped them a 20 each. I then headed back home to chill out and relax for the day before the big night.

  Once I got home I decided to contact Lorraine. Lorraine was married to Dave and I know she had had the funeral for Dave already but I just needed to talk to her. If Spade had any family I would have done the same for him too, but he was a man on his own in the world. Such a shame really because he was a top bloke, they both were.

  I spoke to Lorraine for about two hours over the phone, I would have visited her personally but she had moved to Ireland after Dave’s death. She wanted to know everything. I pleaded with her, I begged her not to ask me, but she was adamant. She wanted to know what his last moments were like.

  So I told her, I told her the truth, sort of. I said that we were having a right good laugh up until the OP went FUBAR, I told her what the military couldn’t tell her. I told her about the Black OP and how it went down, but I left out the bits about me and Trigg. She didn’t need to know. She wanted info on Dave and I gave it to her.

  What I meant by the term ‘sort of’ was I told the absolute truth, all apart from a few bits.

  Nobody can call me for trying to make it easier on Lorraine. I told her Dave didn’t suffer because he had been subjected to a chemical agent which had blown up near the place in which he was killed. I told Lorraine Dave had been subject to an obscene amount of sodium thiopental which is actually an anaesthetic. It is such a powerful anaesthetic that it is the first of the three shots given to people who get the lethal injection, along with the death doses of potassium chloride and pancuronium bromide. I had copied a story Dave had told someone else’s wife. He used to read about chemicals and science type stuff and it sounded believable, so I used it.

  I told her when Dave was shot, he told me to tell her he loved her, and would always love her. She cried over the phone but also said she was so happy he didn’t suffer.

  Telling lies have never been a strong point of mine, but in a way I was telling her the truth because I had seen the letters he used to write before every mission. He did some that day but they were never found.

  I knew what he would have said, that’s why I told Lorraine what I did. It’s what Dave would have wanted.

  I felt better having spoken to Lorraine, it was one of them things you know you have to do but you put it off because of the awkwardness, but it was done now. During our marathon conversation I told her I was popping the question to Emma that night. She laughed when I told her my plans and wished me all the best.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Just keep walking gents,’ I said as Malcolm and Pete pleaded with me to call the police.

  We kept walking calmly. Malcolm asked me who the men were, but I had no idea. Pete seemed the most scared and kept saying ‘What if they try and rob us’ to which I replied ‘Rob us for what? I don’t have my cards on me, just cold hard cash tonight, and that’s gone too.’

  We turned and the men had gone. Pete was relieved to say the least and Malcolm seemed to lighten up too. ‘Told you, boys, just drunks lost or something.’

  ‘Whatever, Malcolm, they looked bloody scary individuals to me and Joey said he had seen them near the club. They could have been following us, you know.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  I stopped them mid-argument. A car was coming towards us rather fast. ‘Lads.’

  Both Malcolm and Pete kept yapping until I had to shout to get their attention.

  ‘Lads!’

  By the time Pete and Malcolm heard me, the car had stopped a few feet from us. It all happened so fast then. Four men in balaclavas jumped out and one in particular aimed a gun at me. Pete and Malcolm were proper panicking as the other three men threw both Pete and Malcolm to the floor. There was a lot of shouting as the man who had the gun on me pressed it hard into my temple.

  Make no mistake, I was scared.

  Looking around and trying quickly to assess the shit as it was going down, I knew that two of the guys were the guys who had followed us. I could tell by the white shirt of the one and the bouncer-like look of the other. They must have been picked up and come around for us in the car.

  But who were they? What had I done? Or what had we done?

  My only guess, as I stood there defenceless, was that I must have pissed an old client off, either that or it was just a random thing. I was never a big believer in random, though, due to my line of work perhaps.

  The man with the gun on my head spoke amidst the shouting. I knew his voice wasn’t local. He kind of had a Manchester-type twist to his lingo.

  ‘Right, everyone, shut the fuck up. You too, lads. We’re here on a job, yeah?’

  The other three lads standing over Pete and Malcolm all nodded and said yes to the guy with the gun on me, so it was safe to say he was the big cheese.

  What got me is he said ‘Job’. A job? What the hell?

  It was then I knew this couldn’t be random… fuck.

  ‘Get them up,’ the man said, referring to Pete and Malcolm. Getting up sheepishly, Pete and Malcolm both did as they were told.

  The guy with the gun took the gun off me. I have to say I got my heartbeat back then because I thought I was in trouble, big trouble. He looked at me in the face, then he went into his pocket and looked at a photo, he looked at his guys and nodded, then looked at me again.

  ‘You Graziano? Joey Graziano?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me. What’s the problem here?’

  ‘No problem,’ he said. He then looked at his guys as he walked towards Pete and Malcolm. I hope he wouldn’t hurt them because he was the one with the gun. He put the gun on them. ‘Any of you two fucks move and your dead. You watch.’

