“Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.”                                                       William Shakespear

Poeta

    A True Story but some names have been changed to protect the innocent”

                           Chapters

1. The Chief  Inspector

2. Soho

3. High Speed Chase

4. Brixton Prison

5. Inside

6. Playing the Game

7. Getting a Licence

8 .Scotland Yard

9.Those Above

10.One Eyed Jimmy

11.Christmas Drink

12. Pissed as a Newt

13. The Guv’nor

14. The King of Soho

15. Nouveau Riche

16. Porn King

17. Susan

18. Bang to Rights

19. Gerry

20.Mail Order

21. A letter from Gerry 

22.  Gold Parker Pen

23. LSD

24. Paper Tiger

25. Mr Fixit

26. A Gangster

27. RAF Couple

28. A Loose Cannon

29. A Clean Record

30. The Courier

31. At the Customs

32. Back in London

33. One of the Chaps

34. A Hard Man

35. Walking Dead Man

36. A Threesome

37. Keep a Tiger on a Chain

38. The New Man

39. Rubber Heel Mob

40. Showdown

41. Pat’s Fans

42. Living in Mortal Fear

43. Heisting

44. Message to the Krays

45. Drinking Partners

46. Games with Susan

47. The Pig

48. Goodbye Bill

49. Pat’s Admirers

50. Playboy

51. An Idyllic Tryst

52. Mail Order Licence

53.Tom & Rose

54. Dippers

55.Colours in the air

56. Mortal Combat

57. Destroying Evidence

58. The Old Grey Fox

59. Brixton Prison

60.Shades of Charles Manson

61. Forensic Evidence

62. Holloway

63.The Adversary Game

64. Ultra Violet

65. Hope Springs Eternal

66. Winston’s Alibi

67. The Trial

68.The Verdict

69. Life

70. The Belly of the Beast

71. Hospital!

72. The News of the Screws

73.  A Hero’s Welcome

74.Cream of the Working Class

75. Another Hit

76. Plant

77.A Drawing of the Queen

78. Ghosted to The Island

The Chief  Inspector

Chapter 1

I got to know Chief Inspector Lesley Alton, head of the Obscene Publications Squad well and we would often meet at a posh country pub in Surrey a short drive away from his home in Esher. I would receive a phone call about “a meet” and I would put the proverbial brown paper envelope in my pocket and drive along the A6 to meet him.

 Sometimes I used to play tricks on him and he got very annoyed. On one occasion when a regular at the pub, an ex army officer, assumed that because I was with Les that I was a detective. I went along with it and when he asked me if I had nicked any villains recently I said that I had nicked some bank robbers that week. “A ready eye on a jug caught them bang to rights” I had joked. Alton’s ex military acquaintance started to play a game where he tried to work out the slang that I was using.

“We have to know all the underworld slang so that we can catch the villains” I told him.

During this episode I could see Les was getting very annoyed. He was getting drunk as usual but I carried on in spite of his disapproving looks while ordering him and his friend a drink. In Lesley’s case a “Double Ding Dong!” as he would say. I always thought that this term for Bell’s whisky sounded rather ridiculous but used it in his company.

When we entered the pub restaurant he reproved me for imitating a police officer. “What was I going to do then tell him that I was a pornographer?” I replied. I was enjoying myself, as I usually did when I delivered my pay offs, I thought that he had to stand for my jokes because he always wanted the money and also I always paid the restaurant bill.

Sometimes in a moment of drunken generosity he would spin a coin to see who paid for the wine, of which he would drink copious quantities even after several double whiskies.

I liked him to become inebriated because then he would tell me what was going on in the corrupt world of Soho and the Porn Squad. One thing that puzzled me was that he often complained, when I accused him of making a fortune.

“We don’t get all of it and a lot goes upstairs” Alton would say.

 At first I thought that he was referring to other senior police officers at the Yard, but then I realised that “those above” were people that he did not like, people who came from a different social class whom many police officers despised. Over the years, since my conviction for murder of the Soho gangster Gerald Hawley in 1969, pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I found out that the Home Office referred to the practice of accepting corrupt payments from the pornography business as “farming.”

I was shocked but then nothing surprised me now.  I always remember my father’s reaction after he had said to me that I would get nicked one day because I was living a flamboyant lifestyle, driving a metallic gold Jaguar 3.8, wearing handmade suits and eating out in the most expensive restaurants.

“Dad, I can’t get nicked because I am paying Scotland Yard” I informed him.

“Don’t be silly, we have the finest police force in the world” he replied.  

I knew that was true once, but not now, and the corruption had infected the police, legal profession and the body politic spreading to the highest levels. I knew that the corollary of censorship was corruption and that this was true of any popular illegal commodity that the public consumed.

I told him about how I used to meet police officers from Scotland Yard’s Porn Squad in pubs and so on and how I would slip them a brown paper envelope. The reason corrupt police officers always ask for payment in a brown paper envelope is, because if they are arrested by honest cops, then they can say that they thought that the envelope contained information and that you were an informer.

“How do you know that they are police?” my father, an ex army warrant officer in the 19/21st Queen’s Lancers asked.

“Oh I know because they sometimes leave their warrant cards in the window of their cars to avoid parking tickets and to let other coppers know who they are” I replied.

My father was still was not convinced until I took him along one day and introduced him to a Detective Brown of the OPS ( Obscene Publications Squad) and let him go to the toilet to hand him the brown paper envelope. I told the Porn Squad detective that I would send my father if at any time I could not make it. Actually I was rather disappointed, at a time that I wanted to impress my father, that Chief Inspector Lesley Alton did not turn up but sent someone of the lowest detective rank.

The reason that the hit was put on me in 1969 was because I had broken the terms of my unwritten licence which eventually caused what became known as “The downfall of Scotland Yard.” Alton had told me when giving me “a licence” that “you “must not sell by mail-order and you must not export” but I was an entrepreneur and I eventually did both!

When I was arrested in Amsterdam for exporting English pornographic films into the Dutch porn-shops (which was then illegal) it resulted in an Interpol inquiry. I had caused it and I knew too much. I was told by another corrupt Porn Squad detective sergeant Roy Cheval (he said his name was) that it was Alton who had put the contract on me but in my opinion the order had “come from above” and he was just the messenger.

Soho

Chapter 2

In the early Sixties I started to supply the London Soho shops with drawings and  later photos.

When I delivered my drawings to the little Frith Street sex-shop, Tommy, who ran the shop, had always said to me that if I took some photos then he would always take some.

My hobby had been photography since the age of fourteen, when I had bought a Jobo daylight developing tank and developed my first roll of black and white film. At 19 years of age I photographed my erotic drawings and printed them onto bromide paper.

In the early Sixties I discussed with a friend Tony using our wives as models for the sets of photos. I told him that I could sell the photos to the Soho shops. The girls were both about nineteen and beautiful. Sandra was dark and Pauline blonde and both had long hair down to their shoulders. The first pictures that I took were lesbian and when I took them round the Soho shops, packed in sets of five in cellophane, most of the twenty two shops took them.

Sitting on the Tube coming home to Tony’s small dingy flat in Norwood, South London with a few hundred pounds in cash in my pocket and this was a lot of money in those days.  I soon became successful  and Tony and I started posing with the girls too, producing hardcore pornography.

The shops began ordering more and more of my work. I was creative and used props and uniforms and when I did some “nurse sets” orders went through the roof. This is when it was suggested to me that it was about time that I started to pay the Porn Squad...

I went into the Long Shop in Old Compton Street and Stan in the inner sanctum of the backroom looked at me through the hatch in the wall and gave me a sly grin. The backroom was crowded with “punters'' leafing through sets of photographs that were in boxes. They were labelled singles, groups, les, pissing, flag, Fem Dom and so on. Every taste was catered for and Sixties Soho was the centre of a successful pornography trade that catered exclusively to customers all over Britain and even abroad.  

“You are doing all right now Mickey and it is about time you got a licence,” Stan said.  

“What do you mean?” I answered naively.  

“Everyone pays the dirty squad, don’t they?” he said in a low voice so not as to be overheard by the throng of customers in the backroom.

I felt a surge of anger and defiance rise up in me. I was proud to have registered a company Nestville Photography Ltd and my new found status. As a company director I was making  legitimate photography too, and I thought that pornography should be legal anyway. This was the Swinging Sixties and people were talking about legalisation of porno in Europe.

  I had heard whispers about “paying Old Bill” and people had given me hints and now suddenly I realised that it was true.  

“Fuck off! Tell them to fuck off” I replied angrily.

Stan behind the jump looked at me in surprise. “But Mickey everyone has to pay” he pleaded.

I turned my back on him and walked out the shop into the dark Soho night heading for the tube at Leicester Square. I was not going to pay. I was a Brixton boy, a juvenile delinquent who had been in trouble as a youth for stealing and nicking cars. I did not like the police because they had beaten me up. A vivid image flashed through my mind of my face covered in blood in Brixton Police Station. 

High Speed Chase

Chapter 3

I still carried on supplying the bookshops but the next time that I delivered some new photo sets to a shop in Old Compton Street I saw a Ford Cortina GT coming down a one-way street towards me. I had been warned by “Chico” in Moore Street bookshop but I had ignored him.

Despite being rammed by a plain clothes detective posing as a hot dog seller I drove off and a high speed chase developed. I sped through the West End with four members of the Porn Squad behind me in their souped up GT Cortina but I was a good driver and lost them. I was laughing at the time and the chase was exciting but when I went round the Soho shops again most of them would not order.

“The porn squad won’t let us order from you” was a common refrain and they had to obey except for one or two rebels like Flash Mick in St Anne’s Court!

I led the OPS a merry dance for over a year and I recruited a front man, called Evan Philips who I sent round the shops posing as a new “smudger” called Jeff, but in the end they caught up with me.

I was living in a rented house in Stoke Newington and had two children by this time, a girl Laura aged two and a newly born son Billy who was asleep in his cot downstairs.

One day I was awoken by a loud knocking on the front door. I knew immediately that the Porn Squad had tracked me down. I looked at my wife Sandra and gave her a last kiss as the OPS smashed their way into my house through the backdoor using a sledge hammer.

The bedroom was suddenly filled with detectives who dragged me out of bed dressed only in a vest! I was bundled downstairs into a waiting Q C as the screams of my wife and child echoed in my brain.

In the car which drove at high speed through the early morning London streets I was wedged in between two large men.

One of them turned towards me. “Moody told us that you were a big bastard! How tall are you Mickey?” he asked.

“I’m five foot nine and a half,” I replied.

I thought that I would flatter them. “Fucking hell you are big blokes in the Porn Squad” I said.

“We are not the Porn Squad son, we are the Heavy Mob from the Yard.”

“Bloody hell I thought that you were the Dirty Dozen” I replied.

They cracked up at this and started laughing.“Moody told us that you were six foot and a right hard man” one of them said.

“Well I did a bit of amateur boxing” I replied warming to these now friendly guys.  

“Where are the Porn Squad and Moody then?” I asked.  

“They are behind us,” one of the big guys replied.

. “I am going to see that cunt Moody when we get back,” one of them said.  

I sensed that they did not like Moody much.

“We were requested on the raid by Inspector Moody of the Porn Squad and

we will hand you over to him when we get you to the other end” one of them said informatively.

“They won’t beat me up, will they?” I asked.

“No son, we will make sure of that. There are no marks on you now and that is how it will stay” one of the Heavy Mob replied.

Brixton Prison

Chapter 4

I pleaded not guilty at the Magistrate’s Court the next morning and was remanded to Brixton prison for trial at the Old Bailey.

When I came up for trial I had a visitor in the Old Bailey cells, Inspector Bill Moody of the Porn Squad.

The screw opened the door and a scruffy, sly looking man stood there.

“I’m Bill Moody Michael and I would like to help you.” he said grinning.

“You are fucking bent you bastard and I am going to tell the judge when I get upstairs in the court room” I shouted.

Moody stayed calm. “Look there is more to life than stepping on the accelerator, and if you plead guilty you will only do a year out of eighteen months” he said a sly look on his face.

“How do you know what I’m going to get?” I replied full of doubt.

“Because I’ve had a word with the judge and he said that he will give you only eighteen months if you plead guilty to unlawful sexual intercourse and offences under the Obscene Publications Act, and I’ll drop the Dangerous Driving. He is away on holiday and wants the trial over quickly. Look, those two girls were only fifteen and one only fourteen and if you get them in court to give evidence the judge will give you four years.”

“They told me that they were sixteen and seventeen and they looked at it. How was I to know? I only took photos and never touched any of them” I protested.

“Look, you will be out in nine months with the remand time knocked off!

Don’t be silly all your life son and give me a tinkle at the Yard when you get out” Moody said.

The judge gave me eighteen months as Moody had promised and I went to prison.

Inside

Chapter 5

Pentonville Prison was a violent place and law and order stopped at the prison gates. I quickly learnt that if you backed down you would quickly become a serial victim of extortionists and bullies. After a while I was transferred to Chelmsford prison in Essex which was just as violent.

One day the News of the World did a story about “Big Jeff” the millionaire pornographer and took aerial pictures of his mansion. I realised that they were talking about Evan Philips, the guy I had sent round Soho when the shops were told by the OPS not to do business with me. I had told him to call himself “Jeff” and it was obvious to me that he had set up in business on his own.

I received regular visits from my wife Sandra and she would bring me money and hash which I smuggled in to make life a bit easier.

One day in the workshop a prisoner called Sutton started flicking pieces of metal at me and I told him to stop.

“Who you talking to?!” he said.

“You, and! I will see you in the recess later” I replied.   The recess was the place where prisoners arranged to fight each other.

“All right cunt I will muller you” Sutton replied aggressively.

“No you won’t be seeing him but me” a voice rang out.

The challenger was Gerry Hawley, a Soho gangster, who used to work for the Krays, and who later gave the Sutton the beating of his life.

I could hear Sutton screaming when Gerry went down his cell later that afternoon when we returned to the wing after labour.

After that Gerry and I became friends, walked around on exercise together every day, went to the gym together.. He became my minder and I promised to see him and give him a job when he got out.

I was happy to have Gerry as a friend because I did not know whether Evan Philips, alias Jeff, had been taken over by the Krays and they were very strong in prison. One day a guy called “Big Smithy” got stabbed on the exercise yard. An East End villain, Joey Holland, went up behind him and plunged a homemade knife into his back.

Big Smithy turned around and picked up Holland as if he was a baby by the seat of his pants, even though he was a muscular six footer and began smashing his head against the prison wall.

 By the time the screws arrived Joey’s head was pouring with blood...

The screws began beating Big Smithy but when they saw that he had a knife sticking out of his back they stopped sticking him and took him to the hospital.

I asked Gerry what it was all about and he told me the Krays had sent a message to Joey Holland telling him to kill Big Smithy because they said that he was a grass.

Playing the Game

Chapter 6

I remembered Bill Moody’s words: “There is more to life than stepping on the accelerator. When you get out, give me a tinkle.” I thought to myself that I needed a licence if I was to continue my career as a pornographer.

I went around to Evan Philips posh house in Kew and after a bit of arguing he gave me some money.

“A one off payment” to start up again” he said.

He told me that he was “playing the game now” and paying the Porn Squad for a licence. I asked him if he was working for the Kray firm and he denied it, informing me that the police had said “those two will never get out of prison.”

I told him that I intended to start paying too and he promised that he would have a word with his man on the OPS.

I moved into a hotel in Bayswater Terrace and hired two rooms, one that I hired under my company name Nestville Photography Ltd and another in which I put my equipment.

I did a photo shoot with Sandra and another model dressed up as nurses, that sold like hotcakes and I was back in business again. The first time I went round the Soho shops they all gave me a brown paper envelope for playing the game and keeping “schtum.”  I was not expecting this and I felt good that they were paying me for keeping silent.

When one of the shopkeepers “Fat Bill,” who had a big sex shop in Walkers Court suggested that I meet a member of the Porn Squad, in order to get a licence I agreed. I did not fancy going back to the hell hole of an English prison again or being asked for protection by some Soho gangster.

 I met Roy, a detective sergeant in the OPS in a small coffee bar in Walker’s Court next to the Walkers Court bookshop where Fat Bill had a partnership with two other guys Ben and Brian. It was the biggest shop in the Soho and formerly called the Kenny Lynch Record Centre.

I waited for Roy and he turned up a quarter of an hour late. He sat down and I ordered him a coffee.

“I have read a lot about you, Mickey Muldoon and you look just like your picture,” he said with a grin.

Roy had white even teeth, thick dark hair and he was fit, handsome and spoke with a slight Cockney accent. He was also friendly and likable and informed me that he knew my uncle Sid who worked as a barman in the Cricketers at the Oval. Sid had one arm, the other being blown off in the Blitz. From the way Roy spoke he obviously identified with the working classes and tried to emphasise that he came from the same social background as me.

“I will try to get you a licence Mickey, but the governor thinks that you are a bit of a gangster” he said.

“I’m a photographer, a company director” I protested.

“Look, I will see what I can do, and have a chat with Les, “the guv’nor” he promised.

I remembered Fat Bill telling me that Roy would ask me to start paying him just to see whether or not I would co-operate and play the game.

“First you will see me for a few months, pay me a tenner a month for starters and I will look after you. Nothing goes on in the office without me knowing so you can work without fear of having your collar felt, while I get to know you and sweeten things up with Les” Roy promised.

I looked into his eyes and he seemed genuine. Here I was the guy who was not going to pay bent coppers, hoping that Roy would be able to get me a licence.

“If you were not paying Old Bill then you would have to pay someone like the Krays” Fat Bill said to me. He then told me a story: “A little firm came into the Walkers Court Bookshop and asked him to pay protection and he had gone to the meet, when he was supposed to start paying and pulled a hand grenade out of the bag. “Do you want to be paid because I am already paying Old Bill” he said and he never had any trouble after that!

Bill and I became friends, we used to go out to the Toscana, an Italian restaurant in Dean Street, for lunch nearly every day and sometimes in the evening for dinner as well. Bill introduced me to the owner Walter, an Italian. The restaurant was a meeting place for the Soho fraternity and I met a lot of interesting people there. We used to stay in when the restaurant closed at three and business was often done.

Getting a Licence

Chapter 7

The time arrived when I was supposed to meet the head of the OPS Chief Inspector Alton. Roy told me that the meet would be in a pub near Scotland Yard, next to the Passport Office in Petty France, and he would be there to introduce me. I turned up at the pub at the appointed time around twelve. No-one was there and I felt uncomfortable at the bar on my own and I ordered a beer which I sipped while waiting. I was glad when Roy walked through the door. I had been waiting half-an-hour and had the feeling that I was under observation by the regulars at the bar, whom I suspected the majority to be coppers, from the Yard.

 “Les will be here soon” he said and repeated the line that Alton thought that I was a bit of a gangster. It was true that I knew the Krays, whom I had met in prison when serving time for the porn offence, and that I had gone to see them at the El Morocco in Gerrard Street. I had gone to see them because I was afraid of snubbing their invitation and to find out what they wanted.

 Actually I had met Evan Philips there (Jeff) and now that he was paying the OPS and doing well I wondered again whether Reggie Kray had put Evan on to me and if Evan had worked for the Krays.

At the El Morocco nightclub I had been greeted by Reggie Kray who extended his arm straight out, gangster fashion and shook mine. I was wary but he acted friendly and invited me to sit at a special table “with the chaps” where all drinks were on the house. Other Kray gang members sat around and I spoke to a few of them, including Tony Lambrianou (whom I would later meet in prison). The club was luxurious and Reggie had gestured at all the punters, some of whom were famous show business people such as Stanley Baker and Barbara Windsor.

“All the punters are down there but you can sit here with the chaps” Reggie said. Then he pointed to a young guy playing the piano. “That’s Ronnie’s boyfriend but don’t say anything because he gets the right needle” he warned. There was that hint of menace in his voice and I thought that I certainly would not make any disparaging remarks!

During my drink with the chaps Reggie had introduced me to Evan Philips whom he described as “A rich boy whose father had bought him the Glynn Martin accommodation bureau in Shaftsbury Avenue for something to do.”

“Don’t trust him yet though because we don’t know the full SP” Reggie said in a friendly way.

Evan, who spoke with a middle-class accent slightly tinged with Welsh, seemed a nice guy.

However when I left the El Morocco the doorman Punchy Smith picked an argument with me.

I had said “Goodnight Punchy” in a friendly way.

“Who you calling fucking Punchy?” he said snarling.

“Sorry mate, no offence, I thought that it was your nickname” I replied becauseI thought that everyone called him that!

He followed me as I went to my car which was parked in Shaftesbury Avenue and as I got in he took out a gun, so I drove straight at him and he had to dive into a taxi that was parked in a rank in the middle of the road. My car hit the open door, ripping it off and sent it hurtling down Shaftesbury Avenue in a shower of sparks.

 I wasn’t going to be intimidated by the Twins, and I knew that if I showed any sign of cowardice, I would have to start paying them protection. I was paranoid and on my guard for a few months afterwards but received no threats or any other sign from the Krays.

After a few phone calls during which he never mentioned the Punchy incident I started to see Evan socially and often went to restaurants with him with our wives, both of whom were called Sandra.

All this was going through my mind as I stood at the bar at the pub in Petty France.

“He’s worried about your reputation as a gangster, and that’s what we have to straighten out” Roy said.

I started to deny the gangster tag and explained how I was summoned by Reggie Kray and why I had gone to their nightclub.

“You made your reputation in the Ville as a hard man, didn’t you and had a few fights, it’s all on your record and that is why Reggie wanted to get to know you. Don’t worry I will explain all that to Les. I know that you are not a gangster” Roy promised.

I eagerly emphasised that all I wanted to do was to make photos and films and supply the sex shops.

“Don’t worry Mickey, I know that you are a bit of an artist, all that painting, drawing and photography you have done since you were a kid” Roy said.

It was amazing how much he had learned about me from my record.

Roy gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry we will get everything sorted out” he said.

As I stood waiting for the Head of the Porn Squad to arrive I realised that now that I had been sent to prison, I had learnt my lesson the hard way.  Ironically I was eager to get a licence, and to give the brown paper envelope stuffed with cash that I had in my pocket to Alton for the first pay off.

Suddenly the door opened and a large, tall red faced man wearing a raincoat, suit and tie entered the door of the pub.

“Les has just entered, that’s him” Roy said, nudging me.

Les came over to Roy and shook hands but ignored me except for a dirty look.

“I would like to introduce you to Mickey,” Roy said.

Alton replied to Roy but kept his back turned on me and was not friendly at all.

Roy nudged me again. “Buy him a drink,” he said in a low voice.

I turned to the big man. “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked in a sycophantic way.  

“I’ll have a Ding Dong” he replied and turned abruptly back to his inaudible conversation with Roy. Evidently they were arguing and Roy was putting my case for a license!

Alton already looked a bit inebriated when I ordered a round of drinks including a “Large Ding Dong.”

I was right, Alton did look a bit worse for wear. His face was red and he had the roseate complexion of the heavy drinker. I looked around the bar and everyone seemed to be knocking back the drinks. I looked at the clock and closing time was not that far off. The brown paper envelope was burning a hole in my pocket and ironically I was eager to give my cash to the large, blustering Head of the Porn Squad who still seemed to be arguing with Roy.         

Suddenly he turned to me. “Roy has told me that you are all right but I have my suspicions that you are a bit of a gangster” he said.

I looked Alton in the eye and pleaded my case. “I’m not a gangster, I’m an artist, photographer and filmmaker and that is all I want to do. I assure you” I explained.

I had dressed smartly for the occasion with a shirt and tie and wore a fashionable leather jacket.

Alton looked at the jacket, a look of ridicule on his face. “Bit of a leather boy are we?” he said with a smirk.

“No this is the latest style now” I replied keeping my temper, realising that he was deliberately insulting me to see if I would become angry.

“Bit of a hard man are you, had a few fights in the recess, know the Kray twins” he said leaning towards me smelling heavily of whisky.

I protested my innocence. “The Ville was a hard place and I never swallowed because of my pride. '' I explained, then I bought another round of drinks and Alton seemed to be softening his attitude towards me.

“All right then I’m going to give you a chance, a trial run, but any gangster nonsense and you will be out.” he growled, giving me a threatening look.

“Don’t be silly, I’m a photographer and just want to get on with my job and earn a bit of money” I replied.

“I’m going for a piss,” he said and he walked off lurching slightly towards the toilets.

Roy looked at me and gave me a wolfish grin, showing those white even teeth. “Go into the toilet and give him the envelope,” he said.

Alton stood in the toilet, his hand against the wall, steadying himself while pissing.

I went straight up to him and taking the brown paper envelope from my pocket I extended my hand offering him the money.

He gave me a bleary look but made no attempt to take it.

I glanced at the toilet door worried someone would come in. I stood there what seemed like ages then the drunken head of the porn squad started mumbling.

“I don’t know if I am making a big mistake here” he said, slurring his words and swaying.

The toilet walls were green, the urinal covered with the yellow lime of the many drinkers who had pissed on the walls. The ammonia stench of stale urine assailed my nostrils as I wondered whether someone would come in, and if Alton would gracefully relieve me of my cash. Strangely no-one entered while Alton and I were in the toilet and it entered my mind that all the coppers sitting out there in the bar knew what was going on and that’s why no-one came in. “Their all fucking bent” I thought.

Then Alton suddenly extended his hand and took the envelope. “You behave yourself or you will be out as quickly as you got in” he muttered.

I walked out into the fresh air of Petty France leaving Roy and Alton at the bar, found my car, and drove half pissed to my flat in Stockwell Road, South London. The flat was shabby from the outside and over a car showroom, but luxurious inside.

My wife Sandra looked at me expectantly, smiling and I hugged her. “I met Alton and gave him the bread, we have got a licence! Let’s go out to Toscana for dinner tonight and celebrate” I said triumphantly.

Sandra smiled at the news of our newly found security. “Great Mickey I will phone Daphne to baby-sit.”

Scotland Yard

Chapter 8 

 “Come up the office and see me, there are a few things that I want to spell out to you about your licence,” Alton said to me over the phone.

It was weird the way he talked, as if the licence was an official one issued by the Home Office! In a way it was but I did not know that then.

“What do you mean Scotland Yard?” I said surprised.

“Yes come over to New Scotland Yard. You know just round the corner from where we met in Petty France” he replied.

“But how do I get in?” I replied doubtfully.

“Simply walk in through the front door and take the lift up to the fifth floor, walk along the corridor and my office is down the passage on the right” Alton informed me in a matter of fact kind of way.

I found New Scotland Yard with the revolving metal emblem outside that I had seen on the TV and started walking towards the front door. The situation was surreal and I had the feeling that the gods were laughing at the amusing situation they had placed me in.

I walked in the front door past the reception unchallenged, over to the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The door opened and there was the corridor. I was getting paranoid walking down the passage.

No-one had stopped me and here I was in the Yard. “What was I doing here?” I thought.

Suddenly a man smoking a pipe emerged from one of the offices and came towards me.

“Good morning Michael!” he greeted me.

I had never seen him before in my life but I realised immediately that he had read my record and recognised me from the photo. ( Later I learnt that it was Commander Drury who was to be grassed on by Jimmy Humphries the nightclub and porn shop owner and sent to prison.)

“Good morning, I’m looking for Chief Inspector Alton’s office” I answered politely.

“It’s over there on the right,” the unknown detective replied, puffing on his pipe.

I knocked on the door. “Come in” Lesley Alton’s voice answered.  

Alton was sitting behind a desk.“Sit down!” he ordered brusquely. “No mail-order, no exporting, no underage girls and you are to give me a copy of every film that you make and a set of each of the photos” he said with authority laying down the rules of my licence.

I sat there paying attention like a private in the army listening to his commanding officer.

“I will also be coming over to your flat in Stockwell on an official visit. When you ring up the office, if you need to contact me you will say that it is Mr King. Have you got all that?” he asked.

“Yes I’ve got it all” I replied. I had also brought a brown paper envelope with my monthly payment inside. I put my hand inside my pocket and brought it out. “Do you want this now?” I asked, waving it in the air? This was filthy lucre and he was paying attention to me now.

“Just leave it on my desk” was the laconic reply. “And that will be all for now, and remember no more gangster stuff, knocking out people and all that” he said in dismissal.

“Okay Lesley, but that was because he owed me some money and would not pay me and called me a cunt.” I explained realising that Les knew everything that went on in Soho.

 It was true that I had knocked out one of the shopkeepers, a flash guy, big with muscular tattooed arms who had told me to “fuck off” when we argued over a long outstanding bill. I often used to see him posing outside Bill the Dustman’s shop in Frith Street. After I had taught him a lesson.

I found out from Bill that it was his brother-in-law! I had to act the hard man on the Soho turf or people would take liberties and not pay me. Now here I was trying to make Alton think that I was meek and mild!

I don’t think that he was fooled much though, I trained with weights and on the bag looked muscular and fit. I also had a couple of scars from old prison fights and a lot of people mistook me for a boxer.

Lesley’s voice broke my reverie...

“Well in future just let me know about any problems that you have and I will sort them out for you.”

“Thank you Lesley,” I replied with a smile. “So I don’t not have to be my own policeman anymore” I thought.

Les did not return my smile. “All right that will be it for now, I will see you next month” he replied dismissively.

“What up here in the office? I asked.

“I will phone you and make a meet” he replied.

I stood up glad to be leaving. “Okay Lesley,” I replied.

Out in the fresh air I walked up the road to Petty France where I had left my car. As I drove home I laughed at the bizarre situation that I found myself in. The more I supplied the bookshops of Soho the more I learnt, because the guys in the shops loved to talk shop to someone who had a licence like themselves.

 Those Above

Chapter 9

I got to know all the guys in the bookshops and some of them had a surprising history. I discovered that some of the Porn Squad had their own shops or a share in a shop, in which they had placed their own man.

Bill the Dustman had been nicked by Inspector Bill Moody for stealing a carpet out of a hostel when he worked as a dustman. Bill was a big jolly Cockney who liked to spend most of his life in the pub while his mate

Bill worked in the bookshop in Frith Street and asked me to meet him one day for a drink.

“I met Bill Moody on your manor. You know in Bedford Hill, South London, The Bedford, you know it don’t you?” he asked me.

I knew the pub which was opposite Clapham North Tube station and near where I lived  in Stockwell , Brixton.

When turned up there to meet Bill, he was propping up the bar. He was a large man with an impressive gut from too much beer and food.

He introduced to his wife, a chubby red faced woman wearing a a very expensive mink coat.

 “Hello love, pleased to meet you,” she said, shaking hands briefly and then going back to sit at a table with her girlfriend.

Bill stood at the bar talking men’s business. Bill was in there nearly every day and when he had downed a few pints, his big cheery face would light up and he would begin to talk shop.

“Yeah, Bill’s a good geezer; I mean he caught me bang to rights when I nicked a carpet out of a hostel. I just rolled it up and put it on the cart!” he said with a grin, pulling back his hand made double breasted grey suit to expose a nice freshly laundered shirt and an expensive tie.

He waited for my laugh as he brushed his hand through his cropped greying hair and rubbed the stubble on his chin.

I laughed on cue and thought that he did not look much like a dustman now with his expensive suits; a golf Rolex Oyster clad wrist and a two carat diamond glinting on his little finger that signalled his nouveaux riche status. I always knew when he was in the pub because his brand new Ford Executive would be parked outside.

My approving laugh encouraged him to go on about Inspector Bill Moody.

“Yeah, he tracked me down to the dustcart, and do you know what, we ended up going for a drink together. He was the first Old Bill that I ever gave a drink to. Do you know what I mean like?”

I laughed again and glanced over at his wife, her gin and orange on the table in front of her an incongruous lipstick stained Players Weight in her mouth.

I did not smoke tobacco and hated its acrid smell. My clothes stunk of it if I stayed too long in the Bedford chatting and reminiscing with Bill but I liked to get the information.

“Yeah, Bill helped me out and we started to meet for a drink. That is how I got into the porn game. When Bill got on the Porn Squad he got me the shop in Frith Street and got me a licence. Do you know what I mean?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know what you mean Bill, but he nicked Sandra when I was in the nick even though I kept schtum” I replied, remembering the time when Sandra had carried on my business when I was serving my time. “Not very nice when he would not let me earn a living?” I continued with a touch of anger.

Bill’s face fell and he looked at the floor. “Bill told me about that, there was nothing he could do. The order came from above” he said, defending his friend.

I looked doubtful, here it was again that phrase it “came from above” as though God had ordered it.

“What do you mean? I asked.

Bill moved in closer and put his hand alongside his mouth, his forefinger alongside his nose so no one could lip read him and spoke in a whisper. “Bill told me that it’s the Home Office that tells them what to do. But don’t ever say so to anyone” he said, his face taking on a serious expression.

I realised that I had learned something very important. “Okay Bill” I replied with a smile "I would never say a word” I assured him.

Bill knew that he had impressed me with this important nugget of information.

 One Eyed Jimmy

  Chapter 10

“One eyed Jimmy” ran a shop in Greek Street and had a glass eye. He had a big shop with a large backroom with hundreds of sets of photographs all over the wall. It was obvious that he could never have taken them down in a hurry and never had to do so.

He always paid up on time, giving me a brown paper envelope with “Greek” written on it in marker pen. The preliminaries over he would light one of his King Edward cigars, stick a toothpick in the end, holding the toothpick between his teeth, puffing on it to reveal several gold teeth and then take out a bottle of Five Kings Greek brandy out of his desk.

“Want a drink Mickey?” he would ask.

I would usually have one for social reasons and I would also smoke a bit of weed in his shop with the drink. I never smoked tobacco, just pure herbal cannabis in a single paper.

Sometimes the punters leafing through the sets of photographs would sniff the air and glance over but Jimmy never seemed to mind except for a mild rebuke.

“That stuff don’t not half stink Mickey,” Jimmy would say a smile on his thin lips.

“Yeah so do those fucking cigars” I would reply.

He would laugh and take a sip on his brandy, staring at me, his glass eye dull and lifeless.

“If someone could invent a realistic looking eye whose pupil dilated and closed then Jimmy would be the first one to buy it” I thought.

He introduced me to a Master Sergeant in the US air force stationed at Ruislip. From then on I always had a supply of King Edwards too and lots of American alcohol in my house. I gave films in exchange that the Air Force boys used to watch the sergeant reporting back on the audience response.

One-eyed Jimmy used to know the Porn Squad well and he would let them use his flat in Oxford Street where they watched films and entertained hookers and models.

“Yeah, do you know the Greek model Gina? Well they had her up there the other night and she gave them all a blow job but got really pissed as usual”  One eyed Jimmy said looking at me a smirk on his face. “They all fucking pissed all over her, yeah pissed all over her” he repeated for emphasis. “And do you know what the dirty bitch said?”

“No” I said encouragingly, waiting for the punchline.

“She said that she thought that it was fucking beer, you know that they were pouring their drinks over her!” he said laughing loudly, slapping his thigh.

I laughed my approval. “Is that why they call them the Dirty Dozen?” I quipped.

Jimmy laughed out loud at this and a few punters looked over, but then went back to their search for the fantasy that they were looking for. At frequent intervals a customer would approach the till and Jimmy would take a pound for every set of five photographs, wrapping them in a plain brown paper bag which he would seal with Sellotape from a machine on the counter. His cigar was always in his mouth, his large diamond ring, gold watch and cufflinks, glinting as he added the money to a large roll that he stuffed into his back pocket.

Christmas Drink

Chapter 11

The phone was ringing. I picked it up and it was Roy on the other end. “Have you got your Christmas booze yet?” he asked.

“No I haven’t” I replied not mentioning the American stuff.

“Well then, I know where to get some really cheap. Look, I will pull up outside your place about two o’clock and give you a bib on the horn. You just follow me, okay?.”

“Okay Roy! I will be looking out for you.” I replied.

At around two o'clock Roy pulled up outside my flat in his grey Mark 2 Jaguar.

I went downstairs saying to Sandra that I was going to collect my Christmas booze and would be back in a couple of hours.

I spoke to Roy through the window of his Jaguar. “Hello Roy all right, where are we going?” I asked.

“It’s over at Peckham” he replied through the window of his Jag. “Just follow me up and when we get there just don’t say anything then the chaps in there will think that you are Old Bill” he said with a laugh.

“It’s an LF and I gave them a licence when I was on the Fraud Squad.” He replied.

“So they give licences too!” I thought.

I followed Roy’s Jag through Brixton and Camberwell over to a Peckham

Back street where we pulled up outside a warehouse. The name Rangelines Ltd was over the door and it was busy with men unloading and loading vehicles with cases of spirits. I got out of my car and we stood on the pavement for a moment.

“All spirits are a pound a bottle. You can have as much as you like” Roy said.

We walked into the warehouse and a guy that knew Roy came up to him.

They spoke together and the guy turned to me. “You just choose what you want and someone will wheel it out to your car” he said.

I walked around the warehouse and started to pick up boxes of whisky, brandy, vodka and gin. There was a good selection of proprietary goods and soon my Ford Executive was loaded, including the boot, back and front seats. Suddenly I recognised one of the loaders, whom I had seen during my time in the Ville, and he gave me a funny look. I don’t know whether he recognised me and ignored him, but I realised that I could get a bad reputation for having it with Old Bill and wondered if Roy was setting me up. I paid the boss of the Long Firm a pound for each bottle and he stuffed some boxes of nuts into the car.

“I’ll see you later” Roy said and drove off.

As I drove home to Stockwell I realised that the corruption did not stop at the Porn Squad and that bent detectives moved from squad to squad. It was becoming obvious to me that the corruption was widespread, confirming the rotten apple in the barrel anecdote.

Roy liked a drink and we would go to various pubs and clubs in Soho, but he never bought a drink, as the publicans all knew that he was a detective and it was always on the house. One day we went to the Wig and Pen Club that was frequented by writers. The drinks piled up on the bar in front of us as everyone wanted to buy us a drink. Then the landlord was called time up and people were trying to get in one more drink before closing time.

Roy pulled out his warrant card. “I am extending the licence of this establishment for another hour” he shouted.  A big cheer went up and more drinks arrived and later I staggered out of there seeing double.

“Roy could drink like a fish!” I realised. Roy also liked a meal and we would go out to restaurants together. He lived in Five Oaks Green Kent and sometimes we would go to places around his area. He loved French cooking, as I did, and we enjoyed la cuisine Francaise in some of the best restaurants. The meals were washed down with expensive wine and we usually finished up with a Napoleon brandy. We also had long conversations about the porn business and the Soho scene and slowly I was getting the whole picture about who was who, and who owned what, including pubs,strip joints, brothels, blue film shows and of course the sex shops.

Pissed as a Newt

Chapter 12

 The phone was ringing. “I will see you in the Fox and Hounds in Soho at

twelve” Alton said with authority then put the phone down.

I turned up at midday and Alton stood at the bar with another guy that I did not recognise.

Alton turned to me and introduced me to the other detective as Sergeant Phillips who was evidently on the Porn Squad. We went over to a window seat where Les and his colleague settled themselves on stools. What are you having? '' I asked the sergeant.

“I’ll just have a bottled beer,” the sergeant replied.

 It was understood that I would buy every round! I went over to the bar and ordered two double Ding Dongs on the rocks and two beers. I poured both the whiskies into one glass and went over to the two thirsty detectives. Alton started gulping down his drink immediately and every time I bought the drinks I did the same thing!

It was not long before Alton was looking a bit pissed.

When he went to the toilet I followed and gave him the brown paper envelope.

 He staggered as he came back to where we were sitting.

Suddenly he turned to the sergeant. “Get me a car, phone and get me a car” he said slurring his words.

I knew that he was feeling a bit worse for wear because of the enormous amount of alcohol he had consumed!

When the sergeant had gone I started to speak to the inebriated Head of the Porn Squad...

“Les, can I have a licence for a shop?” I asked. I had always wanted my own shop. It was a real money maker and I could use it as a warehouse in Soho to supply the shops and possibly have some processing equipment in there too.

“Come on Les, can I have shop? I pleaded.

“No more shops in Soho,” Alton replied.

“Ahh Les….”

“Victoria is the new place…if you behave yourself…where is my car?” Alton

Slurred..         

Suddenly he gave an involuntary spasm, and despite him holding his mouth

closed, a thin trickle of vomit trickled down the trench coat that he was wearing.

I took the silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of my suit and wiped off the vomit, stuffing the soiled cloth into his pocket.

“Come on Les. Let’s get you outside. The fresh air will do you good” I said.  Alton was a big man and with an enormous effort I managed to manoeuvre his huge bulk out into Peter Street and prop him up against the wall of the pub.

As luck would have it I spied a taxi parked on the corner of Wardour Street. I waved and beckoned to the driver, who was off duty eating a sandwich. But he gave a sign that he was not interested in taking a passenger who was obviously drunk.

Just at that moment I spied a friend called Joey Janes who worked in a bookshop walking down Berwick Street towards us. I gestured to Joey to come and help me but when he saw Lesley Alton, who he obviously recognised, he shook his head and carried on walking.

“Joey” I shouted, pulling a twenty pound note from the bankroll in my back pocket and waved it at him. “Look, just give this to the taxi driver at the end of the street and tell him that it’s a present from me and he will get his fare as well, if he takes my passenger, who is ill, home to Esher in Surrey.”

“All right my boy” Joey agreed and walked along to the end of Peter Street where the taxi driver was still parked on the corner of Wardour Street.

I saw the taxi driver take the cash and Joey walking away.

With a supreme effort I got my shoulder under Les. “Look Les I have got you a taxi, all we have to do is get to the end of the street” I said. I half carried Alton down Peter Street to the waiting cab.

As I pushed him into the back door of the taxi a big pile of brown envelopes and cash poured onto the floor!

The taxi driver’s eyes bulged in surprise as I scooped up the cash and the envelopes and stuffed them back into the big poacher’s pockets in Alton’s trench coat.

“Take him to Esher, Surrey and he will give you the fare and a nice drink at the other end” I promised.

I laughed to myself as the taxi drove off up Wardour Street.

The Guv’nor

Chapter 13

I walked down the alley called Greens Court and into Monty’s shop. I knew that it was one of Mason’s shops. The mysterious Mason had several shops in Soho and all of them were earning a fortune. Monty was Jewish like most of the people who worked for Mason.

