Swingers 3 Read online

  “We can make sure that don’t happen, kinda like insurance,” he said.

  “And how much will this insurance cost me?” I said as coolly as I could.

  “Oh, I dunno, maybe a hundred a week, we’ll see how it goes.” This was the classic protection racket, you pay them for not trashing your business.

  “A hundred pounds a week. I can’t afford that,” I said trying to play along, stalling for time desperately, trying to think what to do. His tone changed and he became even more aggressive.

  “We seen all the people waiting to get in man, you’re raking it in.” He glared at me and the three guys in the doorway moved a step closer. I was surrounded and completely out-matched. These guys were all fit young men in their twenties and I was a forty nine year old bloke with the beginnings of a middle-age spread, but even if I had been thirty again four to one were not good odds. So I decided to play along, get them out of the club and then try to figure out what to do.

  “Okay,” I conceded, “a hundred it is, but I don’t have that kind of money on me now.” Their mood began to soften slightly.

  “Hey man, we know that, we just came along today to do the deal, we’re not hooligans, we’re businessmen.” Again they all laughed. “We do our collections every Sunday night, ten o’clock sharp. You come to the car park across the road with the money.”

  “Okay,” I said, “ten o’clock.” He walked towards the others and they all went out of the front door.

  “Good doin’ business with ya man,” he said before climbing into the obligatory black BMW. As I closed the door behind them I saw another car parked up across the road with at least another five Asian guys inside. As the first car roared off, the second followed, the occupants giving me evil looks as they sped by. Christ, there must have been nine or ten of them and how many more waiting in the wings. It was obvious I was not dealing with street corner yobs. These were an organised gang and when they came, they came team handed.

  I hurriedly locked up and headed home. As I drove down the motorway the anger grew inside me, yet another hurdle to overcome, yet another obstacle thrown in my way, I was seething. I raised my fist to the heavens: “Why do you do this to me?” I raged. “Why can’t you cut me some slack just fucking once, is that too much to fucking ask?” I don’t know who I was screaming at, God I suppose. I just felt someone up there had it in for me and the sense of injustice I felt was overwhelming.

  By the time I arrived home I was calmer. I had called Craig to meet me at home and he was waiting when I got there. As I recounted what had happened, Craig was stomping up and down the living room.

  “Those bastards,” he shouted. “We should give it to them.”

  I had to calm him down and explain that even me, Craig and a couple of his mates would stand no chance. These men were gangsters, they do it for a living and we were way out of our league here.

  Marie was much more composed: “We should call the police,” she said, “those detectives we met will sort it for us.”

  I wasn’t so sure, I remembered one of the detectives telling us, ‘don’t cause us any trouble and we won’t cause you any,’ those words had stuck in my head. Even though this was not of our making it would still end up on our record as a serious incident at La Chambre, all the police would do would be to warn them and that would only serve to make them madder and who knows what repercussions there would be. No, the more I turned it around in my mind the more I became convinced we had to fight fire with fire.

  Sometimes in life even civilised men have to fight. It’s not what I wanted but we had come too far to let some scum just walk in and take it from us. I thought back to my school days and to an extract from Shakespeare that I had remembered all these years. Please all of you Shakespeare buffs out there don’t slaughter me for getting this wrong, but it went something like this. ‘ In times of peace nothing so becomes a man as his fair nature, but when threatened a man must summon up the blood, stiffen the sinews, disguise fair nature and let loose the dogs of war.’ That’s what I needed, ‘dogs of war,’ and I had a good idea where to get them.