  Both Pete and Malcolm nodded their heads in compliance.

  ‘Right lads, do it, but don’t kill him,’ he said as I stood there paused for a second, the words seeming to bring it home in one quick bang that I was just about to get the living shit kicked out of me.

  The words ‘not the face’ came to mind.

  Chapter Thirty One

  THE PROPOSAL FROM TOMMY’S POINT OF VIEW

  Now I don’t care if you’re a lawyer, a bricklayer, or a cleaner, shit I don’t care where you work or what your status is. Throw some money around and you will be treated like fucking royalty.

  It doesn’t have to be crazy amounts of money either. Let’s say you’re taking your better half out. You notice the place is packed and you want some quiet time. It really is easy. Just stick a 20 in the host’s hand and s
mile, then tell him or her you want a quiet table, a romantic little spot.

  Chances are you will get it.

  When you leave, be the man, find the manager and say hello, tell him how good the food was, tell him you like how he runs shit, throw him a 20 and get his card. The next time you want a table, you ring him and it’s done. No more waiting in the bar spending daft money on overpriced watered down beer.

  Having done a few good turns for Jack Swayby at Connelly’s, I was already in his good books, but I had managers of restaurants eating out of my hands in most places due to the fact I played the game, and played it right.

  Like I mentioned before, this night was going to be special. Emma was taking ages to get ready, and I didn’t moan at her once. I just chilled watching the TV as she did what women do when getting ready.

  When she finally came downstairs, I was gob smacked. She was stunning. Wearing a figure-hugging blue dress with matching shoes and her hair in ringlets, oh man, she really did look way too good for me. I could have jumped her right then and there.

  I had told her it was just a romantic dinner for me and her.

  We took a normal no-frills taxi, she asked were we were going and I told her. She was concerned because she had some friends who couldn’t seem to get a reservation at Connelly’s but I told her it was sorted. She asked what entertainment was on but I kept it all hushhush.

  ‘It’s a surprise, babes,’ I whispered in her ear in the taxi.

  Being in the line of work I had been in before the Army, I guess it was inevitable that I would love movies such as ‘Goodfellas’. So, me being me, I went for the Goodfellas entrance. It was all arranged by Jack.

  THE PROPOSAL FROM EMMA’S POINT OF VIEW

  Before we set off I looked at him and he looked so cool. He was smart, don’t get me wrong, but he kind of was like a scruffy smart, something he did very well and it drove me crazy.

  On the way there I nagged him to find out where we were going, what was on. I have to admit I can’t keep sane when I am being surprised. It was the excitement. After all this time I was being wined and dined by the only person I would want to do it for me.

  When we got there the queue was stretched out from the club doors way out into the car park. I wouldn’t have waited like that, especially with the dress I had on. It was freezing.

  I told Tommy we didn’t have to go in Connelly’s. I told him I wouldn’t wait like the people standing outside in the cold.

  He smiled at me like he was as cool as Han Solo himself.

  ‘Follow me, we don’t do queues, babe.’

  Looking around the alley Tommy led me down my first thoughts were that I was hoping he hadn’t taken me down the alley for a quickie - not yet anyways.

  Luckily he hadn’t. We got to an old brown door where a waiter greeted us.

  ‘Evening, Emma,’ he said as he opened the door for us and took our coats.

  We were taking the ‘Goodfellas’ route. I couldn’t believe it. I remember telling Tommy when we watched the film on VHS many years ago how cool it was. He had remembered. I could hear the famous song which was used in the film by the Ronettes ‘And Then He kissed Me’ playing in the club.

  ‘Wow!’, I thought. Tommy was really surpassing his usual efforts, not that I complained, because a tin of Roses and a smile was usually about the limit. He had changed, that was for sure. He just seemed so damn grown up, and happy - it was fantastic to see.

  Walking past the hallways and through the kitchen where the chefs and cooks all knew my name somehow was overwhelming, It had me laughing my arse off and I remember thinking ‘How the hell did Tommy get the club to do all this? For me?’

  But, to my surprise, the best was yet to come.

  As we walked out of the kitchen, a waiter led the way carrying a table just for two above his head. He placed it down at the front of the main floor which was packed with people all wining and dining. They all clapped us. it was surreal.

  We sat down and the Manager, a Mr Swayby, came over and introduced himself to us, or me, because the way him and Tommy laughed when they shook hands it was obvious Tommy and he had history.

  ‘Hello and good evening, madam. Please may I take this opportunity on behalf of myself and all the staff to welcome you to Connelly’s.’

  He was so charming. He held out a bottle of rosé wine and waited for my approval.

  ‘If you would please accept our finest bottle of Pinot Noir Rosé, a rare table wine sold exclusively by Connelly’s, which was produced in the mountains of the Santa Clara Valley, compliments of the house.’