 Monty looked at me through the serving hatch in the wall that separated the front of the shop, that contained legal material, out of the inner sanctum of the backroom where all the illegal material books, photos and films were. He pulled a string that released a bolt and I entered the backroom. The room was full of customers searching through the photos on the counters, which, like all the bookshops, were placed in long wooden boxes labelled “singles, couples, trios, groups, les, flag, juve, bondage, homo and animal. The juvenile photos were real but most were old for the simple reason that if someone sold underage material to a shop, the shopkeeper had to inform the Porn Squad and they were busted! I looked at a picture of a young girl with an old man.

Monty looked over his glasses at me. “I don’t like them with blokes, just solo is all right. Do you know who she is with?” he asked.  “No,” I replied with interest.

“It was her father, dirty bastard!” Monty said with a chuckle.

I chuckled along with Monty. Then I noticed a photo of a middle-aged man on the inside of the serving hatch. “Do not serve this man,” was the caption written above the photograph. Customers had to look through this hole in the wall to gain access to the backroom.

“Who’s that guy? I questioned Monty.

Monty gave me a knowing look over the top of his glasses and rubbed his pot belly. “That’s Cyril Black the MP. He used to come into the shops to buy some porn then stand up in Parliament with it. He’s an anti-porn campaigner who tries to get the shops closed, but he can’t get served anywhere now!” Monty said with a satisfied look on his face.

“Where did you get the picture?” I asked.

“The Dirty Squad” Monty replied.

I noticed that the Danish magazines that used to be on prominent display had been taken down. “Hey where are all the Danish mags gone?” I asked.

“Oh! We got the tipoff that the Danish ambassador is coming round the shops and the order is to take them all down until after he goes back to Denmark.”

“Why is that Monty?” I asked.

“Because the Danes are complaining that it gives their country a bad image” he sniggered. “Dirty Danes, they fucking legalised porn over there. The mags are fucking legal out there and you can buy them in the newsagent” Monty said, looking indignant, realising that he would be out of a job if this happened in England.

I laughed to myself and from what I could hear a lot of countries were following Denmark’s lead as sex crimes had fallen dramatically.

“Might happen here too” I said to Monty to get his response.

Monty’s face grew angry. “It will never happen here,” he said indignantly. “Do you know why?” he was raising his voice now and a couple of punters looked over. He noticed this and lowered it to a

normal pitch…

“Why Monty?” I pressed. I wanted to know why. I wanted pornography to be made legal because then I would be one hundred per cent legitimate myself.

“There is too fucking much money in it that’s’ why” Monty said with a snort of derision at my apparent naivety.

Little did he know that I wanted it legalised myself. I left Monty’s and walked around the corner to Walker’s Court past Raymond’s Revue Bar and into the big front of the Walkers Court Bookshop. Ben looked through the hatch and seeing it was me, pulled the rope to unbolt the door to the inner room.

Round the corner in Walkers Court the backroom was very busy indeed with three co-owners, Ben, Brian and Bill manning the tills and serving constantly. I knew that they were taking a fortune, because I supplied them and knew just how much they were earning from my publications alone.

Fat Bill greeted me with a smile. “Hello Mickey, do you fancy going over to the Toscana for lunch?”  

Bill looked at me, his eyes reduced by his glasses to currants in a bun, dancing with glee at the prospect of food.

He always reminded me of Billy Bunter but, of course, I never told him that! “Okay Bill. Yes I fancy a meal” I replied.

Bill turned to Ben and Brian. “Me and Mickey will be off to the Toscana in a minute all right?” Bill said to his partners.

They were busy serving and Brian replied “All right Bill” and went back serving.

Ben looked through the hatch. “Hold on, the guv’nor is here,” he said, pulling the bolt.

To my surprise Alton poked his head in the door and surveyed the crowded backroom with a smile of approval. “Everything all right? If anyone wants to see me I’ll be in the Fox and Hounds” he said giving me an approving look.

I tried to smile as Bill, Ben and Brian all nodded in obeisance and I realised then that it was Alton who ran Soho.

The King of Soho

Chapter 14

Joey Janes worked for Bernie Silvers who owned a large number of bookshops and other establishments such as flats that he rented out to business girls. I got to know Joey socially and although he was sixty four his wife was only twenty four and he had a daughter of ten that I did not know was his or not. His wife was about the same age as my wife Sandra and as they got on together and we would often go out to eat or to the Playboy Club in Park Lane.

One day when I walked into Joey’s shop there was a guy looking at the books. Joey did not greet me with his usual good humour but was serious and seemed a little bit frightened.

Then the big guy introduced himself and I knew why because as soon as he said Bernie I knew that I was talking to a very powerful and supposedly ruthless and violent man Bernie Silvers.

I did not know why he wanted to take me to lunch but I nodded and he guided me just a few feet into the Italian restaurant next door. The owner obviously knew Bernie as he ran about drawing out chairs and acting in a sycophantic manner as though Bernie was a King.

 I looked at Bernie who people called The King of Soho. He was smartly dressed in a three piece suit and looked every inch the Jewish businessman.

Bernie looked at me and asked me if I needed any help in getting a licence. I smiled and thanked him and said that I was already paying someone from the OPS Alton.

He nodded at this piece of information. He was a connoisseur of Italian food and introduced me to some dishes that I had never tried before.

After the meal he said that he wanted me to accompany him and we walked through the streets of Soho to a pub in Saville Row. It was past closing time but the door opened as soon as Bernie peered through the glass.

We entered a big salon and sitting around the tables were groups of men, Jews, Maltese, Greeks and Irish. Everyone nodded at Bernie and now at me but no general conversation took place between the groups all who seemed to know each other. I was the new guy here and some gave me hard looks that I returned with equal intensity. I wore a handmade three piece blue chalk stripe suit with two vents. I swept back my jacket and stuck my thumbs in the pockets of the waistcoat. I looked down and noticed that my black leather handmade shoes were very shiny. I looked the part, a Soho hard man, one of the chaps… I was only five feet nine but very muscular and well trained. I was beginning to think that Bernie had brought me here to use me as a bit of muscle. I did not mind, even though he had not asked me because he was a powerful guy and I wanted to be his friend.

There were bowls of pistachio nuts on the tables and the Greeks and Maltese were continuously cracking them open.

I took some and started to eat the little salty nuts myself. It was the ritual of cracking open the little shell and prizing out the green nut without breaking it.

The room now contained several groups and as no new people were arriving everybody seemed to be waiting for someone.

Bernie was not saying much but then the door opened and a guy in a light coloured trench coat opened the door and entered.

“The guv’nor of West End Central” Bernie said in a low voice as his eyes met mine, and the look implied that I was now the keeper of some terrible secret.

I looked at the non descript man in the trench coat who did not seem to be drinking a lot but made frequent trips to the lavatory in which he stayed for some time while people from the tables got up and visited the toilet.

Then it was Bernie’s turn and he got up and visited the toilet too.

Everyone sat there until the business was over and the Guv’nor had left.

As the Head of West End Central walked out I noticed that his poacher pockets bulging and I realised that the corruption in Soho did not start and end with Scotland Yard but the uniform man in West End Central was playing the game too and was involved in the running of prostitutes and brothels.

It was a peculiar meeting with Bernie but I did not see much of him after that day.

I expressed my surprise to Joey that Bernie had asked me to go with him to the meeting in Saville Row but he did not seem to want to talk about it.

“Bernie is a very powerful man” he said before he switched the subject matter.

Nouveau Riche

 Chapter 15

My children Billy and Laura were getting bigger now and I wanted to get them into a private school. I was poor as a kid and went to Santley Street Secondary Modern in Brixton.

 I remembered seeing “rich kids” in their smart little uniforms and running after them with my mates, name calling things like “Posh kid I am going to hit you,” and throwing stones as we chased them enviously up the road.

My kids were going to get the best chance in life and with this in mind I drove up Kings Avenue and into the driveway of the big mansion, set in leafy grounds which I knew to be a private school.

Soon I was sitting in the large front room which was the head mistress’s study and she was asking me questions.

“What is your name?”

“Michael,” I answered in my posh voice.

“And your surname?”

“Muldoon” I replied, awaiting the inevitable question.

“What part of Ireland do you come from?”

“I was born here and so was my father, it was my grandfather who was Irish.”

The head mistress with her plummy accent studied me through her spectacles. “And what part of Ireland did he come from?”

“I am afraid that I don’t know,” I replied. “All I knew about him was that they called him Flash Mick and he was a money lender and owned a library and a greengrocer’s shop in Larkhall lane in South London” I informed her.

“How old is your daughter Mr Muldoon?”

“Nearly four,” I replied.

“And what is your occupation?

“I own a film processing laboratory,” I replied.

“Oh I see,” she replied.

My brand new car was outside and my handmade suit, shirt, shoes, gold watch and diamond ring broadcast my wealth. I knew that I could afford the fees.

“Well Mr Muldoon it is far too late for your daughter to come here because one has to put their name down before birth” she said in a superior way, smiling condescendingly on this working class boy.

 My vision of my daughter dressed in the smart little uniform of this posh school vanished in a puff of disillusion at my lowly origins.

I had been in a flat with Brian once near Holloway prison, a council flat and over the mantelpiece was a picture of Alton, Ben and Brian on horses, dressed in all the riding gear. I was surprised to see this fraternity between off duty coppers and sex shop owners. Brian had informed me that they “All sent their children to the same schools” and fraternised together. I never took things this far, the same as I never went to the pub in Soho Square where the Porn Squad and sex-shop keepers drank together.

The head mistress was speaking to me. “I can recommend another private school in Streatham, Somerville.”

I drove out of the big mansion and onto the South Circular and to the address that the woman had given me in Somerville Road, Streatham. Soon I was seated inside the cosy little study talking to the principal who was a tweedy looking woman in her sixties.

“How old is your daughter?”

“She is nearly four,” I replied.

“Oh you have left it a bit late, haven’t you Mr Muldoon?”

I had a disappointed look on my face and was beginning to think that I was not going to be able to get my daughter into the school.

Having a daughter in a private school was a status symbol that I wanted. I could show people that I was rich and I knew that I wanted it for that reason and not just to give my daughter a better chance in life. I wanted everything that rich people had.

The principal was talking to me, telling me how much the fees were a term and I smiled because I was being accepted and the sum was quite reasonable and affordable to me.

“Do call me Michael won’t you. Yes Madam, I can write you out a cheque now. Not for the term but for the whole year” I informed her.

The woman’s eyes lit up and I thought that this was more like it and that, “Money Talked!” as they said.

I pulled out my gold Parker pen and signed a cheque with a flourish.

 I had got the pen from Brian who regularly bought gold, silver and precious things from a character that would visit the Walkers Court shop. I had acquired watches, rings and pieces of expensive jewellery for myself and my wife at bargain prices.

My diamond ring sparkled as I put the pen back into my pocket.

I was pleased as my daughter would now start at the school in a few weeks time!

“Have you any other children Michael?” the kind looking woman asked me.

“Yes, a boy William who is nearly three,” I said, smiling.

“Well, would you like him to come to nursery school?” The principal asked.

“Oh I did not realise that he could come too” I replied smiling, pleased at the thought that my son could come too.

I pulled out my cheque book again and paid another year's fees for my son.

The principal gave me the address of the school outfitters and Sandra took both my children there the next day.

Porn King

Chapter 16

As I walked around the Soho sex-shops my films and photos were in every shop. I was supplying about eighty per cent of the material sold in the bookshops. Not for nothing had Alton given me the code name Mr King for I was now the porn king of Soho. I made a delivery of 12 sets of 5 new photos every week and a new film every month.

I was prolific as in everything I created. I went around Soho every week to obtain orders on new material but this particular week I was told that the order had come from the Porn Squad that no-one was to sell hardcore.

The OPS would telephone the shops to say that a raid was imminent and that no stuff was to be left in the shops. Most of the shops obeyed but one or two rebels like Flash Mick in

St Anne’s Court disobeyed and worked out of a suitcase that could quickly disappear. Flash Mick had a special chute under the counter into which the suitcase would be put in the event of a raid and two touts acting as lookouts at either end of the alley St Anne’s Court!

When I walked into his shop the Irishman’s eyes lit up in amusement because he

was fucking the system.

“To be sure Michael  I’m earning a fucking fortune Be Jasus” he said with a broad smile.

The two carat diamond ring on his pinkie flashed and glittered and as he laughed a gold tooth shone in his mouth.

He knew that I was of Irish descent and that I really hated the corrupt Porn Squad and resented paying them money like he did.

He ordered twice his usual order because the punters went round to his shop knowing that he would not obey the order not to work.

 Another guy in St Anne’s Court also was a rebel and worked out of a suitcase too.

When I walked into Bobby Katz’s shop he was laughing because he was earning double his usual take. He was a Jewish guy with whom I had become really friendly.

Bobby liked to drink and we would go to Muriel’s in Soho and drink until the early hours of the morning. We were regulars at Muriel’s, Colony Rooms and when we entered we would be slagged off by Muriel, the lesbian owner and Ian Bannen, her queer partner.

“Hello Doris have you sucked off any big cocks lately?” Muriel would greet me.

 This was a typical greeting and the rule was that one did not get offended and merely laughed at the old dyke or her partner the queer Ian.

When he had imbibed a few whiskies Bobby’s head would start to turn at a 360 degree angle and he would emit a snorting sound. This was ignored by me and everyone else.         

Bobby was an ex inmate of Belsen and when he was inebriated he would tell us about his life in the Nazi labour camps.

“They wanted unpaid labour, slaves to work in their factories. There were brick buildings, flats in which we lived and every SS officer was assigned a certain number of Jewish slaves and he got paid for the labour which we did.” When Bobbie spoke there was a respectful silence and he would show us the tattooed number on his arm that identified him as a slave of the Third Reich. The stories of cruelty and suffering that he would tell in his cups remained in my psyche forever. We would drink until the early hours of the morning and stagger out into the Soho night to drive home, blind drunk.

One of the regulars was Francis Bacon the painter and I would often join his circle because Francis was fascinated by pornography and loved to talk about it.

He would squeeze my knee and come onto me because he was queer and liked muscular guys like me.

 I also enjoyed his company and he would buy every round of drinks while regaling us with tales of his homosexual love life and the art world. One particular story I liked was when he received a commission to do a painting from Lord Sainsbury.

Sainsbury sat down in front of the canvas but the sitter wanted a bigger canvas. Francis then got a huge canvas but would not let the Lord Sainsbury see the work until he was paid thirty six thousand pounds. Then he revealed a tiny portrait in the middle of a huge canvass!

The Porn Squad had ordered the shops not to work but when I went into one of the biggest shops in Soho. Mason’s shop in Moore Street I was told to go out of the door and enter the first doorway on the left and go up to the first floor. I followed the directions, walking past a sign that said, “Model" and knocked on the second door as instructed.

The door was opened by Chico. “Come on in Mickey” he said smiling.

I entered the crowded room which was full of punters leafing through sets of photos, books and films. I realised that they were earning a fortune because most of the other shops were not selling hardcore.

Serving all the eager punters were also Monty, and the emaciated Bobby Vinn who smiled and nodded a greeting to me.        

 My order for photo sets and films was massive because they were working during the shutdown.

However the enterprise came on top when Monty saw a shop-lifter stuffing some sets of photos into his inside pocket.

“Hey you” Monty shouted and with this the thief jumped straight through the window and landed with a shower of glass onto the Soho pavement in Moore Street. Unluckily for Monty, Chico and Bobby a passing uniformed police officer was in the vicinity and came running over to lift up the man on the pavement. As he did so the stolen photos and books fell out onto the Soho pavement of Moore Street.

 The police officer marched the punter back up the stairs and rapped on the door indicated by the thief.

When the door was opened Monty, Chico and Bobby had blended into the punters.

“Look when you tell me who is running the show here, then the rest of you can go home” the police officer said.

The punters did not say much but all eyes swivelled onto the three Jewish entrepreneurs.

The uniformed man pointed at Monty, Chico and Bobby. “All you lot can go home but you three remain here for questioning” he ordered.  

The Porn Squad was called in from the Yard and the guilty three were for the high jump because they were not playing the game in breach of their licence.

I went into Chico’s shop a week later and he told me that the Porn Squad had fined them two grand for disobeying orders.

“Did you pay? I asked.

“We had to Mickey” he replied.

Susan

Chapter 17

As I entered Walker’s Court Bookshop Fat Bill greeted me with an excited look on his face. “Woofy is waiting for you at Lyons Corner House. He met a girl called Susan, a right dirty bitch.” Bill wiped his brow, and took a breath. He was panting, his little black eyes dancing with glee behind his spectacles. “Blimey! I had her in here, stuffed a fucking great big dildo up her arse and cunt, and she fucking loved it! Go on down to Lyons where Woofy is hanging onto her for you, she is fucking hot.”

“Thanks Bill” I said quickly, turning on my heel and out of the bookshop. I turned right into Walker’s Court, crossed Berwick Street, down Wardour Street and hurried towards Lyon’s in Leicester Square. I certainly wanted to meet this girl and my cock was already signalling little twinges of anticipation.

I reached Lyon’s Corner House and peered through the window.

Woofy saw me, smiled and got up from the table where he was sitting with a beautiful girl who had long blonde hair down to her shoulders. He shook my hand and I gave him a fiver.

“She has been waiting over an hour to meet you and I said that you are the top man” Woofy informed me a big grin on his face.

“Thanks Woofy, I won’t forget this.” I replied. Woofy was a tout who worked in Soho every day and who was useful in many ways because he knew everyone and everything.

I walked up to the table where the blonde girl, who wore a bright red suit with a short skirt and red high heels, sat. “I’m Mickey,” I said as I sat down.

The blonde who wore bright red lipstick to match her ensemble smiled, showing a gleaming row of even, white teeth.

“Woofy told me all about you,” she said.

“Really, I hope that it was all good” I replied.

“He told me that you make the blue films and that is why I am here” she said with a blush and a nervous laugh.

I gazed into her blue eyes and as I listened to her I detected a slight Northern accent.

“So what do you do at the moment” I asked, curious as to why a girl like this wanted to be in dirty films.

“I’m a hairdresser, I work in a shop in Brixton, in the Parade, just before the Town hall” she replied.

I knew the shop she described. “Why do you want to be in the films?” I asked.

“Because I like sex” she said with a laugh. As she spoke I noticed that her top lip curled slightly. She was really dirty, I knew that immediately and I wanted to get her somewhere alone.

“Come on, I'll take you home” I said standing up. “Where do you live?” I asked.

“Lordship Lane Dulwich” she replied.

I got my car out of the Denman Street car park and drove towards South London. There was a sense of urgency in my driving because the way Susan looked at me I knew that I was going to fuck her. I looked over at  her and at her thighs which were revealed by her short skirt riding up. I noticed that she was sitting on her heel and that she was grinding her

cunt up against it. My cock became rock hard.  “I’m going to fuck you when we get to your place” I said.

She laughed nervously, blushed and moved up and down again on her heel.

I pulled up outside her flat in Lordship Lane under a tree and got out of the car.

Our hands clasped each other like lovers as we walked up the path of the house. She took her keys out of her bag and quickly unlocked the door and as we went up the stairs to her first floor flat I could see her little black knickers that were halfway up her arse and my cock was already hard and sticky.

 As we got inside the room we embraced passionately and she pressed her lips so hard against my mouth that our teeth ground together.

In her bedroom I got my cock up her quickly and she gasped with pleasure as I began fucking her.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” she kept repeating.

I turned her around and bent her over her single bed. Her buttocks were white, round and smooth. I noticed that she was a natural blonde and that she had a few freckles on her milky white skin. I was excited now and began talking dirty to her. “You are a dirty girl aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes I am, a dirty girl” she gasped obviously loving this game.

“Do you know what I do to dirty girls like you?”

“No,” she said, wriggling and pressing her cunt against me.

“I spank their bums until they are really red and then fuck them up the arse” I replied now really carried away. I started to spank her milky buttocks and they started to go red.

She turned her face towards me looking over her shoulder. “Are you doing this because you know that I like it or because you like it?” she asked.

The way she said this blew my mind and made me reach the point of no return and I pushed my cock into her arse and came copiously, spurting my hot spunk up her.

Bang to Rights

Chapter 18

Susan really was a hairdresser and very highly sexed. What the psychiatrists of the day called a “nymphomaniac.”

After that I used her to make thousands of photographs and dozens of films. I also used to use her flat as a location and fucked her regularly. I had been paying the OPS for a couple of years now and often wondered what sort of protection I had.

One Eyed Jimmy had introduced me to a couple of Greek girls who worked in Soho and I had taken them to Susan’s flat along with Gordon Smith, who worked for me, and a male performer whom I had never used before. The two girls were pretty with dark wavy hair and large breasts.

 When the guy that I had not used before took his trousers off, everyone saw immediately that he had a small penis.

One of the girls looked at it in dismay making a face of disapproval, pointing at it.

Gordon had a smirk on his face and a satisfied expression as he paraded his manhood in front of the girls.

I was wondering what to do when there was a loud knocking on the door.

“Mickey, it’s the police," Susan said through the door.

“Oh fuck off” I replied thinking that she was joking.

“It really is the police,” cried Susan plaintively.

“Open this door now or we will break it down. We know what you are doing in there” a gruff male voice said.

I walked up to the camera, took out the film and hid it. “I am making a glamour film” I shouted before opening the door Two detectives entered, neither of whom I had seen before. One of them pulled out his warrant card.

“I am DC Smithers of the Obscene Publications Squad and this is DS Symons from Peckham” he said.

“Pleased to meet you, I was making a glamour film and that is not against the law is it?” I said.

“Shut up, will you” Smithers replied, cutting me short. “You were reported by a member of the public who could see through the frosted glass in the bathroom, he phoned the police at Peckham.” 

I knew that making pornography was not an arrestable offence and that the Porn Squad had the monopoly of investigation no matter where the situation was.

Smithers looked at me with a knowing look on his face. “I would like to speak to you alone in the other room,” he said.

I followed him, glancing at the worried looks on the performer’s faces.

Gordon’s face had turned a sickly white and the new boy was trembling.

It was all so amusing. I followed Smithers and his colleague into the other room and he closed the door.

Once alone all pretence was dropped: “Okay Michael I know that you are paying into the office and I am just going to give you and the others a verbal warning before I leave. My advice is to pack up your gear and get out of here and don’t use this place again” he said.

I smiled, surprised at how open Smithers was in front of the Peckham detective who seemed to find Smithers’ behaviour quite natural. I was pleased to discover that my licence really did work and I put my hand into my back pocket, and without taking out the big roll of notes peeled off forty quid which I then took out and offered to the two detectives.

“No Mickey, you are already paying, there is no need…”

“Go on…” I pleaded, extending my hand with the filthy lucre. “Please take it and have a drink on me.”

The notes quickly disappeared into the officers’ pockets and we all walked into the front room where the actors and Susan stood looking nervous and afraid.

Smithers spoke with authority addressing Susan. “This is your flat young lady and because you did not know what it was going to be used for, all I am saying to you is do not let your flat be used in this way again.”

He then turned to the others. “My advice to you lot, is get your things together and go home,” he said.

With that Smithers left the room and walked down the stairs with his brother officer.

I stood there listening as their car started up and drove away.

“Go on you, off you go while you have the chance” I said to the new boy with the little penis.

With that he scuttled out of the room. I grinned at the others and noticed that the colour was returning to Gordon’s face.

“We can finish off the film now” I said to the surprised cast.

As I drove away after completing the shoot Gordon gave me a funny look.

“You are paying the police, aren’t you?” he said.

“Don’t be silly Gordon. It’s just because making pornography is not an offence and it is only if you are caught publishing it that they can do anything” I explained.

Gordon looked at me a smirk on his face. “If you think that I believe that bollocks…”

“It is not bollocks Gordon it is the truth” I protested.

Gerry

Chapter 19

The phone was ringing and I picked it up.

“Hello Mickey, this is Gerry. I’m out.” said a voice from the past. I was stunned and at first I did not know what to say. I had given him my telephone number and promised to give him a job because he had looked after me in Chelmsford.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I am in the Falcon in Soho.”

“Okay son I will be right over” I replied.

“I have got to keep my promise even though I’m a bit afraid of him” I thought. I walked out of the flat and got into my car and drove down Stockwell Road to the Embankment. I was in Soho in fifteen minutes and I drove into Denman Street car park, left the keys in the car and jumped out. The attendant who knew me as a regular customer waved and he would park my motor as usual.

I entered the Falcon and Gerry was there at the bar. Soon we were chatting and reminiscing about old times and about our time in the nick.

The alcohol loosened my tongue and soon I was boasting about being the biggest pornographer in Soho.

“You need a new set of clobber” I said to Gerry.

The little Jewish tailor sat in his workshop in Wardour Street on the second floor crossed legged sewing by hand the garments of the self proclaimed aristocracy of Soho. “The Chaps” as they were called all had their suits made by this little guy.

Gerry stood there while Hymie stitched the liners and stiffeners directly onto his body, then came the ritual of ripping off the arms.

Gerry loved it all and I was treating him right. I gave him a nice stake and wished him the best of luck as he explained to me that he did not want a job at the moment but was going to spend some time with his girlfriend Pamela. I understood that at the moment all he could think about was sex.

Mail Order

Chapter 20  

Being an entrepreneur I quickly became tired of the terms of my licence and the first rule I broke was no mail-order. Roy said to me that nothing went on in the office without him knowing about it and he would be my inside man for a small monthly fee. So I started the mail-order business, first of all I had a front company selling soft-core films by post to collect names and addresses, then after an interval I sent a mail shot offering hardcore. I started to hire out cheap offices in run down areas of London. Soon I was making a fortune and opening letters filled with banknotes.

Every thousand customers were allocated a different address and I had an addressed, stamped letter ready saying that this is a notification of a change of address and in future to use this new address.

Months went by until the first one came on top and I got the tip off from Roy as promised. It was early one morning.

“Don’t go over to Peckham today,” Roy’s voice said on the phone. “The landlord has identified you and said that you drive a big American car” then the phone went dead.

He had mistaken my new Toyota Crown for an American car and I shouted out to my wife Sandra that I was going out on urgent business, ran downstairs, jumped into my car and headed for Peckham and the rented office that Roy had warned me not to visit. As I drove I pushed a button and the electric aerial went up, I looked through the blue tinted windows and admired a reflection of my car in a shop window as I stopped at a set of traffic lights. The white walled tyres looked cool and it  did look like an American car. I was nearing the office now and I knew that the Porn Squad were inside stealing all my customers’ money and waiting for me to pick up my mail. I pulled up about fifty yards away on the other side of the road and took out a pair of small, but powerful binoculars from the glove compartment and waited for the postman.

I waited over an hour, smoked a pipe of hash and listened to some Pink Floyd, and then I saw the postman approaching. I took out a business card with the address printed on it and a phoney company name and then approached the postman.

“Excuse me” I said, showing the card. “I am in a bit of a hurry and have just left the office. Do you think that I could have my mail?” I asked.

The postman gave me a large bundle of envelopes which were secured by an elastic band.

“Thank you” I said and walked across to my car and drove off to one of my other rented offices in Catford and collected the mail, then off to the last one in Clapham North. The last one was never raided, because it was a small lock-up shop near The Bedford pub that I had secured from Bill the Dustman and he had arranged for me to pay a small sum to the governor at Clapham nick. I picked up a sack containing a thousand names from the Peckham office that had come on top then I went to the Royal Mail sorting office in Venn Street Clapham and posted them as sorted mail. I knew that they would get there by tomorrow morning and the Porn Squad officers waiting for more of my money to drop through the letterbox would be disappointed. I wish that I could see their faces when it all suddenly stopped!

A letter from Gerry

Chapter 20

I was doing well now and wrote a letter to my sister and brother-in-law in Australia promising that I would give them a stake in my business if  they would come home.

I noticed a letter with the tell tale blue lines showing through the envelope-it was a prison letter. I opened it and much to my surprise it was from Gerry who was in Wandsworth Prison and enclosed was a Visiting Order.

I entered the big iron gates of Wandsworth Prison this time as a visitor and not as an inmate. This hell hole had a reputation for being the toughest prison in England. The screws were fond of beating up the inmates and I was glad that I was not one of them.

 The visiting room was crowded and as I waited for Gerry I noticed a guy with whom I had fought in the recess in Pentonville when I did 18 months for publishing porn. His name was Dougie McKinnon, a professional boxer who had been immortalised in the film A Kid for Two Farthings. A brassy blonde was visiting him and he was kissing her across the table. I nodded in respect and he nodded back. Then Gerry walked in, a tall, muscular guy with a thick neck and handsome good looks. He sat down and I asked him if he wanted a tea or coffee. We sat drinking a cup of tea served by the WVS who always seemed to be aged old ladies and with whom  one could exchange a few pleasantries in the midst of so much suffering.

Wives and girlfriends wiped away tears, angry words were exchanged and children stared in puzzlement as their fathers remained behind when the brief visit of twenty minutes ended…

“So what happened?” I asked Gerry.

He looked at me and grinned. “I had a row with my girlfriend Pamela and she called the Old Bill. Anyway when they arrived I chinned them and I ended up being charged with GBH” he explained.

“I supposed that you were pissed at the time?”

“Yeah I was, look Mickey can you help me? I need a letter from an employer to say that I was working and to give me a bit of a reference.”

“Sure Gerry. I will do that” I promised.

A screw walked up to the table. He had a slashed peak, wore black leather gloves and tried his best to look like an SS officer. I knew that he was a member of the National Front like many of the Wandsworth screws.

“Your time is up Hawley, end of visit” he growled.

Gerry looked at me the anger showing in his reddening features.

“See you pal” he uttered goodbye and was led away with a rattle of keys.

Outside the prison I breathed a sigh of relief and got into my car quickly driving away from Wandsworth Common and the grim old Victorian prison.

Later I got a letter from Gerry’s solicitor and I said that I had employed him for a few months and that he was a hard worker who had a problem with alcohol. I added that he should receive a sentence where he could be treated for his drinking problems. I typed it all out on my company notepaper and sent it off.

I got a letter of thanks from Gerry telling me that his solicitor had used it in court and he had got a light sentence of 21 months. I felt that I had done him a big favour.

 Gold Parker Pen

 Chapter  22

The flat next door to me was empty and it was up for sale. I wanted it for my brother-in-law and sister Kath so I went to the estate agents Westwoods in Streatham High Road, drove my car up onto the pavement outside and walked into the offices.

The estate agent was also a car dealer as I had seen the same name Westwoods outside a local car dealer’s showrooms. I explained that I wanted the flat next to mine for my sister and brother-in-law.

The estate agent looked at me. “Sorry but the flat has been let” he said.

“Look I will give you a year’s rent now if you let me have it” I replied. taking out my cheque book and my gold Parker pen and started to write the cheque.  at me and picked up the phone. “Tell the client

for the Stockwell Road flat that we made a mistake because the flat has already been let” he lied.

I signed the cheque and gave it to the estate agent.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked.

“I’m a photographer,” I replied.

“Oh an artist, I see, no wonder you are so emotional” he said laughing.

As I left the estate agents one of the office workers gave me a dirty look and I grinned.

As I drove home with the good news I realised that money could buy most things in life.

LSD

Chapter  23

It was a hot summer’s day as I headed for Petts Wood in Kent. Susan sat beside me in the car and Pat and Ginger and Gordon were in the backseat…

I looked down at Susan’s white freckled legs as her skirt rode up to reveal her thighs. My cock gave a little stir and she noticed me looking down at her legs and gave me a sexy smile. We were off to make a film in the countryside on a nice summer’s day and everyone was in a good mood.

Gordon was saying something to Ginger about acid, which I understood to be LSD.

“What did you say?” I asked with curiosity.“I said that there were some magic Strawberry Fields going around,” Gordon said.

“Do you mean LSD?” I replied a cautionary tone to my voice. “You want to keep away from that stuff haven’t you heard about the guy that tried to fly and killed himself?”

Gordon and Ginger started giggling and Gordon replied. “Yeah everyone’s heard about the guy but no-one seems to know who he is. The Beatles are always on it and they write their best material when they are tripping. Strawberry Fields forever” he said, then started to sing in a fairly good imitation of the Beatles.

“It is fucking dangerous stuff and it sends you crazy” I retorted.

“What if I said to you that me and Jimmy are on it now and that we are tripping” Gordon replied.

Ginger giggled “Yeah and me too.”

“Oh fuck off you are just fucking having me on,” I replied with disbelief because both of them seemed their usual self and the papers had been full of scare stories about bad trips and so on.

Gordon held out his hand and there were two tiny pink tablets in his palm. “There you are, these are Strawberry Fields,” he said.

“What are they like?” I asked in curiosity.

“Great, everything is so beautiful out here in the countryside,” Gordon replied.

“Can you get a hard on when you are on them?” I inquired.

“Well I always do” Gordon laughed.

“Well give me one then” I said, impulsively stretching out my hand over the front seat towards him.

“Don’t take them Mickey” Pat said, a worried look on her face.

I popped the little pink tablet into my mouth. It was so small that I couldn’t see it having a great effect. Soon everyone’s faces were taking on a rosy glow, and as I looked at the girls I could see the desire on their faces and smell their hot little cunts. My cock became hard like a rock and began to push against my trousers. I started to feel Susan’s legs and put my hand up her skirt.

“I feel so fucking horny” I exclaimed.

Gordon and Ginger laughed their approval in the back seat and only Pat seemed a bit nervous. As I looked at her beautiful face in the mirror I wanted to fuck her.

I looked at the petrol gauge and saw that I needed petrol. I pulled in at the nearest petrol station and began to fill up. “Anyone want anything?” I asked.

I walked over to where they sold drinks and ordered three cokes and two packets of crisps. On the way back to the car I spotted two attractive girls. Soon I was chatting to them. “You are lovely looking” I said to one of them.

“Do you think so?” she replied, smiling at my flattery. Her lips seemed to be really red and luscious like ripe fruit and I could see how white her teeth were and how pink her tongue was inside her mouth. My cock became hard and I wanted to fuck her there and then in the garage. “I’m making a film today” I said with a smile.

“What kind of film” the girl replied her mate giggling.

“A sex film do you want to be in it?” I asked.

“I don’t even know you,” the girl replied.

I drove off in the car chortling at my audacity. “Fucking hell I don’t even know them, never seen them before and I asked them if they wanted to be in a sex film.” Everyone laughed.

We were near Petts Wood, Kent now and I pulled off the side of the road onto a grass verge. I opened the boot and took out my Bolex 16mm cine camera and some Eastman colour film. “Come on this way” I said, climbing over a small wooden fence. The land was deserted and I guessed that it was some kind of nature reserve as it stretched for miles. We walked further and further until we were away from the road and in a deserted spot. “This will be fine,” I said. I sat down and the others looked at me expectantly. I pulled out my pipe and began to fill it with a bit of Lebanese red that I had scored recently then I realised that I was tripping. I noticed that the grass looked really green and the flowers

that dotted the Kent countryside were so colourful and bright, their sweet perfume filling the air, the sound of birds singing and bees buzzing were music in my ears. I saw the world with a sense of wonder and awe that I had never experienced before. I felt a tear roll down my face. “It’s so beautiful” I said to the others.

“Yes it is isn’t it” Gordon agreed smiling.

“Hey, is it alright to smoke when you are tripping?” I asked Gordon.

“Of course,” Gordon replied. “You can do anything that you like. Everything is possible.”

I lit up my pipe and inhaled deeply. I felt a sense of peace and had the urge to start filming and creating. I loaded a spool of film into the Bolex and began winding it up. “It’s brilliant this camera, no batteries, just a reliable clockwork motor made by the Swiss” I thought.

“What I want you to imagine is that you are out in the countryside with your girlfriends. You have brought them out here, to this deserted place in the hope that you will be able to have sex with them. First I want you all to walk down that hill until I shout stop, and then when I make this sign” I directed and I began to twirl my arm above my head in a circular motion “begin to walk back up the hill towards the camera.”

As they walked down the hill I set the camera up on the tripod, looked through the viewfinder and they were laughing and chatting. I pressed  the button and the clockwork motor began to whir reassuringly. They reached the bottom not knowing that I was already filming them. Through the camera the scene was of two pretty girls out with their boyfriends in the countryside. “Stop,” I shouted. I had them in the viewfinder and focused in. I made the twirling signal and they began to walk up the hill towards me. The girls looked pretty, their skirts and petticoats fluttering in the slight breeze. Pat and Susan had ribbons in their hair and they had tied their long hair back as I wanted. They stumbled a bit on the grassy slope because they still wore their stilettos. They giggled and the boys held their hands and steadied them. “Just walk past the camera and sit down there on the grass” I shouted. Through the

camera, the girls looked inviting, their skirts riding up and showing glimpses of their thighs and knickers. “Just start kissing and fondling the girls” I directed. “Take your time, and girls, push their hands away at first and play hard to get.” What I was getting now was a realistic enactment of the contemporary Sixties girl, who had to put up a bit of resistance before she would let you do anything, and it was this lead up to the sex that I found so erotic. “Put your hand inside their blouses now. Girls let them feel your tits and put their hand inside your bras.

Now girls let them start feeling up your skirts, that’s it, keep kissing each other.” What a pretty sight it was, the girls laying back in the grass their skirts and petticoats up. “Now slide your hands inside their

knickers. Don’t take them off yet but just pull them to one side to show their cunts.” The girl’s blouses were open and their knickers pulled to one side. Pat’s cunt was slightly hairy, the colour the same as her brown hair, while Susan’s was blonde. I could see that both their cunts were wet and glistening with love juice and I realised that my eyes were like zoom lenses now I was tripping. “Get their cocks out,” I directed.

The girls took out the boys' big cocks which were stiffly erect. “Now play with them and smile at each other. That’s it; now begin licking around the top.” As I looked through the camera I was a voyeur unseen, watching two young girls and their boyfriends having sex. My cock started to get really hard and I felt it go wet and sticky inside my trousers. When this happened I knew that I was getting some erotic footage that would turn people on.

“Now change over partners” I directed. The girls smiled at each other and changed boyfriends as though it was the most natural thing in the world. I knew that this was crossing the line of acceptable behaviour and I was now depicting a taboo, but this was the Swinging Sixties. “Now fuck, that’s it, this is a film so you can fuck them as hard as you like. Now change partners again. Now Pat you hold Gordon’s cock as it goes into Susan and Susan you suck off Jimmy.” I had the couples doing

every sexual permutation I could think of then I shouted “Cut, that’s it. All we want now is a finishing scene. I want you to run after the girls as they run away from you naked. The boys had done so much fucking and had both come twice and their penises were flaccid and flopped between their legs. “Okay roll them” I shouted and the girls ran down the hill with the boys chasing them. The peculiar thing was, as they ran, their floppy penises became erect! I thought that running after

naked females and watching their bouncing buttocks had evoked an instinctive response. It certainly looked great on the film.

On the way back to London I pulled out some banknotes and paid everyone off for the day’s work.

“I don’t really want the money Mickey” Pat said smiling.

 “Well why do you do it then?” I asked surprised.  

“Just for the fun of it” she replied.

“Okay it’s all right to do it for the fun, but one day you may need the money. I want you to open a Post Office savings account and stick the money into it” I said, feeling that I had to do the right thing because I liked Pat a lot.

I handed her the money and she gave me a little smile and put it into her handbag. I dropped her off at the end of her road in Tulse Hill and then the two boys at East Dulwich railway station. Alone with Susan in the car I could tell that she was getting horny again because she was sitting on her heel and grinding her crotch into her shoe. I pulled up outside her flat in Lordship Lane and looked over at her. “I have got to get home and it’s getting late. I promised to take Sandra out for a meal” I said.

“Oh just come in for a little while” she said looking at me with a really lustful expression on her beautiful face.

“Look if I come in I will just fuck you up the arse and go” I said my cock getting hard at the thought.

Susan looked at me pouting sexily. “Come on then” she replied.

I followed her up the stairs to her flat, looking up her skirt, seeing the way her tight black knickers went up her crotch and arse. Inside her flat, without any foreplay, I bent her over an armchair, pulled up her skirt, pulled down her black knickers to just below her bum, and spanked her milky white buttocks until they were red, then pushed my stiff cock into her anus. She shuddered in orgasm immediately and gave a sigh of pleasure as it went in. This was the first girl that I had ever known

who preferred anal sex. Susan’s anus was tight around my cock as I thrust in and out.

“You dirty fucking bitch, you love my big cock shooting hot spunk up right up your tight little arse don’t you?” I shouted as I neared orgasm.

“Yes I love it,” she gasped her breath coming faster and faster, her eyes rolling up in her head.

I pulled her long blonde hair making her look round at me.

“I’m going to shoot my hot spunk right up your arse,” I exclaimed excitedly. “Do you want that?”

“Oh yes, Mickey” she groaned “Oh yes!”

I shot my spunk right up her arse, my legs going weak as I came copiously in several spurts. I pulled out my dripping cock, the spunk going all over my trousers, then I went down the stairs and stopping off at the tiny bathroom. I washed my cock and wiped the spunk off my trousers with Susan’s flannel. Outside I got in my car and headed home leaving Susan still bent over the chair.

Sandra would be waiting for me and as I had promised to take her to an Italian restaurant, the Toscana tonight. I looked at my watch it was only half seven…

Amsterdam

Chapter 24

Another rule that I broke was no export. I had sold photos to a German guy called Walter and I knew that he had sold my photographs in Hamburg.

I thought that I could do some business myself, so I went over to Hamburg to the red light district but did not find any contacts there. I had heard that the red light district of Amsterdam had bookshops and that was the next place I visited.

My plane touched down at Schipol and I went outside and caught a taxi into Amsterdam. A walk around the Seedijk soon discovered numerous porn shops. I realised that here was a new market for me. I got a plane home and collected box tops from my best selling films and a copy of each one then I caught the next plane back to Amsterdam and started to tour the shops. One of the first shops I went to was the Souvenir Shop in the Seedijk where I showed the owner the box tops of my titles. He was very interested and Henk also spoke a bit of English and told me to come back at about 6pm and meet him outside the bookshop.

I went back to my hotel, the Port van Cleefs’ and collected the 8mm films. I returned to the Souvenir Shop at 6pm and Henk was waiting for me. I climbed into his car and he drove me to his house. Inside one of the rooms an 8mm projector had been set up and several Dutchmen, whom I understood to be bookshop owners, were the audience. My films were put on and there were gasps of obvious surprise and approval as they saw that some of my titles were in colour.

The Dutch bookshop owners made big orders on the films that they had seen and promised me cash if I could deliver.

I went back to London and realised that if I could deliver then I would be getting thousands of pounds per delivery.