  In my youth I had knocked about for a while with a lad named Tony. We became good friends, even though we were like chalk and cheese. Tony came from a violent background and was hard as nails, he rarely went to school and was often in trouble with the police. But I saw something in him, a sadness, an honesty, for all his wrongdoings I knew I could trust him implicitly. I ran with Tony for about two years. It was a wild time in my early teens and I too could easily have gone off the rails but I pulled back just in time. As we grew up Tony and I went our separate ways but every few years I would run into him or hear of his exploits. Tony had moved on from just being a street fighter, he had been a doorman in London and Birmingham, then formed his own security firm supplying bouncers to nightclubs and bars and now he was back in his home town and owned three nightclubs in the city centre. He had done all this the hard way, fighting his way to the top. He was now the biggest gangster in Sheffield and he was a friend of mine.

  A quick phonecall and an hour later I was sat in Tony’s office in one of his nightclubs. He listened to my story.

  “I know the crew you’re on about Baz,” he said, “nasty bastards the lot of them. They’re not local, they come from Rotherham but they must have got wind you’re doing okay.”

  “They saw the queues outside,” I said. “They want me to pay them in the car park next Sunday night at ten o’clock. I don’t know why they just don’t come to the club.”

  “It’s the CCTV, they don’t want to risk being filmed taking it,” said Tony, who then ordered two beers from his desk phone and within a couple of minutes a huge guy with hands like dinner plates brought them in. “This is Mad Mick,” said Tony, “my right hand man.” His hand engulfed mine as we shook hands.

  “I’m not mad really,” he growled, “more like insane.”

  “Sit down Mick,” said Tony. “Barry has a problem which we are going to sort out.” Tony and Mad Mick went into a discussion. I sat listening and drinking my beer while they drew up a plan.

  “How many numbers they got?” asked Mick.

  “Twenty, tops” answered Tony.

  “They will bring about ten on the first pick up to show strength,” said Mick.

  “So we need at least that number,” said Tony.

  “We need all our boys dressed in black and we need to reccy the car park first,” said Mick.

  “You gather the boys for Sunday and me and Barry will go and have a look at the car park,” ordered Tony. Mad Mick crunched my hand again as he left.

  “Good man is Mick,” said Tony, “strong as an ox.”

  “Now you tell me,” I said as I began squeezing the life back into my fingers. Tony jumped into my car and I took him to see the car park.

  “What’s all this swinging lark?” Tony asked as we drove. “I saw you a bit back in the News of the World and thought the dirty, lucky bastard.”

  “Me and Marie have been swinging for years mate, we’ve had some great times I can tell you.” Tony laughed.

  “I don’t think our lass would go for it, but we’ll come over to the club one night for a drink if that’s ok. You never know, she may want to try it.”

  “Hey, how do you know she’s not already a member?” Tony laughed even louder.

  “Now wouldn’t that be something,” he said.

  It was good to be in Tony’s company again after all those years. He is probably the hardest man I have ever known and one of the softest. As a fifteen year old I remember calling for him at his house only to catch him crying watching television.

  “What’s up Tony?” I asked. He looked up, tears still running down his cheeks.

  “The bastards have shot Lassie,” he blubbered, quickly switching off the TV and composing himself. He swears to this day he had something in his eye. The shame of it is that the Tonys of this world are a dying breed; an old fashioned gangster who rarely swears in front of women and would never dream of
hurting innocent people. He lives by a code that is fast disappearing due to the drug culture that is sweeping through society. Today’s two bit wannabees are not real hard men, they carry guns and knives and would kill their own mothers for the price of a fix. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not defending Tony or his like, I’m just saying that they had honour in their own way. I remember Tony once saying to me many years ago, ‘I know I’m a bad un Baz but at least I’m a good bad un.’ I knew exactly what he meant.

  So the trap was set. Tony’s boys would conceal themselves in the undergrowth that surrounded the car park. Tony and Mad Mick would be laid down low in an old banger that they had acquired specially for this job. A length of wood with six inch nails driven into it would be thrown across the entrance to the car park to stop the Asians escaping when it went off. I was to keep close to the banger so I would have the protection of Tony and Mick. Craig, bless him, had insisted on coming along so Tony had put him in the bushes with a guy called Pitbull, with strict orders not to leave Pitbull’s side.

