Phillip was becoming more and more outrageous in his actions and his beliefs, and Declan knew it was only a matter of time before he went too far. In the past he had been able to head him off at the pass, so to speak. Keep his brother reined in – only he could talk him out of some of the more lunatic actions. But that was getting harder and harder lately. Phillip was fixated on Piper, and Phillip fixated on someone was not a good thing, for anyone concerned.
Phillip was now on a mission, and that was to take the car fronts from Jonnie Piper. He hadn't actually admitted it yet, it was still all about how great Jonnie was, how wonderful it would be to work with him, but Declan knew the signs. Just as he knew that there was much more for the taking if they used their combined loaves of bread. He sighed inwardly; initially in for the proverbial penny, he was now in for the pound. Or in this case, euro.
'Have you thought about the other business yet, Phil?'
Phillip pretended to be considering his brother's words, as if he had only just realised what the real potential of the scam was. It was all Oscar-winning stuff, if you didn't know him like Declan did. 'Let me put that back to you, bruv. What exactly do you think about this money laundering, Declan?'
Declan shrugged. He knew how to play the game. 'It's not the laundering I'm interested in, we already have all that in place. Like you, Phil, I am more interested in the counterfeiting. Jonnie didn't talk too much about that side of it, I noticed. But this new five-hundred euro note is supposed to be well worth the aggro. It's so neat, right, you can fit over twenty grand in a fag packet. It's perfect for moving large quantities of bogus cash around Europe. They are literally a piece of piss, Phillip, easier to copy than a twenty-quid Rolex. We sell them for three hundred a pop – that way we don't have the hag of passing them on; the buyer takes the real risks.'
Phillip shrugged in annoyance. His anti-European stance was well known to everyone around him. He saw England as an island, and if he had his way he would personally brick up the Channel Tunnel. 'Fucking euro! Mickey Mouse money, Monopoly money more like. But I can see where you're coming from – the most we've got is a fifty pounder. So a five-hundred euro note has to be worth it. I think you're right, bruv, me and you will have a touch there. See what we can get on the go. We'll shoot out to Marbella, see a few faces out there, do the usual, find out who the real players are in the game. Then we'll aim Jonnie Piper out of it; after all, he needs us, we don't need him.'
Declan nodded; that was his thought on the subject entirely. Piper was out either way. Unlike Phillip, Declan had not really taken to Jonnie. There was something off-kilter, and he wasn't sure exactly what it was. But Declan's shit-detector was on red alert, and it bothered him. He still didn't want the man dead though, which he had a feeling would be the upshot where Phillip was concerned. When Phil destroyed people, he liked them gone for good. They literally disappeared off the planet. No body meant no Filth, meant no forensics, meant they could all get on with their lives. It was another one of his brother's many little foibles. The trouble was, Declan had a feeling that Jonnie Piper had some serious clout behind him, he was big in his own way. But maybe not big enough to take on Phillip Murphy.
So it was now a case of finding out who was the real sponsor, and why they were so determined to keep their name out of the loop. Declan knew a few people who, though they liked Phillip, drank with him, socialised with his family, would not enter into a partnership with him because they knew it was a fruitless enterprise. Phillip wanted all or nothing, and that was never going to change. That meant one of two things: one, the people, or person concerned, were on the run (fair enough, but hardly something you would be comfortable keeping from people who you needed, and who would know the score anyway) or two, this was a set-up to take what they had. Personally, he was for the latter option. Phillip had pissed off a lot of people over the years, but even then it would take one brave fuck to try and have him over. So it was pretty much just a process of elimination really, in more ways than one. Finding out who Jonnie Boy had met with, where he had met with them and, most importantly, why he had met with them. Jonnie was a nice enough bloke, but he was obviously a cunt as well. Phillip was like a wild animal, he could smell skulduggery and treachery like a wolf could smell its own arse on a windy night. Declan had a feeling there was going to be murder, and the knowledge depressed him.
He hated real murder, it always brought you to the attention of the wrong people. Even when things were done properly and nothing could ever be proved, it didn't stop people being suspicious. It was the suspicion that caused a lot of the aggravation, was why certain people wouldn't partner them. It was why the Pipers and others of their ilk eventually signed their own death warrants.
Kill or be killed. But what no one realised was that Phillip always got his kill in first.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Eileen Booth was amazed to see her daughter on her doorstep so early in the morning. 'Bloody hell, Christine, you been up all night?'
The sarcastic reference to her early morning visit was ignored. Christine followed her mother through to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine.
'Christine, it's only nine fifteen!'
Christine looked at her fleetingly and said quietly, 'I'm pregnant, Mum.'
Eileen Booth's eyes were stretched to their utmost as she said quietly, 'Oh, for fuck's sake, Christine, pour me one and all.'
As they sat at the table together, Christine wondered why she had come here. Her mother wasn't the most reliable of women when it came to keeping secrets, and suddenly she was frightened.
As if reading her daughter's mind, Eileen said earnestly, 'It'll have to go, love, and Phillip can never find out about it. You couldn't cope with a baby, and who would want to at your age! Didn't you take any precautions?'
'Obviously not, Mum, or I wouldn't be here. Now, listen to me. You can't tell a living soul. If Phillip thought I'd had an abortion he would kill me, Mum, and that ain't a joke – you know that. He would fucking lose it, and he would take me out permanently.'
Eileen Booth was sorry to hear her daughter's language, she even spoke like a criminal's wife. Even though she lived off her son-in-law's largesse, and enjoyed the proceeds, she still hated that this lovely girl of hers, who could have had the world if she wanted to, had tied herself to a thug, and for all his money and his possessions, Phillip Murphy was still just that. A vicious and violent thug. Even though Eileen would admit that she was often envious of her daughter's lifestyle, she knew exactly what it had cost Christine in more ways than one. 'You can get it done now without even telling your GP. We'll go away and do it somewhere, and I wouldn't tell a soul. Let's face it, Phillip would see me as a bigger culprit in all this than he would you.'
The truth of the statement calmed Christine down; her mother was right, he would blame her before he would blame his wife. That's what Phillip did, he cast the blame where it suited him. Her mother always looked after number one, so she wouldn't say a word to a soul for fear of reprisals. Really frightening reprisals. Phillip's Catholicism was like a mania at times. She had known him to go to Mass twice a day; he said he felt calm in church, it helped him think. She knew her husband believed he was chosen somehow, that God watched over him personally at the expense of everyone else.