  Both I and Tommy nodded as if we knew where that posh place was. Santa Clara? The only Santa me and Tommy knew wore a red suit and came down chimneys.

  It seemed so much to take in. It was like I was royalty. I kept thinking what in God’s name had Tommy done to get all this and more the point what was he up to?’

  Sitting down at our table we laughed together. It seemed like it was the only moment we had had together since we had got in, what with all the fuss over us and all.

  Tommy asked if I was happy. I said ‘Of course I am, dummy, who wouldn’t be?’

  After chatting and feeling a little more relaxed, we sat and ordered our food. The service was fantastic.

  Being the bloody greediest bugger on the planet, Tommy just had to have the House Mixed Grill. ‘Babe, it’s the biggest thing you can get,’ was his reason. I always tried to get him to try different dishes when we went out to eat. He would say ‘Hmm, yeah, that sounds nice, honey’, and then, a minute later, guaranteed, he would say ‘You know what? That all sounds nice, but I reckon I’m gonna go for the mixed grill’.

  Still, it was just one of the numbers of things I loved about him. After all, a girl doesn’t want a man who eats less than her.

  We sat there at our table, full up and drinking our wine. It was so romantic.

  Right then the host came onto the stage right in front of us and told us all to get ready for the night’s entertainment.

  One of the reasons that Connelly’s was sold out that night was because of the act that was performing. Now I had no idea, but it was the Two Steps act from London. They did musical shows and tonight’s was a mix of Footloose, Grease and Dirty Dancing! I couldn’t believe it. I was in heaven. Wow!

  It was a crazy night. The show was amazing and I felt dizzy from singing and trying to dance a little bit. I usually would have been dancing all night but the bump restricted my flow and I got tired quicker.

  We stayed talking and laughing as if we had just met. We reminisced about the years gone by. After all, I had met Tommy in my late teens so we had been together for a good ten years.

  It seemed we were in our own little world. Neither me nor Tommy realised that most of the guests had left. The stage was empty and the staff had begun to tidy up and get ready for closing. We both thanked Mr Swayby before we left. I was tired and asked Tommy if he would call a cab but he insisted we took a little walk first.

  It was nice actually, walking down the street. There was no wind, which wasn’t bad for November, and it was quite mild outside. We walked and Tommy said we could get a taxi from the taxi place which was just around the corner.

  Tommy stopped.

  ‘You remember when I first saw you in here?’ Tommy said as he pointed with his head. We were outside of the LA’s nightclub. It was closed now but it was still the place where we had met, bless him.

  After shuffling around in his pocket, Tommy brought out a little black box and got down on one knee. He opened the box which revealed a beautiful purple Tanzanite stone. He knew purple was my favourite colour. The ring was amazing, but what was more amazing was the night, it really had been the perfect night.

  So this is what he was up to. I couldn’t believe it. Tommy had always been opposed to getting married.

  Looking up with puppy dog eyes he just said it in his typical no nonsense way ‘Will you be daft and marry me, Emma?’

  I got down on one knee and
joined him, crouched, and we kissed.

  ‘You never even had to ask, honey. Course I will. It’s always been you, always has, always will be.’

  We sat there in the middle of the street and kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and I never wanted to stop.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  I still felt sorry for Malcolm and Pete. They kept saying ‘Sorry, Joey’, and poor Malcolm had begun to cry. Malcolm’s tears amused the man who had the gun on them and he laughed before telling them to shut up and be quiet.

  First of all the two men who had hold of me tied my wrists together and stretched my arms out over my head. I have to admit I was terrified. I think the worst thing was because it didn’t look like they were going to beat me beat up, which would have scared me enough and been more than ample.

  No, these masked men were planning something a little more sinister.

  Having my arms stretched out above my head they laid me on the concrete. One of the men went to the car and brought out a nail gun.

  My heart beat like mad in fear.

  To my relief, the nail gun was only shot into the concrete above my head. The men then connected my tied hands to the nail which was dug into the floor, so I was suspended whilst being laid and stretched out. They did the same with my feet, tying them tight, and connected them to a nail in the floor.

  So there I was, stretched out. I couldn’t move. I tried to wriggle left and right and kept asking them why they were doing this and also what I was supposed to have done. There was no answer.

  The man with the gun moved Malcolm and Pete further away from me (about 20 foot away) and asked the two men ‘is this safe enough away?’, to which the men said it was.

  Panic was truly getting a grip of me at that time. One of the men went into a white carrier bag and pulled out some pink rubber gloves and a penknife. My eyes followed his every move as my heart pounded in fear for what they were going to do.

  The man at my feet was handed a ball of what I thought was chewing gum at first, but when I saw him cutting it and attaching a few bits here and there I soon realised it wasn’t bubble gum, it was semtex - plastic explosive - and I was well and truly in deep trouble. He spoke to me in a sort of cynical tone.