  At the appointed hour I walked the short distance across the road clutching in my hand a brown paper bag with a rock in it. Tony had told me to throw the rock at the nearest Asian and run when it kicks off. But I had no intention of running, this was my fight and whatever happened I was going to stand my ground. The car park was pitch black, Tony had told one of his boys to put the solitary light out earlier in the day. The only car was the old banger which Tony and Mad Mick were crouched down in. I stood there in the darkness, listening to my heart beating out of my chest. It was deathly quiet, but within seconds I heard the screeching of tyres as two car loads of Asians raced into the car park, headlights on full and rap music blasting out from their stereos. They skidded to a halt only feet from me. The big Asian guy I had seen at the club jumped out of the passenger side of the first car. He looked around suspiciously. “It’s dark,” he said, more to himself than me.

  “Kids break the lights all the time,” I said, it seemed to put him at ease.

  “You got the money?” he barked.

  “Got it right here.” I reached into the bag and let loose with the rock. The look in his eyes was a mixture of disbelief and horror as the rock smashed him full in the face. He fell back onto the bonnet of his car and within seconds all hell broke loose. The rest of the Asians sprang out of the two cars only to be met by a barrage of boots, fists and bats as Tony’s boys descended on them from all sides. Tony burst past me out of the old banger, followed closely by Mad Mick, everything became a blur. I saw Pitbull with Craig by his side smash into a couple of the Asians knocking them to the floor. Tony, Mick and some other of Tony’s boys were beating down on a group of Asians, really stomping on them. The big Asian I had hit with the rock was stumbling around with blood pouring from his mouth. As he staggered my way I let fly with a number nine boot right in the gonads. He dropped like a stone. A couple of the gang had dived back into the second car and tried to reverse wildly out of the car park, but only managed to smash into some trees. They were dragged out and beaten mercilessly. It was hideously brutal. Tony’s boys were just raining blow after blow and kick after kick on the now helpless Asians, who were screaming for help. Eventually Tony called a halt, much to my relief. I feared someone would die. Tony then stood over the terrified Asians who were huddled together on the ground in the middle of the car park.

  “Who’s the fucking leader of this shit outfit?” he said menacingly. A couple of them pointed to the big Asian I had hit with the rock. Tony grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet.

  “You fucked up big time here. I own this club, this guy just works for me.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was your place,” pleaded the big Asian.

  “Sorry don’t cut it” growled Tony. He motioned to Mick to come over, he was carrying a baseball bat and without hesitating smashed the bat on to the legs of the Asian guy. There was a sickening crack and he slumped to the ground, screaming in pain. I felt sick but I could not show my revulsion. They had brought this upon themselves, so I stood and said nothing. Tony bent down and screamed at the terrified group.

  “If you ever try this with one of my clubs again, we will come for you, we will kill you, your mothers and fathers, your brothers and sisters and your fucking dog, do I make myself clear?” The trembling group uttered a collective ‘yes.’ It was obvious that some were badly hurt, but they somehow scrambled into their cars and drove away.

  “Just like old times, eh Baz?” said Tony matter of factly while wiping blood off his hands with a piece of cloth. I looked over at Craig and he looked as shocked as I was.

  We had not been prepared for the amount or the scale of violence. Tony and his crew were laughing and joking, to them it was just another day at the office. We went over to the club and opened a crate of beers specially brought in for the occasion.

  “You won’t have any more trouble with those fuckers; so long as they think it’s my place they will leave you alone,” said Tony. “But I’ll send a couple of my boys over for the next week or two when you’re open, just to keep an eye out for them.”

  “Thanks Tony,” I said, “I’d appreciate that.”

  As Craig and I drove home, still shell-shocked from what we had just experienced, I released how far apart in lifestyles Tony and I were. I could not survive in his world and I doubted he could survive in mine, yet in a strange way we were so much alike; we both lived life to the full, both lived it on the edge, we both took chances and pushed our own boundaries. We may be poles apart, but with all our differences and our similarities, I’m still glad to call him my friend.