I contacted a guy I knew called Andy whom I paid £200 to take the films to Amsterdam and leave them in the left luggage department of Amsterdam Centraal Railway Station. I duly collected the two suitcases full of films and went to the Souvenir Shop and informed Henk that I had the order and it was now in Amsterdam.

That night I met him at his house again.

The Dutch sex shop owners were waiting for me and paid up in cash. I left Henk’s house with my pockets stuffed with large denomination Guilder banknotes. This was better than Soho where the shopkeepers often expected credit.

Next morning I visited a Dutch bank in the Damrak and pulled out my huge wad of Guilders. I said that I wanted it all changed into Sterling. They did not have enough Sterling, so I took what they had and went to a second bank to change up the remainder. I went to Schipol and caught another plane back to London Airport, my pockets bulging with money. I was earning a fortune now, the Soho shops, the mail-order and now the Amsterdam red light district and I was becoming rich beyond my wildest

dreams.

Paper Tiger

Chapter 24

Walkers Court Bookshop did not have a toilet and I felt like a piss. I walked across the alley to Jimmy Humphries bookshop. It was one of the few shops in Soho that I did not supply. “Hello” I said to the stocky guy in the legal upstairs shop. “I just want to use the downstairs toilet for a piss” I said to the guy and walked towards the staircase that led to the illegal shop downstairs.

The guy immediately stepped in front of me and blocked my way. “Fuck off you cunt” he snarled, giving me a hard look.

“Do you know who I am? Mickey Muldoon, I make the films” I said.

At first I thought that he did not know who I was and that I was just a punter.

“Fuck off cunt” he replied and he moved aggressively towards me and threw a haymaker punch which I easily dodged. Then I retaliated punching him squarely on the jaw with a straight left. He fell down the stairs and lay at the bottom unconscious. I had knocked him out.

I went out of Walkers Court into a coffee bar around the corner and had a long piss as I was bursting. Then I walked back to Walkers Court Bookshop and told Fat Bill that I had just knocked out a guy in Jimmy Humphries' shop.

“Fucking hell! Jimmy is supposed to be a bit of a gangster and I think that the guy you knocked out was his father” he replied a worried look on his face.

Brian and Ben were listening and their faces took on serious expressions. They could have told me to leave the shop but they did not.

Underneath the counter was a collection of weapons. I took a baseball bat and put it within arms reach. I would not use weapons unless they tried to use them on me. Sure enough, two of Humphries' men walked into the shop about twenty minutes later. One was Nosher Powell, the sometime actor, and another Humphries hard-man, that I had not seen before.

There were all the snarls and bluster, shouting and so on.

“Why had I taken a liberty with Jimmy’s old man?” Nosher snarled.

Nosher Powell always wore a badly fitting wig. “Your barnet looks great today Nosher, but he took a swing at me so I knocked him out.”

Nosher glared at me as I stood my ground giving him a cold look.

With that the two of them turned on their heels and left.

“What a pair of tossers!” I exclaimed in my best Cockney accent laughing.

Everyone looked at me laughing nervously.

I never heard anymore about it but suspected that Humphries was copying my films and that is why his father did not want me to go downstairs. Humphreys had the reputation of being a hard man and a gangster and Sandra knew his wife Rusty was a stripper but I did not like him and know I knew that he was a paper tiger.

Mr Fixit

Chapter 25

The telephone was ringing.

“I have been nicked. Some coppers arrested me in Walkers Court and took all my stuff.” blurted the scared voice of Lenny, the guy who delivered my merchandise to the shops..

“What!” I exclaimed, pissed off. “How come I was paying if they nicked Tommy, my delivery guy?” I thought.

“Don’t worry Tommy I will sort it out” I promised.

“Please God Mickey, I could not stand going to prison” Lenny whined.

“You won’t go to prison and if you did it’s only a carpet” I said knowing that delivery boys only got three months. “I couldn’t stand it Mickey. Please God help me” Lenny whined a pleading

note to his voice.

“What a soft bastard” I thought.

“Don’t worry Lenny I will sort out Old Bill” I promised and put the phone down.

I chatted to Fat Bill and he reckoned that the detectives were from Saville Row.

I went to see Bernie and took him out to lunch in his favourite Italian restaurant.

He told me that he would make a couple of phone calls and that I had to go and see Frankie Albers, who arranged all these kinds of deals. It would cost me a few hundred quid.

Frankie Albers always stood on the corner of Frith Street and Romilly Street just opposite Tommy’s bookshop. A few Soho faces used to hang out here too on the street in the Summer time, Tommy Harris the fem-dom filmmaker and his brother Martin a club owner. I went up to Martin with

whom I got on well with. He owned a nightclub in Gerrard Street and I had been there for a drink a couple of times. “Where do I find Frankie Albers?” I asked.

Martin who always had his sleeves rolled up to show his well muscled, tattooed forearms and bulging biceps gestured towards a thin looking guy standing on the opposite corner who was dressed in a suit and wearing a tie even on this hot summer’s day. “That’s him over there,” he said.

I walked across the street to meet this Mr Fixit and go between the Gentlemen of Soho and the police.

“Hello I’m Mickey Muldoon” I said, shaking Frankie’s hand. “I have a problem I want sorting out. My man was nicked by some cozzers from Saville Row nick, I think it was, delivering some smudges to Walkers Court bookshop, and I would like to straighten it out.”

“Okay, but it will cost you,” he said, moving around on his feet like a boxer.

“Okay no problem” I answered.

He told me what to do and to pay a visit to a firm of bent solicitors in Shaftsbury Avenue who would be appointed to defend Lenny.

I met the solicitor’s clerk in the Inns of Court where I handed him a brown paper envelope. He laughed and chatted and shared the pipe of hash I lit up. He told me that Lenny would be fined a small sum of money, because the police would tell the judge that he was an informer who gave them valuable information and was now assisting them with their inquiries on an important case. I looked at this solicitor’s clerk through stoned eyes and took an immediate liking to him. He was slightly built and wearing a three piece suit with a stiff collar with long dark hair down to his shoulders. We met a few times after that and he said that I should give him a ring if I had any future problems.

A Gangster

Chapter 26

I walked into a shop in Duck’s Lane and saw a new magazine on the shelf.

I had a habit of looking at other people’s work when I went around the shops to collect money. I noticed the nervous look on the shopkeeper’s face as I started to leaf through the pages then I saw some of my pictures of Pat and Susan in the book. I angrily tore down all the copies of the magazine off the bookshop shelf.

“What are you doing?” the shopkeeper blurted.

“Who sold you this magazine because he has stolen my pictures?”

“Alfie Teal, and he won’t fucking like it when he hears about this” the shopkeeper said in a threatening manner.

“Listen you fucking mug if I catch you selling any copies of this magazine again I will smash this fucking shop up with you in it” I said in a rage.

I had heard of Alfie Teal and knew that he had the reputation for being a gangster, but I also knew that I had to stop this now, or I would be ruined by this parasite and others like him.

“Give me his fucking phone number” I demanded.

“I don’t have it,” the shopkeeper answered becoming afraid now and

cowering away from me.

“Give me it or I will smash up this shop now and fucking muller you” I threatened a self righteous anger coursing through my veins.

With this threat the frightened man pulled out a book and gave me the number.

Leaving the shop I went round all the shops in Soho but only found one other shop that had the magazine. I walked in and confiscated them all and I suspected that Alfie Teal owned these two shops.

When I got home I told Sandra in an angry outburst what had happened.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Listen” I replied. I picked up the phone and phoned the number I had forced out of the shopkeeper and a gruff Cockney voice answered.

“Listen Alfie, it's Mickey Muldoon here. You know why I am phoning….”

“You flash cunt I will do you, you cunt.” Alfie shouted down the phone.

“You are right out of order and if it’s fucking war you want, then it’s war” I shouted.

“I’ll kill you…” he threatened.

“No I will fucking kill you next time I see you in Soho” I spat out the challenge and slammed down the phone.

I had used my best gangster talk and knew that I was convincing. I looked at Sandra and she smiled her approval. She loved it when I acted hard.

“Are you going to kill him?” she asked, kissing me.

“I will if he keeps on stealing my work” I replied.

We fell onto the bed and had mad passionate sex.

Sandra was turned on by violence.

I met Alfie in the middle of Walkers Court and he handed me a brown paper package containing the printing plates but I could feel that they had been smashed up.

“Thanks Alfie but why did you smash them up? I could have used them” I said, winding him up deliberately.

“Don’t fucking strong it son” he said with a snarl.

I laughed in his face and tightened my hand on the blade I had in my pocket in case he had a tool. “Anytime” I replied, giving him a hard look, then turning on my heel I walked away.

The streets of Soho were a hard place and if you showed any weakness the parasites and gangsters would bleed you dry. I hated these type of people because they could not create anything themselves, only used fear to extort money from creative people like me. I had been hardened up in prison and I made a vow that I would rather die than pay extortion to gangsters because paying the Porn Squad was enough.

RAF Couple

Chapter 27

I pulled up outside the offices of the contact magazine, got out of the car onto the pavement of this dingy little backstreet in Peckham and pressed the doorbell marked Personal Advertiser. Two likely lads were running the small publication that was sold in all the Soho shops and I was here to do business. They wanted photos of girls to illustrate their publication and I wanted performers for the films. They handed me a lot of letters from would-be models.

I promised them photos and as I left.

“Here take these” they said and handed me a box containing a thousand copies of their magazine. “They are for free” they chorused.

I knew that they wanted me to distribute them because they got money to forward on people’s letters. As I drove away I thought about the free ad for models that they had inserted in the Personal Advertiser for me and wondered if I would get any replies.

One of the first I received was from a couple up in Kings Lynn, Norfolk.

The couple said that they wanted to be in the blue films and enclosed a photo of “the wife” with legs spread wide over the arms of an armchair.

I drove up to Kings Lynn with Susan. When we arrived we discovered that an RAF base. I pulled up outside the house, which was rather like a small council house and the front door opened immediately by the woman in the photo.

She seemed pleased to see us and her husband, a balding man with spectacles, warned me to look out for military police when I asked if I could bring in my lights and camera equipment. The guy told me he was a flight sergeant in the Royal Air Force and said he flew the Vulcan V Bombers. 

Audrey was hot for sex and I realised that she was the dominant one in this relationship. John just went along with her sexual demands like the masochist that he was and loved it.

When I started to make a film of them Susan started whipping John’s arse while he was fucking Audrey and he came. Susan was enjoying herself too, that was obvious and I captured it all on film. When I looked through the camera and I was the invisible man, unobserved as everyone abandoned

themselves to their sexual desires.

I had noticed that when Susan was really turned on that her eyes rolled up so that the whites of her eyes showed and that she was obviously in a state of ecstasy.

I made a good film and took some brilliant photos and Audrey was keen for me to come up to Kings Lynn again. Her husband had obviously enjoyed having sex with the beautiful Susan and he was just as keen.

On the drive back to London Susan knelt on the front seat and sucked me off while I drove.

On the second trip to the RAF base Audrey wondered whether she could appear in a film because her inner thighs and genitalia were red raw.

She explained as her husband stood there that she had “six sailors staying with her for three days!”

I realised that Audrey was indeed a nymphomaniac! I went ahead and made a film and some sets of photos and they sold really well. Audrey just looked like an ordinary housewife and dressed like one and I supposed that was the appeal.

A Loose Cannon

Chapter 28

I had started to write erotic stories too and illustrated them with photographs. I had Gordon making the books in his mother’s house in Brixton.

One day the phone rang and it was an agitated and scared Gordon on the other end. “Mickey, I have just been raided by the Porn Squad” he blurted out a scared tone to his voice.

“What!” I exclaimed in surprise. “How could the porn squad raid one of my employees when I was paying.” I thought angrily.

“Okay I will be right over” I promised. I drove over to Gordon’s house at speed, my tyres squealing my dissatisfaction, and screeched to a halt outside Gordon’s house.

Gordon opened the door, a worried look upon his face and brushed back a forelock of hair that had a habit of falling over his eyes.

“Yeah this guy from the Porn Squad raided me, took all the equipment, the negs and two hundred books that I had just printed” he said.

“Are you sure that he was from the Porn Squad?” I demanded.

“Yeah, he showed me his warrant card and said that his name was Sergeant Symons” replied Gordon rolling his protruding eyes which reminded me of Marty Feldman. I realised that he was suffering from Grave’s disease.  

“Yeah, he really frightened my Mum, the bastard. Mickey, she won’t allow any books to be made in this house again.”

“Don’t worry I will find out who this fucking cunt is and get them back and you can start again” I said with a laugh. The pretence that I was not paying the police had been dropped a long time ago.

“But where am I going to do the books?” Gordon said with a plaintive whine, wringing his hands. “I need the money and I have just lost two hundred books and the negs.”

“Don’t worry I will get all the stuff back and I’ll think of something” I said confidently.

Back home Sandra greeted me. “What’s up?” she asked looking at the angry expression on my face.

“Some bastard raided Gordon’s and took all the equipment and books” I replied, picking up the phone and dialling Roy’s number.

Sandra stood there listening to my conversation.

“Roy, its Mickey, some bastard called Sergeant Symons, raided Gordon’s house and nicked a load of books.”

“Oh that cunt, well Mickey he is a bit of a loose cannon and I can’t really do much about what he does as he works on his own.”

“Well fucking hell, that’s charming. I have never heard of these bollocks before” I said surprised.

Roy chuckled and I pictured his wolfish face grinning about my indignation about being raided by the lone wolf of the Porn Squad.

That very evening the phone rang. “Sergeant Symons here” said a voice.

“What do you want?” I said, my voice becoming angry.

“I have some books and negs here belonging to you and I want four hundred quid for them” Symons said.

“Fuck off and stick them right up your fucking arse” I shouted down the phone. “You will get fuck all from me and they cost less than that to make you mug!” I shouted, slamming down the phone.

Sandra laughed at my outburst and seeing the funny side of the absurd situation I started laughing too.

“Come on lets go out for a meal” I said.

“Okay I will see if Thelma can baby-sit.” Sandra replied.

A Clean Record

Chapter 29

I was getting lots of money now and Kenny, my brother-in law and my sister Kathleen were living in the flat next door with their small baby

Nancy. Sandra and Kath got on well together and Kenny and I were old mates so life was fine. We got some weights and started to work out regularly and practice martial arts. I had developed a bit of a gut from all the good food that I was eating but was getting back in shape with regular training.

I had leased a former clothes factory in the East End of London and turned it into a processing lab with two 16mm film processing machines.

The films were split down the middle into 8mm after being printed one up side and one down the other on an Uhler optical printer that I had imported from Michigan USA.

Kenny worked in the lab processing films sometimes assisted by Sandra. I edited the films and cut and spliced them. Everything was running smoothly.

I was having lunch with Fat Bill in the Toscana one day and he was eating cream cakes which he loved and could not resist despite his obesity.

“Mickey, how would you like to get a clean record?” he asked.

“A clean record I would love it” I replied laughing in disbelief. “But how would that be possible?” I asked.

“Remember what I told you? Everything is possible with money” Fat Bill replied a cunning look on his face.

I was surprised realising that his proposition was serious. “How is it possible?” I asked.

“Well it will cost you a few grand but your record would be removed from the Records Office and destroyed.” Bill said, smiling at the amazed expression on my face.

“Yeah, but what about my fingerprints?” I questioned.

“They will be destroyed too!” Bill said.

“And if a copper who has nicked me in the past recognises me?”

Bill laughed, his face smeared with cream reminding me of Billy Bunter again. “He could not prove it because all copies of your record and fingerprints would have been destroyed. I have had it done and so have Brian and Ben. I mean keep schtum and don’t ever mention it” Bill smiled wiping the cream off his face with a serviette. “I will see about yours and find out how much the guy wants, okay?”

“Right Bill,” I said excited by the fact that I could become a respectable person again. Now that I had money I was ashamed of the sins of my youth. It did not sound very nice “Shop breaking, housebreaking and taking and driving away” I was a company director now and proud of it.

“What did you do to get a record Bill?” I asked Bill curious, pouring him a glass of Sicilian red that Walter, the owner of the restaurant, called “Mafia wine.”

“We were all jewel thieves” he said a look of excitement lighting up his face, his black eyes reduced to little black currants, dancing in merriment.

I listened attentively, nodding my approval as I wanted to hear about his adventures.

“Brian is a jeweller and we used to visit jewellery shops in Switzerland, and other places on the Continent, Austria, France and we would take a photo of a piece, a ring usually in the window and Brian would make up a gold shank, then he would mount a zircon instead of a diamond and we would do a switch.”

His face was excited as he reminisced and I just listened.

“We would all dress up, posing as rich tourists with our wives and go into a shop and ask to see the rings. Then we would palm the real one and give the moody one back to the shopkeeper. It was funny to see them putting the moody one back in the window.

That is where we got the money to buy the shop. It was the Kenny Lynch RecordCentre before we got hold of it” Bill told me .

Later I met a guy, a friend of Bill’s, Pip Kingsley who did the shop deal and he told me that the Church of England owned Walker’s Court and a lot of property in Soho! We were sitting in Raymond’s Revue bar at the time with one of Raymond’s girls. Pip had a fetish for tall dancing girls and this particular one was black and about six foot. Pip was a friend of Paul’s and sometimes he would come over for a chat and snort a few lines with Pip.

Pip was rich and later I accompanied him to his penthouse suite where the lift opened directly into his apartment. The showgirl’s eyes lit up in amazement because the floor was completely covered in white ermine, and trays on stands were all around the room, containing all different kinds of sweets and chocolate.

Pip walked over to the full size bar at the end of the room and went behind it. “I have every kind of drink here. What would you like?” he asked with a challenge.

I thought of some esoteric drink and came up with Calvados.  

“Calvados it is” Pip said with a smile, pulling one of the many bottles down from the shelf and pouring me a glass.

I sipped it and savoured its strange taste. I had not had it before and had read about it in a Simenon detective novel!

The showgirl and Pip had Sambuca which Pip lit and the girl watched fascinated as the drinks burnt with a blue flame.

Afterwards Pip got the girl on the bed, that was on a dais raised from the floor and fur covered too, and fucked her. Afterwards he called her a taxi and she left.

“It’s not the money, it’s this” he said with a smile and he pulled out his massive cock.

“I see,” I said laughing. Pip was always getting out his huge cock and sometimes he would bang it on a table as if it were a truncheon!

The Courier

Chapter 30

Gordon Smith looked at me a pleading look in his eyes. “Look Mickey, why don’t you let me go to Amsterdam with the films?”

Gordon was sitting on the side of his bed in the flat that I had found him in Herne Hill opposite Brockwell Park.

Bookmaking equipment and a pile of finished books lay stacked up against the wall in the corner.

“Are you sure that you would not grass me if the Dutch police caught you with the rollers?” I asked, looking at Gordon’s big bulging eyes, his greasy skin and the way his gut was starting to hang over his waistband, even though he was in his early twenties. He looked so weak and timid and not the kind of guy that would stand up to police interrogation methods.

“I would be all right and of course I would not grass” he said indignantly, brushing the hair out of his eyes and trying to look hard by slitting up his fish eyes.

The result was comical and I began to laugh. I thought that there was not much chance of the Dutch searching his luggage at Schipol as there was not much to smuggle in from England anyway.

“You know that the penalty is only three months and that they usually release you after six weeks in any case” I said, beginning to consider the idea of him being a courier.

“If you did get stopped at customs I would pay the rent on your flat and still give you the two hundred pounds for going” I promised.

Gordon’s face brightened. “So I can go then” he exclaimed, his face lighting up with a smile.

“I will think about it if you learn the cover story well enough to convince me” I replied.

Gordon nodded his head vigorously and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“You can play the guitar a bit and say that you are an out of work musician. That you were in a Soho pub when a guy offered you two hundred pounds to take two locked suitcases to Holland and leave them in the railway station Amsterdam Centraal. You would then meet him and give him the ticket so that he could get the bags.”

“Yeah I can remember that, it's simple ain’t it, a piece of cake.”

Gordon if you grass then I will fucking kill you when you get back” I threatened.

Gordon cowered away from me as I advanced towards him and put up his hands and closed his eyes. “Gordon look at you for fuck’s sake. I’m not sure that this is a good idea after all!” I exclaimed seeing his cowardly behaviour.  

“Aw Mickey I’ll be alright I promise you” he pleaded.

The landlady was a very attractive girl, tall with long blonde hair and as I left Gordon’s room she was walking along the hall.

“Hello, I hope that your new tenant is behaving himself?” I said.

“What Gordon? He’s okay” she said, smiling at me with large blue eyes.

I walked downstairs and stood facing her in the hallway smiling. She had a dress on and I noticed her very long legs, slim figure and large breasts and that she looked remarkably healthy.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“Well nothing now. My father gave me this house and I run it for him, letting out the rooms. But I used to be a Bluebell girl” she answered with a smile.

“A Bluebell girl” I exclaimed in surprise. “What in Paris in the Champs Elysees?” I questioned her showing off my knowledge of Paris.

“Yes at the Lido. Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.

“Yes I certainly would” I replied, jumping at the chance of talking to this very attractive girl who

had turned out to be an ex dancer.

We sat in the kitchen sipping the tea she had made in a big pot and poured out into bone china tea cups.

“Nice cups” I remarked and she smiled again showing white, even teeth.

The summer sun shone through the stained glass panels of the kitchen of the old, very large Victorian house which faced Brockwell Park.

“This house must be worth a fortune” I asked, voicing my thoughts. “It’s a very nice house.”

“Yes I was brought up here its lovely!” she exclaimed.

My eyes strayed to several pairs of her white cotton Airtex knickers drying on the clothes rack.

“What do you do for a living?” she questioned me.

“I’m a photographer and I make films as well” I replied with a smile.

“What naughty ones?” she asked with a laugh.

I could see by her attitude that she was the kind of girl that I could admit my profession to and that she had probably seen the books in Gordon’s room. “Yes, naughty ones,” I admitted.

“Oh please let me see one?” she said eagerly.

Later that evening I drove to her house, an 8mm projector on the seat beside me and pulling off the Norwood Road I parked in her driveway. As I walked towards her front door I saw Yvonne coming to open the door through the stained glass.

There was another girl with her and they were both laughing.

We sat in Gordon’s room and I set up the projector while Yvonne said that Patricia, her friend, was a school teacher.

“Oh they are really good looking” Pat said with a surprised tone to her voice as she watched the film.

“Yes I usually use good looking girls.” I agreed.

Both girls watched the film all the way through and obviously enjoyed it. The propaganda the media had been pumping out for years, that por was enjoyed by men only, was obviously wrong. I was pleased to see that women enjoyed it too, intelligent and good looking women as well.

I was looking at Yvonne while the film was playing and sat next to her on the bed and suddenly she did not move away from the pressure that I exerted on her thigh. I pressed my leg against her and she smiled at me in the darkened room her face illuminated by the flashing light of the

projector. Gordon was trying to get off with Pat as well but he did not make out with her and when the film was over she stood up.

“Thank you for letting me see one of your films but it’s getting late and I have to get up early in the morning,” she said.

Gordon had a disappointed look on his face and Yvonne and I walked Pat to the front door.

As soon as she was gone I came on strong to Yvonne and embraced her,

pressing my body up against hers and kissing her. She responded and taking my hand she led me to her bedroom. Soon I was fucking her once, twice three times. I promised to see her again as I got out of the bed and got dressed.

Back home Sandra was in bed asleep. I had to get up in the morning to take the kids to school because Sandra was working helping Kenny in the film processing laboratory. I slid into bed trying not to wake Sandra but she awoke momentarily.

“Where have you been?” she asked half asleep.

“I was doing a bit of business, go to sleep” I answered.

 At the Customs

Chapter 31

Gordon and I went to Heathrow Airport in order to catch the flight to Amsterdam. He had two suitcases stuffed with 8mm films. I was accompanying him on the flight but only carried hand luggage.

When we went to check in our luggage at the airport Gordon’s heavy suitcases attracted a surcharge. I was standing next to him in the queue and the woman checking in the luggage asked me if I would have some of Gordon’s luggage on my ticket.

“No,” I replied. Gordon went red with embarrassment and was forced to pay a hefty surcharge. When we landed at Schipol I went through customs first and went out of the doors and waited for Gordon to come through. I could see him approaching the customs barriers pushing his heavy suitcases. He

looked really worried and suspicious.

“Oh why did I let him do it? He is going to get a pull. Why didn’t he get a porter?” I thought.  Gordon heaved the two suitcases up onto the customs counter and the Dutch customs man made a sign to open them!

“Oh! Fucking hell, he is going to get caught” I thought.

He looked over at me through the glass doors, a helpless scared expression on his face. I gave him the thumbs up sign and smiled and could not help laughing to myself at how stupid I had been letting him go.

The customs man opened the first suitcase and began pulling out boxes of films, all which were illustrated with hardcore pictures.

I made a quick dash to the taxi rank. “Take me to the Hilton” I said. I booked in and then made a telephone call to directory enquiries.

Eventually I contacted an advocate to whom I explained that a business colleague of mine had just been stopped by the customs at Schipol and I would like to arrange for him to be represented. After the phone call I felt satisfied that I had done what I promised if things went wrong.

In the morning I awoke late and the first meal that I had was at lunchtime.

I ordered a steak, French fries and side salad, plus a bottle of champagne.

I was halfway through my meal when a guy approached me at the table. As soon as I saw him I knew that he was a policeman.  

“I am detective Van Huren and I would like a few words with you,” he said standing in front of my table.

“What about?” I replied, looking up at him, trying to appear unconcerned.

“I would like you to come to the police station for questioning,” he said.

“What for?” I asked, the meat in my mouth suddenly becoming tasteless and difficult to swallow. I poured out a glass of champagne. Then I noticed that Van Huren’s jacket had opened and a British passport was protruding from his inside pocket.

“Hey, you have got my passport in your pocket! ” I exclaimed angrily.

Van Huren hastily pulled his jacket shut. “This is not England, come with me now” he replied.

“Look I am finishing my dinner” I replied, thinking about his “This is not England” remark. He thought that the British police did not go to people’s hotel rooms and search them without permission. “If only he knew” I thought.

“Come with me now or I will be forced to remove you in handcuffs” the detective said, becoming angry at my attitude.

I got up slowly, knowing when I was beaten and followed him outside where he ushered me into a small saloon parked in the Hilton car park.

“Could you slow down please because I don’t want to die in Holland in your little car” I said deliberately winding him up.

He became angry again and I smiled to myself. He obviously was sure of himself and I was getting worried about what Gordon might have said. At the police station van Huren started to interrogate

me.

“Your friend Gordon…”

“He is not a friend but a business colleague” I interjected sharply.

“He says that he works for you and that you are the boss.”

“Well I am not the boss and I work for myself selling legitimate films, he is lying.” I replied. I had bought a briefcase with me containing brochures for glamour films which I made and sold in Britain and I knew that he had looked at them when he searched my hotel room.

“Look I have a statement from Smith saying that you are the boss and that you are paying Scotland Yard” Van Huren said.

I was shocked at Smith’s treachery and realised that I was now in a serious situation but I kept my cool laughing and slapping my thigh.

“Paying Scotland Yard! And you believe this ridiculous nonsense?”

Van Huren looked a bit unsure. “You sat next to him on the plane and you knew what business he was in,” he observed.

“Look, of course I sat next to him on the plane because I knew that he wanted to sell videos to the Dutch wholesalers, the same as me, I told you he is a business colleague.”

“His allegations will have to be checked by Interpol and I am suspicious that you are the big boss of Soho as Smith alleges in his statement.”

“Look I have got a plane to catch tonight.” I replied, getting worried.

Van Huren picked up the phone. “Schipol” he said.

He then spoke in Dutch but I was able to understand that he had contacted British Airways and cancelled my flight to London.

“I have cancelled your flight, now are you going to tell me the truth or I will send you to prison.”

“I am completely innocent and I came here on legitimate business on behalf of my company Nestville Photography Ltd” I replied.

“If you tell me the truth I can help you get a short sentence or even a fine for evading customs duties” Van Huren said with an eager look on his face.

I knew that he thought that he was onto a big case. “I have told you the truth,” I said.  

I spent the night in a Dutch police station and next morning was driven in a van handcuffed. The guard put a chain through my cuffs and led me into a court building.

I entered a large room with several people in plain clothes sitting behind a table, one a woman. On the table were Gordon’s suitcases open so that one could see the hardcore covers on the boxes.

“Venus Films,

Threes Company” shouted the box cover illustrated with a close up picture of Pat and Susan, their tongue licking a large cock.

The woman picked up the film and handed it to me. “Have you ever seen this?” she asked.

“No, never,” I replied. I then took a silk handkerchief from my breast pocket and wiped it clean of fingerprints before handing it back.

This brought smiles of amusement from all gathered.

“Why did you do that?” The woman questioned me.

“To wipe off my fingerprints” I said in a matter of fact way.

Afterwards I was taken to a prison in the van and led out in handcuffs.

I was taken into the prison where everyone was locked up and shown a cell.

“This is yours while you stay with us” the guard said kindly in English.

He pulled aside a plastic curtain and smiled and showed me a shower and toilet.

“Yes it's fine” I replied. I realised that in England I would be using a foul smelling chamber pot, without the luxury of a shower, but it was hard to be enthusiastic in the circumstances.

He closed the door and I took off my sweaty clothes and had a shower.

Later that night I heard the sound of doors opening and closing. The door was opened and a convict poured me a cup of cocoa.

“Goodnight Englishman” he said and I summoned a smile.

The next morning I managed to obtain some writing materials and sat down to write:

“Dear Sandra, I have been arrested on suspicion of importing pornography into Holland. Gordon Smith was arrested at the airport with a load of porno films and he told a lot of lies, saying that he was working for me and that they were mine.

Don’t worry I am innocent and expect to be home in a couple of weeks.

In the meantime keep my business going until I come home

Lots of love to you and Billy and Laura

Your loving husband,

Mickey.”

Life is boring, locked in the little cell and the windows were frosted so that a prisoner cannot see out but can hear sounds of children playing outside in the town of Haarlem. I climbed up onto the window sill and can just see out the slit of an air vent. Seeing the kids reminds me of my own Laura and Billy at home in England.

I ordered the Telegraph and some groceries from the prison canteen and when the door opened, my newspaper arrived and I sit there reading it from cover to cover, even the obituaries.

Out on the exercise yard the next day I meet a prisoner who can speak English and he tells me that if I can get Smith to withdraw his statement then the prosecution won’t have much of a case. He says that the best way to meet Gordon is to go to Mass on Sunday morning.

At the beginning of Mass the priest gives a sermon about the universality of the Roman Catholic Church and how we have two English brothers in the congregation! When he turns his back I turn around and spot Smith sitting several rows back and make strangling signs with my hands which brings a titter from the Dutch prisoners.

The guards return and as we file out from the front rows I hiss at Smith. “Withdraw your statement you grass or I will fucking kill you when you get back to England!”

This brings smiles of approval from the other prisoners who start giving Gordon dirty looks. “No one likes a grass and it seems that this is a universal trait” I thought.

I find out that if you give a note to the cocoa boy then he will pass it to another prisoner. I suspect that Smith will give the note to the guards or that the trustee prisoner may be a grass too so I sit down and

write a note.

“Dear Gordon,

How could you do this to me? Why don’t you tell the truth and own up like a man. All you have to do is to say that you were frightened of owning up. Please man, don’t let me spend all this time in prison as I have a wife and family.

Mickey.”

When the cocoa boy dished out the cocoa that night I gave him the note to give to Gordon.

Meanwhile I am taken to the police station in a van and locked in a cell without windows for most of the day. I am thirsty but the water fountain in the cell merely gives a small trickle and goes off when I try to drink it. After what seems an eternity a guard comes and takes me into a room and a detective comes in. He shows me photographs and asks me to identify the guys in them if I recognise any of them. I see several of the Dutch shop keepers with whom I am doing business but I keep a

straight face and shake my head from side to side and they take me back to the cell where I lose all sense of time.

This happens several times during my incarceration, but I laugh at their threats and inducements, and make the Dutch detectives angry. I am glad that Smith had never been to any of the shops and that he cannot identify any of the guys in the photos.

Back in the prison and attending Mass on Sunday morning the prisoners file out from the back this time. As I return to my cell I see Smith standing in front of his cell door staring into space with a worried look on his face. By now everyone knows that “He grassed on the other Englishman” and he is reviled and treated with contempt by the other prisoners. Seeing him makes me want to hit him and I quickly move up on him and he does not see me until I am right on top of him. I punch him

hard on the jaw and his six foot overweight body hits the landing of the Dutch prison with a thud. He lays there unconscious, bleeding as I quickly mount the iron stairs up to the fourth landing to my cell. Other prisoners have seen me and give me approving glances and talk excitedly among themselves. “The Englishman has knocked out the other one…”

I go into my cell and bang the door and pick up my newspaper. As I sit there reading the broadsheet I hear all the doors in the wing being slammed shut. This is a lock down and I know that the guards will be coming for me after they lock everyone in their cells. I feel exhilarated by the action but stay

calm as several pairs of feet begin clattering up the stairs towards my cell. It is the guards accompanied by the director of the prison.

“You want to be a hard boy?” he says in English. “Now you will go to another prison where all the other hard boys are. Get all your things together.”

I grin as I get my things together, because I have been in the hardest prisons in the world, where I have seen people killed on the landings, so this talk does not frighten me. In fact I am getting bored and life is exciting again.

The guards cuff me up and manacle me with chains and lead me outside, accompanied by the muffled cheers and banging of the other prisoners who know that the Englishman is going.

Surprisingly the other prison is only next door. We enter the old Victorian building and they take me straight in and up the stairs. The landings are built in a circle so that a guard sitting in a glass

observation box in the centre of the ground floor can see all the other cells. I realise that it is built on the principles of Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon and wonder at the marvel of this English genius whose philosophy had led to this building being erected in Haarlem in the 19th Century…

The guard is accompanied by a prisoner who says “Welcome to the Koupol!” and explains that the guard has brought him because he can speak English. The guard opens the door and I notice that there is no shower or toilet but no chamber pot.

I ask for a chamber pot but the prisoner and guard laugh. “Just ring the bell and your door will be opened straight away” they promise.

“Well it is certainly different from English prisons” I thought, where if you ring your bell a screw will shout “Get on your pot laddie” and if you keep on ringing you will be visited, mob handed and beaten up. I smiled at the guard and prisoner as they closed my door wishing me good night. In the night I wake feeling like a piss and ring the bell. Sure enough the sound of feet approached immediately and the cell door opened and I was directed to the toilets which were situated on each landing. I returned sleepily to my cell and the door was locked again. I was beginning to like the Dutch because they treated one with respect. Ifell off to sleep remembering the slopping out in Pentonville and the smell of piss and shit that filled the whole prison.

I awoke in the morning and the prisoner came to my cell and told me that I had an interview with the governor. When I walked into his office he smiled, shook my hand warmly and beckoned me to sit down. He looked at me and exclaimed “How young you look for your age!” I smiled flattered.

“Maybe it is your hair,” he commented.

I had long hair down to my shoulders in the fashion of the Sixties.

“Now is there anything that I can get you during your stay with us?” he inquired in impeccable English.

“Food” I replied.

“There is a shop on the wing and you will be able to go there and order every week,” he informed me.

“Oh I see” I said happy with the prospect of getting some decent food.

“What about clothes?” the governor asked with a smile.

I had not brought many clothes with me because I had not been planning to stay long.

“Well I could do with some shirts, socks and underwear” I replied.

With that the governor picked up the telephone. He spoke rapidly in Dutch while explaining to me that he was phoning a men’s outfitters.

“A men’s outfitter will visit you with a selection of clothes and you will make your choice.” he informed me.

He was so nice and I marvelled at the difference between the attitude of the prison systems in the respective countries of England and Holland.

Later I visited the prison shop and was able to order newspapers, fruit, food and a litre of milk each day. It was amusing putting the empty bottles outside my cell door and hearing someone collecting them and putting a fresh one outside and I was reminded of the milkman in London.

The chaps back home would never believe this I knew.

The prisoners also played football in the middle of the Koupol, as the big circular prison was called. Much against my better judgement I was persuaded to play one day and as I am absolutely useless at football I made a fool of myself. The Dutch guys were surprised, repeating the words Georgie Best and pointing at me.

“Yes Georgie Best, he is very good but I can’t play football” I explained feeling stupid. I remembered my school days, being very immature physically when I refused to engage in the rough and tumble of

the game and smoked a fag in rebellion on the sidelines.

I was a bit better at volleyball being a strong server and good at setting up the ball. We used to play out on the yard during sports periods. Exercise was also a daily routine that I enjoyed, walking

around the prison yard and talking.

I got to know a lot of other prisoners, all of whom discussed their cases, and what went on in the Dutch underworld. There were a few foreign prisoners, including myself and one six foot German bank robber.

Hans limped along telling how he fooled his wife into thinking that he was a businessman but he used to go out everyday with his briefcase to work. Every time he got short of money he would drive over the Dutch border and rob a bank at gunpoint. One day he emerged carrying a bag of cash and was confronted by two armed police officers. One shot him in the leg immediately, but he did not fire his gun, but when the other aimed directly at his chest and he saw his finger tightening on the trigger he

shot him dead. He got nine years for manslaughter but the prosecutor thought that the sentence was too light and was appealing to make it longer. Another guy whom I got to know very well and who was my constant companion on the exercise yard was Leonard van Arnhem. His brother owned

a nightclub in Zaandam and he was involved in some violence with a gangster who tried to make his brother pay protection money.

I was visited by the solicitor I had retained for Smith and I told him that I no longer wished him to act for Smith but for me. He showed me Smith’s statement and I had to laugh when he described himself as an “Out of work musician” who had met a stranger “in a Soho pub” and “the man had offered him £200 pounds to take two suitcases to Amsterdam.” The only difference in the story that I had made up for him was that the stranger was me!  

“He is lying and I can prove it because I think that if you take a careful look at the films you will see Mr Smith” I said to my advocate.

I had to laugh at Gordon’s stupidity and now I could prove that he was lying.

I also wrote a letter to the Obscene Publications Squad at Scotland Yard explaining that Gordon Smith was telling lies about me and that they should search his flat as I suspected that he was a pornographer whereas I was going straight selling glamour films.  

My day arrived in court and Gordon Smith was proven to be a liar as it was heard that he appeared in the films and that Scotland Yard detectives had found a large quantity of pornography, including book making equipment in his flat.

When I took the witness stand I spoke of his ridiculous story about me paying Scotland Yard and how they were the finest police force in the world and incorruptible.

People in the court nodded and grinned when I said this, turning their eyes to look at Smith as though he was the biggest liar on Earth. “If only they knew that he was the one telling the truth!” I thought.

The court ordered my release and I was on a plane back to London that night having spent six weeks in the Koupol.

I felt uneasy as I touched down in London because I knew that I had broken the unofficial contract of my licence by exporting films into Holland  I had sparked an Interpol enquiry and there would be

repercussions I knew that.

Back in London

Chapter 33

There was someone ringing at the doorbell, I looked out of the window and there stood Gerry on the pavement in Stockwell Park Road, looking up at me grinning.

“It’s Gerry “I said to Sandra, a pang of fear going through my vitals but when I went down to meet him, I assumed my hard man act. We shook hands and soon he was sitting on the settee telling me all about Wandsworth and how certain people were sending their regards to me.

We ended up having a few drinks too many and he ended up sleeping on my settee that night. Next day I went out and found him a flat near Tooting Bec Common and paid the rent on it for three months. He agreed to work for me and I thought that I could use the flat to make films as well.

He told me that I was getting a bit fat and had put on a bit of weight so me, him and Kenny started to work out together. Gerry was superhumanly strong and as he spotted for me I flashed back to the old

days when we would work out in the gym together in Chelmsford Prison.

He started to come around my flat quite a lot, and he was good at playing with the kids, but I discouraged him from coming round too often, as when he was in my flat I felt afraid and Kathleen, my sister felt threatened by him as well as Kenny, her husband…

A shopkeeper in Soho asked me to come in partnership with him and open a shop in Lisle Street. I knew that the shop would be a big earner. When I walked around Soho to collect my money I had Gerry by my side but made him wait outside when I went into the back of the shops and I also

arranged for him to make the deliveries so I carried on as usual.

Nothing seemed to be happening about the Holland business until about a couple of weeks had passed and I realised Gordon would soon be back. I received a phone call from Chief Inspector Alton, telling me to meet him in the Tulse Hill Hotel, which was a pub that I had met him in before in

Norwood Road and near where Gordon had lived.

I waited in the pub which was run by an ex boxer and sat at a table waiting for Les.

He was late as usual and then his big bulky frame entered and he looked around and spotted me waving at him. He glowered as he walked towards my table and I got up and greeted him obsequiously.

“Shall I get you the usual Les?”

Alton nodded and I made my way to the bar. “A White Shield and a large Ding Dong” I ordered. Alton was still glowering when I made my way back to the table and placed the drinks down in front of him. The pub was busy and everyone chatted away, no one noticing the meeting of The Pornographer and the head of the Porn Squad.

I sat down and bowed my head waiting for the tirade of abuse and a big fine.

Instead Alton was quite calm but his first words were chilling. “Smith is your responsibility and I want him brown bread. Do you understand you idiot?”

 “Yes Lesley” I replied realising that he expected me to execute poor old Gordon. I pictured Gordon’s fat greasy features and his mournful expression like an old St Bernard dog and pictured myself garrotting him until those fish eyes popped out of his head.

“I am going for a piss. He is coming home, he will be back on Tuesday and you know that you have to act quickly” he said.  

As soon as Les disappeared into the toilet I got up and entering the toilet, took out the brown paper envelope and gave it to him. Alton did not say thank you but turned on his heel and left without a word. I felt humiliated but grateful that I still seemed to have a licence.

Unbelievably the phone rang on Tuesday and it was Gordon crying on the other end. “I am so sorry Mickey! I couldn’t take it. They locked me up in a cell without lights and no water…and I broke down… I just snapped …and it all came out” Gordon blurted between sobs.

“Yeah I know they did it to me too and I should have never of let you go. Look, forget all that now. You will be questioned soon and I want to meet you to discuss what you are going to say to Old Bill '' I  replied.  

“Okay Mickey! Where shall I meet you?”

“In the car park at the Tulse Hill Hotel” I replied. As I said it I realised that Alton had made a visit to Gordon’s flat in Norwood Road probably to question Yvonne and discover how much she knew. I was glad that I had not told her anything.

