Kray - Exposed

Through her marriage to Reggie Kray, Roberta Kray has a unique and authentic insight into Londons East End. Roberta met Reggie in early 1996 and they married the following year; they were together until Reggies death in 2000. Roberta is the author of many previous bestsellers including Bad Girl , Streetwise , No Mercy and Dangerous Promises .

The Debt

The Pact

The Lost

Strong Women

The Villains Daughter

Broken Home

Nothing But Trouble

Bad Girl

Streetwise

No Mercy

Dangerous Promises

Non-fiction

Reg Kray: A Man Apart

COPYRIGHT

Published by Sphere

978-0-7515-6103-6

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Roberta Kray 2016

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

SPHERE

Little, Brown Book Group

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London, EC4Y 0DZ

www.littlebrown.co.uk

www.hachette.co.uk

Exposed

Table of Contents

In memory of Vernon Wells

1966

Paddy Lynch lay dying in the back of the van. He clutched at his guts, trying to stop the life from leaking out of him. His eyes, frantic with fear, darted to the left and the right, looking at everything but focusing on nothing. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Youll be all right, mate. Hang on in there.

Yeah, well get you to the hospital. No worries, Pads. Theyll sort you out.

The two men who were crouched down beside him exchanged quick knowing glances. Unless Paddy got help soon, he was for it. You didnt need to be a doctor to see that. They tried to keep their voices reassuring as they watched his face turn grey.

A third man, Jack Minter, scowled and looked away. He was struggling to contain his rage. He had no sympathy for Paddy. The stupid bastard had ignored everything hed been told, gone in like some gun-toting cowboy, managed to get himself shot with his own sawn-off and almost blown the whole job in the process. And now the icing on the cake someone would have to take him to the hospital. And for what? The bloke was going to croak no matter where he was.

Jack glared at the row of heavy brown sacks. It was a decent haul, mainly consisting of gold, gems and jewellery, but it would have been even better if Paddy hadnt gone off half-cocked. The thought of what theyd had to leave behind made his blood boil. It had taken over a year of meticulous planning, his planning, hours and hours of painstaking work to get everything in place. Hed been sure that hed covered every contingency except for this one.

Youll be okay, Pads. You will. Tell him, Jack.

Jack forced a thin smile. Sure, he said. No worries. Well be there soon. But he didnt look straight at Paddy he didnt want to see those fading eyes and focused instead on a spot to the side of his head. Jesus, he should have known better than to bring him along. The guy had been a last-minute replacement after Charlie Treen had broken his leg. A bad omen if ever thered been one. He should have listened to the gods, postponed it and waited until Charlie was back on his feet, but it was too late for regrets now.

The van was moving rapidly along the uneven road, every bump and jolt adding to Paddys misery. A low moan escaped from between his lips. Jack glanced at his watch, knowing they must be approaching the changeover spot. It was a quiet place where two cars were parked, where the team would separate and the haul would be split before they met up again at the house in Kellston.

Right, were almost there. Ill take the van and drop Paddy off at the hospital.

What about the gear? Rossi asked, his expression tight and suspicious as if Jack might be trying to pull a fast one.

Same as we planned. You divide it between you and Ill see you later.

Rossi glanced down at Paddy, looked up again and gave a cautious nod. You sure?

Its the only way. Ill dump the van at A&E and get the Tube back.

The van came to a halt. They heard Ned run round to open the doors. How is he? he asked, staring wide-eyed at Paddy.

Hanging on, Jack said. Come on, lets get this gear shifted.

The men unloaded the sacks in thirty seconds flat and shoved them into the boots of the waiting vehicles. The three said a few quick reassuring words to Paddy before jumping inside the cars. Jack could see they felt guilty about leaving the guy, but not guilty enough to jeopardise their own freedom. Not one of them suggested coming along.

Jack gave a snort. So much for loyalty, for standing by your buddies. When the shit hit the fan it was every man for himself. He put his foot down and went first, the others following on at the rear. At the crossroads they took three different directions, with only the van going straight ahead. The law might not be far behind and if he got stopped then at least the haul was safe. He thought about Paddy lying in the back and his lip curled. Problem was, the filth would know the idiot had been shot and theyd be watching the hospitals. That was going to make it tricky.

And there was something else to stress about too. What if by some freak chance Paddy didnt die? What if he came through the op, opened his big mouth and sang like a canary? Jack wouldnt put it past him. He didnt trust the guy, not an inch. What did he really know about Paddy Lynch? Sod all, other than the fact he couldnt follow orders. The fool might sell them all down the river.

Stuff that! he muttered.

Jack reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of fags, took a cigarette and lit it. He breathed in deeply, trying to figure out what to do next. He expelled the smoke in a long thoughtful stream. A spatter of rain fell against the windscreen and he switched on the wipers, his gaze flicking between the road ahead and the rear-view mirror. What now? An inner voice was whispering in his ear. The answer was clear. The answer was simple. All he had to do was nothing.

Jack didnt think of himself as a cruel man, simply a pragmatic one. This was supposed to be his first and last job and by ten oclock tonight if nothing got in the way he could be on a plane heading out of the country for good. He had no intention of ever coming back. A new life, a fresh start was what he had planned and he didnt see why he should change those plans.

It was time to get out of London, and especially the East End. Things were getting too hot. Ever since Ronnie Kray had shot Cornell back in March, thered been tension in the area. There were going to be repercussions; there was no doubt about it. The filth would only take so much. A line had been crossed and thered be a price to pay. Well, he didnt intend to be standing in the firing line when it all kicked off.

Jack took another long drag on his cigarette and hissed out the smoke between his teeth. Damn it!

If Paddy survived and named names, theyd all be looking at a long stretch. And what if he grassed them up before he even got into the operating theatre? Not that it was likely judging by the state of him, but stranger things had happened when men were on their way to meet their maker.

Jack gave an impatient shake of his head. Sometimes important decisions had to be made, decisions for the greater good, and this was one of those occasions. After all, when push came to shove, Paddy had brought it on himself. If he hadnt been so reckless, he wouldnt be lying in the back of the van with a bullet in his guts. Why should everyone else pay the price for what hed done? It wasnt right. It wasnt fair. It was way out of order.