  We heard on the grapevine that three of the Asians had been hospitalised, two more had left the area and the rest went to ground. We never had any more trouble from them, although a couple of white lads with Liverpool accents tried the same thing a few months later, but when we told them it was Tony’s place and we only worked there they apologised and left very quickly.

  Over the next year or so I got my own team of Asian bouncers, in fact many of you will remember them I’m sure. They stayed with me for many years and kept the idiots and drunks away from the door. As for Tony, he’s still around and still living the only life he knows. My fear is that one day I will hear he has been injured or even killed. Every young buck wants to take him on, he’s my age but still rules the roost. So if you come in the club sometime and see a big old fella who looks like he eats barbed wire for breakfast, come over and say hello, it will probably be Tony.

  Footnote

  I thought long and hard before writing this chapter of the book. I have never told what happened that Sunday night to anyone before. None of our swinging friends knew about it, until now that is, because we couldn’t involve them, it’s something we had to deal with ourselves and we dealt with it the only way we could.

  I’m not proud of this episode and as I say I was going to exclude it from this book, but Marie told me that this is part of the tapestry of the club. La Chambre did not arrive on a sunbeam wrapped up in a silver bow. We had to fight tooth and nail every step of the way just to get it off the ground, then fight to keep it. It was blood, sweat and tears, so it has to be included if only to remind ourselves how thankful we are everytime we open the doors.

  CHAPTER 6

  A Blast from the Past

  It had to happen one day, with all the publicity we were receiving it was only a matter of time before they made an appearance, and so it was that on a cold and rainy November weekend in 1999, Kenny and June arrived at the doors of La Chambre. I was having a laugh with a couple in the foyer when I heard that heavy brummy accent from over my shoulder.

  “Hey hey hey, what’s going on here then?” Kenny was stood on the step grinning from ear to ear. My heart sank.

  “Saw you in the News of the World and thought it was time to pay you a visit.”

  “That bloody paper has a lot to answer for,” I said, only half jokingly. This was the day I had been dreading since we had opened a
lmost two years ago. Just then, June poked her head around the door.

  “Now then big boy, how are you?” She had on the lowest cut dress I had ever seen, in fact her boobs were on the brink of overspill.

  “Hi June,” I replied. “You’re both looking well, and you look well too Kenny.” As usual he completely missed the joke.

  “Not as well as you,” said Kenny. “Quite a place you got here, must have cost a bob or two.”

  “Oh, it’s mostly cosmetic.” I said, trying to play it down. I didn’t want these two knowing my business.

  “We were going to do something like this, weren’t we Ken?” interrupted June.

  “Yeah babe, had it all planned just like this, but couldn’t get the finance, so you just beat us to it.”

  “I’m just lucky I guess,” I said.

  “Lucky to meet us when you were newbies, I reckon we taught you two a few things you didn’t know, eh. Yeah, you’ve always been a lucky so and so,” laughed Kenny.

  Now, I am a mild mannered bloke, but at that moment I could easily have dropped him with a right hook. Luckily for him, as I was contemplating which punch to hit him with another couple came to the door.

  “Hi,” they said nervously, “how do we join up?” Kenny’s eyes lit up like beacons.

  “Are you first timers?” he asked before I had chance to reply. The couple looked bemused and I quickly jumped in.

  “Oh, just go through to reception and Marie will sort everything for you.” I quickly ushered them into the club before Kenny could get in again. He and June were obviously still hunting down fresh meat, as first timers were sometimes known. June came over and grabbed my crotch and as she did one of her boobs fell out of her dress.

  “Well then big boy, shall we have a play later on?”

  “Oh I don’t think we can. We don’t usually indulge when we’re working.”

  “What!” said June pushing her boob back in. “Don’t be so boring, anyway where is Marie?”