I got a big knife out of the kitchen drawer and put it in my waistband then took a pot of pepper out of the cupboard and put that in my jacket side pocket.

I realised how easy it would be to kill Gordon and how stupid it was for him to agree to meet me in a lonely unlit car park. He was a lamb to the slaughter, but it also occurred to me that the order may have come from above to kill two birds with one stone.

I drove into the car park which was dark, except for a full moon partially hidden by sombre clouds, my headlights casting weird shadows from the trees that lined the courtyard. The landlord did not light it

to save money I suppose, but now it was the perfect place to kill and I hid behind a car next to my own and waited. There was about ten minutes to go until the appointed time of 8pm.

 Another car drove in, lighting up the courtyard and I ducked down so that the driver would not see me. He got out slamming the door of his car and went into the pub through the back door. A small amount of light seeped out of the saloon bar at the back where I had met Alton and he had told

me to kill Gordon. Here I was waiting, and then Gordon arrived, peering myopically around the courtyard.

I could not believe that he was so stupid. Then he saw my car and began walking towards it his feet crunching on the gravel.

“Mickey” Gordon called hesitantly “are you there?”

I crept up behind him taking out the long sharp blade, my hand grasping the pot of pepper. “I’m here Gordon” I said, flicking off the lid of the pepper container, and as Gordon turned I threw pepper into his startled fish eyes that were now bulging in terror. “You fucking grass, I’m going to kill you!” I snarled.

Gordon blinked and screamed as he saw the big knife glinting in the moonlight. The clouds moved so that the silvery light momentarily lit up Gordon’s face contorted with the terror of imminent death. He screamed and his feet started to move as I lunged with the knife. Slipping on the gravel in his mortal fear and indecent haste he started to run. He ran fast for an overweight and out of condition man.

I ran after him holding the knife. Gordon ran blindly into the South Circular road, cars swerving and missing him narrowly, across the road and into the entrance of a yard. Then he jumped and grasped the top of a locked gate and pulled himself up and over it rolling across the top he was gone.

“I’ll find you cunt and I’ll fucking kill you!” I shouted.

I could not kill him, but I knew that I should have done; now I was in serious trouble for not obeying Chief Inspector Alton’s order to murder Smith. I got in my car and stopped at the lights on the South Circular, laughing with excitement and at the irony of the situation in which I now found myself. The lights turned green and I turned left driving down Norwood Road pulling up outside Gordon’s flat opposite Brockwell Park and turned into the driveway. Parking my car on the forecourt I walked

up to Yvonne’s front door and rang the doorbell. I saw Yvonne through the panels of the stained glass doors. She opened the door and as soon as I was in I pulled her close, kissing her hard on the lips and

pressing my erect penis into her. I could feel the mound of her cunt through the light floral dress that she wore and she responded immediately thrusting her pelvis forward.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked.

“Yes please” I answered and I followed her into the kitchen and I sat down at the table while she poured some wine.

As I sipped my wine she got up. “I am going to the bathroom,” she said smiling, showing her perfect teeth.

As I sat drinking the wine I could hear her showering and I knew that she wanted me to fuck her.

She returned wearing a bathrobe and grasping my hand she led me up to her bedroom on the first floor.

Once in bed she got down and sucked my cock then moving up the bed she grasped my cock and I got between her legs and began fucking her. After I came up her I rolled off and we began talking.

“Have you seen Gordon?” I inquired looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes he was here earlier and went out about a quarter to eight. I heard that he told the police all about you. And do you know what I did?”

“No” I asked, turning my head towards her on the pillow.

“I gave him a good whipping” and she started laughing.

“Really!” I exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes I have a riding crop up there,” she gestured to the bookshelf beside her bed. “It was not the first occasion though because he had been rather naughty before, not paying his rent on time.”

“Yvonne, if Gordon shows his face around here just say to him that Mickey told you that if you ever see him to phone him straight away, say that I came round here looking for him and that I am trying to find out where he is” I said becoming serious.

“I knew that something had happened when Inspector Brown from Scotland Yard came round here to search his room.” Yvonne said.

“Inspector Brown the lying bastard” I thought because I knew that he was only a Detective Constable. I thought back to when I had first taken my father to meet a member of the OPS so that he could witness me paying and that Brown had turned up. I did not like my father meeting just a

constable and thought that at least a sergeant should have turned up!

“Perhaps he got promoted” I thought.

“We went out to that Indian restaurant in Herne Hill where you took me and he told me Gordon had caused a lot of trouble telling lies about the police force” Yvonne said, moving close to me in the bed and holding my limp wet cock.

“Did you let him fuck you?” I asked.

“Yes but he was not any good in bed. Just got on top and came in a few seconds!” observed Yvonne laughing at the memory.

“When you were a Bluebell Girl did you meet any rich men?” I asked, turning my face to look at her.

“Oh yes, dozens! They all wanted to fuck a young English girl.”

“Is that where you learnt that some men like to be whipped?” I questioned.

“No, I was over in the Park one day and a Warden caught me picking flowers and he took me to his hut, pulled my knickers down and spanked me.”

As she told me about this my cock started to become hard again and her hand tightened around my swelling manhood.

“Did you like it?” I asked.

“Yes it made me all wet and sticky and when I got home I went straight to my bedroom lay on the bed with my legs wide open and played with myself until I came.”

Yvonne talking dirty made my cock as hard as a rock and I went to climb on top of her.

“Don’t you want to whip me and fuck my arse?” she asked.

I looked at her teeth gleaming in the dark like a she wolf.

“There’s a riding crop up here” she said, reaching up and taking a riding crop down from a bookshelf and handed it to me.

I had spanked girls before but never whipped them. Strangely my cock felt harder than it ever had done before and I realised that power was an aphrodisiac.

She knelt on the edge of the bed, her buttocks white and gleaming in the moonlight that came through the bedroom window. “Go on, beat me” she pleaded, turning her face to look at me and pouting.

I brought the crop down across her buttocks in a light blow.

“Not like that, harder, go on.”

I hit her again a bit harder and in the silver light could see a red mark across her buttocks.

“Oh please beat me hard Master,” she said, wriggling her buttocks from side to side.

Her arse was becoming red and I thought that this was a bit perverse so I stopped.

“Now fuck my arse please Master,” Yvonne implored obviously very aroused by the flagellation. I remembered reading Havelock Ellis’ Psychopathia Sexualis, after I had found it in my father’s cupboard when I was about fourteen, and the names De Sade and Sacher von Masoch came into my mind.

“Let me make your beautiful big cock all wet and slippery kind Master” Yvonne said, sucking my cock.

I slid my hard cock inside her anus and began to fuck her arse. “Do you want me to shoot my hot spunk all up your bum?” I said now carried away.

“Oh yes please Master” Yvonne replied.

I could see her lips in the moonlight as she licked them in anticipation and I came in huge waves, my knees giving way slightly with the intensity of the orgasm.

Afterwards as I got dressed she pulled a book from the shelf beside her bed.

“It is the story of an SS officer who whips a Jewish woman until she begins to enjoy it and becomes his slave,” she said, extending the book towards me. “Don’t you want to read it?..”

“No I said, thinking about my Jewish blood, but I want to dominate you again but now I have to get home.

It was about two o’clock in the morning, and as I drove fast through the deserted streets of South London, a light rain had started to fall and I turned on the wipers.

The wipers swished back and forth across the wind screen and I wondered at the diversity of human sexual behaviour and knew that it was all going on behind the curtains of suburbia. I looked up at lighted windows as I drove home and imagined what people were doing behind them so late at night.

 The next morning I phoned Alton at his home in Esher and his wife answered.

“Hello” said his wife, a woman who I had never met and only spoke to on the telephone. “It’s Mr King and I want to speak to Lesley please” I said politely.

“All right, hold on please.”

“Yes, what is it?” Alton’s gruff voice demanded.

“Smith, he got away. I couldn't help it.” I blurted.

“Oh did he now, then we will have to see about it, won’t we” he said tersely then he put the phone down.

I wondered what was going to happen next and a shiver ran down my spine.

One of the Chaps

Chapter 33

I was walking along Old Compton Street with Gerry and as we turned into Frith Street Martin Harris and his brother Tommy stood chatting on the corner and they greeted me and Gerry with a respectful “All right” but I noticed a strange look in their eyes when they saw Gerry.

“Gerry, do they know you?” I asked.

“Everybody in Soho knows me, Mickey!”

I had not realised before that Gerry was a gangster and I thought that I really did not know much about him at all.

As we walked across Shaftsbury Avenue into Gerrard Street a tall lanky guy approached and I recognised him as one of the Kray firm Tony Lambrianou. As soon as he saw us he stopped and shook hands.

“All right Mickey” he rasped, extending his hand straight out in the manner of the Krays, shaking hands but keeping one at a distance.

“Hello Gerry” he said, his handsome Latin features cracking into a good imitation of Humphrey Bogart, slitting his eyes and pulling his lips tight against his teeth.

“Fancy going ro

“No” I replied because I hated these clubs where The Chaps spent long hours drinking, posing and talking. “No but you go with Tony,” I said.

“All right see you later Mickey” Gerry said as he walked away with Tony Lambrianou. They were both dressed in suits and ties and polished shoes, looking very neat and tidy, but somehow too smart. Styles had not changed much since the Twenties for the chaps and these two would not

have been out of place in an old gangster film. As they walked, they tensed their bodies and swaggered a bit, sending out an inherent menace and pedestrians moved out of their way.

By the time I had toured the twenty two Soho bookshops I was loaded with cash. I decided to buy some cans of 16mm film stock in Ilfords. I went in and downstairs to the trade counter. I was well known in Ilfords and George knew exactly what I wanted and came back with two cans of double

perforated 16mm film.

As I got out the money he gave me a worried look. “Hey that Tony, who used to work for you came in here the other day and he looked like the invisible man, all wrapped in bandages” he said.

“What happened to him then?” I asked. I was curious to know because Tony used to work for me doing film processing but when I discovered that he was copying my films I gave him the sack.

George looked at me a serious expression on his face. “He would not tell me, said that he had had an accident but did not want to talk about it!”

I remembered pointing him out to Gerry the other week as a guy who had pulled a stroke on me and he had said “Shall I do him Mickey.”

“No he has learnt his lesson by me sacking him” I had said, I did not want him hurt because he had kids.

I remember Gerry’s look of disappointment. “You ought to let me do him Mickey because he is out of order, taking liberties” Gerry had said. I wondered if Gerry had hurt him against my orders.

A Hard Man

Chapter 34

Ritchie Jackson was sitting in the armchair and he took another large gulp of neat whisky from the lead crystal glass decanter. A bottle of Kentucky Bourbon stood on the table next to him. He was red in the face, his florid features contrasting with the light blond of his hair.

Gerry stood behind him a contemptuous expression on his face.

Ritchie had begun to argue with me, his features bellicose, but I did not mind because he was a boyhood friend with whom I had shared many adventures and good experiences. I knew that he was drunk and that he had developed into an alcoholic over the years.

Suddenly Gerry began to argue with him and Ritchie turned towards him.

“You are just Mickey’s yes man!” he said, sneering with a typical flaring of the nostrils that I remembered so well.

“Who are you talking to cunt?” Gerry growled angrily. “Don’t talk to me that way or I will fucking knock you spark out” he threatened moving towards Ritchie.

“No you won’t Gerry” I said, holding up my hand “Ritchie is a very good friend of mine.”

Gerry looked at me for a moment as if he was going to challenge me a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Okay Mickey I’m going home now” he said.

When he had gone Sandra looked at me smiling because she liked the fact that I could control this hard case but I felt that the dangerous look in Gerry’s eyes was threatening.

The winter was once again upon us and I was driving down Bedford HillGerry beside me when a driver  behind flashed his lights. I looked in the mirror at the driver behind who was gesticulating for me to stop but I just ignored him and carried on but he flashed me again.

“What’s up with the mug behind?” Gerry growled looking back.

“Nothing, just ignore him,” I replied. But even though I did not want any trouble, as I turned into a narrow road which was blocked by traffic, the driver of the car behind who had been flashing me jumped out and came up behind my car.

Gerry was straight out of the door.

“Hold it Gerry, he is only a mug. Not worth any trouble” I shouted. I knew that driving around with number plates was like having one’s address on the back of the car.

Gerry swung his fist which connected to the irate driver’s jaw and he fell down in the snow. Gerry then ripped open the man’s jacket and took out his wallet and searched through it until he found the poor guy’s identity. Then Gerry stood like a game hunter his foot on the slaughtered beast and the aggressor, now the victim stared up, lying submissively in the snowy gutter.

Gerry bent down and waved the driver’s licence triumphantly in the prostrate man’s terrified face. “John Smith is a cunt! What are you?”

The man moaned and Gerry kicked him. “What are you cunt? Say it!”

“I’m a cunt” the frightened man repeated, now reduced to a pathetic bundle lying in the snow.

“Leave him alone. The Bill will be here shortly” I shouted.

With the mention of the word Bill, Gerry stopped. “I know your name and address and if you fucking grass me I will fucking kill you understand?” he threatened.

Gerry then came towards the car and got in and I drove off.

“Gerry, why did you do that, you could see that he was only a mug, and I’m telling you that Old Bill will be up there soon.”

I stopped outside Stockwell Tube. “Look, go back to your flat and stay there out of the way for a bit,” said. “I will say that I just gave you a lift if anyone reported my number plate.”

“Okay Mickey” Gerry replied and he disappeared into the Tube station.

As he went I began to have doubts about Gerry and whether his violent behaviour would get me into trouble. I needed a hard man on the mean streets of Soho but not someone who I could not control.

Walking Dead Man

Chapter 35

The phone was ringing and I picked it up.

“Meet me at eight tonight at the pub on the A6.”

“All right” I replied feeling uneasy at Alton’s voice and the curt way he had spoken to me.

Alton stood at the bar waiting for me.

“The usual?” I inquired.

He nodded his head. “Have you seen Roy lately?” he questioned me.

“No” I lied, I haven't seen him for a couple of months. In fact we had been out to dinner together that week, and Roy had been briefing me on the developing fallout from the Dutch affair and evidently an Interpol inquiry was taking place.

“Well I don’t want you to see him, or talk to him anymore” Les said lowering his voice.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he is the enemy now,” Alton said cryptically. “Come on, let's have something to eat” he said walking towards the dining room.

We sat down at a table and he began to talk. “There’s a big inquiry going on because of Smith. Do you know where he is?”

“No I don’t” I replied. “I’m not used to killing people. I did try, but he got away.”

“I will have people looking out for him and as soon as I find him I will contact you and then you will know what to do.”

I stared at Les, a sincere expression on my face. “Yes I will do him next time, brown bread” I promised.

“I thought that you were a gangster,” Alton said in a mocking tone. “Now you are acting like a soft bastard. You were always threatening to kill people, now here is your chance.”

I just hoped that Gordon had gone to Australia or somewhere because he was a walking dead man.

A Threesome

Chapter 36

Susan knelt on the floor, lifted her skirt and pulled down her knickers, revealing her milky white buttocks. She was a natural blonde and a sprinkling of freckles was dusted across her pale skin.

I pushed down her waist so that she arched her back and I could see the moistening lips of her vagina. I raised my hand bringing down my large palm across the whiteness, tinting it immediately with carmine. She gave a little gasp of pleasure.

“Suck her cunt you dirty bitch” I commanded, bringing my hand down again.

As I spanked her my fingers pushed inside her moist cunt so that I held her by her pubic mound.

Sandra sat on the settee, legs open, her dress pulled up to reveal black stockings and suspenders. Her eyes were closed and she had a feline expression of satisfaction on her face.

I pushed Susan’s face deep into Sandra’s crotch and she licked and sucked. I spanked Susan harder and harder until her buttocks turned a cherry red colour. She was moaning now her breath coming faster and faster, her eyes rolling up into her head, a sign I had come to recognise as ecstasy then suddenly she shuddered and moaned in her first orgasm.

I got up and sat on the settee and Sandra sat on my cock facing frontward.

“Now suck her, lick and suck her cunt while you lick my cock and balls you dirty bitch Susan” I commanded.

I was really enjoying myself and Sandra was too. We fucked like that for a while and all the time I could feel the exquisite sensation of Susan’s tongue licking as my cock went in and out.

“Let’s all go up stairs to the bedroom” I said. I got up and the two women followed carrying their glasses of wine. We had drunk quite a lot of the Gevrey Chambertin, but were not drunk, just merry. In the bedroom we all lay on the King size bed, Sandra on her back her legs open. Susan knelt, without being told, between her thighs, thrusting her buttocks into the air inviting more flagellation. I picked up one of my slippers that lay beside the bed and brought it down quite hard across Susan’s already red buttocks with a crack.

She moaned in approval and began sucking Sandra’s cunt, making loud noises of abandon.

I stood up on the bed my cock rigid and began rubbing my cock around Susan’s anus.

“Suck her cunt harder, I love hearing those dirty noises, now I am going to fuck your arse.” I promised.

Suddenly the spell was broken. “No you are not going to fuck her arse” Sandra said angrily.

Susan looked confused but Sandra kissed her on the lips in a hard embrace and they began writhing around on the bed. My cock was deflated now and I was forgotten as the two girls discovered lesbian love.

I had only fucked Sandra’s arse a couple of times when she was drunk and she did not like it much, and I supposed, that’s why she did not want me buggering Susan.

Keep a Tiger on a Chain

Chapter 37

I sat in the 007 bar in the Hilton with Gerry sitting at my right. Joey Janes sat opposite and we were talking business.

Gerry nudged me. “Look at that bird over there she is beautiful” he said, his handsome features lighting up with a smile.

“Well go over and chat to her” I said wanting to see if he had the courage. I looked at him straight in the eyes and he understood.

With that he got up and walked over to where the girl was sitting with another girl and a guy. The two girls looked like sisters and were beautiful with dark Latin features.

Joey turned to me. “Your boy, he looks mean, the tattoos on his fingers...”

Gerry’s fingers were tattooed ACAB on one hand and LOVE on the other. He was a big muscular man with wide shoulders and moved like an unleashed tiger. Gerry was making the right impression in Soho and that was the idea. I would soon have him running the bookshop that I was opening in

Lisle Street.

“Yes Joey, no one will take liberties with us when he is around” I said.

“Where did you meet him?” Joey asked.

“In prison” I replied suspecting that Joey already knew the answer to his question.

This new shop that you are opening…” Joey said.

“Yes Gerry will be my man in the shop” I replied, catching the eye of the waiter.

“Waiter can you get me a bottle of champagne and take it over to that table to the young man in the suit and tie?” I said. Gerry was always immaculate with pressed white shirt, tie and polished shoes. I noticed how smart he looked as the waiter delivered the champagne in a bucket and placed it on the table with a flourish.

Gerry looked over at me with a broad smile on his face and I gave him the thumbs up sign.

“I think that you are going to become rich with this new shop. I mean already, you won’t have to go over to Amsterdam and take chances again.”

Joey looked at me a question in his eyes. I knew that he was Bernie’s man and that everything I said would be going back to Bernie Silvers. I already was earning lots of money but the entrepreneur in me kept on suggesting new ideas where I could create more money. I was already toying with the idea of setting up a factory in Holland where I could process films to supply the shops. In Amsterdam it seemed the demand was even greater than Soho.

“No Joey I will be satisfied with the new shop, no more taking chances” I assured him.

“Yes it has made waves that are still washing over us from the other side” Joey said.

Gerry got up and walked over to our table. “Why don’t you come over and pull the other girl Mickey. They are Brazilians and really hot” he said smiling down at me ignoring Joey.

“No Gerry because I am discussing some important business with Joey here and it looks like to me that her sister is already with this other guy.”

“No he is only some mug that they met here. Come on Mickey” Gerry insisted standing there rubbing his hands together in a washing motion.

“No I can’t. You go and enjoy yourself.”

Gerry reluctantly returned to the table.

The talk between me and Joey went well.

No more drinks were being served and the chicken sandwiches that one had to order to get a drink lay half eaten on the table.

“Shall we go, my boy?” Joey said.

“Yeah sure” I replied and rose to my feet to go. Joey and I walked towards the foyer and Gerry was walking towards there too. I could see him talking to the girl and a guy who seemed to be shaking his head and offering Gerry a pound note.

Suddenly pandemonium broke loose. Gerry had the unfortunate guy by the neck and was stuffing the pound note down his throat. He then knocked the guy out who fell to the floor and lay there like a limp rag.

“Oh my God,” Joey said with a frightened look on this face. “Let’s get out of here” he said, scuttling towards the exit.

I followed Joey and glancing back I saw Gerry ripping the phone out of the hand of the cloakroom attendant and then out of the wall.

I ran down the stairs helping Joey.

“He is crazy already, this guy” Joey was saying.

Then we were in the car park running around unable to find my car in the confusion.

“Here it is” I said, spotting it. We climbed in and I drove around and up the exit ramp.

At the top of the ramp loomed a large shape, it was Gerry.

“My God, don’t let him in, drive on” exclaimed Joey in panic.

“I can't,” I said, pulling up.

Gerry opened the door and jumped in beside me. He was laughing with excitement. “Fucking mug, he was drinking all the champagne and offered me a pound. I made him eat it, fucking cunt.”

“I paid for it, Gerry, I did not want anything.”

“Yeah but he fucking drank it all” Gerry complained.

Joey was silent in the back. We would have gone for a meal but I knew that was out of the question now. “I’ll drop you off Joey” I said as I headed up Park Lane towards Maida Vale where Joey lived.

I got about a quarter of a mile from Joey’s flat. “This will be fine Mickey, drop me here” he said.

I knew that he did not want Gerry to know where he lived.

“Funny old cunt, ain’t he? Gerry said as we drove off.

“No, he is all right and one of my best friends” I replied.

I was becoming uneasy about Gerry’s behaviour.

“Look Gerry next time you want to give someone a slap, ask me, or make sure I am not around. I don't want any unnecessary trouble.”

“What, when I am running the book shop?” Gerry questioned me.

“That’s different, but you have to be in the right and someone has to be right out of order. No strong arm stuff. Old Bill won’t stand for it.”

Gerry looked disappointed.

“I’ll drop you off at Balham” I said.

The New Man

Chapter 38

“The new man wants to see you up the office” I recognised Sergeant Creighton’s Scottish accent over the phone.

“What’s happened to Les?” I asked a feeling of insecurity passing through my brain.

“He has gone to work at London Airport” Creighton replied. “Come over at nine o’clock sharp in the morning. Don’t be late because the new governor is a bit of a stickler for punctuality.”

The next morning I parked my car in Petty France and walked to New Scotland Yard. The metal emblem turned around as ever outside New Scotland Yard and once again I walked past it into the building and travelled up to the fifth floor.

Creighton was waiting to meet me. “Hello Michael, the governor will see you in a minute.”

I felt the brown paper envelope in my pocket. It was reassuring, my insurance and money was always welcome. I knew that. As I waited outside the office my heart began to speed up in spite of myself and I breathed in deeply in an effort to slow it down.

I looked at my gold, diamond studded Bulova and it was one minute to ten. As the hand moved onto the hour a gruff voice shouted “Come in.”

I entered the office and was confronted by a tall angry looking man of athletic appearance who I had never seen before. Evidently this was the new Head of the Obscene Publications Squad.

“So you are Muldoon are you? You stupid fool” the Chief Inspector greeted me.

“Yes I am” I replied curtly ignoring the insult.

He gestured to some large boxes that stood on the table. “These were sent back by the Dutch police. They are yours aren’t they?”

“No they’re not mine. I was accused of importing those films into Amsterdam but a Dutch court found me not guilty. They are Gordon Smith’s.”

My glib answer made the new man angry and he assumed a boxing stance and put up his hands to attack me so I put up mine too.

“You think you are a hard man, don’t you?” he said, sparring up to me.

“But I would knock you out in the first round!” He pointed to an array of silver cups in a case in his office. “I am a boxing champion,” he said.

“Really! I have had a few knockouts myself!” I said contemptuously, taunting him.

With this he started to rant. “You had better watch your step from now on, because no one is going to help you. I will be trying to get you my old son, and my men will get you. You can count on it. Now get out you bloody fool.”

As I turned to leave I spat out some parting words angrily. “I may have been a fool but I can keep schtum, unlike some of the people you trust with yellow streaks down their backs.” I was thinking of Evan Philips, who used to work for me, who I knew would confess under interrogation, he had a licence and had been in the News of the World. I knew that I could not be broken no matter what.  Creighton opened the door and walked down the stairs at the end of the passage. I followed the words of the new Head of the OPS going through my brain “My men will get you.”

As Creighton descended the stairs I took the brown paper envelope out of my pocket and offered it to him. “Why don’t you be my man in the office?” I said, trying to tempt the sergeant with the money. “I usually give this to Alton. Why don’t you take it?”

“No I can’t Michael. This man has said no one can do business with you in the office and I can’t.”

As I walked out of the Yard past the metal emblem turning around I suddenly felt afraid.

I phoned up Roy. “Roy, do you fancy a meal?”

We went to Sheekeys and I started off with two dozen large Colchester’s.  I told Roy what had happened and he looked at me with a serious look in his eyes.

“Nothing has changed and the new man won’t make any difference because there is too much money in it” Roy said, his expression changing into a wolfish grin, revealing his sharp white teeth.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “But he would not take my money. What about my licence?”

“The man taking the money now is your old friend Bill Moody” Roy informed me, grinning.

“But he’s on the Murder Squad now isn’t he?” I said confused.

“Yes but he is running the show again now” Roy said conspiratorially leaning closer.

“Oh I see” I replied as the waiter approached and placed my steamed Turbot on the table then Roy’s Dover Sole and poured out the Chablis into our glasses.

When the waiter had gone Roy continued. “Go and see Bill the Dustman and he will arrange everything for you.”

I drove past the Bedford and Bill’s car was outside. I had not been there for a few months but as soon as I walked in the saloon bar and he saw me, Bill’s big florid features lit up in a welcoming smile.

“Hello Mickey, me old son. How are you alright?”

“Yeah! I’m fine Bill. How are you?”

Bill’s wife, still wearing her mink coat, nodded to me and smiled then went back talking to the friend I had seen her with before. Nothing had changed, Bill was like a fixture in the pub.

“Don’t go over the shop much these days Bill?” I asked.

“No I just take the rent off Tommy and he is satisfied and so am I” Bill replied laughing, rubbing his hand over his swelling belly.

“I heard that Bill Moody is doing the business now?” I inquired.

“Yes everything is under control, Bill is running the show” answered the Dustman, verifying what Roy had told me.

“Well I had better start seeing him then” I said.

“He will be here about eight.”

“Okay I will come up for a drink then, only a small one though because I am training again now. I want to get fit” I said, excusing my abstinence.

“Get fit! I get fit lifting these up and down” he said gesturing to his pint of brown and mild.

“See you tonight then Bill” I promised.

Out in the fresh air I wondered why a guy like Bill could lead such a boring life, propping up the bar everyday. I knew that he was there most of the time in the Bedford Arms because I went that way home and his big Ford Executive was usually parked outside with its wheels up on the curb.

“It is all sorted” I said with a grin to Sandra as I walked into my living room. My two kids Laura and Billy came running towards me and I sank down onto the big soft carpet to play with them.

“So what’s happening?” Sandra asked. “I know that you were getting worried about this new bloke after he threatened to nick you.”

“As Roy said, there’s too much money in it.” I laughed. “Everything is the same and the new guy does not know what is going on, the flash, stupid bastard.”

“Daddy that’s a naughty word and you shouldn’t say it” Laura said looking at me reproachfully.

“Okay sweetie, you are right. I won’t say it again” I promised.

“I say it in school to the other boys,” Billy said, giggling.

“Well you shouldn’t, and if the teacher hears you she will tell you off” Sandra said, wagging her finger at my son but smiling at me.

“I’m seeing Moody tonight, he is running the show now.”

“Moody, I don't like him at all, or trust him one bit.” retorted Sandra.

“He nicked me when you were in prison, he’s a scumbag.”

“I know baby” I replied “But I have to have a licence and he had to obey an order from above.”

Later that evening I drove up to the Bedford and parked my car near Bill’s, driving up onto the pavement. If you parked normally another car might hit yours on the narrow Larkhall Lane.

Chief Inspector Bill Moody of the Scotland Yard Murder Squad stood at the bar next to Bill the Dustman. They looked like close friends and they were, I knew that and I wondered at the strange relationships that create friendships between men.

“Hello Bill” I said to Moody and he held out his hand which I shook. The two Bills had both had a few pints and like most drinkers in their cups were affected by a peculiar bonhomie.

I felt Bill the Dustman’s arm around my shoulders in a masculine embrace. Bill laughed and his wife, sitting in her usual place, laughed too, smiling in the men’s direction.

“Mickey’s all right.” Bill chortled at his private joke.

Moody still held my hand and showed no sign of releasing it.

“Mickey, I have always wanted to say this to you…”

“What’s that Bill?” I asked, looking at the inebriated detective with curiosity.

“Sandra, I did not want to do it, but they made me. The order came from above. I had no choice; do you know what I mean?”

I looked at Bill and believed him. The order had come from above from him who had to be obeyed. “Of course I know what you mean Bill” I replied, pondering on the identity of those who control the police.

I put my hand into my pocket feeling the brown paper envelope. “I have got a present for you here Bill.”

Moody’s face lit up in a smile. “I will look after you all right Mickey” he promised.

Later I followed him into the toilets and as we stood pissing I slipped him the filthy lucre.

Rubber Heel Mob

Chapter 34

So now I had a licence again but Roy had left the Porn Squad, he told me, to join A6 the anti corruption unit. This meant I no longer had my own man inside the OPS and I was paying an ex member of the OPS who was now head of the Murder Squad. The situation was becoming increasingly bizarre, but it had been that way from the time I had started paying.

The phone was ringing and I picked it up to hear the sound of Roy’s unmistakable gravely voice. “Hello Mickey how’s it going?”

“Fine” I answered thinking of Roy’s new job on A6 known as The Rubber Heel Mob.

“Look I want you to do me a real favour Mickey.”

“Sure, fine anything, what is it?”

“Can you get me a hundred rollers and five hundred sets and 50 dildos?” Roy questioned.

“ Of course but when do you want them?” I asked surprised.

“Today ASAP.”

“Where do you want them delivered to?” I asked.

“Come over to the nick in Tottenham Court Road, drive up Tottenham Court Road and it is on your left, then take the first turning on the left past the nick and the first left again. You will see my car parked in the yard, park up behind it. How long do you think that it will take you?” Roy asked an eager tone in his voice.

“A couple of hours mate” I answered.

“Okay I will be looking out for you. Just give a toot on your horn when you get into the yard.”

“Okay will do” I said as the phone went dead.

As I drove to my processing laboratory in the East End I gunned the accelerator, ignoring the angry bleeping of overtaken motorists behind me. Doing seventy through the Rotherhithe tunnel I felt the rush of adrenaline.

I rang the doorbell and after being observed through the spy-hole Kenny opened the door blinking in the light.

“Thought that it was Old Bill” Kenny exclaimed with a nervous laugh.

We went through the light trap into the lab where everything was bathed in the red of the safety lamps. “No I have just got a big order and it is wanted like yesterday!”

“All business is good business already” Kenny said as I went into the store room to get the order.

Driving up Tottenham Court Road a wave of paranoia hit me as I saw Tottenham Court Road police station. Alton’s words “Roy is the enemy” flashed into my mind. I drove around the back of the station and turned left into the police station. Roy’s Jag was parked in the yard and I pulled up behind it and sounded my horn.  

As the sound of the horn died away I was reminded. “Here I am sitting in the back of a police station with a load of porn! Was it a set-up?” I thought as the seconds ticked away. Nervous, I got out of my car and slammed the door with some force. If Roy was looking out for me he would hear it. I looked up at the windows but no-one showed. Suddenly a six foot plus copper in a uniform emerged from the back door and walked down the steps towards me, an angry expression on his face. He disliked me on sight, I could tell that as he took in my expensive clothes, jewellery and a big new car.

“Who are you?” he demanded belligerently.

“I have to meet someone” I replied as politely as I could.

“And who might that be?” questioned the big, broad shouldered copper.

At that moment, much to my relief, Roy walked out of the back door and down the steps.

“He has an appointment with me,” said Roy, interrupting the confrontation.

“And who are you?” questioned the uniformed man.

“It’s confidential!” replied Roy dismissively.

The big copper walked away, a scowl on his face. Roy was dressed like me, like one of the West End chaps, and as it happens, had his suits made by the same tailor, Hymie in Wardour Street. He stood leaning on his Jag, a wolfish grin on his handsome face. He passed his hand through his thick

cropped dark hair in a typical gesture. “Got the gear?” he asked a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Yeah Roy I have it all here” I answered, pleased that everything was all right.

“Well put it in my boot” Roy said, opening it up. I put the order in the boot of his Jag and got in the front.  

I sank down in the luxurious leather upholstery of his Mark 2 and ran my hand over the polished walnut fascia of the dashboard, regretting that I had got rid of my Jag.

“What’s the damage son?” asked Roy, smiling a bargain.  “Rollers are the wholesale price £4 each, sets are four a pound, dildos, £3 each plus a ten percent discount for cash” I said.

Roy did some quick mental arithmetic and pulled a thick wad of new notes out of his inside pocket and began to count them out into my hand.

“Now don’t spend them all in one go because the serial numbers are a bit hot” he said with a chuckle.

“What?” I said indignantly.

Roy’s chuckle became a laugh. “They came from a jug, my end of a tip off! Just break them in bits and pieces. Spread them out a bit. You will be all right.”

As I drove home through the Wild West End I ruminated on all the scams and skulduggery going on in the heart of London and the Underworld.

Showdown

Chapter 40

Kenny and I were driving through a backstreet in Streatham when I noticed two attractive girls looking out of an open upstairs window. One of them was a light skinned black girl and the other a brunette.

“Look at those two chicks up there” I exclaimed to Kenny and pulled the car into the curb. We got out and stood on the pavement looking up at the two girls.

“Can we come up for a coffee?” I said smiling up at the black girl.

The girl came down and opened the front door with a smile on her face. Inside the dingy looking flat with fly-blown furniture we played the game of chatter until we came onto the girls.

“What’s your name?” I asked the black girl.

“They call me Coloured Pat,” she replied.

“Coloured Pat, that's a funny name. Do you mind if I just call you Pat” I said looking down at her thighs which were revealed by a short black skirt.

“I bet that you are married” Pat questioned me looking down at her exposed thighs and reading my sexual interest in her.

“No, me and Kenny just live down the road in Bedford Hill by the Common” I lied.

“I don’t believe you.” she replied laughing in an attractive way, her white teeth emphasised by her coffee coloured skin.

I noticed that her breasts were firm and shook when she laughed.

“Come on lets go down to our flat. It is only a  two minute drive.

I drove the car towards the flat, wondering whether Gerry would be in,

Pat sitting beside me and the other girl Gloria in the back with my brother-in-law Kenny.

I pulled up outside and we all went in and luckily Gerry was out. “Who wants a drink I asked?”

I poured out a couple of glasses of wine for the girls and one for me and Kenny.

Soon I was rolling around on the bed with Pat and Kenny with Gloria. She let me feel her tits and kiss her but I could not get my hand in between her thighs which she held firmly together.

“It is the wrong time of the month” Pat explained  “Me too” Gloria said.

“What are you two synchronised?” I said joking.

We did not get anywhere that night and when the girls had left we went home and fucked our wives.

I phoned Laura, a young model who I had used in the films and she agreed to come down to London for the day. I picked her up at Charing X station and we drove to the flat in Balham. I had told

Gerry that we were coming and he opened the door with a smile when he saw the attractive looking girl “Hello darling” he said.

Inside the flat I took off my clothes and she began to suck my cock while Kenny took photos.

Gerry became excited and started to undress and I smiled in approval. I discovered that he had an enormous cock and he was soon fucking Laura who really enjoyed sex especially when she got paid for posing. I could see that she was turned on and her cunt really wet.

Gerry stopped fucking and got down on his hands and knees by the bed and began sucking and licking her while she was bent over. Her buttocks were in the air while she sucked my cock and I could see Gerry’s face in between her buttocks.

“Fuck her arse Gerry she loves it.”

It was Gerry’s first porno shoot but he performed like a seasoned stud and I got some really good material.

Sandra brought one of her girlfriends around the flat one day called Eileen. She said that they were going out for a meal later. Eileen kept on trying to pick up Billy but he did not like her and kept struggling to get away, then she tried to kiss him and he head butted her.

Eileen screamed the blood running down her face.

“Oh God! Get some ice quickly” I said urgently and Sandra rushed out to get some.

“What did you do that for?” I asked my son, feeling guilty because I had taught him to fight and to use his head.

“She wouldn’t put me down and I don’t like her,” he replied.

“Go up to bed now” I commanded. “I have told you never to hit people unless they hit you” I said looking at Sandra who was giving me an

accusing look while holding an ice pack to Eileen’s nose.

When Eileen’s nose had stopped bleeding they left “I have got to take her home” Sandra said.

When I looked out of the window I saw them both driving away in their own cars. Sandra in her Lancia sports and Eileen in a Merc and I wondered what Eileen did for a living. I had met her boyfriend and we had gone out to restaurants together. Evidently they had a flat at Marble Arch and I noticed they had plenty of cash to spend but never found out how they made a living.

 Gerry picked up Kenny’s Karate board and threw it into the air and as it came down he hit it with one powerful blow and it broke in two!

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Kenny asked angrily, his nostrils flaring, his eyes fixed on Gerry.

“It was stupid wasn’t it? A silly stupid board” Gerry said contemptuously.

Kenny walked out of the room angrily and did not return.

“Where’s he gone, the silly cunt” Gerry said, emitting a deep laugh that sounded more like a growl.

“You should not have done that Gerry” I said reproachfully.

Gerry steamed into the punch bag with his bare fists. “I know that he doesn’t like me,” Gerry complained.

Indeed Kenny did not like Gerry and he had told me so, and neither did his wife my sister Kath. To tell you the truth I was growing tired of his company and his desire to visit my home because there was always the threat of violence in the air. On the other hand my kids liked him and he would play with them and they called him “Uncle Gerry.”

Kenny was a good fighter in spite of his size and I know that he would not back down if it came to it.

Gerry stood facing us while Sandra and I lounged back in our armchairs.

Gerry’s face was excited. He pulled up his sleeves and I noticed that his shirt sleeves were stained red with blood.

“Guess how I got all this claret over my shirt?” Gerry asked in his deep, gruff voice emphasising the word claret as though he relished it.

“No” I replied, glancing at Sandra who was looking at me a strange look on her face.

“Well I met this geezer on the Tube, going back to the flat at Balham.

He kept staring at me and I stared back.” Gerry’s face turned hard as though he was reliving the Tube train experience and staring the unknown person down. “Do you know what I mean, like?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean” I replied expecting Gerry to describe one of the many fights he had in his life.

Gerry’s eyes gleamed as he continued. “Anyway I think that he was a fucking iron hoofter.”

“Really” I said thinking I knew what was coming next.

“Anyway I got off the train and he got off too, the fucking poof. So I began walking up Bedford Hill towards the flat and, do you know what he began following me.”

Gerry’s eyes began to narrow as he remembered. “He followed me right up to the flat. I opened the front gate and he walked up the path. So I opened the front door and he followed me into the flat.”

I was surprised now and I shot a glance at Sandra, who had a strained worried look on her beautiful face that made her brow crease into lines.  

“I said to him I know what you want. Bend over the bed and pull down your kecks, and he did! Then I walked over and took out my blade,

fucking striped the cunt, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh right across his

Harris. Should have heard the poofter scream. He pulled up his pants and the claret was spurting out and ran for his fucking life” Gerry said starting to chuckle, then to laugh, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

I looked at him, masking my horror and fear with my hand, shaking my head and for the first time I realised that he was a lunatic. I stared at Sandra who now looked frightened then back at Gerry. “I bet that taught him a lesson” I said, forcing a grin to my face. I had met guys like him before

in prison and had always concealed my fear. Never let them know that you are afraid, also I had always acted the hard man to Sandra and I had to continue to do so.

When Gerry had left Sandra turned to me. “He’s dangerous Mickey. I don’t want him around the house anymore.”

“Okay, me neither but I don’t want to fall out with him because he will be my man in the shop I’m opening soon in Lisle Street” I replied unable to admit that I was afraid of another man.

“I don’t want him round here, he’s mad and Kath said he threatened her”Sandra said vehemently.

“No one said anything to me. Okay I will see about it, I can control him, don’t worry” I replied.

“Look, Gerry! What I want you to do is to go up North to visit the bookshops up there to see if you can get any business.” I said smiling.

Gerry looked at me and nodded. “All right pal anything you say.”

“I will give you some samples and some addresses of shops were you might get some orders,” I said.

Gerry sat in the passenger seat and Sandra was in the back as I drove towards Kings Cross station.

“I don’t want you round our flat anymore Gerry” Sandra suddenly said.

“I think that’s up to Mickey, not you, a silly woman.” Gerry retorted, turning in his seat.

“Who do you think that you are talking to?” Sandra said.

“I’m talking to you” Gerry replied.

Fear rose up in me but I turned to Gerry. “Don’t speak to Sandra like that!” I said. I was just entering the station and I pulled up the car.

“Are you talking to me? Gerry said angrily.

“Yes I’m talking to you” I replied and jumped out of the car onto the pavement and as Gerry got out I squared up to him putting up my fists.

Gerry stared at me angrily as I moved towards him ready to fight. I was afraid but had overcome my fear and called a showdown.

Gerry held up his opened palm. “I don’t want to fight you Mickey,” he said, becoming calm.

“Well I don’t want you round my flat anymore. I have a wife and family and need my privacy” I said.

“Okay Mickey” Gerry said reluctantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well that’s it then. We won’t fall out but you stay round the flat and I will phone you. You phone me if you want anything. You will be running the shop soon, okay” I reminded him.

“Okay Mickey” agreed Gerry and he walked away towards the entrance of the railway station his shoulders slumped in defeat.

I was pleased with myself because I resolved the situation and overcame my fear.

Sandra looked at me a proud look in her eyes. “I knew that you would fight him," she said. You can do anybody” she said smiling her eyes glittering with excitement.

“Yeah, I have knocked out bigger guys than him” I boasted but I wondered what would have happened if we had fought, because I did not reckon my chances.

