He wept in the dock when he heard the verdict. The next day he was sentenced and he sobbed again, as if getting life, the only permissible sentence for murder, was a surprise. Perhaps even now, at the very end, he still believed there was one rule for him and another for the rest of us mere mortals.
The judge was particularly critical of his complete lack of remorse and failure to admit guilt, even when the evidence against him was overwhelming, further compounding the misery of Gemma’s family by putting them through the agony of a trial. His final words were reserved for the sickening manner in which he had blackened the good name of a policeman’s daughter by indicating she had been a promiscuous drug-user. The judge hinted that this alone might be enough to deny him his first shot at parole and, since Golden Boots would be at least forty by the time he was released, his football career was effectively over. The club wasted no time in cancelling his contract, so they could stop paying out any more of his eye-watering wages. A civil suit from Gemma’s parents was expected to wipe out the rest of what remained of his fortune
After sentencing, Golden Boots was sent down and placed in a holding cell. He was told someone would be along soon to offer him a sedative, to alleviate some of the shock he was feeling. I’m reliably informed he sat there, intermittently weeping and staring off into space. When the sedative finally arrived it came with a message from the officer who delivered it.
‘A little tip when you are on the inside, Mister Billy Big Bollocks; there’s time and there’s hard time. You keep your mouth shut about some of the people you’ve been doing business with and you’ll find you’re less likely to be stabbed in the exercise yard or raped in the showers, you hear me?’ Golden Boots looked up into our tame guard’s eyes in disbelief. ‘If you’re sensible, there’ll be a little protection for you but if you’re not, if you get to thinking you can get a bit shaved off your sentence, by spinning the police a bunch of lies about gangsters you knew on the outside, well, that’s when the really hard time will start. You think you’re tough, but the proper hard men are queuing up to make you their bitch. You got that?’
Golden Boots started nodding vigorously to show he had got the message.
‘Good lad,’ said our guard, then he put out a hand and patted him on the cheek, ‘take care now and you watch yourself, you hear, because we sure as hell will be.’
I suppose there is an irony here. Henry Baxter was judged to be innocent of a crime he actually committed, whereas Golden Boots was starting a life sentence for a murder he had nothing to do with. It could convincingly be argued that real justice was eventually served in the case of Henry Baxter. No one in my crew thought he got anything less than the fate he richly deserved. It could also be argued that Golden Boots merited a few years jail time, for all of his collective misdemeanours put together, and I wouldn’t argue too strongly against that, but he was inside now for one reason, and one reason alone. I had to keep my main enforcer’s son away from a life sentence because, if Kevin Kinane went down, there would be no knowing what Joe might do. This way he stayed by my side and now he owed me big style. Like I’ve said before, loyalty is everything in our game.
Kevin Kinane had to be punished though. We all knew that, even Joe, especially Joe. I gave Kevin seven days to get his life in order, before making him leave the city he had known all of his life.
There was no opposition from Joe. His disgust at what his son had done was very clear to me. He didn’t even see him off at the station. We left that job to Peter and Chris Kinane who, early one bright morning, put their older brother on the first train out of Newcastle Central Station to London, with one suitcase, then reported that he was gone for good. I could tell they were as shocked by what he had done as their dad. Aside from the obvious evil of murdering a young girl who had done nothing to offend us, which was a bad enough sin on its own, he had brought a huge amount of heat down on our organisation, putting all our lives and livelihoods in jeopardy in the process. That was indefensible and there was no future for him with us anymore. I had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life and I didn’t care. For such a big man, he went like a lamb.
40
With two murder trials behind us and the police off my back, I was keen to be rid of the rest of my problems. Only one man could help me do that.
Amrein was taking afternoon tea in his hotel on the Quayside when I arrived. He was sitting on his own at one table, with two burly bodyguards occupying another, watching over him.
‘Amrein, I keep telling you, I need you to persuade this crazy Russian you set me up with that I don’t want to climb into bed with him, no matter how much he is offering. I need you to scare him, buy him, kill him if you have to, do whatever it takes, but I want him off my back permanently. Have I made myself incredibly clear about that?’
‘Yes you have… it’s just…’
‘It’s just what?’
‘Okay, you pay us for this kind of thing, usually, I understand that and so do the people I work for. They are highly sympathetic to your plight but we have a major problem here that we are thinking is beyond our capability.’
‘I don’t believe this.’
‘We anticipated you would be reluctant to do this kind of business with him, for obvious reasons, but the man is not known for accepting a refusal of any kind.’
‘I gathered that.’
‘And now you know a little of his plans, he will be even more reluctant to allow you to carry on outside of his Krysha, as he calls it.’
‘Are you telling me he is not scared of your organisation? Not in the slightest?’
‘The FSB and the GRU have been trying to get Vasnetsov for a decade. You think he is frightened of us?’
As well as attracting the ire of the FSB, Vasnetsov had to contend with the GRU, the Russian Foreign Military Intelligence service. He had made some powerful enemies.
‘Then kill the fucker.’
‘This is exactly what the Russians have been trying to do. They’ve had agents penetrate his organisation with the sole purpose of assassinating the man.’
‘And?’
‘They were exposed by his men and killed. He has some very clever people working for him and he pays them crazy money.’
‘What about a tribute of some kind; a pay-off, to make him look in another direction for his supply line.’ I was getting desperate now and I knew it, just as I knew Amrein’s answer before he gave it.
‘The man is worth twenty billion dollars. His fortune will increase massively if he can get this African oil project off the ground. What use does he have for your money or ours?’
‘And you can’t protect me from him?’
‘We could,’ he assured me, ‘if you were willing to live your life in something resembling a witness protection programme; change your name, your appearance, move to another country, never see any of your friends and family again then, yes, we could save you from this man, but that would be expensive, and how long could you continue to pay for this service if you are running your company from a desert island?’
‘Not long,’ I admitted, ‘this business doesn’t exactly take kindly to sleeping partners. You’d soon be dealing with someone else in Newcastle and then I’d just be an expensive house guest.’
‘Regrettably so,’ he told me, with characteristic honesty.
‘So then, in summary, I’m fucked.’
Amrein said nothing. It was the first time he hadn’t contradicted me, which told me everything I needed to know.
‘Let me ask you something Amrein, what would make the Stevic brothers come all the way from Belgrade to take me on?’ He opened his mouth as if to answer but I cut him off, ‘and don’t give me that bullshit about them thinking we’re weak.’