Pat’s Fans

Chapter 41

One eyed Jimmy looked at me and took a sip of his whisky and puffed on his King Edward that he held between his teeth by the toothpick stuck into the end of the cigar.

He gestured to some photos of Pat that hung on the wall. “They sell like hotcakes, she's a right little raver and so beautiful, everyone would like to meet her” he said.

I puffed on a three paper joint of pure weed, the seeds popping as I inhaled.

A few punters glanced round but quickly went back to rummaging through the boxes of photos on the shelves searching for their favourite sexual fantasy.

“I bet they would, you dirty load of fuckers” I replied sucking on the joint so that the end glowed red. I knew that Jimmy’s mates were the Porn Squad.

“No Mickey, we just want to take her out to some nice restaurants and clubs. She would be well treated, why don’t you introduce me?”

I looked at Jimmy, into his one good eye that was sparkling with excitement of the prospect of meeting Pat the model, who he had seen doing so many sexual things.

“She never takes it up the arse does she?” inquired Jimmy.

“No, and she only drinks soft drinks,” I said.

“Really! Well that’s all right I will treat her right” he said a pleading look in his eye.

“I will ask her” I promised and it will be entirely up to her, but I don’t want anyone taking any pictures of her” I said with emphasis.

“Mickey of course not, it’s just for social occasions. You know having a beautiful young girl around.”

“Okay Jimmy, I’ll ask her” I promised, putting down my empty glass and walking out of the shop into Greek Street. As I walked towards Walkers

Court the clip joint girls were on the corner. They never seemed to  recognise me even though I had passed their red lit doorways hundreds of times. I did not like these girls because they ripped people off.

“Fancy a good time love” one girl dressed in a really short mini skirt and high heels called out.

I ignored her disappearing into the Soho night. Signs on doorways promised “Young model upstairs second floor.” The prostitutes might not be as young as promised but at least they performed a sexual service.

Living in Mortal Fear

Chapter 42

The phone was ringing “Hello Mickey, you know who this is?” said Roy’s voice.

“Of course” I replied wondering what he wanted.

“Listen Mickey I’m sorry to give you the news but there is a price on your head!”

As Roy finished the sentence I felt a spasm of fear go through my gut but I kept my cool. “How much is it?” I answered cockily but my stomach was all butterflies.

“Ten grand” answered Roy.

“Ten grand is that all I am worth!” I joked. “Who put the contract on me?” I asked wanting to know who wanted me dead.

“The Fat Man” answered Roy.

“The Fat Man” I repeated the name incredulously. The Fat Man was the nickname of Evan Philips who used to work for me and whom I knew very well. I knew that he was too timid to do anything like putting contracts on people, especially me.

“The Fat Man wouldn’t dare do such a thing, he's too soft and just wants a quiet life” I questioned Roy’s information.

“Well Mickey, it’s not him but Les, Les is controlling the Fat Man now, he’s always down there, he does everything he is told” said Roy convincingly.

“Okay I said thanks for the warning” I replied now believing him.

 “Okay take care” said Roy and put the phone down.

The words “take care” took on a powerful significance now and I poured myself a stiff whisky, took a big gulp and sat down. I felt strange,like a condemned man, and my mind went into overdrive. I guessed that Chief Inspector Lesley Alton would never put a contract on me unless the order had come from above. “What should I do now? Should I run? Give up my business now? Put a contract on Alton?” I listened to my mind racing and the fast beating of my heart. I could hear my kids chattering away upstairs and Sandra laughing. What was I going to say to her, should I even tell her?

 I rang Ritchie’s doorbell and the sleepy tousled head of my old friend peered through the curtains of the downstairs room. I had just dropped my kids off at their school in Streatham and Ritchie only lived a few roads away.

He opened the front door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing up this time in the morning?” asked Ritchie.

“I have just dropped my kids off at their school in Somerville Road and thought that I would give you a call!” I said, smiling at him. I followed him into the front room and my nostrils were assailed immediately by the smell of alcohol. There was a bottle of whisky on the side and Ritchie opened it and poured a full glass.

“Want a snifter in the morning, hair of the dog and all that” he quipped laughing.

“No not for me, it would knock me out a drink that size!” I exclaimed. I did not see him much these days because he was always drunk. His breath smelt and he was aggressive and ready to argue.

He ran a hand through his thick blond hair and looked at me with his light blue eyes, flared his nostrils and snorted. “What do you want Mick?” he asked, shrewdly guessing that this was not a social visit.

“I want a gun” I said, my face becoming serious.

“What, you want to kill that cunt Gerry?” he laughed, his face becoming red. “Something is up, isn’t it? Here do you want a coffee or something?”

“No it’s not Gerry the nutter, he works for me. But yes I could do with something. A coffee would be fine.” I replied.

“He’s a fucking gangster if ever I saw one” Ritchie said, putting a spoonful of Nescafe into a mug and pouring in some boiling water.

The smell of coffee hit my nostrils and I sipped the sweetened brown mixture. “Got any milk?” Iasked sitting down in an armchair. I always drank ground coffee since finding out that it was what rich people did. “This stuff wasn’t bad though!” I thought but not the same.  

“Sorry I have not got any. Anyway, why do you want a gun?” questioned Ritchie.

“There’s a price on my head” I replied trying to look as if I wasn’t worried.

“A price on your head, see I told you not to get mixed up in that porn game too many fucking gangsters in it” Ritchie poured out another glass of whisky.

I looked at the glass in disapproval. “You will fucking kill yourself!” I exclaimed.

Ritchie’s nostrils flared in that typical way of his and his face reddened in amusement. “It looks like you will be the first one to go!” he quipped, then he held up his hand. “No I didn’t mean that. You got

two kids, poor little bastards.”

“Look no-one is going to kill me” I replied getting up and pacing the room. “That’s why I want a gun. I’m going to kill them first.”

“Who is it then Mickey? Who wants to kill you?” questioned Ritchie a worried look on his face. He was already getting pissed at ten in the morning.

“I don’t know but I was tipped off by a very reliable source” I said knowing I could not say that it was a Detective Chief Inspector in the police force who was now head of security at London Airport.

“But why?” Ritchie wanted to know.

I did not really know myself, but I thought that it was because I had broken the terms of my license, and those above thought that I knew too much and  might talk. I knew that I would never talk but then they did not know that. I could not explain all this to Ritchie or tell him that

I was paying the police. “You are right, it is some Soho gangster.” I replied.

“But who” Ritchie persisted.

“The Krays, but don’t say anything to anyone because I don’t want them to know that I know” I replied. I thought that indeed one of them might take up the contract and that they took orders from above.  

“Fucking hell, the Krays, I have fucking heard of them. They are real killers. Hey Mickey if I was you I would fuck off to Australia or something, start a new life” Ritchie suggested his face full of concern.

“No I’m not going to run like a fucking coward. I told you I’m going to kill them first” I said smiling.  

“What kill the fucking Krays?” Ritchie snorted in derision and poured another glass of whisky. The bottle was empty now. “Look Mickey I haven't got many pieces left now after the police raid. They took everything.” Ritchie’s face took on a sad expression as though he had something very precious. “I’ve got something though, it’s stashed away.”

My disappointed face brightened with expectation.  I had read about the police raid on Ritchie’s house

in the papers. The police described it as the biggest collection of guns that they had ever seized, but I knew Ritchie was not a gangster, just a gun freak. My mind flashed back to when I was nineteen and he had bought a pistol in Tangiers. “Well can I see it then?”

“I will get it out,” he replied. “But first I need a drink” and he opened a cupboard and took out another bottle of Cutty Sark.

“Fucking hell Ritchie, you will do your kidneys in” I said forgetting not to say anything.

“Look they are my fucking kidneys, now don’t fucking tell me what to” he said, his face now roseate with the flush of an alcohol junky combined with rising anger at his own weakness.

“Okay Ritchie, I’m sorry” I apologised.

Ritchie poured out another glass then walked out of the front room.

“I’ll get it but I will be about fifteen minutes because it is well hidden,” he explained.

I paced up and down Ritchie’s front room. There was a picture of him in his Strand Grammar School uniform. He looked healthy and alive, as though he had a bright future ahead of him. Suddenly I could hear the sound of him retching and then the sound of vomiting. He was destroying himself and only about thirty years old, a little older than me. I had known him since I was sixteen. He had other addictions as well and when we had some money he would gamble his away. I remembered when we were in Monte Carlo and he had discovered Roulette. He could not stop even when he was in front but

carried on until he was broke. They would not let me into the roulette room because I was only nineteen but let me play Boule. The vomiting had stopped now and was replaced by the sound of hammering. The hammering went on for about ten minutes and I wondered what he was up to. We were cracking safes when we were in our teens and made quite a lot of money in France and the hammering brought back the memory. At first we used hammers and chisels, but then as we got more sophisticated and tackled harder and more modern safes, we graduated to gelignite. The times and

adventures I had with Ritchie flooded through my mind then suddenly he entered the room, breaking my reverie, carrying a parcel. He put it on the table and began unwrapping layers of waterproof material. “I had it bricked into a wall!” he smiled at his own ingenuity. “They never would have found it. When they came round here they never got everything.”

The parcel was long and I thought that it might be a shotgun. We used to go shooting pheasants up in Norfolk. “Is it a shotgun?” I asked.

A smile appeared on Ritchie’s face. “How did you guess?” he replied, taking a shotgun out of the packet together with three boxes of cartridges. He placed the cartridges on the table and lovingly caressed the barrel. “Do you remember this baby?” he said, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

I looked at the gun and thought I recognised it. “Of course it was one of the ones we used up in Norfolk.” I said smiling.

“You remember, you old cunt” he replied affectionately, his face glazing over remembering those hot summer days of shooting game.

“Yes I remember Ritchie, it's a nice piece.”

“Yes it is lovely, but I suppose I will have to cut it down for you.

Such a shame but you can hardly walk around Soho with a twelve bore can you?” he giggled and took another swig of whisky. “Come on, let's go down to my workshop.”

I followed him down some wooden steps into a cellar. He put the gun into a vice and took a hacksaw and began sawing off the barrel. “It’s best to wear a glove when you fire her” he advised without looking up. “There isno choke so the shot will spread. I expect that you will use her close

up.” A tear trickled down his face. “Not much use for birds now are you?” he spoke to the gun as to a lover, taking it out of the vice. “And your lovely handle, something will have to be done about that, '' he said sadly.

I watched in silence as he shortened the handle, not wanting to disturb him as he carried out what was obviously a painful task in mutilating a precious object.

The sawn-off was ready and he wrapped it in the oilskin and gave it to me with three boxes of cartridges. “Here you are my old son. Be careful Mickey and don’t shoot the wrong person.”

“Don’t worry I’m cool. How much do I owe you Ritchie” I asked.

“Nothing my old friend!” he exclaimed, lighting up a cheroot, grinning wolfishly showing his teeth which were now becoming brown and stained.

The acrid smell got up my nostrils. I pulled out a big wad of money and pushed about a hundred into his hand, which he refused to take, so I put the money on his table and made a quick exit. “Try to get me a pump action or a pistol” I said as I went out of his door.

I got into my car, placing the gun on the seat beside me. Then I pulled up in one of the leafy roads in Streatham, just round the corner from where my two children were in school, unwrapped the gun and opened a box of shells and breaking the twelve bore I put two shells into it, snapped it shut and put on the safety catch. I felt a bit safer now and I was determined to be on my guard all the time. I could hardly ask for police protection could I? Was I going to ask Moody of the Murder Squad

when I made my monthly payment? I could just imagine it. “Look Bill there is a hit on me by Detective Chief Inspector Les Alton, can you give me police protection?” No, I had to be my own police force again and the order must have come from above and bent coppers would always obey their masters, I knew that.

 Sandra looked up at me in admiration as I posed pulling back my jacket, standing hand on hip the

thumb of my other hand in the pocket of my waistcoat. “There might be a war between me and the Twins soon” I said, assuming my best hard man stance, pulling out the sawn off and pointing it up at the ceiling.

“Fucking cool man where did you get that?” Sandra asked, her eyes glittering with excitement. She rolled a joint of pure grass. “Do you want a puff?” she asked.

Sandra liked danger I could see that. “Yeah I’m going to take you out for a meal tonight.” I stood there the gun resting on my shoulder as though it was the most natural behaviour in the world. I realised that I looked like a gangster out of the movies, the way that I dressed in a three piece suit and now the final accoutrement of the gun.

Sandra’s face suddenly became anxious “Do you think that me and the kids are in danger?”

“Of course not, only me,” I reassured her. “The chaps only kill each other, not women and kids.” This was usually true; I knew the unwritten code of honour. “Don’t worry if there is any trouble I will take them out first” I boasted, pulling on the spliff and sucking the smoke deep into my lungs.

“Shall I phone Thelma then?” Sandra asked, picking up the phone.

“Yes phone Thelma” I replied.

“Where are we going, the Toscana?” Sandra asked the eagerness showing on her face.

“No I thought that we would go to that Chinese one in Paddington” I replied not admitting that my usual Soho haunts were less appealing now I could be killed.

“Can you come over tonight, Thelma?” Sandra said into the phone then looked at me and nodded a smile on her lips.

The doorbell rang and I looked out of the bay window to see a stranger there. I was expecting someone to fit burglar alarms in my flat. I opened the window and the guy looked up.

“Brian Goldsmith sent me to do the alarms. I’m Jimmy” he said looking up.

“Do you want a pressure pad here?” Jimmy questioned.

“Yes I want them everywhere.” I answered.

Jimmy looked at me and smiled. “I could fit you a wall safe as well while I am here” he suggested.

“He thinks that I want the alarms because I am afraid of being robbed not being killed” I thought.

“Yes, fit a wall safe as well while you are at it” I replied.

Jimmy took about two days wiring up my flat.

The first night I switched on the alarms as soon as I went to bed and the little red light on the control box glowed reassuringly.

I was awake straight away sitting bolt upright in bed. The alarm was loud. I grasped the baseball bat that I had left beside the bed. The thought went through my head as I rushed down the stairs that I should have the gun. I had started leaving it in the car not wanting to have it in the house with my children around. There was a noise in the kitchen I held the bat tight and rushed in ready to

deal with any intruder that was attempting to break in the window. I was confronted not by an intruder but Billy, my son standing in front of the open fridge screaming. I was surprised; because that was the first time that I knew that he used to go to the fridge at night.

“It’s the alarm Billy, everything is alright” I said, picking him up and carrying him upstairs. He was still screaming his head off and  I carried him into my bedroom where Sandra was sitting up in bed.

“What is it she asked?” now wide awake.

“He went to the fridge and stepped on the alarm” I explained, grabbing my keys and running downstairs to switch off the alarm.

I bought several knives; daggers and a battle axe and put them in what I thought were strategic places. I taped them under the coffee table using gaffer tape, behind my paintings, and wardrobes so that I had a weapon at every strategic point in the house.

Kenny and I discussed how and when someone would strike and came to the conclusion that they might use a knife instead of a gun.

“Knives are used in a lot of killings,” Kenny said seriously. “We ought to practise armed combat as well.”

“I did it in the army and I was the best,” I laughed.

“Yes but you were not really trying to kill each other” Kenny observed.

It was true I realised, we were just playing a game and no-one ever got really hurt. “No one wanted to fight me because I always won,” I boasted.  

“No-one wanted to fight you because you had the biggest muscles and was a hard bastard,” Kenny observed laughing.

He was shrewd Kenny and smaller than me at about ten stone but very agile, flexible and fast. He did not usually fight even when he was insulted, like me, and when we were out with our wives we just left any place if there was any trouble. One night we were insulted and when we left a pub we were followed outside and attacked by a group of men before we could get into our car. Kenny knocked out two of the troublemakers in about two seconds and the rest ran, he could fight like a tiger I learnt.

We practised regularly with wooden knives, lifted weights, skipped and stretched. We were in top condition now, I had lost the fat that had been accumulating around my waist, and had to have my suit trousers altered.

Hymie smiled as he measured me. “Thirty inches already, that is good.”

Time was going by and no-one had made any attack on me but I was still on my guard. Ironically I had stopped letting Gerry watch my back as I did not want to get too friendly with him again.

Heisting

Chapter 43

I came out of Walkers Court Bookshop and Woofy was standing there waiting for me. “Hello Mickey, there’s a heister who can get you anything you want out of Cecil Gees. His name is Ronnie and he is

waiting for you at the end of the alley.” Woofy rubbed his hands together as if he was washing them, bent forward at the waist as though in supplication.

I looked down the alleyway of Walker’s Court and saw a small thin looking guy standing there looking at me. I nodded to Woofy and we walked down the alley which was busy at this time in the afternoon with people going to Berwick Street market and punters looking in porn shop windows. The doorman outside Raymond’s revue bar nodded at me and then continued his spiel about “The only fully nude show in Soho.”

“This is Mickey” Woofy introduced me to Ronnie rubbing his hands together and shuffling his feet. “Okay Mickey?” he said.

“Yeah, okay Woofy, I will see you later” I said. Woofy smiled and turning on his heel he disappeared into the crowded Soho streets. He made his living by touting, and when he was short of money sold

cloakroom tickets to eager punters who would never see the “blue film show up on the second floor” that he promised.

“I can get you anything you want out of Cecil Gees at a quarter of the mark up” promised Ronnie. We were already walking towards Shaftesbury Avenue and were soon outside Cecil Gees. I looked in the window at the smart clothes the dummies were dressed in. I had bought clothes from this shop myself and some of them were very expensive. As I looked at the price tags I mentally divided the price into a quarter. Then my eyes alighted on a vicuna overcoat priced at 900 guineas “How about that

vicuna overcoat?” I questioned Ronnie.

“I can get you that for two hundred and forty five quid” Ronnie promised, his sharp face becoming businesslike at the thought of the cash.

“Okay then, I’ll have it,” I agreed.

Ronnie looked at me and smiled. “All right son, wait here a minute and I will go and get it” he promised.

“Are you sure that it will be the right size?” I questioned doubtfully.

“I will get your size son don’t worry” Ronnie assured looking me up and down then entering the shop.

I stared through the plate glass windows trying to see him at work but could not see anything.

Suddenly he was behind me. “Come on, I've secured” he said.

“I want to try it on,” I said, walking up Wardour Street and turning left into Brewer Street.

Ronnie walked alongside of me saying nothing as I turned right into the alleyway of Walkers Court and entered the legal front of the bookshop. I nodded to Lenny who stood by the door to the back room waiting to let the punters into the inner sanctum. He looked at me, using silent language, turning his head towards the door, his hand on the rope ready to pull the string that released the bolt and opened the door to the back room. I shook my head indicating that I did not want to go in and turned to Ronnie.

Ronnie took out the coat from out of his voluminous overcoat and handed it to me. “Here you are guv’nor” he said.

I took off my old overcoat, careful not to let Lenny see the sawn off and put on the vicuna.  The material was light and warm and I had never felt anything like it in my life before. The overcoat reached almost to my ankles but fitted me perfectly. I reached into my fob pocket and pulled

out the large roll of notes that I always carried. I put the roll onto a counter covered in soft-core magazines, and wetting my finger, I quickly counted out two hundred and forty five pounds and gave it to Ronnie who stuffed it into his pocket.

“All right, my old son just see Woofy if you want anything else” he said, smiling and turning on his heel as he walked out of the shop.

Lenny looked at me with approval. “Nice coat Mickey!” he commented with admiration.

“Yeah it’s vicuna!” I said rubbing my hand up the sleeve. The coat hung loosely on me if I did not do up the buttons and covered the shotgun that now hung over my shoulder on a sling.

After a while I was tired of carrying the gun and several people I knew glanced suspiciously at the bulge it made so I started to leave it in the car but still carried a dagger clipped on my waistband. I walked into Walkers Court bookshop and spoke to Lenny. “I’ll bring over a delivery tomorrow about four all right?” I said.

“All right, guv,” Lenny answered.

I nodded towards the door of the back room and Lenny opened it. I glanced into the inner sanctum and saw that Ben, Brian and Fat Bill were busy serving a crowd of customers. “See you all tomorrow chaps” I said.

I turned into the alley, glancing from left to right, ready for anyone who looked like he was going to shoot or stab me. If anyone looked suspicious I planned to stab them immediately before they could

act. I had stopped going to the Toscana now because people usually got shot in places that they frequented. I turned left into Brewer Streetwalking up towards the multi-storey car park where I had left my car. As I walked up the ramp I was on the lookout for suspicious characters lurking behind cars. It had been a couple months and I started to think that the hit was off. I got into my car and reaching under the seat and grasping the sawn off. I put it on the front seat, took off my overcoat and covered it, just leaving the small butt protruding.

I was glad when I got out of the Wild West End because this was where I thought that someone would try to kill me.

Message to the Krays

Chapter 44

The phone was ringing. “Hello, look I would like to see you up town today in the Falcon” Roy’s voice trusted him, or anyone else in the Soho fraternity for that matter and I steadied my voice. “Okay, see you there” I replied. I was in the flat with my sister Kath and Sandra and Kenny were over the processing laboratory in the East End working. I had to pick the children up at four in Streatham. Kath, my sister who lived in the adjoining flat, was sitting on the sofa breastfeeding her baby.

“Oh you have gone all pale! What’s the matter Mick” Kath blurted out.

“I’ve not have one?” I replied, trying to laugh and gain my composure. “No nothing’s the matter” I said, walking over to the window, turning my back on her, breathing in deeply as I had trained myself to do in martial arts and had read in the Way of the Warrior. My heart was hammering but slowly it came back to normal.

“Are you sure?” Kath asked.

“Sure," I said, turning and smiling confidently. The breathing exercise had worked, but I could see that Kath was not totally convinced by the concerned expression on her face.

“I have an appointment to see about opening my new shop, perhaps it is the thought of thinking about all that money I will be earning.” I lied  looking up at the clock. “I’ve got to go now” I said.

Roy was standing at the bar. “A Worthington White Shield for my friend here” he said to the owner as soon as he saw me.

“Hello Roy” I said, trying to look as if I was glad to see him, but wondering what he wanted. The owner poured my beer into a glass carefully, not disturbing the sediment and placed it on the bar. He then

walked away because Roy got all his drinks free anywhere in Soho because everyone knew that he was Old Bill.

Roy walked over to a table in the corner where he could not be overheard and I followed him and sat down.

He leaned forward. “How are you Mickey?” he asked.

“Oh I’m fine” I replied, feeling my stomach turn over, breathing deeply slowing down my heart. I was a good actor and I knew that and most people in the Soho Underworld thought that I was very hard and super cool, but I felt afraid and hated the feeling of fear when it ripped

through my guts.

“I want you to do me a favour” Roy said conspiratorially, leaning forward, talking in a whisper and putting his finger on alongside the side of his nose so no-one could read his lips like the guv’nor of the

pub who hovered in the background behind the bar.

“Anything Roy, you just have to ask.”

His next words sent a shiver up my spine. “I want you to go and see the Twins,” he said, grinning like a wolf.

It took all my self control to keep my fear from showing and I breathed deeply.

“Yes” I answered expectantly.  

“They are going to be nicked again and fitted up, I want you to go and tell them that there is nothing that anyone can do, the order has come from above.”

“But they have got a licence!” I exclaimed secretly glad that the Krays seemed to be doomed by those above.

“But they got off last time. They got at the witnesses, what is going to be different this time. They can’t get a fair trial anyway and that alone could get them off again” I asked.

“Keep your voice down” Roy ordered calmly and I realised that my voice was louder than it should have been on this occasion. It had risen because I was so excited.

Roy leaned forward taking a slug of his Scotch on the rocks, swirling the mixture around his glass so that the ice cubes rattled. He up-ended the glass and drank it down, and the guv’nor of The Falcon seeing this, took a fresh glass and going to the optical poured another double.

I got up and went to the bar and picked it up, setting it down before Roy. I liked him to drink because then he would talk more.

He took another mouthful and leaned forward again putting his finger alongside his nose. “It has been arranged and they will definitely go down this time if they go for trial” he said, his voice a low whisper…

“Nipper will put them away, believe me. Lots of people will swear their lives away if it can be guaranteed that the Twins get lifted-off.

And that is why I want you to go and tell them to leave the country. Go now quickly while they have got the chance. Don’t phone because it is tapped” Roy said.

“Why do those from above want them so badly?” I asked my forefinger alongside my nose.

“Look they only got off last time because of Lord Boothby and Ronnie and their little boys, no-one would give evidence because they were too scared” Roy answered.

“Yes but what is different and they are paying on?” I wanted to know.

“If I have to see them I have to be convincing,” I said.

“It is because Ronnie has gone off his nut and done a deal with the American Mafia. He went over to see the Families in New York. They have gone too far this time, as well as the killing spree that they are on. No, they are going down.

Tell them that no-one can help them, tell them from me” Roy assured me.

“Okay Roy I will go and see them tonight” I promised.

“Good Mickey I knew that I could rely on you” he said with a pleased expression on his face.

“I have to shoot off now, Roy “I said, looking at my watch. I have to pick up my children from school.

As I drove back to South London I thought that there was no way that I was going to go and visit the Twins except to kill them. I fantasised about going down to Stoke Newington and blowing them to pieces as they opened the front door. But Ronnie had already killed a few very hard people and I thought that I would be lucky to survive such an encounter.

Especially if they knew that I was coming as I feared that it was a set up and Roy would have told them. But no, I did not have to as they were going down. I was pleased, because I suspected that if anyone took up Alton’s contract, it would be them and that I would be murdered if I went to see them. Maybe it was a hit and they would kill me and feed me to the two pythons they kept in their flat. It was the talk of the Underworld, how they had fed people to pigs and now they had two big pythons in their flat, one named Nipper, to get rid of bodies. They were homicidal maniacs and Ronnie was a paranoid schizophrenic. I would be mad to go. I wondered if Roy had got the order from above to take me out

and Alton too.

“I want to make out a will,” I said to my solicitor.

“Well Michael, that is a very sensible thing to do.” I had to think of death and of those I might leave behind..,

I drove towards Streatham where I had arranged to meet Rita. It was strange since I had thought about death. I seemed to feel horny all the time. “Perhaps I wanted to spread my seed.” I thought as I pulled up outside a red telephone box and opened the door. I took out a handful of

coins and dialled the number of my other flat in Bedford Hill near Streatham Common. It rang a few times.

The phone was lifted. “Hello” answered Gerry in his deep, gruff Cockney voice  

“Hello Gerry, it's Mickey. Look I wonder if you can go out for a few hours because I am bringing this chick over to fuck her” I said.

“All right Mickey you dirty lucky bastard.” Gerry chuckled the deep sound reverberating down the phone. “What time will you be coming over?”

“In about an hour,” I replied.

“All right son I’ll be gone.”

“Thanks Gerry you’re a pal” I replied and put down the phone.

I had not seen much of Gerry lately, because paradoxically I had stopped him accompanying me around the Soho shops, when I collected my money. I had started carrying the sawn-off again in an attaché  case that I could flick open and get the gun out quickly. I did lots of practice and I went out into the countryside to do so. One day I fired at a gate post and it blew it to pieces and an irate farmer came running out with a shotgun. I ran to my car and as I threw in the gun it went off and blew a hole through the side of the car. As I sped off I realised that the farmer would think that I had fired a shot at him. I got back into London from Surrey quickly, but on the way I realised that some of the shot had penetrated the rear right hand tyre so I had to pull over and change the wheel. I knew what the gun could do and realised that I had to be careful or else I could kill myself. I was at home with guns and when I was in the army I won a medal for shooting and took sniper training. “What I should have was an Uzzi” I thought, remembering seeing the Dutch carrying the small machine guns around in their jeeps in Germany.

Rita was standing on the corner waiting for me. I pulled up and she got into the car and I drove off. Rita was blond, very well spoken, a bit posh with generous firm breasts and just seventeen. She smiled at me and I glanced down at the short tennis skirt that she was wearing that revealed her tanned thighs. “Put the racquet on the back seat," I said. You look absolutely gorgeous today.”

“Do I” she replied as she put the racket over the back seat.

I looked at her skirt and her white knickers, her breasts pushing against her blouse as she reached over and felt a tingling sensation as my cock swelled.

Rita reached over to the bulge in my trousers and unzipped my flies. “I want to suck your big dick” she said and put her hand into my trousers pulling out my stiff cock with difficulty. Then I felt her warm lips

over my cock.

Rita always wanted to suck me off, even when I was driving and was amused that I found it difficult to drive. I got to the flat in about five minutes and pulled up outside. Barbara zipped my flies back up and

smiled up at me a satisfied look on her face moving her tongue around her lips lasciviously. “You bitch” I said with a laugh. “I am going to give you a good spanking for that.”

“Yes please Sir” she said with a giggle as we got out of the car. We walked up the drive holding hands eager to get inside and have sex. I took out my keys and unlocked the front door into the passage and then the flat door which was the ground floor flat. As I opened the door I was confronted by a smiling Gerry and standing behind him was a woman.

“All right son. We were just leaving, meet Barbara” Gerry said, grasping my hand warmly. I shook his hand and he squeezed mine hard in a show of strength, but I knew him and was ready for his grasp. He then slapped me on the back, a little bit too hard for my liking and I felt that he was intimidating me. “Gerry, I thought that you would be out” I replied curtly and then glanced at the girl.

“Pleased to meet you” I said politely. The girl looked like a brass and I turned to see the shocked expression on Rita’s face. I had told Gerry that I did not want him moving any girls into the Balham flat and that he would be living above the Soho shop I was getting in Lisle Street soon. I wanted to use it to make films and to bring my girlfriends to. I was annoyed but tried not to show it. I realised that I was still carrying the briefcase and saw Gerry look at it but I did not put it down but moved up close to him gesturing that I wanted to talk to him in the bedroom.

“Gerry, who is the bird?” I asked, trying not to become angry and breathing in deeply.

“Just some girl I met in a club over the West End. I have got her working up the road” he answered.

“So you have moved a brass into my flat” I said in a disapproving tone to my voice.

“Ah Mickey, I had to get some dosh,” he replied, rubbing his hands together as though he was washing them.

“Gerry I pay for this flat and give you twenty five a week to keep you going and you will be earning plenty soon” I retorted.

“I need a bit more,” he replied casually.

“Well so why don’t you fucking sign on the fucking dole then?” I said contemptuously.

Gerry’s face reddened “I don’t like to.”

“Get this fucking tart out of my flat” I ordered.

“All right I’m bang out of order, look I’m going out now, you didn’t introduce me to your girlfriend” Gerry replied.

“See you later” I replied laconically.

Gerry’s face turned mean. “Come on Babs let’s get out of here” he snarled walking out of the flat, giving me a hard look with his girlfriend Barbara, who was scowling, and slammed the door.

Rita was standing there and looking a bit upset. I walked over to her and cuddled her.

She looked up at me, her blue eyes wide. “Who are they?” she asked.

“Oh he is just a guy that works for me and I’m letting him stay here for a couple of months. He is going to work in my shop” I explained.

“Oh I see!” Rita exclaimed.

I looked in the wardrobe and some women’s clothes were hanging there. I shut the door and turned to Rita.

 “Fancy some wine?” I asked. Rita loved a drink and sometimes got a bit pissed.  I opened the fridge and looked inside. “Fucking bastard! He’s drunk all my wine, or given it to that fucking slag. Look wait here a minute I‘ll just shoot down the road and get a bottle” I said.

I ran out of the flat and jumped in my car, driving fast down Bedford Hill and as I neared the row of shops at the bottom I saw Gerry and Barbara. I drove straight past, pulling up about fifty yards in front of them and jumped out of my car. I did not look at them as I entered the shop and when I came out with a bottle of wine I did a U-turn, with a screech of tyres. I saw them stop, turn around and look in the driving mirror, then I accelerated so hard that I left burning tyre marks on the road.

I pulled up outside the flat and went back inside, unwrapped the bottle of champagne. “Just for you Rita baby” I exclaimed.

“Oooh champagne,” Rita said. I went to the cabinet and took out two flutes and noticed that a lot of glasses were missing. As I looked at the wall I noticed wine marks and what looked like blood stains on the walls. I tried to ignore all of this and sat down on the bed next to Rita. We kissed and sipped at our drinks. I ran my hand over her breasts and she undid her blouse and released her, her breasts, her pink swollen nipples inviting me to suck them.

Rita lifted her firm breasts into my mouth. “Mmm” she murmured her pleasure as I sucked them.

I put down my wine and pushed up her white tennis skirt, burying my head between her honey coloured thighs, I pulled the crotch of her white knickers to one side to reveal her cunt and the soft blonde hairs that covered it. I pulled apart her pink cunt lips, licking around her vagina and poking my tongue up inside her. Her cunt was pink and healthy and tasted sweet. As I sucked her she became really wet and I stood up, took off my trousers and underpants.

Rita lay on the bed looking up at my massive erection and as I positioned myself between her thighs her hand guided in my prick. I fucked her really hard and after a few minutes she started to breathe heavily, closing her eyes her red lips open.

I knew that she was near orgasm. “I’m going to shoot all my hot spunk right up inside you” I promised, feeling myself nearing the point of no return. We came together and writhed around in the throws of ecstasy until we returned to the world and our senses, wrapped tightly together.

“How about that champagne?” I asked and we sat up in bed drinking it.

Rita sat beside me as I drove up Bedford Hill passing through Streatham

Common. A couple of working girls stood by the side of the road wearing short skirts and high heels smiling at passing motorists. The common was a red light district and I knew that is where Gerry had Barbara on the game.

“That one’s all right, the one with the bleached blond hair” I joked to Rita who stared at the girls as we drove past.

“You wouldn’t would you?” she said laughing in mock seriousness.

“No I couldn’t enjoy it if I had to pay for it” I replied laughing as I pulled up at the lights by St Leonard’s Church. The lights turned green and I turned left down Streatham High Road, driving past the district in which I had spent my youth. I glanced at the café I used to haunt with my Teddy boy mates in the Fifties. Yes it was still there in 1968.

I pulled over the car under a leafy tree outside an old Church just around the corner from where Rita lived.

“I want to suck you off,” she said.

I glanced at my watch. It was nearly four o'clock. “I have to pick up my children around the corner in Somerville Road in five minutes," I replied.

But she was down, taking my cock into her wet warm mouth, sucking me until I jerked around. She sucked in every drop of my spunk and then French kissed me making me taste my own sperm.

She laughed as she got out of the car. “Now that did not take long, did it? See you again soon” she said as she walked off towards Wavertree Road where she lived with her younger sister and parents.

As I drove around the corner I thought that the danger of being seen turned her on because she always wanted to do it whenever I dropped her off. Rita was a beautiful healthy girl and a tennis champion who loved sex. I pulled up outside my children’s school in Somerville Road where

rows of cars, and lots of mothers were waiting outside for their children and I seemed to be the only father. Then Laura and Billy came out and recognising my car ran towards it and clambered in bouncing around on the back seats with excitement.

“What did you learn in school today?” I asked as I drove them home.

“I learnt book three today,” Laura replied.

“Can we go to the swings?” Billy asked with excitement and eagerness showing on his face.

I drove to Brockwell Park and sat there while they played.

Drinking Partners

Chapter 45

I stood in the line on a Sunday morning at Bob White’s fishmongers at the Elephant and Castle. It was Sunday morning and I came here regularly to buy shellfish. Afterwards I would go to my parent’s house for tea.  

“Hey Mickey” said a voice and I turned to see Alan, one of my nephews who lived at Vauxhall.

“Hello Alan, long time no see” I replied. My mother’s family came from the council estates next to the Oval cricket ground and most of them still lived within a stone’s throw of each other.

“What you getting some fish for teatime?” Alan inquired. “I saw you drive up” he said looking at me in admiration and over at my Toyota Crown which most people thought was American. Everyone in the extended family of my mother knew that I was a pornographer and most people accepted it. I always drove big brand new cars and would distribute largesse to them if they were not too proud to accept it.

“How’s Laura and Billy and Sandra?” Alan inquired.

“Oh fine! How’s your mum, all right?”

“Oh she is all right.”

The queue diminished while we chatted and then it was my turn. I had been eyeing the fine display of fish as I entered the shop and moved along the counter.

“What you ‘aving guv?' ' asked Bob White.

“Give me a couple of pints of those big prawns, a pint of cockles and whelks, two pots of jellied eels, two big crabs and a couple of lobsters” I replied. The fishmonger got my order together rapidly and I

pulled out a big wad of notes and paid the girl who took the money. I extracted a fiver and gave it to Alan without anyone seeing.

“Thanks Mick,” Alan said, taking the banknote.

“What do you want son?” asked Bob and Alan ordered some cockles, whelks, jellied eels and a crab, then we walked out of the shop.

A few “faces” would visit the shop on a Sunday where the queue would sometimes stretch about fifty yards down the street and quite a few flash motors were parked along the street near the Elephant and Castle.

“See you soon,” I said in goodbye to Alan. “Come and see me sometime” I gave him the invitation but I knew that it was unlikely that he would visit. I expect that his Mum Sybil did not want him to get into the porn business.

 We all sat round the table, my Dad, Mum, Sandra, Billy, Laura and me.

The shellfish that I bought was being consumed and my father was eating a plate of whelks.

“Go on, try one” I said to my daughter Laura.

“Urgh disgusting” she said and everybody laughed.

Two bottles of wine, one red the other white were nearly finished and the family was slowly getting merry.

My father Bill sat at the head of the table and me at the other end. His face was becoming a bit red with the wine which showed up the old war wound on his forehead.

“Come on, let's all go down into the front room,” he suggested. The food was nearly finished and the remnants of the feast littered the table. I got up and so did everyone and we all trouped down the small flight of stairs into the front room which was decorated with several of my paintings. My father sat down in his armchair and my mother and I on the settee, while Sandra sat on the big carpet in front of the fire with Laura and Billy.

“Oh I have got something for you Dad!” I said with a smile, and reaching behind the settee where I had hidden it, I pulled out a bottle wrapped in brown paper.

My father unwrapped the parcel to reveal a bottle of Bushmills Irish whisky that I got from the off licence in Old Compton Street, Soho.

His face lit up with a smile. “My father always used to drink Bushmill’s” he remarked.

“Oh you naughty boy” said my Mum with a laugh.

I got up and got the glasses. “Mum, Sandra what are you having?” I asked.

“I’ll have a gin and orange, Sandra you too?” my mother asked, looking down at Sandra who was sitting on the carpet playing with the kids and reading them a book.

“Okay Mum, I’ll have one too” replied Sandra. “Give the children some wine too”

“Oh yeah Mummy I want fizzy wine” said Laura looking up at the bottles eagerly.

I had a bottle of Lambrusco and I put a little bit of wine in two glasses and topped it up with lemonade and gave it to the outstretched hands of my children.

“Now don’t drink it down all in one go. You are supposed to sip it slowly” I advised.

I gave everyone their drinks and we all sat down. One drink led to another and soon my father began to reminisce as he usually did when he had a few drinks. Everyone had heard his tales about the war and his family many times but everyone listened respectfully, except the children.

“I was talking to a few of the boys over the Swan and they tell me that stabbings and glassing in the pubs is increasing all the time.”

I knew that “the boys” were his drinking partners on the Porn Squad, and that he had become friendly with lots of coppers from the Yard, and my mother with their wives, with whom they would drink and talk. He had much in common with them because a lot of them were ex-military men. I did not “have it” with them myself, except Roy, but my Dad loved their company. I did not mind and a couple of relations in my mother’s family were in the police force too. Also I Would gather information.

“Yes there is no honour today” my father said, a serious look on his face. “When I was a lad it was different. One day we were all in the Rising Sun down Larkhall Lane and my brother Mickey had an argument with someone. It was outside for a straightner. No-one stabbed you or stuck a glass in your face, they would have been beaten up or handed over to the police and everyone would go outside and watch the fights. It was entertainment and there were rules that we all stuck too. If it went on too long the old girls would start shouting all right boys that’s enough! If someone got knocked down you would wait until he got up again. No one put the boot in! It was unheard of” my father said, looking at me.

“Yes Dad that is the way it should be” I replied.

“Yes the world would be a much better place.” “Now Mickey, he was a really good fighter. Had a knockout punch, good amateur boxer, like you Mick. Remember when you knocked out Charlie Faulkner, the ABA champion?

You brought him round here to show me the black eye you had given him?” my father said, starting to chuckle. My father was a bit pissed now with the whisky but he did not get silly, only loquacious.

Sandra got up. “The kids have got to go to school in the morning, Mickey.

I’ll have to get them home to bed” she said, looking at me and smiling. “Don’t stay up all night

will you?” she said in a non critical way.

“No, of course not baby. Just a couple of more drinks and I’ll come home” I replied.

“Bye Dad,” Sandra said.

“Bye Grandpa” said Laura and Billy in unison.

“Give me a kiss” said my father and my children dutifully kissed him on the cheek before they left.

My mother got up. “I’m going to bed Bill,” she said. “Goodnight Michael.”

“Goodnight Mum.”

My mother smiled and went to bed and my father and I were left alone.

The bottle of Bushmills on the coffee table was about three quarters full now and my Dad and I were slowly getting inebriated as we had done many times before.

Games with Susan

Chapter 46

Fat Bill had a mournful expression on his face as he put a grape into his mouth. We had just finished our lunch and Bill had only eaten some smoked salmon and a side bowl of salad.

“No cream cakes today then Bill?” I asked.

“No, my doctor has told me that the only sweets I can eat are grapes,” he replied, popping another grape into his mouth and chewing on it without enthusiasm.

The waiter arrived with the cheese board for me and put a slice of Dolcelatte onto my plate. “What’s the matter then Bill?” I asked.

“It’s my kidneys, they are not working properly” he replied sadly.

I remembered Bill always used to love his food, eating enormous meals, washed down with a bottle of wine and accompanied by lots of Italian cream cakes. I was glad that I did not have a sweet tooth.

“The Krays have been nicked then Bill. I don’t think that they are going to get off this time do you?”

“You know that they won’t Mickey. Roy has given me the full SP.” Bill said, eating another grape.

 I noticed that his face was becoming rather jaundiced. “A lot of people will be happy that they are going down,” I said.

The waiter came up with a bottle of brandy which Bill and I both refused. Bill only drank a glass of wine now and I tried to ration myself to two glasses. I was losing more of the fat I had accumulated around my waist and had increased my workouts to four a week.

I was getting fitter while Bill was becoming ill. “Come on Bill, let's walk back to the shop” I said. Bill and I walked down Dean Street, along Old Compton Street towards Walkers Court. Now that the Krays had been nicked I felt a lot safer and had started leaving the gun in the car again. I did not believe one hundred percent that a hit was on me and now Moody had said that I could have a shop in Lisle Street. I felt like I was back in favour.

However I was still on my guard and still wore the dagger in a sheave that clipped onto the waistband of my trousers. I practised knife fighting with Kenny on a regular basis and I became really good at it.

We wore body armour so that we could make actual strikes with wooden knives. I noticed that as I walked through the Soho Streets that more people were dressing in colourful clothes and London was swinging!

Gordon held out the palm of his hand and a dozen or so little pink pills were on it. “Strawberry Fields” he said. These are the one’s everybody is taking. Wendy Toye loves them, here you are Mickey.” Gordon worked in the “A and R” department of Decca Records and his main function seemed to me to be supplying the recording stars with recreational substances.

He laughed boyishly. “These are pure lysergic acid diethylamide tartrate” and started singing. “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Do you get it man LSD?” he explained.

I looked at the flares that Gordon was wearing and the colourful frilled shirt. “I could not wear all that hippy gear that you have got on” I said doubtfully.

“When you are tripping you don’t want to wear dull clothes, but ones that light up and make you feel good. Turn on, tune in and drop out man!” Gordon exclaimed with a laugh.

I looked at him and smiled because he looked really happy and happiness is contagious. I popped the little pill into my mouth and sipped at the hot coffee Gordon had made.

“It always makes it work faster if you have coffee with it,” Gordon informed me. Lou Reed’s Velvet Underground was playing on the stereo, the big speakers reverberating the walls of the flat.

Suddenly the walls were moving in time to the music, rippling with the beat and I saw some musical notes floating through the air. I had an urge to get out into the sunshine and stood up. “Come on Gordon let’s go out” I said. “We have to meet Chris over at the recording studio; Susan is going to meet us there.”

As I opened the front door and stepped onto the pavement it seemed to be moving.

“Wow man! I can’t drive the car. Come on, let's walk down to the Tube” I said laughing.

“Cool man” Gordon replied laconically and we started walking along Stockwell Park Road towards Stockwell Tube station.

We passed two guys, and as I looked at them I saw that their hair was teeming with microorganisms, and that my eyes had acquired magnification ability. “Wow! Did you see their hair, it was alive!” I

said to Gordon.

“Yeah man, I saw it. They probably wash their hair once in a blue moon” Gordon said and started singing again. “Blue moon you see me standing alone without love of my own, without a care in my heart.”

I noticed that people were looking at us in the street and particularly at Gordon who had donned a wide brimmed hat with silver adornments around it. I started to laugh and it really felt good.

Down the escalators onto the platform, posters lined the walls and as I looked at them the colours ran down the walls onto the floor and a face of a beautiful model advertising lipstick spoke, the lips seeming to move. I pointed to it laughing out loud. “She is speaking to me, Gordon.”

I said.

“That’s because all images retain some of the essence of the person who posed for them” Gordon said sagely.

Just then the train came into the station and we got on it. It seemed as though the interior of the carriage was really round and flexible as we whooshed through the subterranean Earth. “This was fun!” I thought. I looked at Gordon’s reflection in the glass of the carriage windows and it seemed to morph. The train carriage also seemed to be altering shape as it rushed through the earth, the forces of gravity stretching it out as it sped along the track, pulling the end around the bends. I looked

down at the one carat diamond on my little finger and a ray of energy beamed out of it. A girl on the other side of the carriage looked at it as if she was affected by its power.

We emerged into Leicester Square and made our way through the crowds that thronged the streets towards Wardour Street and everything was buzzing and so colourful. Tourists were taking photos of the hippies who now seemed to be increasing everyday. We walked up Macclesfield Street and were soon at the studio near the top. I rang the doorbell and Quentin came down and opened the door. His round fat face broke into a smile and I noticed how pink the inside of his mouth was and the little drops of saliva that sprayed from his mouth as he spoke.

“Come up Mickey the studio is empty at the moment” Quentin said and we followed him up the stairs to the preview theatre on the second floor. He had a 35mm projector here and a private cinema.

The doorbell rang and Gordon ran down the stairs to answer it and returned with the Radio 1 disc jockey Chris Denning who was a good friend of Gordon’s.

“Hello Mickey” Chris greeted me and shook my hand.

“Hello Chris, how's things?” I asked.

“Oh great man” I replied and I noticed that Chris was wearing flared trousers and a frilly shirt.

“Do you want a record played for your Mum Mickey” Chris asked.

Every time I met Chris he always asked me this. “Yes, it’s Gladys of Clapham Park” I replied laughing. “What time are you going to play it?”

“Tomorrow on Radio 1 at one thirty” replied Chris.

I turned to Quentin. “Quentin, can I use your phone? I want to phone my Mum and tell her that she has a request on the radio tomorrow. She is always thrilled to bits when I tell her.”

“Go on Mickey” Quentin replied.

I picked up the telephone and dialled the number and it started ringing.

“Hello Mum, it's Mickey.”

“Hello Michael” answered the familiar voice of my mother.

“Listen to Radio 1 tomorrow at one thirty Mum and there is a record for you.”

“Oh! That is nice Michael.

“Okay Mum I’ll come up to tea again on Sunday, bye.”

I put down the phone and realised a tear was trickling down my cheek. I wiped it away with the silk handkerchief that I took from my breast pocket.

The doorbell rang again. “That will be Susan. I’ll let her in” Gordon said as he ran down the stairs. I heard the street door open and the sounds of the Soho Street mixed with Susan’s voice then footsteps coming up the stairs.

Susan walked into the room. She was wearing a red skirt and a little red jacket, her favourite colour which glowed and matched her lipstick. Her long straight blonde hair flowed down her back and as she walked her red high heels shoes made a drumbeat across the floor.

“You look absolutely beautiful” I complimented her, meaning every word.

“Thank you” she replied, turning a pirouette and coming to a stop facing me.

I felt as if I wanted to capture her sexuality immediately and I took my Canon 35mm still camera out of my bag and loaded it with tungsten Ektachrome Professional and switched on the lights.

“Keep all your clothes on and lay down on the settee” I directed.

Susan obeyed without a word and just smiled as she carried out my request. When she lay down I

went over and arranged her skirt so that it fell down revealing her thighs. She did not wear stockings and suspenders but had beautiful smooth legs that shone in the light of the lamps. I looked through the camera and pressed the shutter. “Now just move around provocatively.

Gordon, you and Chris move in as though you are watching. When you get hard, take out your cocks and play with them as you watch. Gordon got out his massive cock straight away and Susan laughed her approval when she saw his erection. I pressed the shutter and the motor drive advanced the

film rapidly.

“Now Susan start to tease them, show them your breasts and then your cunt without undressing while they wank over you” I directed.

Susan unbuttoned her little red jacket and slowly undone the buttons on her blouse to reveal her firm breasts and I could see that her nipples were erect. “Roll your tongue around your lips” I said.

“Like this” she said and she rolled her tongue slowly and provocatively around her lips and pulled aside her little black silk knickers to reveal her cunt.

“Yes, like that baby” I replied, feeling my cock stir. I kept on pressing the shutter and the motor drive whirred. The film was at an end and I quickly pressed the button underneath and wound back the spool and put in a new roll of film. Everyone had stopped and were looking at me for direction. “Okay Susan, reach up and grasp Gordon’s cock” I noticed that Chris had beads of sweat on his forehead and that the wig he always wore was obvious under the lights. I saw that he still had a limp penis even

though he was playing with it. “Chris start licking her pussy” I said and he got down in between her legs, kneeling on the floor and stuck out his tongue in the vicinity of Susan’s cunt that I noticed was wet and shiny. Chris stuck out his tongue but it was about three inches away from her vagina.

“Chris get your tongue right out so that it touches her clitoris” I directed. “And you Gordon start to put your cock into her mouth. I kept pressing the shutter and soon another roll was finished and I put in a

new one. “Now I want you to fuck her.” Gordon immediately got his cock into Susan and began to fuck her but Chris could not perform at all.

“Just suck her tits Chris while Gordon fucks her” I said. I was getting some sexy shots even though Chris could not get hard but I did not show his limp penis.

“I’m going to come” Gordon said suddenly and he shot his spunk all over Susan’s clothes. I held down the shutter and it whirred, taking pictures until the film came to an end.

Don’t worry Susan baby, I’ll take you shopping and buy you a new costume” I said.

Susan was inside the changing cubicle and trying on the dresses that she had chosen but she kept the curtain open slightly so that I could see her. Then she walked out of the cubicle wearing a little suit, red of course with a short skirt that fitted the slender shape of her thighs and a little jacket. It was much like the one that Gordon had stained with his semen but she loved it, swirling around in front of the mirror, her long blonde hair fanning out then settling back into place. I knew that she did not do the modelling because of the money because she was earning good wages as a hairdresser. She worked in a salon and also had private customers.

At first I suspected that she was a hooker then when I got to know her better I discovered that she was just a highly sexed girl. She was so beautiful though and as I watched her I wanted to fuck her.

She gave me a glance, a hot look that said “I want to be fucked.”

“You look really great in that one,” I said.

“Do you like this one then?” she asked.

“I think that it’s beautiful and I think that you are beautiful as well.” I replied.

“Yes I want this one Mickey” she replied, her blue eyes sparkling, her face happy.

“Why don’t you keep it on?” I suggested.

“Yes, why don’t I?” she said in agreement.

I walked over to the assistant whose face was smiling with the prospect of a sale. “She will take the one she has got on. Will you put her old clothes into a bag please?” I said pulling out a wad of notes from my fob pocket, and peeling off the money I handed it to the shop assistant.

Susan and I walked out of the shop in Oxford Street. I saw a taxi passing by and hailed it. “Taxi,” I shouted.  “Lordship Lane, Dulwich” I said to the driver.

“So what have you been doing lately? I have been phoning you and there has been no answer the last few days. I went round and the landlady said that you were away” I asked.

“Yes, that nosey old bitch. I know that she always goes into my flat when I am away and goes through my things. Yes I went up to Macclesfield to visit my sister” she replied.

“How old is your sister?” I replied wondering if she was anything like Susan.

“She is seventeen,” Susan replied.

“Is she beautiful like you?”

Susan blushed. “I think that she is better looking than me,” she replied modestly.

“Why don’t you bring her down to London one week?” I asked, thinking about fucking her sister.

“You dirty bastard, I am not going to bring her down to see you!” she said.

“Why not?” I said laughing.

“What my little sister! You must be joking, you would try to fuck her or take pictures.”

“I don’t only do hardcore” I protested thinking of fucking her sister my cock stirring at the thought. “I do glamour as well and I pay well, they don’t even have to take their knickers off.”

Susan burst out laughing, putting her hand over her mouth. “You dirty bastard Mike you are so fucking dirty!” Then she looked at me with an intense look and grasped my erect penis through the material of my trousers. “I want you to fuck me” she said.

I looked up to see if the taxi driver could see and put my hand up her skirt and in between her legs. She started to compress her thighs and then relax them, squeezing my hand. Out of the window I could see that we were nearing her flat in Lordship Lane. The journey had really seemed quick. “It’s much more relaxing letting someone else drive you about” I thought.

I sat up and got out the sum it said on the meter and added a pound and the odd change. The taxi was now going up Lordship Lane and I leaned forward. “We are nearly there. That will do just under that big tree” I instructed. The driver pulled up under the tree which was just outside

Susan’s flat and I got out helping Susan onto the pavement, her mini skirt giving me a glimpse of the little black knickers that she always wore.

I handed the driver the money. ”Here you are guv’ and there is an extra pound or so for you.”

“Thank you Sir!” the cabbie said smiling and drove off in a U-turn.

Susan grasped my hand as we walked up the front garden path and quickly took the keys out of her bag and unlocked the front door.

Inside the flat she pulled away from my grasp. “I am just going to the loo?” she said.

I sat down hearing the bath water running and knew that she was washing herself and built a fat three skinner out of grass. I lit it and inhaled deeply hearing the seeds pop. I liked a smoke before I had sex, it increased one’s sensitivity and made one less inhibited.

I was beginning to get high as she walked through the door wearing a short black see through babydoll nightie, stockings, suspenders and high heel slippers. My cock hardened immediately as I drank in this vision of feminine beauty and sexual attraction.

I extended the joint towards her. “Wow you look ravishing and I am going to give you a good spanking, sucking and fucking.”  

Susan laughed, taking the joint and having a little puff. “I love it when you talk dirty,” she said, wiggling her hips.

“I’m just going to take a leak” I said and I walked into the bathroom and it was all still filled with the perfume of Susan’s bath and the walls and windows wet with condensation. I pulled down my trousers and washed myself in her sink after having a piss and walked into the front room.

“I’m in here” Susan’s voice came from the bedroom.

I went in and she was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking the joint.

When she smiled and gave me her sexy look I knew that she was stoned. I took off my clothes, admiring my body in the mirror. I was toned now and my muscles had regained the definition that I had lost in the past because of eating and drinking too much without working out. I looked at the reflection of my big cock in the mirror.

Susan’s eyes were fixed directly on it and I turned round.

She grasped it immediately and began sucking it, looking up at me as she did so.

“You dirty bitch you love sucking my big cock don’t you?”

Susan nodded her head without taking my cock out of her mouth and smiled. “Mmm” the sound vibrated through my cock.

“You are such a dirty girl” I said looking at her sucking my cock in the mirror and then back down at her. “And you know what I do to dirty little girls like you?”

She shook her head, moving her head from side to side.

“I spank their bums until they are all red and tingling then I fuck them really hard.” I said.

Susan began squeezing her thighs together and her body gave a little spasm. I knew that she was really turned on now and I took my cock out of her mouth and pulled her to her feet. “Bend over the bed” I commanded.

Susan bent over pushing her tight little buttocks up into the air, offering them to me in obeisance. I pushed down her waist so that her buttocks pushed up even more and I could see the crutch of her knickers pulled tightly over her pubic mound. I grasped the waistband and slowly pulled them down to reveal her pure white buttocks and her cunt that was moist with her juices. I pulled apart her buttocks and saw the tight pink rose of her anus. Then I began to spank her, bringing my hand down across her buttocks, first one side then the other, building up a rhythm, getting a little harder each time.

Her bum was reddening now and she wriggled, swaying her roseate buttocks in a provocative manner. I felt her cunt which was really wet now and oozing love juice down her thighs and sank to my knees. I began to suck and lick her.

Susan moaned and I could feel the vibrations of an incipient orgasm. I pushed my face right between her thighs and pushed my tongue right inside her, sliding it up and down, going from her clitoris and then sucking at her cervix. I had become animalistic now and had completely abandoned myself as she writhed, squeezing my head between her thighs as her body was racked by multiple orgasms. I turned her over and pushed a pillow under her thighs which she lifted in anticipation.

She grasped my hard penis and guided into her wetness. I bent up her thighs and began fucking her, harder and harder hearing the sound of my body smacking against her.

“I want you to wank yourself while my big cock is up you” I said.

“Oh yes, yes” she gasped. “I love wanking myself” she panted and her hand slid down in between her legs and she played with herself.

I pushed myself up so that my arms were straight and I looked down watching her hand flicking from side to side. The way she masturbated produced little slurping noises as she flicked her finger in and out of the opening then she began to spank her swollen pubes.

“Oh you are a dirty girl aren’t you because only dirty girls like you wank themselves while they are being fucked. Do you know what I am going to do now?

“No” she answered, rolling her eyes up so that I could see the whites as she always did when she was really sexually aroused.

“I am going to shoot all my hot spunk up inside your tight little bum hole.” I promised.

“Oh yes, yes” she moaned.

“Say it then” I ordered her. “Say that I want you to shoot all your hot spunk up my tight little arsehole.”

“I want you to shoot all your hot spunk up inside my tight little arsehole” she repeated obediently.

I bent up her legs pushing her thighs down onto her stomach and rubbing my hard cock up and down her anus I slowly pushed it in.

She moaned as it went up her arse “Oh yes. I love it this way.”

Her cunt was wet and oozing love juice her, vaginal lips open as my cock moved in and out of her anus. I opened her thighs and began to spank her cunt. Her pubic mound reddened as I did so and I concentrated the slaps onto her clitoris which I could see was red and engorged. “I’m going to shoot all my hot spunk right up inside your little tight arsehole” I said feeling myself past the point of no return, then I came copiously in a long extended orgasm. I could feel my spunk spurting out and

shooting up inside her hot body.

“Oh yes! Shoot it all up me” she moaned as her body trembled with orgasm after orgasm.

I pulled out my cock and my white spunk oozed out of her anus.

The Pig

Chapter 47

The phone was ringing and I picked it up. “Hello” said a Cockney voice that I had not heard for some time.

“It’s the Pig, all right?”

“Yeah, all right.”

“Can I come over?”

It was about ten in the morning and I had just arrived home from taking Laura and Billy to school. “Yes you can come over. I’m just having a bit of breakfast. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“All right, see you in about fifteen minutes.”

The Pig only lived around the corner in Clapham Road. He was a fence and Roy had introduced me to him a couple of years ago. I looked around my flat and the carpet that I stood on and many other expensive objects.

The Pig had sold the carpet to me for a third of its value a couple of years ago. I walked into the kitchen and mixed up some scrambled eggs,

put them on the electric cooker on a low heat, opened the fridge and took out a packet of smoked salmon and put three large slices onto my plate. The scrambled eggs were ready now and I poured them onto my plate next to the salmon where the pink and yellow colours created a nice

contrast. I sat down, took a lemon, cut it in half and squeezed the juice over the salmon. The kettle was boiling and I poured it over the loose tea in the pot, then put the tea cosy over it, broke off a piece of fresh baguette and pushed some of the salmon onto my fork with the bread and forked a generous portion into my mouth. I was hungry and it tasted delicious. I had almost finished when the doorbell rang. “It must be the Pig” I thought. I got up and walked into the front room and glanced out of the bay window down onto the pavement where I could see the short, squat form of the Pig standing at the front door with a box under his arm.

The Pig came into the kitchen. “Everything all right Mick?” he asked while making little puffing sounds as if walking up a single flight of stairs had been a great effort.

“Want a cup of tea?” I asked as I reached over and forked the last piece of smoked salmon into my mouth.

The Pig rubbed his hands together. It was strange how a lot of Underworld figures had this habit. “All right son” he answered, placing the box on the kitchen table.

“Sit down” I said and he pulled out a chair and sat at the breakfast table. I placed the tea tray on the table, with two bone china cups, took off the tea cosy and poured one each “Milk and sugar?”

“Yeah two spoons please” replied the Pig rubbing his hands together in a brisk motion.

I sat down sipping at my tea and looked at the Pig and then at the box.

 “Got some nice stuff here for you Mickey, Waterford Lead Crystal, its cut glass, the most expensive in the world” he said taking glasses and a decanter out of the box and placing them carefully on the table.

I reached over and picked up the decanter and was surprised at how heavy it was. “Blimey!” I exclaimed. “It’s really fucking heavy.”

The Pig smiled and handed me one of the big wine glasses. “Feel the weight of this then” he said enthusiastically.

I took the proffered glass and again I was surprised at how heavy it was. “Wow, it’s really heavy.”

“Yeah, this stuff ain’t cheap!” exclaimed the Pig making the grunting noise that got him his nickname.

I studied his face. He was no oil painting either and his nose was rather porcine, as were his little brown eyes that darted quickly from side to side as he spoke.

“This stuff is worth well over a monkey but to you it is a ton and a half” he said, raising his hands so that they were level with his chin as in prayer, and rubbing the palms vigorously together in anticipation of a sale.

“Okay I will take it” I said, pulling out my roll from my fob pocket, peeling off the notes and giving him a hundred and fifty pounds.

The Pig stuffed the notes into his back trousers pocket without counting it. He would count it later.

Now that the business was out of the way the Pig smiled. “Seen that Pat lately?” he asked with a glint in his eye. He had sucked her pussy a few years ago and bombarded her with presents worth a fortune “Why don’t you bring her over to my flat again?” he asked.

“Well I could say to her that I’m going to do a shoot over there and bring her and another girl Susan to do some lesbian pictures” I said.

“Susan, what’s she like?” questioned the Pig eagerly.

“She’s a beautiful blonde nympho of nineteen” I replied.

The sun was shining as I pulled up outside the Pig’s block of private flats. The two girls, Susan and Pat got out of the car and carrying my camera bag we walked up to the entrance and rang the entry phone.

Pat giggled as the Pig’s voice crackled out of the speaker and she turned to Susan. “He gets down there and grunts and sucks, he is exactly like a little pig!” she said.

Susan burst out laughing.

“It's Mick” I said into the speaker and the front door sprang open and we went in. As we were walking up to the first floor where the Pig’s flat was situated he looked over the ironwork balustrade.

His little eyes were darting around and he stared at the girls. “Hello Mick, hello Pat and you are Susan I expect. Mick has told me all about you” he said.

We followed him into the flat and into the front room.

“Anyone want a drink, tea, coffee, beer, red wine, white wine, champagne, orange squash, lemonade? I know that you Pat only drink soft drinks so I stocked up knowing that Mick was bringing you over to do some photos” he said ingratiatingly.

“Oh thank you Charles. I’ll have orange squash please” Pat answered,

smiling demurely.  

“She looks so innocent and one would never guess the things that she got up to in her sex life” I thought.

The Pig beamed. “Yes and you Susan?” he asked.

“I’ll have a glass of champagne if that’s all right” she answered, her top lip tightening against her teeth as she did unconsciously sometimes.

“Certainly” answered the Pig.

“I’ll share the champagne with Susan” I interjected.

The Pig went out to the kitchen and returned with a glass of orange juice with ice for Pat. “Here you are my dear” he simpered, trying to look at her in an avuncular way but coming across like a dirty old man.

He rubbed his hands vigorously together as he went out again and then returned carrying a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket with a stand, draped with a serviette which he placed on the floor next to a massive carved, antique wooden table.

I knew before he said anything, by the narrow neck of the bottle, that the champagne was vintage Dom Perignon.

The Pig pulled the champagne bottle from the bucket with a flourish holding it up he turned the label around to show Susan. “Dom Perignon vintage champagne, only the best for you Susan my dear” the Pig said.

Susan blushed profusely and giggled her approval. ”Mmm lovely I’m sure” she murmured.

We all sat around the flat drinking our beverages while the Pig sipped a cup of tea that he had made for himself. I glanced around his front room which looked out onto the main road. The noise of the South London traffic was quite loud, big lorries and red buses went by in a continuous stream of traffic. He had heavy velvet drapes hanging from brass railings and seeing me watching the traffic he got up and went over to them.

“Shall I close them?” the Pig asked.

“No thanks," I replied. “No-one can see in and I need the light.”

“I thought that you used the flash gun," he said pointing to the Mecablitz that I was mounting on my Canon 35mm.

“I need a lot of light because I am using FP3 which is quite slow but the flash is only a fill in to take out the shadows on the body” I replied in explanation.

The Pig grunted. “Oh I see” he replied.

I loaded a roll of 35mm black and white film into the camera and advanced the motor drive a bit onto the first frame. The Mecablitz powered up making a little buzzing sound which stopped when it was ready and a little orange light came on. It was powered by a wet battery which I wore slung over my shoulder, a sync cable leading from it to the camera. I looked through the camera as if to take a shot of the girls who were sitting on the big leather Chesterfield.

The Pig, thinking that I was taking a shot, rose hastily and went out of the room but remained in the doorway. “Don’t bother about me, carry on!”

he said an eager expression on his face,  as he anticipated seeing the bodies of the two girls.

I pressed the shutter and took an informal shot of the girls drinking and giggling. “We will start in a minute. Carry on with the glasses in your hand” I said. “Charles, can you put that champagne bucket on shot?

Right next to the settee please?” I said turning to the Pig.

The Pig carried the ice bucket and stand over to the settee. “Like this” he questioned.

“Yes that’s fine” I replied looking through the viewfinder. The Pig’s place was a good location with all its luxurious furnishings. Most of my customers were affluent and could identify with the surroundings and the two girls looked quite middle class. Susan wore a suit and high heels and Pat the latest teenage fashion, a rock and roll, flared skirt with petticoats, flat shoes and pink bobby socks, her

long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.  “Okay Susan you are seducing a young girl so you start off with kissing her and running your hands over her breasts” I directed.

Susan smiled and Pat giggled girlishly. Susan, a champagne glass in one, hand placed the other on Pat’s breasts on the outside of her white blouse. I looked through the camera and pressed the shutter, the Mecablitz flashed and the motor drive whirred into life as I took the first shot.

“Now put the champagne glass on the table beside you and unbutton her blouse slowly and slip your hand inside” I said pressing the shutter again. “Now open her blouse to expose those lovely little tits” I

directed. I kept pressing the shutter, taking pictures of each move. The pictures were in a sequence that illustrated a certain theme which today was lesbian seduction. I heard a little grunt from the Pig as I told the girls what to do and glanced sideways to see him standing in the doorway, his hand in his pocket moving up and down. I looked at him and smiled showing my approval.

“Now Susan get your tits out without undressing, just undo your top and hold them up. Now Pat look at them and revolve you tongue around the nipples then start sucking. Susan, open your legs so that the camera can see up your skirt.”

Susan opened her legs showing her little black knickers as Pat sucked and licked her firm, pert breasts. Susan’s nipples were puffy and pink and glistened with Pat’s saliva. Pat’s breasts were small and hard with upturned erect nipples. “Now Pat stand up and Susan pull down her knickers. Not too quickly, just bit by bit” I instructed and the Mecablitz flashed and the motor drive whirred.

The film had come to the end of the roll and I had taken the first thirty six shots. I pressed the unlock button on the camera and quickly rolled back the film and replaced it, snapping the back of the camera shut.

“Now Susan I want you to suck Pat’s pussy. That’s it while she is standing up, her knickers round her knees.” Looking through the camera I felt my cock becoming hard and the sticky wetness of my love juice oozing against my thigh.

“Now Pat let your knickers fall down, keep them on one ankle and sit down on the settee. Susan put that big cushion under her bum. Open your legs wide now Pat while Susan sticks her tongue up you.”

Susan knelt on the floor sticking her tongue out but keeping her head sideways. Both were experienced models now and knew what I required.

“Susan now, you stand up and Pat is going to suck you. Pat you are going to do exactly the same as she has done to you.”

Pat looked at me with a sexy smile and started to go through the poses.

When Susan opened her legs I noticed that her cunt was all wet and shiny.

“Pull yourself wide open Susan. That’s it great” I said in approval.

I shot four rolls of films and stood up the session was over and I wanted to fuck the girls now. I usually did because I was really turned on. The girls knew this and looked at me expectantly as I put away the rolls of film and my equipment and took off my clothes. Then I stood there naked sporting an enormous erection and walked towards Pat andSusan. I stood before them while both girls grasped my cock and began licking and sucking it. Then I pushed Susan down in between Pat’s legs.

“Suck her you bitch” I commanded and she began sucking avidly at Pat’s cunt. Then I began spanking Susan’s white buttocks which soon became red, because being a natural blonde she reddened easily. I slipped my stiff cock into the warm wetness of her cunt and began fucking her. She

was already excited and began to moan loudly and looking down at her roseate buttocks I slapped them hard while I fucked her. Susan was making loud slurping sounds as she sucked out Pat and Pat was groaning too, her mouth opened in a gasp as her breath quickened. Then I was past

the point of no return and Susan and Pat were going to come too I could see this. This made me want to come as well and as they writhed around gasping with pleasure I took out my cock and sprayed semen all over Susan’s red buttocks rubbing in the white creamy mixture. This made Susan come again and she moaned and jerked around then turning around she sucked the spunk from my cock until it was clean.

I walked over to the table and poured out a glass of champagne and gulped it down. “Phew! That should have been on film!” I exclaimed.  

I went to the toilet and as I pissed I heard a whipping sound. I returned to the front room and the Pig was kneeling before Pat sucking at her cunt, making noises exactly like a pig, his trousers down, his

fat buttocks in the air. His arse already bore two red stripes across it and Susan stood over him whipping him with his own belt.

She laughed and looked at me and was obviously enjoying herself. I remember that when we filmed the RAF man she had whipped him too and experienced an orgasm doing it.

Goodbye Bill

Chapter 48

The phone was ringing and I picked it up and as always I always recently felt apprehensive.  

“Hello, I’m going to see Fat Bill today. He is on his last legs and perhaps this is the last opportunity you will have” Roy’s voice echoed over the line. I always thought that it sounded weird now that it was

tapped.

“Sure” I replied a bit shocked because I had not heard from him for a bit. I was always careful never to mention his name over the phone as he had instructed, and I was surprised that he had mentioned Fat Bill, because he had told me that my phone was tapped and showed me how to use ring back. “If it does not ring back then it is tapped off” he said and when I tried it lately it did not, whereas it had in the past.

“I will see you over at Whitechapel Hospital at two,” Roy said.

“Okay I will be there” I replied.

I got there about a quarter to two and parked my car right outside in the main road. I put the sawn off in the boot in case Roy got in to talk to me.  It was almost one when I saw his grey Jaguar approaching. He saw me and parked near me and I walked over as he got out. “Hello Roy nice to see you” I lied.

“You didn’t go over to see the Twins?” Roy said, looking at me accusingly.

“I did,” I protested.

“But you did not go to their house?”

“No, because I met Reggie in the street and he started arguing with me when I told him what you said. He asked me to come back to his house to tell Ronnie. But to tell you the truth Roy, I lost my bottle, because when the Twins are upset they might even kill you. You know Ronnie is a paranoid schizophrenic, don’t you?” I said.

Roy looked at me strangely. I told you that they were going to get nicked. The stupid bastards if only they had got out the country, then they would be all right. Now they will die in prison.”

“Die in prison?” I repeated standing there outside the Whitechapel

Hospital. A slight drizzle of rain was falling but I felt warm in my long Vicuna overcoat. Roy and I stood looking at each other.

He did not speak for a while. “Yes I thought that you did not go. It would not be nice if people in the East End thought that you caused the Twin’s death” he said.

His words sent a chill through my body and I looked around, ready to open my boot and start shooting whoever tried to kill me or drag me in a motor. I was in the East End now. I did not reply to Roy but kept on my guard. I felt fear gnawing at my stomach and I inhaled in deeply and put the thumb of my

left hand on my pulse. I was surprised to find that it was quite normal.

I was becoming an expert in overcoming fear and I was happy because I hated the feeling of it. I felt a smile coming to my lips and as I met Roy’s gaze I felt strong and powerful. I was ready to die like a warrior and I would fight to the death and possibly be triumphant.

“Come on, let's go in and see Fat Bill,” Roy said.

I followed Roy, his long overcoat flowing out behind him. He was smart as usual, immaculately dressed and I noticed how shiny his shoes were as I followed him up the steps of the hospital.

The receptionist at the desk gave us a long look because we looked heavy.

“Visiting time is over gentlemen” she said.

Roy pulled out his warrant card and smiled at the nurse. “Police business” he said.

Her attitude changed immediately and she gave us both a sexy look. “Who do you want to visit?” she asked.

“William O’Malley” Roy answered.

“Ward ten. Up the stairs and follow the signs” she instructed pointing to a staircase. “He already has visitors but they will be leaving now”

the nurse said, supplying the information.

“Thank you” Roy said, running quickly up the stairs. When we got to the ward he turned and silently put his finger up to his lips, then a cunning look appeared on his face as he stared through the small

rectangular window in the door.

I looked over his shoulders and four people were standing around Bill’s bed. They looked upset and I recognised Bill’s wife and his young daughter as I had been to his house a couple of times.

They started to leave and Roy darted behind a stairwell, gesturing to me in sign language to follow his example. I felt as if I was intruding on a very private situation as I watched Bill’s family walk down the stairs, his wife and daughter starting to sob quietly as they got further down.

Roy turned to me and bared his sharp looking white teeth in a grimace of a smile. “Come on” he said and pushed open the door of Bill’s ward which was obviously private because he was the lone occupant.

Bill looked up in surprise when he saw us and a look of terror appeared on his face.

“Hello Bill, how are you mate? Michael and I have come to visit you” Roy said.

Bill nodded silently, his eyes still wide and he glanced at the door, his gaze fixed at the place where he had last seen his family, his lips moving in a silent scream.

“Hello chaps” the words came slowly and distorted from his jaundiced, suffering face.

“Hello Bill old mate” I said, a wave of pity sweeping over me. As I gazed at my old friend, the Fat Billy Bunter who had eaten too many cream cakes and drank too much wine and spirits. I felt my throat constrict and had to try hard to stop the tears that I could feel coming to my eyes. Bill had drips and tubes coming out of him and I noticed that he appeared nervous as Roy stood near them. A film in which a sick man is visited in hospital by killers who pull out the tubes, flashed through my mind, and it was obvious that Bill was totally paranoid at our visit and being alone with us unattended.

He looked at me and I managed a smile. “Don’t worry Bill you are going to be alright” I said but I knew that I was looking at a dead man.

Bill had a big bowl of fruit by his side and expensive bottled water and the grapes that he was told to eat were on the top, a big bunch of black and a big bunch of white. “Go on Bill, why don’t you have some grapes?” I suggested.

“Can’t eat” the words came weakly from the orifice of Bill’s mouth.

Roy just stood there, looking at Bill not saying anything, and then suddenly he turned his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Got to go now Bill, we will come up again next week” he promised.

“Yes Bill” I reassured him. “We will come and visit you again” but as I said the words I knew in my heart that I would never see Fat Bill again.

Roy walked out of the door and I followed him giving a last backward glance at Fat Bill as I left. Roy and I ran down the stairs and as I did so I felt glad that I could run and that I was alive. I emerged into the streets of East London and breathed in the air as the rain, a gentle precipitation from the heavens released my tension.

Roy turned to me. “I have got to go now Mickey, I will see you again.

Perhaps we can go out for a meal” he said.

“Anytime Roy I would be glad to. How about that restaurant at Five Oak Green?” I suggested. This was a restaurant in Kent near where Roy lived.

As I said it and the way he looked at me, I knew that he was lying and he would not call me again. “Sorry I did not go round to the Twins house I would love to have met Nipper” I joked and as I said the words, I could not believe in my own daring, and that I was laughing as I said it, mentioning the name of the Kray’s python that they had named after Nipper Read the copper who had been put on their case...

Roy grinned in that wolfish way of his. “Take care Michael” he said as he got into his Jag and drove off.

He looked every part the gangster, one of the chaps and he was, I knew that.  

I stood there in the rain, watching his car disappear into the traffic.

I then unlocked my boot, taking out the briefcase and opening the door I got in, placing it on the passenger seat. I then drove down the road and parked at Tuppy Isaacs salt beef bar. I walked in and ordered a “Salt beef on rye and a new green.” I took away the hot salt beef sandwich and sat in

my car eating it.

Driving back to London I went over Vauxhall Bridge and up South Lambeth Road to Stockwell where I lived. I realised as I drove home how lucky I was to still be alive, and that all the money in the world could not save you if you abused your body. Too much money had killed Fat Bill and no-one could save him now I thought as I pulled up about two hundred yards from my flat and taking the powerful binoculars from the glove compartment I observed the vicinity of my flat in the main road. The car dealers Pride and Clarke had a big showroom opposite and people often stood there looking at the cars on sale, but I could not see anything suspicious so I drove up and parked my car in the main road outside my front door. It was only a couple of yards of pavement to cross and it would be hard to surprise me here. I unlocked the door, banged it shut behind me and quickly crossed the pavement and unlocking the front door I went in turned off the burglar alarm and entered the security of my

home. I would have to collect Laura and Billy soon.

I sat down in my big leather executive chair and opening the ornate box beside me I took out my pipe. I filled the bowl with weed and lit it with the big silver table lighter that I had got from the Pig, inhaled

deeply then I picked up the book Gordon had given me recently, Richard Neville’s Playpower, and began to read.

Pat’s Admirers

Chapter 49

One eyed Jimmy looked at the photos of Pat and Susan. “I thought that you were not going to use Pat in the photos anymore?” said Jimmy as he puffed on his King Edward and the acrid smell of his tobacco mixed with the sweet smell of my weed. The shop was crowded and one punter looked

around and gave me a funny look as my joint crackled as the seeds popped and I exhaled a large cloud of cannabis fumes into Jimmy’s shop.

Jimmy had a look on his face that said that he was a bit lovesick.

“You are not falling in love with her Jimmy are you?” I said smiling.

He laughed in a strained way and coughed on his cigar. “Don’t be silly Mickey” he said and he opened a drawer and took out a bottle of Keos Five Kings brandy. “Here, have a little drink?”

“No thanks Jimmy I don’t drink a lot now because I’m in training.”

Jimmy laughed hoarsely at the regular use of cigars giving his laugh a rasping sound. “Training, what are you training for?” he asked.

“Survival Jimmy, I’m training for survival, or else I won’t be able to enjoy all the money that I am making.”

Jimmy laughed again, harder this time, and I noticed small tears appearing in his eyes as he coughed, spluttered and hawked a bit of phlegm. Taking a tissue he spat into it and threw it into a rubbish bin

under his desk. He took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his eyes, including the glass one. “Mickey, you really make me laugh sometimes, survival!” he said.

A customer came up to the till with five packets of photos.

Jimmy took the sets of five and wrapped them in a brown paper bag which he sealed with Sellotape from a dispenser. “That will be twenty five pounds Sir” he said, opening the till which I noticed was bulging with banknotes.

The customer gave Jimmy the money, opened his briefcase, put in the precious photos and went on his way. He was well dressed and obviously middle class like most of the men browsing through the photos in boxes and looking at the best sellers which Jimmy had mounted all over the

walls together with 8mm film boxes.

Jimmy gave me a serious look. “No one is after you Mickey?” he said.

“No I’m after them” I replied smiling quickly as I did so, thinking that he must have heard about the price on my head.

Jimmy looked at the top photos of the twelve sets he picked up from the  desk where he had placed them.

“Give me six of each,” he said sadly. “Pat always sells well” he said and he reached into the drawer again and took out a brown bag with Greek written on it and gave it to me. “Here you are Mickey. We are square.”

“Okay Jimmy. See you soon” I said and taking a deep pull on my joint I walked out into Berwick Street glancing from left to right as I did so,

watching that no one was lurking in the many doorways. I walked down Berwick Street towards the market turned right into Broadwick Place where there was a shop right opposite the police station. I walked in and the guy behind the jump took the sets and skimmed through the top

photos.

“Give me three of each,” he said.

I wrote “Broadwick” in my order book. This guy always had three of each no matter what. I noticed that he still owed for his last order. “You still owe me nine pounds.”

“Can you leave it this time?” he asked.

“Okay” I replied and turned on my heel. “See you next week” I said walking out of the shop, turning left, walking up Broadwick Place, crossed Berwick Street and turned into Duck Lane where there was a small shop.

The guy ordered three of each and I left turning right and crossing Wardour Street I made my way to St Anne’s Court. I walked into the first of the two shops in the alley and Flash Mick greeted me from behind the counter.

“Hello Michael, my boy, give me three of each,” he said without looking at the twelve sets of five. “Bejasus they always fucking sell like the proverbial hotcakes” he joked. “And what are you doing after Michael?”

“Oh the usual, taking pictures and doing the birds!” I joked.

Flash Mick flashed the two carat diamond ring on his pinkie and laughed uproariously. As he laughed a big gold chain studded with diamonds bounced up and down on his chest. He always wore his shirt unbuttoned to show off his jewellery. Flash Mick glanced at the solid gold Rolex

Oyster studded with diamonds on his wrist. “Did I tell you Michael that some thief tried to rob me the other week with a fucking blade.”

“No” I replied, knowing that Flash Mick wanted to tell me all about the incident.

“No, tell me about it” I asked with genuine interest.

“By the living heart of Jasus, I scared the fucking life out of him” Flash Mick said with a laugh and standing up he took an umbrella from beside him and brandishing it. “I was after showing him, like this” and he suddenly twisted the handle and I was confronted by a rapier that was hidden inside.

This startled me and my hand went instinctively to the knife that I now habitually wore, clipped to my waistband. “Fucking hell Mick you scared the fucking shit out of me” I exclaimed.

Flash Mick laughed out loud, walking around the small shop, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “The thief ran like hell, like a bat out of Hades down the fucking alley Bejasus” he said laughing then his face turned serious. “I don’t believe you when you said that you were frightened. Nothing frightens you Michael. You were on guard” he said looking at my waistband. “I have showed you mine now show me yours” he said laughing at the innuendo, the tears still glistening in his eyes from so much merriment.

I put my hand on the hilt of my dagger and drew it in one quick movement. The blade was black and when I twisted it the light glinted on the sharp cutting edge. I smiled as he looked at it in fascination.

“By the living heart of Jasus ’tis a fearsome looking thing” he observed.

“Not as fearsome as that fucking big sword you have inside the umbrella” I replied laughing.

This brought the laughter back to Flash Mick’s face.

“Mick, where can I get one of those?” I asked.

Mick put his finger to his lips. “In the little shop next to Bobby Katz” he replied.

I walked out of Flash Mick’s shop and walking a few yards went to the shop next to Bobby Katz’s shop. It was a shop that sold umbrellas, bags, attaché cases, and walking sticks and so on. I walked in and a little bell rang. The guy that ran the shop obviously was a craftsman who made everything he sold. He looked at me.

“Yes Sir! How can I help you? he asked respectfully.

“Flash Mick, in the bookshop, recommended you to me and I would like to purchase one of your excellent sword umbrellas” I said.

The guy looked at me and took an umbrella from under the counter and handed it to me. “Here you are, Sir, try this.”

I took the umbrella and twisted it but nothing happened.

“Push it in and then turn” he instructed.

I pushed in the umbrella handle and twisted and withdrew a long rapier like blade. I examined it carefully but noticed that it did not have a cutting edge. “Do you make them with a cutting edge?” I asked.

“Yes I do Sir but that one is twenty pounds and one with a cutting edge, like this one costs fifty pounds, but it is proper sword made of tempered steel and extremely sharp,” he said, handing another umbrella sword to me.

“Be very careful Sir because it is easy to cut yourself, until you are used to such a sword.”

I carefully withdrew the sword from its hidden scabbard inside the spine of the umbrella. It glinted in the light from the sun that shone through the window of the small shop and I thought that this would be a big surprise for any would be killer. “I’ll take it” I said and pulled out my wad peeling off fifty pounds.

'Shall I wrap it for you?” asked the shopkeeper?

“No thank you, I will carry it.”

“It does not look like rain today” remarked the shopkeeper with a smile.

“You can never tell!” I joked.

“Thank you Sir” the sword maker said as I left his shop and turned left into Bobby Katz’s shop next door.

“Hello Michael. How are you?” Bobby inquired.

“Oh I am fine Bobby” I replied.

“Do you fancy going to Muriel’s tonight for a drink?” asked Bobby.

A couple of years ago Bobby and I would often go to Muriel’s and drink ourselves into a blind stupor and he would often tell me about Belsen. I liked him a lot but I had stopped my excessive drinking now. If I went to Muriel’s I would have to drink because I would be out of place otherwise and Muriel would take the piss out of me all night.

“No Bobby. I’m sorry, but believe it or not, I have stopped drinking now and I only drink a couple of glasses of wine a day” I replied apologetically. Each time I went to Bobby’s shop, which was every week, he would still ask me to go for a drink and every time I had to refuse.

“Goodbye Bobby” I said and walked out into the alleyway, the sword umbrella dangling over my arm. I felt safer now that the Twins were out of the way and confident that I would take on any surprise attack. A sniper could get me. I knew that but there were not many snipers in the London Underworld, I knew, and most of the gangsters had never fired the weapon they were trying to use. I was expecting a close quarter attack with a handgun or a knife and it now seemed increasingly remote to me.

Playboy

Chapter 50

“I would like a glass of milk,” I said to Joey.

“They don’t serve milk with meat “Joey said.

“Why not?” I wanted to know.

“Because Jews don’t drink milk with meat,” Joey said.

“You have told me that but why not?”

“It is in the Talmud.”

“I see” I answered, but I did not, but suspected that there was a health reason and that milk was probably unpasteurised when the Hebrew scholars wrote it down.

“What else did they say about eating animals?” I asked.

“That you should not eat any animal with a cloven foot” Joey answered.

“So a bacon sarnie is definitely verboten in Folman’s” I joked.

Joey did not laugh but put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say things like that in here because people might misunderstand you” Joey said wisely.

“Okay Joey” I promise not to embarrass you” I answered.

“Now what was your grandfather’s name again?” asked Joey in a loud voice.

“Isaac Rayner” I answered.

Two or three of the other diners in the restaurant looked round and smiled at me. Joey was smiling too.

“Fancy going to the Playboy again tonight?” Joey asked.

“Sure Joey”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there tonight in the disco okay. I will leave a message downstairs so you do not have to queue” Joey promised.

I pulled up in Park Lane outside the Playboy club and turned to Sandra.

“Get out and let the guy park it” I said.

“Okay” she replied and got out of the car.

I had already spotted the guy that usually parked my car and had a fiver folded up in the palm of my hand.

“Park your car Sir” he said and I shook hands passing him the fiver and gave him the keys with the other hand.

“Have a pleasant evening Sir” he said and got into my car driving it into the underground car park.

I walked into the club and when the desk guy saw me he picked up the internal phone and was not long until I was met by Sacha one of the

Bunnies. “Good evening Sandra and Michael, will you come this way please?" she said. Sandra and I followed her and she took us past a long queue of people waiting to get into the Disco.

“There is an enormous amount of members trying to get into the Disco,

and you would be queuing for hours, but Joey told me you were coming” she said while opening a

door that led into the kitchens. Sandra loved being taken through the back way into the Disco.

Sandra smiled broadly showing her perfect teeth. I walked behind her watching the swaying of her hips and the bounce of her long black hair that reached down to her buttocks. She looked beautiful in the off-the-shoulder evening dress that she wore. We followed Sacha into a lift and she pressed the button for the Disco and it ascended rapidly.

“Oh this is exciting” Sandra squealed.

Sacha laughed, her breasts pushed up by the Bunny outfit bouncing up and down. I could not resist looking down at her crotch where the Bunny Girl outfit pulled up tightly into her pudenda.

“Have a nice evening you two” Sacha said as the lift arrived at the Disco and she led us through a curtain into the restaurant area and right up to a table where Joey was sitting with his beautiful young wife Michelle.

Joey smiled as he saw us approach. “Good evening Sandra, Michael sit down,” he said.

Sandra and I sat down in the two chairs that he had been saving for us.

I looked at Michelle. “You look great Michelle” I said and turned to Joey. “You know your wife is beautiful, don’t you Joey” I said smiling.

Michelle blushed but smiled at my compliment.

“What about me?” Sandra asked.

“Oh Sandra you are very beautiful you know that but I never tire of telling you” I replied.

Sandra laughed and fluttered her long eye lashes which she had made extra long by eyelash extender. Her eyes were outlined with Leichner make up, her lips reddened and her face powdered and rouged. She had spent two hours getting ready while I listened to music and smoked a joint. She wore a pair of matched Cartier amethyst earrings surrounded by diamonds which flashed and sparkled each time she moved. As she gestured talking to Michelle a large gold, opal ring surrounded by diamonds glittered on her finger. Sandra looked like a professional model, which she was, a very rich one. I had bought all the jewellery from Brian Goldsmith who was a partner in the Walkers Court bookshop.

Michelle too was wearing lots of expensive jewellery, diamond earrings and a pearl necklace. I looked at them and the two girls were leaning across the table talking animatedly to each other.

The wine waiter came over and I ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon which was brought quickly to our table and opened by the waiter.

The girls giggled and laughed as the bottle was opened with a popping noise and the sparkling wine was poured into two flutes.

“Oh I love champagne” Michelle remarked as she sipped at the frothy white wine.

“Yes it is lovely isn’t it darling” Sandra burbled.  I leaned forward to Joey. “Terrible about Fat Bill

 isn’t it?”

“Yes he was obese though wasn’t he?” Joey replied.

“I would not say obese, just rather fat. He always reminded me of Billy Bunter, poor old Bill. I will miss his company” I said sadly.

“Yes it is sad to lose a friend.”

“What about the Krays? Do you think anyone will miss them?” I asked.

Joey’s face became serious. “They were insane and I am glad that they are gone for good. But there are still some that I wish had gone down with them.” Joey looked at me intently. “Your man Gerry, for example, he is an ex Kray gang member and they should have rounded them all up. He was an enforcer on the taxi drivers in the east End.”

“Ex Kray gang…” I exclaimed in surprise making out that I did not know but Gerry had told me this when we were in nick together. I knew also that a lot of the East End cabbies were Jewish, but I did not know about the protection racket on them, or the part Gerry had played when working

for the Krays.

“He used to hurt the cabbies if they did not pay in time. Yes and he used to run a club for the Krays, the Adam and Eve at World’s End, in the Kings Road until he fell out with them. You should not have him working for you already.”

“Joey he will be in the new shop in Lisle Street shortly and I want a hard man in there” I said

 excusing my employment of Gerry, but basically deep down I was still afraid of him, afraid that if I did not give him the job that I had promised him then I would have trouble with him myself.  

“Michael you should not employ someone, a maniac, someone that you might not be able to control. Look at his behaviour at the 007 bar that night” Joey said wisely.

“But Joey I owe it to him because he looked after me in nick and I promised him a job when he got out. I can control him and he does what I say” I replied justifying my actions.

“But can you trust him with all that money? Joey smiled.

“Well Bernie’s man will be in the shop too and he will be on a good commission, so I don’t expect any problems” I explained.

“All right Michael my boy, but I think that you are wrong, but let us forget it now and enjoy the night” said Joey pleasantly.

The music from the disco was thumping out and I felt like dancing. I turned to Sandra “Got a cigarette?” I asked.

She smiled and opened her bag bringing out a packet of what appeared to be tipped menthol cigarettes, but neither of us smoked tobacco and had given up years ago. What I had done was to get some cigarettes and roll them between my fingers and thumb until all the tobacco had fallen out,

then I had refilled them with a mixture of herbal tobacco and cannabis resin.

“Here you are” Sandra offered me one of the doctored cigarettes and I lit it. We started smoking and it was not long before the pungent smell pervaded the nostrils of the adjoining tables and club goers were turning and trying to see who was smoking cannabis. We joined in this game too and began looking around with our tipped cigarettes in our hands.

“Poo someone is smoking cannabis” Sandra said and began looking around like other people. “Can you smell it?” she asked.

“Yes and it is really strong stuff” I said keeping a straight face.

“Can I have one too?” Michelle asked.

“Of course” Sandra said and gave her one of the funny cigarettes.

Michelle took a few light puffs and joined in the game too.

Joey did not touch the stuff but he sat there a benign look on his face.

Joey was sixty four and Michelle twenty one about the same age as my wife Sandra. Michelle was very good looking and sexy. Everyone was enjoying themselves and the effect of the smoke started to creep up on me and then suddenly I was stoned.

“It’s a creeper” Sandra exclaimed laughing. “Come Mickey, let's get on the dance floor.”

I arose immediately and Michelle pulled Joey to his feet and we all made our way onto the floor. Sandra was a good dancer and she gyrated in tune to the music, drawing admiring glances from

others. I was not bad myself and Michelle was good too. Joey danced quite well but with the reservation of someone who never really lets go.

Sandra was shouting “Joey” over the noise of the music. “Joey ask the disc jockey to put on La Bamba” she said.

Joey who was dancing near the jock gave him Sandra’s request. When La Bamba came on her eyes lit up and she began to dance spectacularly. We all sang along with the words as we danced and the evening was turning out to be fun. Joey and Michelle left the floor after a while but Sandra and I danced for an hour.

“Fancy a bite to eat” I asked.

“Yes I am absolutely starving” Sandra answered.

“Do you want to go upstairs to the restaurant or to the buffet?”

“To the buffet” Sandra replied and we made our way through the dancers, off the floor and back to Joey’s table.

I ordered another bottle of champagne while Michelle and Sandra went to the self service buffet. They came back with plates piled high with spicy chicken legs, smoked fish, prawns and other delicacies. We all got stuck into the food rather making pigs of ourselves, I thought, but I felt good and everyone was happy. Sacha visited our table and Joey asked for his own bottle of Sambuca. The girls giggled with delight as the liqueur was lit and it gave off a blue flame.

Driving home Sandra unbuttoned my flies and I knew that she was horny. She laughed while getting down to suck me off while I was driving. I protested but I was enjoying it.

Back home Thelma the babysitter was asleep upstairs and I fucked Sandra on the settee in front of the fire. With no preliminaries I pulled up her dress and pulled aside her black knickers my cock getting really hard at the sight of her milky thighs encased in black stockings and a set of suspenders. I fucked her hard until she squealed “I’m coming Mickey” and writhed around in orgasm then I came up her and we went to bed. It was two in the morning.

An Idyllic Tryst

Chapter 51

The phone was ringing and I picked it up. “Hello” I answered, conscious of the fact that it was tapped.

“Hello this is Oscar. Can I speak to Sandra please?” a male voice with a West Indian accent said. It was Sunday morning and Sandra was still in bed and Laura and Billy were playing in their bedroom.

“Hold on a minute. I will call her” I replied wondering who this Oscar was. “Sandra Oscar is on the phone,” I called.  

I heard Sandra pick up the extension by her bed and I put my phone down.

I remembered receiving some strange phone calls recently that were silent, or that when I picked up the phone there was no reply. I suspected that someone wanted to speak to Sandra but when they heard my voice they put the phone down.

I started to cook breakfast, steak with an egg on top with mushrooms. I had been eating a lot of steak since coming into money.

Sandra your breakfast is ready and the kids too” I called up the stairs and I heard her put down the phone. I put the plates onto the kitchen table where we had breakfast. “It’s on the table

everyone” I called out.

Billy came into the kitchen followed by Laura. “What’s for breakfast Dad?” he asked.

“Steak with an egg on top and mushrooms” I answered. “It will make your muscles grow.”

“Yummy yum yum” Billy answered.

“Yucky! I don’t want steak Laura” exclaimed.

“Okay sugar pie I will give you the mushrooms and an egg” I replied.

Sandra came in “Good morning” she said brightly.  

“Good morning,” I replied, putting her breakfast on her plate.

When we were all eating and the children were chatting and eating I looked at her. “Who is this Oscar?” I asked.

“I used to work for him when you were locked up. He owns Churchill’s nightclub” Sandra replied, smiling innocently.

“What you were a hostess?” I asked.

“Well you were locked up and after Moody nicked me then I did not have any money coming in. I could not live on the dole Mickey. I had to do something” Sandra explained,

I knew that the hostesses in Churchill’s were just high class hookers and I realised that Sandra had been fucked rotten when I was doing my eighteen months.

“If it wasn’t for that Moody then I could have earned enough money with the photos” she said.

“He had to nick you the order came from above," he told me. He said that he is sorry and that he had to obey orders” I told her.

“Who are these people above?” Sandra asked.

“First of all I thought that it was the Commanders and so on, the higher ranks but now I am pretty sure that it is people in the Home Office, they call it farming” I replied giggling. “Anyway, why is Oscar calling you now?” I asked.

“He is an old friend and likes to keep in touch sometimes” Sandra replied evasively.

“What parts does he touch?” I remarked sarcastically.

“Look Mickey I see who I like, like you do. I don’t tell you who to see” Sandra replied tersely.

“What am I getting annoyed about because I am fucking around all the time” I thought and looking at Sandra I realised that in spite of my infidelity that I still loved her. “Okay then if that is the way that

you want it” I said.

“I’m going out later. I have got a business meeting” I lied. “If you go out then get Thelma over.” I got up from the table and went into the bathroom for a shower and shave. I was going to see Rita later on. Take her for a drink then give her a good fucking.

I drove down Streatham High Street and saw Rita standing on the corner of the road where she lived. I pulled up and she jumped in. She was very bubbly and started chatting immediately. I often met her on a Sunday morning and we would drive out of town to Surrey. I headed straight along the Brighton Road, through Norbury, Purley and stopped at a pub near Biggin Hill. “This looks all right,” I said to Rita.

“Yes, a little country pub” Rita replied in her posh voice.

We went in and the place was packed with locals drinking pints of beer.

“A large glass of red and a glass of white” I demanded as the barmaid went to serve me.

“You can have a glass of wine but before I serve her. I will need to see some proof that she is eighteen” said the barmaid in a loud voice.

This brought a few titters from the mainly male drinkers. This was ridiculous. Rita was seventeen and had ample breasts.

I looked at the barmaid who was looking at me. “Bit young for you isn’t she” remarked, encouraged by her clientele.

“No ten years younger. I love her” I replied smiling. “I will take my custom to more salubrious surroundings” I said, taking Rita’s hand. “Come on baby let’s go.” As we left I saw a few hostile glances from a few of the men which I ignored thinking “You hypocrites.”

We were just getting in the car when a couple of guys came out. “Hey you cradle snatcher” shouted one of them running over to confront me. “Don’t come round to our pub again or I will knock you out.”

I noticed that a crowd of men had now emerged from the pub and another one ran over to join his mate.

“Look, I don't want any trouble” I said, opening the car door.

“You fucking dirty bastard” said one and took a swing at me. I blocked it and hit him on the chin with a straight left and he went down with one hit and lay unconscious on the ground. His mate retreated in with undignified haste and I got in my car and drove off.

“Oh Mickey you are so brave” cooed Rita.

“He was just a drunken bum. I could have handled him and his mate” I boasted.

Rita’s blue eyes shone in admiration. “I really feel safe with you Mickey,” she said.

I drove through the wooded roads of Surrey and we came to another pub and I drew up outside, went in with Rita and ordered another two drinks which were served without objection.

Rita liked a few drinks before sex and as we drove to the woods she fondled my erection through the cloth of my trousers. Her breath smelt of wine as she kissed me with her bee stung lips. I drove into the woods, opened the boot and took out a thick blanket. We held hands as we walked deeper into Coulsden Woods, then finding a nice grassy spot I spread out the blanket which Rita lay down on. She looked up at me expectantly and raised her thighs so that her dress fell down. I looked down at this sexy young woman, her golden hair spread out around her, her swelling breasts, her shiny smooth, tanned thighs and lay down beside her. The sun was filtering through the trees and the birds sung to us, the sweet smell of the flora creating an idyllic tryst. I kissed her lips and fondled her firm breasts then pulling her dress off her shoulders released them. I noticed that her nipples were swollen and closed my lips over them, sucking and licking. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure and I slid my hand up the smoothness of her thighs, caressing the swollen mound of her pubes through her tight white knickers. I sat up and pulled her knickers off and buried my face between her thighs and pulling open her cunt I pushed my tongue deep inside and sucked her labia into my mouth. She moaned and writhed in pleasure and I inserted first two, then four fingers into her up to the

knuckles, moving them back and forward, the movement making a sucking sound. She began to writhe around faster and I sucked and licked at her clitoris. Suddenly she cried out and her body shook with spasm after spasm in multi orgasmic waves. I then got up and began fucking her hard

and she closed her eyes, moaning with pleasure.

Suddenly I heard a noise and turning around I caught a glimpse of flesh and movement behind some nearby trees. Immediately I was on my feet and the stranger got up and ran. I dashed after him through the woods and felled him with a rugger tackle. He fell to the ground and I stood over

him.

My adrenalin was up and I had the feeling that I had become an animal who had caught the prey. Looking down I saw a man who looked to be in his early thirties. What were you doing?” I demanded. I felt powerful and I felt like tearing him to pieces and I realised that the old part of my brain had taken over.

Suddenly Rita’s voice came through the eons of eternity bringing me back to the present. “Let him go, Michael.”

I looked down and realised that I had the peeper in a headlock and he was gasping for breath. I released him. “Get out of here you slimy bastard” and kicked his arse as he beat a hasty retreat.

Mail Order Licence

Chapter 52

Opened up the shop door in Bedford Road, Clapham North, and I could hardly get the door open for the stack of mail piled up behind it. Moody had said that it was all right if I did mail-order from this address and that he “Would turn a blind eye.” Moody was paying the governor of Clapham Common, nick on my behalf, and I had a licence on this manor.

Back home I opened all the mail and put all the orders to one side then put some of the money in my pocket and the rest in the wall safe.

I had to pay off Moody again tonight at the Bedford Arms. I had just passed there and the Dustman’s car was outside as usual and I put his money in a brown paper envelope. I knew that this was because the OPS put one down as a snout and I did not like this at all. I pulled up outside the Bedford Arms that evening and Bill’s car had not moved. As I walked into the saloon bar it was like time had stood still. Bill the Dustman was propping up the bar drinking a pint of mild and bitter. Bill

Moody had his arm around Bill’s shoulders and I knew that he often came here and that they were real friends, his wife dressed in her mink coat and her mate at the table over by the wall. All heads turned, that is their heads because they were usually the only people in the saloon bar, other drinkers preferring to get their beer and spirits cheaper in the public bar. The saloon bar was private, like a little room and they had it all to their selves as usual.

Bill the Dustman and Detective Chief Inspector Bill Moody of the Murder Squad were both smiling at me as though I was their long lost friend while his wife and her friend looked up from their female chatter, nodded and then resumed their talk.

“Hello Mickey, how are you? All right son?” asked Bill the Dustman.

“Hello all right Michael?” Moody greeted me.

I forced a grin and shook hands with the two Bill’s. Moody gave me the old square’s shake even though he knew that I was not in the lodge. “I suppose that makes me an honorary member?” I thought. I knew that the pornographers and the Dirty Dozen of the Porn Squad were all members of

the same lodge but I had no intention of having a sword slid across my neck while I was blind folded. The Dustman’s hand was large and sweaty and I noticed his dirty fingernails and two gold rings mounted with large diamonds. His gut seemed to get bigger every time that I met him.

The barman came in immediately and someone entered the saloon bar. He never spoke but just looked at Bill.

“A Worthington White Shield for my friend, another pint for me and a Johnny Walker” Bill said. I noticed that he always paid for the drinks and Moody never put his hand in his pocket no matter how long I stayed, which was not long if I could help it. Bill’s wife lit up another Player’s Weight and gave one to her friend while the two Bill’s puffed on their evil smelling cheroots. The smoke made my eyes sting and I knew that I would have to change my clothes as soon as I got home because my

clothes would stink of tobacco.

“Everything all right Michael?” asked Moody again, his sly eyes trying to fathom the depths of my brain. I smelt his alcohol laden breath and I patted the brown paper envelope in my pocket so that he would notice. He was trying to focus like I was a long way off. “Here is a tip for you” he said. “Go over to Victoria, this is going to be a new place.”

My ears pricked up at this. He had already given me a licence for Lisle Street in Soho and now he was suggesting that I could open another shop in Victoria. I took the brown paper envelope out of my pocket surreptitiously and passed it to the Dustman. I knew that he would give it to his mate Moody later.

Moody knew what I had done and smiled at me. “Yes you are being a good boy now Michael and I’m going to look after you. Victoria, that is what I am saying.” He said swaying slightly on his feet.I knew that it was true because Lesley Alton had mentioned it to me too. I really wanted to get away now because I had done the business and I hated the smoky atmosphere of this South London pub. “Thanks Bill” I said to Moody, patting him on the shoulder. I understand what you are saying and I will

go over there this week and have a look. “Sorry I can’t stay much longer because I am taking Sandra out to dinner tonight and I have a booking in a restaurant over the West End” which was true.

“Give her my regards” said Moody with a genuine look of approval.

The Dustman looked at me. “Have one more drink Mickey before you go.”

“Thanks Bill but I can’t because I will be drinking a lot later on” I excused myself.

Later that evening I parked in Rathbone Place, North of Oxford Street and entered Chez Moi where I had booked a table. The first thing I noticed was that Honor Blackman sat at a table with Princess Margaret and I did my best not to look at them as they studied me and Sandra. The Head Waiter guided us to our table and I ordered a bottle of champagne to drink while we studied the menu.

Sandra nudged me. “There’s Princess Margaret and Honor Blackman over there” she said with excitement.

“Yes, try not to look at them,” I replied, sipping my champagne. “They don’t like to be stared at.”

“But they are looking at us,” Sandra replied with increasing excitement.

“But I have told you don’t look at them because they are watching your reactions, and if you keep staring then we won't be able to get in here again. Look around you and see that no one else is looking at them but you.”

Sandra stopped staring and studied the menu. “Well I want to come here again and I won’t look again” she promised. “Good God look at the prices!”

“Keep your voice down” I said sotto voce. “Yes, the food here is excellent, I have heard. What are you going to have for starters” I asked Sandra in a louder voice.

“Ooh Beluga Black Sea Caviar. I think that I will have that to start” she replied enthusiastically.

The waiter came over. “Is Madame ready to order, and Monsieur?”

“Yes my wife will have the Beluga Caviar and I will have the Hors d’Oeuvre Varies to start” I answered.

“Bon Monsieur,” said the waiter.

Sandra’s caviar arrived and a waiter pushed over an Hors d’ Oeuvre trolley and as I indicated my selection he arranged it around a plate and put it down in front of me. We picked up our serviettes and began eating. I knew that some of the diners would be Margaret’s bodyguards but did not look around but I knew that I would sus them out before the end of the evening. These detectives, members of the Royal Protection Squad, had a certain look about them and I knew that they would find out who I was.

I had Chicken Chasseur to follow and so did Sandra. The meal was delicious. Afterwards I ordered the cheese board while Sandra had Crepes Suzettes. She smiled and giggled with delight as the waiter poured on the brandy and set it alight.

On the way home she gave me a blow job and I fucked her when Thelma left and all in all it was a very successful evening.

The next day I drove up to Victoria and parked near the station. Railway stations were brilliant places to have a bookshop because London was the only place where the OPS allowed pornography to be sold and bookshops that tried to open elsewhere were quickly taken out, always with an OPS officer from the Yard on the raid. In fact all investigations in the UK under the Obscene Publications Act had to be led by an OPS officer from the Yard. As I walked around Victoria I noticed that the best place to

have a shop was as near the railway station as one could get. I noticed a massive shop almost opposite that had been taken over by a charity. I walked in and introduced myself to the lady in charge and explained that I was thinking of renting the premises. She looked unhappy while I was looking around.

“What is it going to be?” she asked.

“A newsagent and bookstore you know for people to read on the train” I replied.

The shop front was massive and when I left I stood outside and imagined streams of punters coming out of the station and walking the short distance to my shop and going into the backroom. “It will be a right earner” I thought.

Tom & Rose

Chapter 53

I picked up the phone and dialled the number written at the top of the letter. As the phone rang I scanned the letter that was signed by Tom and forwarded to me by the boys at the Personal Advertiser. “Me and the missus would like to be in blue films and photos….”

“Hello," said a deep male voice” Tom here.”

I looked at the photo that Tom had sent with his letter. It showed a tall, muscular guy with fair wavy hair and sitting astride his big cock was dark, pretty women with skirts up, wearing stockings and suspenders with a sexy smile on her face. “Hello this is Mick here. You sent me the photo of you and your wife replying to my ad in the Personal Advertiser.” They looked to be in their late thirties or early forties. I studied the photo while I talked to Tom.

“Oh yes I remember” replied Tom in a voice that was quickening with excitement.

“Well I have your address in Kent here and you say that you live in a secluded cottage...”

“Yes it’s right away from everyone.”

“Look I would like to bring a beautiful young girl down to make a film and take some photos with you and your wife, how about me coming down to your place this Sunday?”

Pat sat beside me as we sped through Blackheath and took the signs towards Kent. She spread the map out on her lap. “Yes Mickey this is the right way. Take the sign to Folkestone.”

Pat was pretty good at map reading and soon we reached the turning off the main London to Folkestone Road and heading towards the place where Harry had said that he lived. When I got to the small country lane, it was as he described it, and well off the beaten track. There were only fields, woods and agricultural land surrounding the small cottage. “Rose Cottage” said a sign on the wooden gate and I knew that this was it.

“We are here, Rose Cottage” I said to Pat getting out of the door and running around to open the front passenger door. Pat swung her legs out with a rustle of petticoats under her Ra Ra skirt, giving me a flash of the tight white knickers that she wore. Her feet were enclosed in flat ballet type shoes and she wore ankle socks, a blouse and her long brown hair was tied in bunches with pink ribbons. She looked like a typical teenage girl dressed in the latest fashion.

The front door of the cottage opened and Tom, the guy in the photo, came out and walked down the front garden path. His eyes lit up when he saw Pat. “Mick and Pat?” he questioned.

“Yes. Pleased to meet you Tom and this is Pat.”

He strode towards me, his feet crunching on the gravel on the country lane, and offered me a large hand that felt hard and calloused as I shook it. “I’m Tom he said, Rose is inside” he said. He looked at Pat.

“Hello, darling I never expected anyone as pretty as you” he said.

Pat looked at him with her large, liquid, brown eyes and smiled, showing her perfect white teeth set off by full red lips. “Thank you Tom” she replied sweetly.

I thought again how innocent she looked as we walked up the path and entered the thatched two storey cottage. Rose came towards me, an attractive brunette with ample breasts and nice long legs.

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m Rose,” she introduced herself. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? You brought the good weather with you. Would you all like a cup of tea?”

“Yes I would love one, but Pat here does not drink hot liquids, only soft drinks” I explained. Pat was blushing like a shy young girl and I noticed that Tom could not keep his eyes off her. He had the look of a satyr about him and his features had turned a florid red with sexual desire, his thick bushy eyebrows and powerful physique reminded me of a Breughel painting. I knew that he would have a big cock.  Rose turned to Pat “Would you like some apple juice dear. It is made from our own apples and non-alcoholic?” she asked.

“Yes please” answered Pat.

As we drank our tea and Pat sipped at her apple juice I asked Tom where the nearest cottage was. “About a quarter of a mile away,” he said.

“Do you think anyone will be in?” I asked.

“No, they will be out. But why do you want to know.”

“Because I want to pretend that Pat lives there in the film. Now this is the story” I said, bringing out my working script. I pulled out a biro and began enlarging on my story. It’s a simple story and it is silent.

Pat comes out of the cottage and goes for a walk but she falls and hurts  leg near your house. You and Rose hear her crying and bring her into your house and bandage her leg. Then you start to look up her skirt, Tom, and you and Rose seduce her. I will tell you what to do as we go along” I explained.

Tom had freshly shaved and bathed and was sitting on the settee when Rose emerged from the bedroom wearing a black pencil skirt, black top, stockings and high heel shoes. I sat down and loaded up the Bolex with a roll of Eastman colour film and wound up the clockwork mechanism. I had

another 16mm Bolex that ran off a battery but it broke down now and again and I preferred the reliability of the Swiss clockwork motor that never let me down.

Tom, Pat and I walked down the country lane until he showed me a thatched cottage that was similar to his own. I set up my tripod opposite the lane.

“You stand behind me Tom. Pat I want you to go into the alcove where all those roses are and just pretend that you have just closed the front door, then walk up the path, open the gate and walk off down the road and around that corner then wait for me there.

I looked through the viewfinder. “Action” I shouted, pressing the button that started the camera rolling. Through the viewfinder it appeared as if Pat had indeed just come out of the cottage. I panned catching her perfectly as she walked off down the lane and disappeared around the corner. I picked up my tripod with the Bolex still on it and walked around the corner where Pat was waiting by the side of the lane and smiling.

“Was that all right Mickey?” she asked.

“Perfect Pat, absolutely lovely! What we are going to do now is that I am going to set up my tripod down the road and you are going to walk down the lane again and come round the same corner then walk straight down towards the camera and past me, continuing back down towards Tom’s

house. Just act as if you are a county girl out for a walk on a nice Sunday morning” I directed.

“Action” I shouted and looked through the viewfinder watching a teenage girl walking along a country lane, a slight breeze ruffled her Ra Ra skirt, her firm breasts were delineated against the thin material of her blouse and her hair ribbons fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze. The chirping of birds filled the air and the sound of her shoes reminded me that the next film that I made would have a magnetic strip and a soundtrack.

Back outside Tom’s cottage Tom got a stone and placed it in the road.

“Now Pat I want you to be whistling and looking over there” I said gesturing towards a field. Suddenly you trip over the stone and fall down. I will then cut and come over to where you are and apply a bit of stage blood to your knee, take a close up, zoom out and then get some footage of you crying. Do you think that you can cry, or shall I get an onion?”

Pat looked at me and smiled. “No, I can cry,” she promised.

I shot the scene and ended with Pat sitting by the side of the lane crying, nursing her knee, which I had anointed with a generous amount of stage blood that looked very convincing on camera.

Cut to the inside of the house where Tom and Rose are kissing with Tom’s hand up Rose’s skirt. Suddenly she puts her hand up to her ear and I film her lips saying "Tom can you hear someone crying?”

I film Tom and Pat emerging from the cottage and going over to the girl, they help her as she limps into their cottage. Now we are inside and sexual expectations are beginning to show as Pat’s skirt slides up as her knee is bandaged. The application of first aid turns into a caress then Rose is kissing Pat on the lips while Tom is pulling off her knickers and then he is down in between her legs, sucking and licking Pat’s cunt with enthusiasm. Tom was like an animal and he really abandoned himself to the part.

He was down there for a long time and I took shots from all different angles.

“Now Tom, stand up and take your trousers off. You Pat look up at his cock as he reveals it, and you Rose, you get down in between Pat’s legs and suck her like Tom did” I directed. Tom took off his trousers and I was pleased to see that he was hung like a stallion. I captured Pat’s look as she gazed at Tom’s huge member. “Pat, reach up and get hold of it then wank him off” I said. I was getting some horny material now and I felt my loins move. When this happened I knew that I was going to make a good film. “Now Pat, start to lick and suck his cock” I said.

Tom looked at me with delight on his features. “Don’t look at me Tom.

Just look at what you are doing, forget the camera and enjoy yourself” I directed.

The final scene was Pat sitting on Tom’s huge member while Rose extended her long tongue and licked Pat’s clitoris as her husband’s cock slid in and out. When I had shot enough of this extraordinary scene I put down the camera and joined the action. I put my stiff cock into Rose from the rear while she was licking Pat and fucked her hard. I had her skirt pulled up, and her buttocks pulled apart watching my cock go in and out.

We were all intensely excited and Tom was panting and grunting like a huge beast as Pat sucked him off until he came a second time. Sitting in the editing room I wound the rushes through the Movieola edit machine and it looked so real. I cut out the pieces that I did not like and spliced the remaining clips together, using a splicing machine and film cement. I made a dupe copy and finally sat down to watch it on my own in the dark while smoking a huge spliff. As I watched the images flickering

on the screen I got my cock out and played with it.

Dippers

Chapter 54

I tried to kiss Sandra but she pulled away from me. “Mickey, your breath really smells,” she said.

I cupped my hands breathing into the palms in order to smell my own breathe and it stank. “You are right I will have to go to the doctor because none of my teeth are bad” I said.

I was a private patient at a practice just round the corner to my flat in Stockwell. I entered the building and the receptionist asked my name.

I answered “Michael Muldoon.”

“Sit down Sir the doctor will be with you in a minute” she said.

The doctor, a naturalised German, entered. “Good morning Michael, will you come this way?” he said smiling.

I followed him through the crowded waiting room past all the locals, some who obviously had been waiting a long time. Small kids ran around, their mothers shouting and trying to control them, but most sat there silently with defeated sad expressions on their faces. These were mainly working class people from Stockwell or Brixton who wanted a pill to cure their dis-ease of the world or a sick note from the doctor to escape their daily toil for a few days...

“Who’s he?” I heard someone complain as I walked past the sorry ranks of the sick.

“Come into my office and sit down,” said the doctor.

I sat down in the chair that he indicated.

“Now what is the problem Michael?” he asked, his German accent still quite obvious after decades of living in England.

“I have bad breath. I think that it’s halitosis” I replied.

“Mmm let me have a look” said the doctor. He rose from his large leather chair, picking up a medical torch and pulling on a pair of latex gloves that made a crackling sound as he did so. “Open wide please” he said, like a dentist looking for cavities and shining the torch into my mouth.

“Nothing wrong there, excellent teeth, no gum disease” he observed pulling off the latex gloves and throwing them into a pedal bin, which banged shut. He sat back down in his big leather chair and looked at me.

“Do you eat a lot of meat and protein?” he asked.

“Yes, I eat a lot of steak, eggs, duck liver pate, fish…” I replied, trying to think what other protein I ate lots of when he interjected.

“Too much protein Michael! You must eat a balanced diet, protein, carbohydrates and fats. It’s simple to cure yourself.”

“I wanted to build up my muscles and become stronger,” I explained.

“Muscle, look at your nearest primate, the ape, they are very muscular and vegetarian” the doctor said with a smile.

I nodded at his wise counselling and got up to leave. “Thank you so much doctor for your diagnosis” I said.

I walked past the rows of sad people and heard the muttering of the envious.

“I can’t help being rich, '' I thought. I emerged into the air of Stockwell and suddenly felt elated that I had nothing wrong with me. Later that day in the West End I bought a book in Hatchard’s in Charing Cross Road about eating a balanced diet. I altered my diet straight away from that day onwards and Sandra and the kids altered theirs too.

I walked through Newport Place and up to Bernie’s Frith Street Bookshop. Joey smiled as I entered.

“Hello my boy! How are you today?”

“I’m fine Joey, how are you?”

“Been quiet today, here look at this picture of Jolie” he said handing me a picture of his daughter, whom I knew was ten, naked in the bath.

“Yes it’s lovely, she is beautiful” I replied.  I wondered why he was showing me this picture and if he had any ulterior motive. I knew that Jolie must have been his step daughter because his wife Michelle was only twenty one. I studied his expression but he seemed just like a father who was proud of his

daughter. I remember when I went to his apartment in Maida Vale for the first time and his wife and daughter, the latter dressed in her school uniform, were stood to attention like servants awaiting my approval. I smiled and he put the photo back into his wallet.

As I walked towards the Toscana in Dean Street, where I was headed for lunch, I thought of the time I had gone to Fat Bill’s house and his daughter of twelve was rolling about on the bed and he looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

“They all try to seduce you when they're young. Blimey you ought to see her and her mate rolling about showing all their knickers and you can see everything. They give you a sexy little smile if they catch you looking” he had said. I was still thinking of Bill as I entered the Toscana and Joey showing me the photos. I wondered what would have happened if I had shown any sexual interest. It was true I liked to fuck teenage girls and had produced lots of “schoolgirl” photos and films, which sold like the proverbial hotcakes, and wondered if those above were tying to discover if I liked really young girls.

Walter the owner came out to greet me carrying a bottle of wine. “Taste this! La Vino Siciliano, vino Mafioso” he said with a laugh, placing two glasses down and uncorking the bottle pouring the rich red liquid into my glass.

I took a sip and swirled it around my mouth and grinned my approval.

“Buono, I like it Waltervery much.”

Walter sat down at my table. “Michael, please bring me some more of your latest films and photos because my customers they love them,” Walter asked.

I never paid cash for my meals in the Toscana now and only left a tip for the waiters. Often these days I did deals and paid with “rollers” instead of cash which was very advantageous to me.

By the time I had finished my meal it was almost closing time. There was only myself left and a large noisy gang of Italian men and women remaining when Walter said goodbye to his last customers and locked the door. As usual I stayed behind and moved over to the Italian’s table. We all knew each other and exchanged greetings. I knew that they were pickpockets, and as usual they emptied all the cash they had “dipped” from people’s pockets and piled it on the table. This always surprised me as they often got several hundred pounds or more. As they counted the cash they laughed and joked. The men were handsome and the women very beautiful. I would have loved to have had them in my films but knew that they would not do it. Their modus operandi was simple. They would get into a crowded tube train, the women wearing sexy clothes, short skirts and low cut dresses showing plenty of cleavage. Inevitably they would get brushed up against or even groped.

The women joked and laughed as they told of their daily exploits.

“The dirty bastard one had his hand on my bottom and he was playing with himself in his pocket with the other” the girl Elena said laughing, her large, firm breasts heaving, showing white teeth against a tanned complexion.

“A Madonna’s face framed by long black hair” I thought.

While the groper was enjoying himself one of the male team bumped into him. “Excuse me, scusi I would say” said Fabrizio, a very handsome guy, laughing uproariously, which would set everyone else off laughing too.

“I took his wallet and he felt nothing and passed it to Antonio who got off at the next stop.” He looked across at Antonio who was now laughing out loud at his daily exploits.

I put my hand in my pocket and took out a block of Moroccan zero zero, a key of which Roy had given me from the Drug Squad almost eighteen months ago. I heated the end with a lighter and the spicy smell assailed my nostrils, crumbled some of the softened resin off onto a saucer and taking a little metal pipe from my pocket I filled it and lit it. This ritual quietened down the gang even though they had seen me smoke before.

I offered the pipe to Elena, and she took and puffed on it, coughing which brought more screams of laughter.

“Fuma la pipe?” I asked, offering it to the other girl Louisa, but she waved her hand in refusal.

Fabrizio looked at me and knowing that he wanted to smoke I tossed the block across to him. He smiled

“Thank you my friend” he said, crumbling off some resin and handing the block back to me. Soon three papers were stuck together and a big joint was rolled and circulating around the table.

They never got nicked Walter had told me. “They pay the squad,” he had explained.

Colours in the air

Chapter 55

We were tripping and Gordon and I were walking along the Kings Road, Chelsea. The pavements were thronged with beautiful people dressed like Gordon. The colours were glowing and dripping onto the pavement and suddenly I felt out of place. I stopped in front of a clothes shop and looked at my reflection in the plate glass window. Dressed in a three piece suit I looked like a businessman, or a gangster. I pointed towards a colourful jacket displayed in the window of the clothes shop. Do you

think that would suit me?” I asked Gordon.

“Yeah man, cool! You would look great in that, all those dull colours give off bad vibes” Gordon said.

We walked in the shop and a skinny salesman approached. “That coloured jacket in the window. I would like to try it on” I said.

“Sorry we don’t have it in your size” remarked the assistant.

“Have you got anything else like it?” I asked.

“Well it is all those muscles” said the guy with a look of slight disapproval. “But you may be able to get something in one of the other shops,” he said dismissively.

Gordon was laughing as we walked out but I felt like some kind of freak. In another shop I found a colourful silk jacket which I struggled into, then I bought a pair of flares and suede boots. I wore all the clothes and put my suit into one of the bags.

I said goodbye to Gordon who said that he wanted to stay in the Kings Road area and went to collect Laura and Billy from school. Parents stared at me as I got out of the car to collect my children but I was feeling great.

“Oh Daddy, we like your new clothes! Don’t we Billy?” exclaimed Laura.

Later when Sandra came in I came out dressed in my colourful attire.

“Coming out for a meal darling?” I asked, feeling rather cool and trendy.

Sandra looked at me and burst out laughing. “Not with you dressed like a hippy” she retorted then she laughed until she cried.

The next day, coming down, I dressed in my suit again, realising there was no way that I could go over Soho in hippy clothes.

One day Sandra and I took some Strawberry Fields that Gordon had given me. During the trip I had put two large PorterHouse steaks on the grill. Suddenly we realised that they were just cross cuts of a bloody thigh and it reminded us so much of human flesh that we could not eat it.  I ate more fish and was slowly going off meat, it was 1969.

Mortal Combat

Chapter 56

I had relaxed a lot now and I began to think that the hit Roy had told me about would never happen because the Krays were locked up forever, but I was still on the alert, despite One Eyed Jimmy telling me that no-one was after me…

I pulled up outside my flat in Stockwell Road. As usual I surveyed the street as I pulled up outside and not seeing any suspicious character I got out of my car, crossed the pavement, opened the street door, entered the communal staircase and walked up the stairs. Ken and Kath’s flat door on the right was open as usual and I turned left into my flat and walked along the passage.

Sandra met me in the passageway, a strange look on her face. “Gerry’s here in the front room” she whispered.

Suddenly I felt fear rising in my stomach and breathed in deeply. “Why did you let him in?” I asked in amazement, keeping my voice low so that Gerry would not hear.

“He said that he had a business appointment with you. He kept on ringing at the door” Sandra replied.

“But you know that I told him never to come round here again” I said.

“I’m sorry Mickey. Why don’t you just tell him to go?” Sandra said.

“Yeah I will” I said with a confidence that I never felt. Plucking up courage I walked into the front room.

Gerry sat on the settee as large as life a big smile on his face.

“Hello Mickey my son! How’s it going, all right” he greeted me.

“Gerry I thought that you were going to phone me when you wanted to see me” I said mildly rebuking him, suppressing the turmoil of emotions that I was managing to control myself by deep breathing.

“Mickey, I took a trip and I just had to see you, my old son” answered Gerry.

His words sent a shockwave through my body. Now I was alone with a person that I never wanted to be alone with ever again, and he was high on acid.

“Why did you want to see me Gerry?” I asked trying to act as though I was not afraid.

“I don’t know Mickey, you know we always was pals until we had that stupid argument” he said smiling in a peculiar way.

“Look Gerry, I have things to do. I’m going to call you a cab to take you home” I replied.

“But Mickey just have a little drink for old time’s sake,” Gerry said.

“Gerry it is getting late now and I have got to get up early in the morning” I said, making excuses.

Sandra walked into the room.

“Mickey, that light is still on in the bedroom and I can’t fix it.”

Gerry looked up grinning. “Yeah I tried to help her and she fell off the step ladder. Didn’t you Sarn?” he said.  “Yes and Gerry caught me!” she said blushing and pointing to her arm.

I noticed a large bruise on her upper arm. My mind reeled. “How long had Gerry been here? Up in the bedroom helping her, was he fucking her?” the thought shot through my mind.

“How about that drink?” Gerry asked a smirk on his face.

“Maybe if I gave him a drink he would leave” I thought.

“Well just one, for old time’s sake” I agreed. I went out into the passage where I had binned a few dozen bottles of my favourite wine Gevrey Chambertin under the stairs.

Sandra followed me out. “I thought that you were going to tell him to go,” she said.

“Listen, do you know that he is on acid?” I said lowering my voice.

“No” she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Well he is on it and he is mad enough as it is” I said hoping I did not sound afraid. “Look, I am going to call a taxi. Just leave it to me and go to bed” I reassured her.

Sandra walked up the stairs and I returned to the front room with the bottle of wine.

“Here you are Gerry” I said, glad that Sandra had gone to bed and was not a witness to my craven behaviour. I poured out two glasses of wine into two lead crystal goblets and handed one to Gerry.

“Fucking hell these are heavy! I bet that they cost a fortune?” observed Gerry.

“Yes they did!” I confirmed.

“Good health me old son” said Gerry pouring the expensive wine down his gullet.

“Good health” I replied weakly. “Pull yourself together. Be a man” I thought and I breathed deeply but it was difficult to stop my pulse speeding up. I went over to the record player and put on some music. I thought that it would have a positive effect on Gerry as it always made me feel good on the occasions that I had been tripping.

I looked down and the bottle was empty. I picked up the phone and dialled the taxi rank, it rang but there was no answer. It was late now, about one in the morning.

“Come on Mickey I don’t want to go home yet because I have not seen you for a long time.” Gerry said with a strange look on his face that was akin to affection.

He certainly did look like he was tripping and was acting strangely. I was getting on top of the paranoia that was attacking me and I began to feel strong again. I don’t know why but I went out and got another bottle, opened it and poured out two glasses. The music was pounding

away. Lou Reed

 one of my favourite artistes “Jo Jo was a man who thought he was a woman, but he was another man…get back Jo Jo …”

“Come on Gerry it's about time you went home, I definitely have got to go to bed” I said.

Suddenly the door opened and Sandra came in wearing a babydoll nightdress. “I can’t sleep, the music is too loud, she complained” she said before turning on her heel and leaving the front room.

“Look at that, she is a bit of all right your missus and that shortie nightie!” Gerry remarked with a leer.

“Look Gerry don’t talk about my wife that way” I said realising that I had drunk a bit too much and the situation was developing into a nightmare. “I’m going for a piss” I said walking out of the room before

Gerry had a chance to reply. In the toilet I stuck my fingers down my throat and wretched and all the red wine gushed out. I had not eaten the meal Sandra had prepared for me because my hunger had disappeared because of Gerry’s surprise visit. However I felt better now and I ran the tap and splashed some cold water over my face. I would go and tell Gerry to go home. I made up my mind and I opened the door.

Gerry was standing right outside a smirk on his face. Suddenly he struck me hard between the shoulder blades. “All right” he said and at the same time I felt him lift me off my feet from behind and felt a sharp pain in my back and I realised that he was biting me. Then he smashed me through the banisters. “Sandra” I screamed her name coming instinctively to my lips. Then I was laying on the stairs with Hawley above me holding me down. I started to fight back, my blows hitting him

in the chest but to no effect and he laughed at my puny blows. The fear had left me now, and in some strange way I felt ashamed at calling out my wife’s name. Gerry’s hands were around my throat now, strangling me, my eyes bulging from my head. “This is it I’m going to die” I thought, but the feeling of fear that I hated so much had left me and I fought back not wanting to die…I was blacking out losing consciousness, then Gerry took one hand off my throat… I heard the click of the switchblade

that Gerry always carried in his jacket pocket. It flashed through my mind that Gerry had hung his jacket on the banister post deliberately and manoeuvred me into this position. Everything was clear to me now at the moment of my imminent death. Suddenly I instinctively grasped the blade as it came towards me and smashed my head into Gerry’s face. Then I jumped up, and by some miracle I found myself standing on his shoulders. Then I dived, a perfect arc into the front room and rolled across the thick carpet and reaching out I grasped the battle axe that was under the television on the floor and sprung to my feet.

Gerry advanced towards me, knife extended, grinning. “I’m going to kill all you big headed bastards” he snarled the expression on his face being one of taking pleasure in his task and confidence in his

superiority as a fighter.

Then I swung the axe with all my strength, seeing the look of surprise on his face as I almost severed his upper left arm and blood spurting out in a huge red arc…

Suddenly I realised that the head of the battle axe had snapped off. I dropped it and turning around I drew a dagger from the scabbard on top of the television set. “Get out you fucking evil bastard, get out of my house” I shouted.

Incredibly Gerry still came on, not retreating but trying to stab me.

Thick jets of blood were spraying from the gaping wound in his left upper arm.

I stabbed him, driving him out of the front room, into the passageway. It was dark in the passage and I held the knife extended, stabbing, driving him towards the door… his back hit the end wall and groaning he slid down it.

“You fucking bastards…all over a stupid woman…” his last words mixed with blood gurgled from his lips as he died.

Suddenly I was aware of the terrible pain in my hands. As I staggered back along the passage I was aware that I was covered in blood. I entered the front room and looked at my hands; both were pumping blood from deep wounds…

Suddenly I heard a shout.

“Mickey” Kenny shouted, his voice raised in alarm. “You fucking bastard” he shouted.

Hearing the sound of blows I staggered back into the hallway… Kenny, a knife in his hand plunged it, again and again into Gerry’s inert body.  

“He’s dead Kenny, he’s dead” I shouted.

“Fucking bastard” replied Kenny stabbing him again.

“Kenny he’s dead” I repeated reaching for the light switch. The light revealed the carnage and rivulets of blood still trickling down the walls.

Kenny suddenly stood up and in the light I saw that he was red with blood from head to toe. “Thank God that you’re alive Mickey, I thought that it would be you” he panted out of breath.

I looked at him and started to shiver uncontrollably and returned to the front room with Kenny following.

 “Are you sure that he’s dead?” Kenny said anxiously.

“Kenny, I killed him. He was already dead when you stabbed him.” I replied.

Kenny stood there a big knife red with blood still in his hand.

Realising this he slowly released it and it dropped to the floor.

“Mickey, Mickey” came Sandra’s voice. Then she too entered the room a horrified look on her face. “Is Gerry dead? Are you all right?

“Yes I’m all right,” I replied.

“What shall we do now?” Kenny asked.

I realised that both of them were looking at me expecting me to take control and this snapped me out of the state of shock that I was in.

“I think that we ought to get rid of his body before it gets light,” I said, making a snap decision. I could

not phone the police because I did not trust them.

As we pulled Gerry Hawley’s body down the wooden stairs the head bumped, making a noise as it hit each step. He was a big guy and manhandling his Inert corpse was not easy.

“Sandra, you go out and open the rear door of the car. Me and Kenny will carry him across the pavement and it will look as if he is drunk” I said. The pain shot through my hands as with an enormous effort we pulled Gerry’s inert body to an upright position and got our shoulders

under his arms. “Okay Kenny” I said and we walked the dead man across the pavement, his feet dragging, and pushed him into the rear of the car.

“You will have to drive Sandra” I said "my hands are really hurting.”

Kenny sat in the back with the dead man and I sat beside Sandra in the front passenger seat. “Epping Forest right off our manor that will be a good place to dump him” I said.

We drove across London and onto the North Circular Road. There was not much traffic on the road that time of night and we made good progress.

We saw a police car but they did not give us a second look. Soon we were driving along one of the main roads that run through Epping Forest.

“As soon as you see a road that leads into the forest turn off” I ordered.

“There’s one,” Sandra exclaimed and turned into it.

“Okay keep driving, get deep into the forest” I commanded. The headlights lit up the road and the trees lining it while I stared into the dark night looking for a suitable place to dump Gerry’s body.

Suddenly I saw a clearing. “Stop and back into here but make sure that you don’t get bogged down” I instructed.

“See us back Kenny” I said and Ken jumped out of the back and guided Sandra into the clearing.

We pulled Gerry’s body out of the car and as it slumped onto the wet grass I became aware that it was raining.

“Take all his clothes off” I ordered and stood there in the rain as the body was stripped bare except for a pair of underpants. I had told them to strip the body bare because the police might identify the body by the clothing, but I did not say anything about the dead man’s modesty, and got back into the car. We drove home silently and when we got there I walked up the stairs with an effort feeling exhausted.

My hands were throbbing with pain now and Sandra ran a hot bath for me.

As I gingerly lowered myself into it the water became red with blood.

Sandra came in with a towel and dried me and bandaged my hands.

“Come on Mickey you go to bed” she said and led me up to the bedroom and put me in, where I coiled up in the foetal position, and exhausted I fell off to sleep.

 I awoke in the morning and just lay there for a moment. I was alone in the bed and then I thought of a bad nightmare that I had last night.

Suddenly I became aware of the pain in my hands and took them out of the bed. They were bandaged and stained with blood that had seeped through the cloth. I realised with a shock that the events of the night before had been all too real. The house was silent and I got up and looked in the kid’s room and it was empty. I walked down the stairs and someone had stuck most of the broken wooden bannister back into place.

Downstairs all signs of last night's bloody struggle had gone. Blood washed off walls, carpets replaced. I walked into the front room and there was Sandra asleep on the settee with a bucket of red stained water by her side. I walked out of my flat and across the landing into Kenny’s.

No one was in the front room and I walked up the stairs and looked in his and my sister’s bedroom. There was Kenny asleep in bed. I decided not to wake him as it was obvious that he and Sandra had stayed up all night cleaning up all the signs of last night’s battle. They had done a very good job and I felt proud that I had such loyal friends around me, who came to my aid in times of dire need. I tiptoed silently into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. It was difficult as my hands were hurting so much but I managed with some difficulty. I sat down and sipped at my tea and started thinking of the events of last night. “Why had I panicked and dumped Hawley’s body in Epping Forest where it was

sure to be found and examined by forensic scientists?” I thought. What a stupid fool I had been. I had panicked when I had needed a clear head and others had looked to me for guidance. If I had planned to kill Gerry then it would have been simple. I had large vats of acid over at the film processing laboratory and I could have dissolved the body. It would have been simple. Suddenly I knew that we had to return to Epping Forest and get the body and take it to the laboratory. I jumped up and went out of the kitchen and into Kenny’s flat.

I hated to wake him but time was of the essence. I shook him and he woke up his eyes wide.

“Kenny it is alright it’s me” I said.

“What’s going on?” Kenny said, still half asleep rubbing his eyes.

“Kenny sorry to wake you but I panicked last night. I made a bad mistake, I know now that we should have taken the body to the lab and dissolved it in acid, and then they would never discover it. He had so many enemies that they would not know where to start looking” I said.

 Kenny sat up in bed. “What shall we do then?” he asked.

“Let’s go back and get the body! It was right off the road, in a slight hollow in the ground, the long grass would make it invisible from the road. Come on Kenny let’s go. By the way, where are Kath and the kids?” I asked.

“She took them up to Mum and Dad’s” Kenny replied.

I knew that my sister Kath would tell my Mum and Dad what had happened.

I expect that I would have told my Dad myself anyway. “All right Kenny then we can go over now I’ll go and get some clothes on.”

“All right,” he said, getting out of bed. “I will be down in a minute. But do you know what I am glad that you killed that cunt because he would have killed you.”

“He would have killed all of us!” I replied.

“How do you know that?” Kenny asked a shocked look on his face.

“Because he said so, he said that he was going to kill all us big headed bastards” I replied.

“But why, was it because he was a nutter on acid?” asked Kenny, a look of disbelief on his face.

“No, he had a gloating look on his face as though he was going to enjoy murdering us all, but I think that he picked up the hit. We all knew too much, me, you and Sandra. I don’t know if he was on acid, maybe he just said that to frighten me” I said pondering. “But come on, let's go we can talk in the car.”

Sandra was still asleep on the settee and I hurriedly scribbled a note:

“Have gone out with Kenny. Will be back in a couple of hours, love Mickey.”

Kenny drove to the North Circular, destination Epping Forest.  As we drove I noticed a sign for Chelmsford. “Fucking hell, I didn’t know that this was the way to Chelmsford. That’s where me and Gerry became pals” I said.

“Become your minder you mean!” exclaimed Kenny.

“Yeah, that’s the worst thing that I ever did but on the other hand Chelmsford was a really heavy place. When I walked round with Gerry no one ever gave me any aggravation.”

 “You sound as if you like the cunt!” remarked Kenny. “I have always fucking hated him. He threatened Kath once” said Kenny.

“You never said anything to me and neither did Kath” I said in surprise.

We were on the North Circular now and I noticed that we were doing seventy.

“Slow down Kenny, we don't want to get a pull now” I said.

Kenny eased back on the accelerator. “No, I did not want to cause a row.

She was frightened of that cunt and so was I. You should never have brought him into the house” Kenny said accusingly, looking at me fiercely, his nostrils flaring and his brown eyes liquid with emotion.

I knew that he was right then all this never would have happened.

“Yes but I thought that he was just a hard man who I could use over Soho,” I said.

“Yeah but when you found out that he was an evil bastard you still had him around” Kenny observed.

“No I didn’t Kenny! I challenged him to a straightner even though I thought that he would muller me “I objected. “That was so I could tell him not to come up the house anymore. You don’t think that I wanted to fight him. Do you?” I asked.

“Yeah but you still kept him on the firm and he was still your man” Kenny observed.

“Yeah and if I had fucked him off he would have been our enemy” I said putting my thoughts into words.

“Looks like he became our enemy anyway, why was that?”

“I don’t think that he liked taking orders from anyone. He was fucking jealous of everything that I had.” We were nearing the turning now where we had dumped Gerry’s body. “Here it is, it’s the next turning” I said.

“Look, you just drive and I will look for anything suspicious. Okay?”

Kenny did not answer but just drove looking at the road ahead.

“We are almost there now” I said while noticing that the forest looked very different by day and that one could see much further into it. It’s just round the next bend I think, but if Old Bill is there don’t look, just look straight ahead.” I held my breath and as we turned the bend I noticed the red and white tape and police vehicles immediately. “Drive on” I muttered urgently, trying to look at the road and not glance from left to right. “A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime” I thought. The words passed through my head and I held my breath as we passed the crime scene. Soon we were out of danger and no one had stopped us.

“Fuck it, they have found it all ready. How the fucking hell…?” I said.

“Just our fucking luck” Kenny muttered. “I wonder if they will be able to identify him?” he said.

“Of course, by his prints” I observed.

As we drove back to London we discussed what the next step would be.

“Let’s get rid of the weapons, the knives, the axe, shotgun and any incriminating evidence at our place then go up to the company flat and clear up any evidence that Gerry was ever there” I said. My mind was racing and I still thought that we had a chance of not being connected with Gerry’s killing.

Later that afternoon we got all the weapons I had secreted around the flat and had taped under tables, hidden behind pictures and so on and the sawn off and driving over to Kennington Oval we dumped them into the waste bins in the council flats by putting them down the chutes. As the shotgun rattled its way down I thought of some dustman discovering it in the rubbish. We had wiped everything clean and I was relieved that we were destroying all the evidence of the killing.

However the alley next to our house was full of evidence, blood stained carpets and our dustbins full of it. I thought of shifting it but then the dustmen were due tomorrow and we left it.

Destroying Evidence

Chapter 57

The next day me, Sandra and Kenny all sat at the table eating our breakfast. There had been nothing on the television about the discovery of a body in Epping Forest and I went out to get the papers. I bought them all and returned to the flat and we all searched through the papers.

“Here it is," I said excitedly. Unidentified body found in Epping Forest.”

Everyone crowded around the breakfast table with excitement.

“So he’s really dead!” Sandra exclaimed.

We all laughed, but I knew what she meant, and I realised that I was elated to know that he was dead myself. In some strange way nothing mattered anymore because we had come so near to death, stared it in the face and defeated it. “Yippee!” I exclaimed. “He’s as fucking dead as a door nail” I exulted and I was so happy to be alive.

“Will you go up to Mum and Dad’s to collect the kids? Me and Kenny have something to do but I will see you up there later” I said to Sandra.

Kenny and I drove up to the flat in Streatham and parked outside. Then we walked up the drive and I put the key in the lock and we went in. I took a sheet off the bed and placed it on the floor. Dump all his stuff into here” I said to Kenny.

As we took all Gerry’s belongings and threw them into the sheet I reached on top of the wardrobe and my hand touched objects.  I got a chair and stood on it and on top of the wardrobe I discovered a pair of spectacles, a club hammer, a cheese wire, some rope, and a drawing.  I stepped down off the chair and showed the stuff to Kenny before throwing it all into the sheet.

The drawing showed some junkies fixing up, hypodermics, women being tortured and a snake crawling through the eyes of a skull.

“Fucking hell look at this” I said handing it to Kenny.

“Yeah he was a sick fucker all right. I reckon he would have had his idea of fun torturing us and cutting us up alive” Kenny said shivering.

“I hate to think what he would have done. Do you reckon he would have killed the babies as well?” Kenny asked.

“He said, I am going to kill all of you big headed bastards, but we will never know but I reckon that is what he was going to do, get rid of us all.”

As we searched the place I noticed what looked like bloodstains on the walls and even some on top of a door. “I don’t know what went on here but nothing would surprise me with that evil cunt. He did say that he slashed a queer’s arse. Perhaps it’s his blood?” I surmised.

Perhaps he was queer too. He always wanted to hang around you” Kenny said.

“But he was as hard as nails,” I objected.

“But some of them are. Look at Ronnie Kray.”

“Yes I know Lawrence of Arabia and Harry Sheriff, a guy that I knew in the Ville. Fucking hell he was a hard bastard but Gerry was not just hard he was evil, or it would not have turned out this way” I said with regret.

 “Yeah but perhaps it was meant to be Mickey, and I am so glad that you fucking killed him, but how you did it I don’t know, I mean, he always beat us when we were practising martial art. He used to hurt me even with the body armour on” Kenny admitted.

Actually I did not know how I had triumphed over Gerry in that mortal struggle, but I had discovered something about myself, that I could do extraordinary things when imminent death stared me in the face.

“Fuck knows, perhaps it was because he was over confident and under estimated me” I said as I thought of Gerry’s smirking, confident face when I fought back as though he did not feel my blows at all. And the surprised look on his face when I chopped half his arm off.

We drove over to Whitehorse Lane, to the lab in the East End and outside the workshop behind a locked gate we made a pile of Gerry’s personal things and set light to it. We stood there watching his suits, shirts, and the other things burn. An old lady who lived next door opened the curtains and looked out. I smiled and waved and she disappeared behind the net curtains. All that was left

was the top of the club hammer, the cheese wire and his spectacles. As I smashed his glasses with my heel I felt a strange feeling as I destroyed the evidence of Hawley’s existence on Earth.

As we drove back to South London we finally reached Brixton and a queue of traffic at the lights facing Coldharbour Lane brought us to a halt.

It was a sunny day in May and we had the windows down. I rested my arm on the window as we sat at the lights.

“Hello Mickey” said a voice suddenly. “Oh what have you done to your hands?” It was Coloured Pat from Streatham and she was leaning right into the car as we stood at the lights.

I was flustered and I remembered that I had promised to see her again.

“I had an accident,” I explained. “Cut my hands on some glass. That is why I did not come up to Streatham to see you” I said, noticing Pat’s flat mate standing behind her on the pavement.

“We came down to your flat but you were out” Pat said.

At that moment the lights changed to green. “Don’t go to my flat because I am staying with my parents until my hands heal up.” I managed to say as we drove away.

“What a bit of bad luck she saw my fucking hands” I muttered as we drove

towards Clapham Park and my parent’s house. “She went to the flat as well. Fucking hell I hope that they don’t go there again. Old Bill will go there when they find out he was staying there” I said.

“Who is going to tell them?” Kenny questioned me, glancing sideways as we turned into Kings Avenue from Acre Lane.

“Barbara the hooker, she was his girlfriend. They will go round Soho asking questions. That’s where they will find out” I said gloomily.

“But she doesn't know who you are and you used a false name to rent the flat.” Ken observed parking outside my parent’s house.

“Well even if she does not they will find out that he was my minder.

Everyone knew him round the West End.

I rang the doorbell and I heard my father running down the stairs. He opened the door and I saw that he had tears in his eyes. We hugged each other as Kenny shut the door.

“All right Dad?” Kenny said as he walked up the stairs.

“Yes I am all right,” he said.

“Kath told us what happened. You know that it had to happen Mick. He was a bad bastard. Joey told me all about him. He had done lots of people” my father said.

“Well you did not tell me what Joey had said and anyway it’s done now and I have to try and avoid being nicked.”

We walked up the stairs and as we walked into the front room where everyone was congregated my mother got up and kissed me and looked down at my bandaged hands. “What have you done to your hands Michael?” she asked.

“They got cut in the fight Mum, but I won so don’t worry, I am lucky to be alive” I said laughing.

“He is dead then, Gerry?” my mother said in a low voice.

“Yes and good job” I said nonchalantly.

“But won’t they get you?”

“It was self defence, look at this” I said, undoing the scarf that I had tied around my neck to hide the bruises where Gerry had tried to strangle me. Then I took my shirt off to display the two big sets of

teeth marks in my back.

“Good God this man was an animal. Why didn’t you get rid of him after Joey had told you?” exclaimed my father.

“I did get rid of him” I joked laughing.

Sandra was sitting on the floor in front of the fire a protective arm around Laura and Billy as Kathleen nursed her little baby. They looked at me without speaking.

“Michael, how can you laugh at such a thing?” asked my mother a serious look on her face.

I slapped my thigh the tears of merriment coming to my eyes. “Why didn’t you get rid of him?”  repeated still laughing. “Come on, let's have something to eat. I am starving” I said. Laura and Billy were still watching the television and had not noticed the conversation.

We all sat around the table upstairs in the kitchen and as we ate together and drank wine I felt really happy as though I had never appreciated life fully before.

My father spoke “What if…” I put up my hand to stop him. “Look everything is going to be alright

Dad, don’t worry” I assured him.

“Why don’t we go home, back to the flat” I suggested to Sandra.

“You know I couldn’t. He was killed there. I am going to see my sister in Wales with the children” she said.

“Why? We will have to go back sooner or later. It will look suspicious if no one is there if the police visit us. It will look as if everyone has run away. I will go back on my own tomorrow.”

“How could you sleep there?” asked Sandra.

“Easy! He can’t hurt anyone anymore” I said grinning and feeling on top of the world.

The Old Grey Fox

Chapter 58

The next day I drove past the flat on a recce and the burglar alarm was ringing. I knew that the police were inside and I drove back to my parent’s house. On the way I stopped at a chemist and bought some plastic skin. My father came to the door immediately and as I followed him upstairs. “The police are in there and I am going to go back and bluff it out” I said.

We went upstairs into the kitchen where I gingerly removed the bandages from my hands. My hands were cut down to the bone, the left across the upper palm and the right on the back of my fingers. Kath had dressed my wounds and applied some Savlon and they were healing well, but the healing process had drawn my hands into a permanently cupped position and I found it impossible to straighten them. The blood soaked bandages lay on the table.

“That looks bad Michael. You ought to go to hospital” my father said.

My mother was watching anxiously. “Your father is right,” my mother said.

“I know that Mum but I can’t. I have got to go back to the flat and try and bluff it out” I said.

“What if they arrest you?” my father asked.

“Well then I will take it from there. Don’t forget that I will keep schtum about the licence and that Moody is head of the Murder Squad. I’m sure that I will get some help. Don’t worry and look after my business with Sandra while I’m away.”

My Mum started crying and hugged me.”

I’ll be all right Mum, it could have been a lot worse” I said.

As me and my father walked down the stairs and stopped at the front door we embraced as though parting for a long time.

“Don’t worry Dad. You will have a licence. Just keep everything ticking over until all this is over”I said.

The burglar alarm was still ringing as I pulled, up large as life outside my home, and noticing the front door was opened I walked in and up the stairs. The place was crawling with police.

I walked into the hallway. “Who are you?” a detective asked.

“I live here,” I answered. “What’s going on?”

“Is your name Michael John Muldoon?”

“Yes it is,” I replied confidently.

“Follow me Sir please” ordered the detective and we walked up the stairs and entered my flat.

“Here he is lads. Michael John Muldoon.”

Everyone looked at me in surprise. “Can you turn off the burglar alarm Michael?” asked one of the detectives.

I was taken to Brixton Police Station and locked in a cell. I was given a cup of tea and the Inspector in charge of the station told me someone would be arriving from Epping to pick me up. I had kept my hands as normal  as possible, and a scarf around my neck to hide the bruises.

Then the Inspector opened my cell door. “Show me your hands, the palms please Michael,” he said.

The request astounded me because I could not work out who could have told them about the wounds on my hands. I slowly raised my hands and showed the Inspector the palms.

 “Thank you Michael. We will be moving you soon” he said then shut the door.

Alone in the cell I paced up and down wondering he knew about my hands.

 The cell door opened again and I was put into a police van and driven across London. When I got out the other side I put in a cell again. I realised that I was in Epping Forest Police station.

After being locked up for a few hours I heard footsteps approaching and two detectives unlocked the door.

“The guv’nor wants to see you,” one of them said.

 I was glad to get out of the cell and the detectives took me to an office where I came face to face with a grey headed man who looked to be in his fifties. The room was crowded with several detectives. Who sat around or lounged against walls.

The grey headed detective fixed me with a pair of pale blue, grey eyes.

“I am Inspector Albert Wickstead known as the Old Grey Fox. I have solved every murder that ever came my way. The best thing that you can do is to tell me everything that happened and why you killed Gerald, Joseph Patrick Hawley.”

I just stared at Wickstead. “I want to get my solicitor present before I answer any questions” I answered.

Wickstead gave me a hard look. “If you cooperate with me then I can help you” he promised.

I just stared back at him, aware that all the detectives were scribbling the dialogue in their notebooks. I knew from experience that they had two notebooks and they would write up the official ones together later.

“Tell me where your wife and children are?” Wickstead demanded.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Michael you are not being co- operative and that is not going to help you” said the Old Grey Fox.

“I am not saying anything until I get my solicitor” I replied.

“All right, who is your solicitor?” asked Wickstead.

“His card is my wallet,” I said.

The police had taken all my possessions away from me at Brixton. I had two solicitors, one bent and a straight one for my business, my limited company Nestville Photography Ltd. I decided to use the straight one.

“Michael, you can go back to your cell for a bit. Take him back to his peter lads” Wickstead ordered and two detectives accompanied me back to the cell.

I paced up and down, my mind a mass of thoughts of what I was going to say or do. I had lost track of time as the police had stripped me of all possessions, my watch, scarf, even the bootlaces from my shoes. I looked around the cell. There were bars on the windows and one could not see out, a filthy toilet in the corner which stank and every time I had a piss I was assailed by ammonia fumes and had to turn my head to one side. The bed was a block of concrete, on which a thin brown mattress

lay with three old grey blankets. The meagre light was encased in thick glass, protected by  metal bars high in the ceiling, a table top recessed into the wall and a wooden block fixed to the floor served as a seat. On the walls prisoners had written graffiti. “All coppers are bastards, Tony GBH” or ticked off the days that they had spent in custody.

Footsteps approached again and the door opened and two detectives stood there.

“Come on, the guv’nor wants to see you again,” one of them said.

Wickstead sat in his office. “Sit down Michael” he said, indicating a chair, while his team of detectives sat around with their notebooks ready. He then produced my personal phone book and waved it from side to side.

I wondered whose telephone number he had found. Alton and Moody’s numbers as well as other bent coppers and contacts were in there but were written in a simple code.

“Now I may be able to help you if you cooperate and tell me how and why you have the names of certain high ranking and other ranked police officer’s names in this book. Give them to me all on a plate Michael and you can walk” Wickstead said.

“I’m saying nothing,” I replied.

“Come on Michael, don't be silly. I know what’s going on at Scotland Yard and it’s more important than the death of some gangster. Give me all the names on a plate and I promise that you can walk. We have your wife in custody now. Think of her and your children, because if you don’t I will

charge you and her with murder and convict you, and both of you will go down for life” Wickstead threatened.

“You are wasting your breath” I replied.

“I can go up the Yard and find out what is going on myself, but I prefer you to tell me about all the corruption that you are involved in yourself.” “You had better go up to the Yard yourself then” I replied grinning, knowing that I had something that he wanted badly.

Later that night they brought in Sandra. I heard her crying… “Sandra it’s me Mickey, don’t tell them anything, keep schtum” I shouted out in a loud voice

Footsteps approached the door again and the two detectives escorted me to Wickstead’s office again.

“We have Sandra now and I am giving you one last chance to help her and yourself. All I am asking is that you give me all the corrupt police officer’s names you were dealing with and I will let you and Sandra walk out of here tonight. If not you both will be charged with murder” Wickstead said.

I just looked at him, staring him in the eyes and replied. “I’ll tell you what. You send your firm out and we can talk.”

Wickstead’s face changed because he thought that he was going to get the information that he wanted.

“All right lads all out for a moment” Wickstead ordered and a few of the team gave me dirty looks as they filed out but I did not care. Then I was alone in the office with Wickstead.

“Let me walk and I will give you ten grand cash” I said. I had been saving up to pay for my record to be destroyed.

Wickstead looked at me. “I don’t know what you have heard about me but I am a straight copper” he said.

I knew by his reply that he was lying. “I don’t fucking believe you” I replied.

His face became angry. “Come in lads I have had enough of Mr Muldoon” he shouted.

Back in the cell I shouted “Sandra can you hear me and heard a faint reply echoing through the thick walls. I went to a heating pipe that ran through the back of the cell and tapped on it. Sure enough she tapped back. “Sandra tell them nothing. Can you hear me?” I shouted at the pipe at the top of my lungs.

“Yes all right” came her muffled voice.

The door opened again and the two detectives were outside again.

“Come on” they commanded.

They took me upstairs this time so I knew that this was going to be something different. Two people were in the room. One was Wickstead, the other a tall, spinsterish looking woman in her forties or fifties dressed in a thick tweed jacket and long skirt.

I was told to undress to my underpants and I did so.

“I am doctor Tuck and I am going to examine your body” the woman said.

“Well my wounds will look good in my defence and prove that I was attacked” I thought.  The doctor made a thorough examination of my body, looking at my hands, my throat that was still black and blue, my bloodshot eyes, and my back. “Look at the teeth marks and the bruises around my throat” I said.

“Yes I am making a thorough report on every mark on your body” Dr Tuck assured me.

“Thank you doctor” I replied respectfully.

At the end of the examination Dr Tuck quickly pulled the waistband of my underpants forward and glanced down at my penis that lay flaccid, then gave the same quick glance at my buttocks. Her inhibited behaviour told me that she had never known a man.

Then she took out a huge syringe and stuck it into the vein in the crook of my arm and took what looked like a half pint of blood.

I saw the sly look of the Old Grey Fox as she took my blood.

The next day I was taken to the hall of the police station and Sandra was there, my solicitor and Wickstead and his team.

Sandra and I embraced and she started to cry “Mickey they tried to rape me last night, they forced me down on a bed and put their hands up my skirt.”

I held her shaking body and looked over her shoulder at Wickstead’s team and said to them “You fucking scum” but I could do nothing.

“Was Wickstead there?” I asked.

“No he wasn’t. Just seven of those bastards” she sobbed.

“I’m sorry Sandra, I am helpless at this moment, I can’t do anything” I said, knowing that I had to control my anger and if I attacked them they would just deny that they had touched her and use my attack as proof that I was a violent man.

“I’ll get you bastards” I threatened them and I meant it.

My solicitor approached me. “Keep calm Michael” he said.

Wickstead came out of his office carrying a piece of paper.

“I hereby charge Michael John Muldoon with the murder of Gerald Joseph Patrick Hawley…”

Sandra screamed and my solicitor took notes.

“I am not guilty,” I said.

“I hereby charge Sandra Joyce with the murder of Gerald Joseph Patrick Hawley…” Wickstead said.

Sandra screamed and fainted. We were then put in prison vans and taken to court. In court the magistrates read out the charges of murder and I noticed that in front of the dock was a row of armed detectives. This was unusual and I realised that the Old Grey Fox was trying to make me look a dangerous man. The police had to establish a prima facie case and as the witnesses gave their statements and came into the witness box, one by one I was surprised that Coloured Pat was one. She looked over at me in the dock and smiled.

Sandra was standing next to me in the dock. “Who is she?” she whispered. “Just a model,” I whispered back.

She looked at me, not believing me I knew. The last thing I wanted now was a row about my infidelities.

The police solicitor started to cross examine Pat… “And when Muldoon was round your flat you said that he pulled out a little round tin, a pipe and a knife. What was in that tin and how big was the knife?” he asked.

Cannabis resin was in the tin and I had a Japanese knife in a wooden sheave, with a four inch blade that I used to cut it with, stick it on the end and burn it. I knew that The Old Grey Fox wanted Coloured Pat to give evidence to this effect so that he could show at my trial that I carried a knife and that I used drugs.

Pat smiled at me again. “There was tobacco in the tin and the knife was a small penknife to clean his pipe” she said, giving me another broad smile.

I saw Wickstead angrily approaching the police solicitor.

“The Crown hereby withdraws this witness as hostile.”

Pat flounced out of the dock.

I learnt from the statements read out that Wickstead had found Barbara and gone to my rented flat in Balham and found a note from Coloured Pat and her telephone number on the front door. I cursed my luck and then realised how they had got onto me so quickly and knew about the cuts on my hands.

An army officer had identified Hawley’s body. “Yes, that's my boy,” he said.

Gerry had a parachute tattooed on his arm but had never mentioned that he had been in the Parachute Regiment. “Funny because most guys would have boasted about that” I thought. “How lucky I was to survive a mortal struggle with Gerry, a guy that was obviously a trained killer” I thought.

Brixton Prison

Chapter 54

We were all remanded in custody. I was taken to Brixton Prison and Sandra to Holloway. I cursed the Old Grey Fox for his inhumanity in charging Sandra with murder, and asking for her to be remanded in

custody, even though he knew that we had two children. In Brixton Prison reception my fingerprints were taken and my charge read out and numerous questions were asked about where I had been to school, previous offences and so on. It was dark when the process of induction was completed and I was led to the Hospital Wing by a screw.

As we entered the hospital, the prison officer, after unlocking and locking several doors with a bang and jangling of keys began chatting to me as we climbed the stairs. He spoke in a kindly avuncular fashion.

“Don’t worry Muldoon look through that glass.” We had stopped outside a door through which one could see about thirty hospital type beds, which were all occupied except one, which I guessed was to be allocated to me.

“Everyone in there is on a charge of murder and in Ward Two next door are thirty remands waiting on the same charge. Quite a lot get off.

Don’t worry we know Hawley and we know you. He was a bad one. Best of luck lad” he said smiling.

“Thank you Sir” I said politely as he unlocked the door and led me into Ward 1.

There was a prison officer sitting at a table with a report book open in front of him which was lit by a small desk top lamp.

“This is Michael John Muldoon” the screw said to the observation officer, and giving me a wink he walked away, unlocking and relocking the door as he went.

The ward was dimmed and one or two prisoners had on bed lights and were reading books. I stood in front of the table in silence as the screw who wore the white jacket of a medical officer started to enter my details in the book. I could hear the departure of the kindly old screw that had brought me here echoing, as he unlocked and locked doors making his way out of the prison hospital.

“That’s your bed over there Muldoon” said the observation screw, looking up at his face illuminated by the desk lamp. “Get your head down. Breakfast is at eight o’ clock” he advised.

I walked over to my bed, pulled back the covers and noticed a recess I entered and was pleased to find showers and toilets as well as washbasins. I returned to my bed and taking a towel from my kit I

returned to the recess and got in the shower. I felt dirty after a couple of days in the police cells. I thought of Sandra and the looks on the faces of the detectives who had sexually assaulted her and tried to rape her. Anger flooded through my body as the hot water sprayed down on

me carrying away the dirt, sweat and frustrations of the last few days.

I knew that some men thought that models who posed in the nude, and in porno photos, deserved to be raped. I thought that when I got out I would go down Epping way and find their local pub and do a few of them.

Fantasies of punching and beating them flooded through my mind as I came out of the shower room and climbed into the hospital bed. I looked over at the observation screw that was glancing over at me and writing something in his book. “Big Brother is watching me” I thought and wondering who all these other people had killed. I closed my eyes and was exhausted. I quickly dropped off to sleep.

When I woke up in the morning, I got out of bed and went to recess. Most of the other inmates of Ward 1 were awake and the recess was full with people brushing their teeth, shaving and so on. I had a shave, brushed my teeth and went into the showers.

Then I heard the arrival of the kitchen detail who announced their arrival with a banging of pots and trays that were being unloaded from the four wheeled trolley on which they transported the food. I queued up and took one of the plastic trays with compartments and filed past the kitchen detail who served out the food. Porridge, scrambled egg, jam and bread and joined the other inmates who were sitting at a long table in the middle of the ward eating their breakfast. I noticed six youths who appeared to be mates.

“Who did you kill mate?” one of them said to me.

“I am charged with killing a gangster but I’m not guilty” I replied.

This brought chuckles from the group of youths. “We’re charged with killing a poof on Wimbledon Common but we never done it” the youth replied with a laugh.

While the conversation was going on I glanced over at the observation screw that was watching intently and writing in the Observation Book.

I remembered reading in the papers about a “Queer Bashing Gang” on Wimbledon Common and I guessed that this must be them.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Wally” said the youth.

“Mick, call me Mick” I answered.

This brought a snigger from the gang.

“Why don’t you fucking shut up so I can eat my breakfast in peace,

always fucking yapping” said one of the other inmates, a muscular, dark curly headed inmate whose face was red with anger.

The gang stopped talking immediately and I knew that they were frightened of the angry guy. I guessed immediately that he was a bit of a bully.

After breakfast the kitchen crew returned to collect the dirty trays and everyone dispersed around the ward, some sitting beside their beds. I quickly learnt that inmates were not allowed to lie on, or get into bed during the day. Some sat around reading books, others playing board games or writing letters.

I returned to my bed and noticed that the bed next to mine on the left was occupied by a studious looking fellow who was reading a book on the Ancient Greeks.  

“Good morning. My name’s Michael, I wonder if you could lend me one of your books to read” I asked, gesturing at several books he had lined up on his bedside locker.

“My name is Simon” he answered in a middle class accent, offering his hand which I shook. “Certainly old chap, take your pick” he answered.

“Thank you” I replied looking through his book titles and selecting Joan of Arc. 

“What are you in for?” I asked Simon who had rested the book he was reading on his knee and who obviously wanted to talk.

Simon looked up sadly. “I killed a milkman,” he replied.

“Well why did you do it? You don’t look like a person who goes around killing milkmen” I questioned.

“I don’t know why I did it. My doctor says I am ill my doctor says.”

“Tell me all about it” I asked, interested in why Simon, a meek and mild looking man, had turned into a killer.

Simon looked at me and then started to talk. “I had just gone to the supermarket in Kings Road, you know in Chelsea, and on returning to my flat I saw the milkman leaning on my car. I said to him, do you mind not leaning on my car? And he just grinned at me and made no attempt to get off it” Simon said before becoming silent and thinking back.

“Go on, tell me what happened next” I said, encouraging him to continue.

“Are you sure that you want to know the grisly details?” Simon asked.

“Yes I won’t be shocked” I promised.

“I asked him politely to get off my car again but he made no attempt to do so and just kept grinning in a defiant way. Why I don’t know because I thought that it was quite a reasonable request that I was making.”

“What happened next?” I asked.

Ironically Simon was looking for sympathy and I was supplying it because I wanted to know why he had killed a milkman.

“I was filled with rage and I went indoors and took a meat knife out of the kitchen and went outside, walked up to the milkman and plunged it into his heart. He died instantly sliding down my car onto the pavement, laying there in a pool of blood. I went back inside and called the police” Simon said, looking at me and waiting for my re-action.

“Well I think that your solicitor is right in saying that you were ill at the time” I said.

Simon smiled sadly again. “He said that he is entering a plea of diminished responsibility,

and he said that I will go to a special hospital for a few years before being released into the community when I am better.”  

“Were you under a lot of strain at the time?” I asked.

“Yes my wife had left me and I was depressed.”

“Oh well you were suffering from depression at the time” I said.

“Muldoon visit” the observation screw shouted. “An officer will come for you in a minute.”

“Sorry I’ve got to go” I said to Simon.

I rushed in the recess to check out my appearance and got ready for the visit.

I was ushered into a “visiting box” with a glass sheet in between the visitor and one’s self.

I sat down on the seat which was a plank of wood that folded down and heard my name being called then my father walked into the cubicle from the other side. We stared at each other through the glass and I noticed a tear in my father’s eye.

“You all right Michael?” he asked.

“Of course Dad, look I am going to get off it was self defence” I said.

“Yes but you can’t always predict the outcome I have been told. I have a message for you. Thank you for keeping schtum and if anything goes wrong and you are found guilty of manslaughter you will get three to five years” my father said.

“Okay Dad, got the message” I said, managing a laugh through the glass.

“By the way they have got Kenny and I suppose he will be coming in here to join you soon.

“I will get over to see Sandra tomorrow at Holloway” my father promised.

“How is Mum taking it all” I asked.

“Oh she is worried about you, but you know what women are always worrying about,” he replied.

“I’m having Woodley’s send in the papers. There is a story in one of them where it says that the dock was ringed by armed police” my father said. The house where I had been brought up, and where my parents still lived in Kingswood Road was just around the corner from the prison and Woodley’s was our local newsagent. My father did not have far to come to visit me.