Top Dog Read online

  Kerry Kaya

  Top Dog

  Copyright © 2019 by Kerry Kaya

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Kerry Kaya asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  Editing by Hillary Crawford

  Cover art by Francessca's PR and Design

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  For my brothers, Tony and Daniel. Thank you for lending me your names. X

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Also by Kerry Kaya

  Chapter 1

  As usual, The Albany Tavern, in Plaistow, East London, was crammed full of punters. The air was thick and heavy with expensive aftershave and curling cigarette smoke, as men of varying age and status, jostled to get served at the bar. A safe haven amongst the criminal underworld, The Tavern, as it was more commonly known, was the perfect venue for criminal activity and business to be planned out, albeit some very illegal business.

  Strolling into the packed boozer with a confident air, Danny McKay smiled, as he stopped and casually greeted the men he classed as business associates, before making his way toward his long-term friend and boss, who was stood at the bar. Shaking hands with the more senior members of the firm Freddie Smith ran, he then ordered them a round of drinks.

  He was a handsome man, with a tall, strong and muscular body, his thick dark hair and green eyes masking the fact that he was actually a hard bastard.

  “Is it sorted?” Freddie Smith asked. For his fifty-five years, he was in good shape. His physique was still a match for most twenty-year-olds. Only his lined face portrayed his true age.

  Paying for the drinks, Danny looked across at the older man with a blank expression.

  “Fucking hell, Earth to McKay. I said, is it sorted? The meet, is it on?”

  Amid laughter, Danny nodded his head. “Yeah, sorry, mate. I was miles away.”

  Freddie took out his cigarettes and lit one, before answering. “Fuck our luck then, if all we’ve got is Dolly Day Dream backing us today.” It was a sly dig. Something he had been doing a lot of recently.

  As expected, banter followed, only this time, instead of joining in, Danny found it rankled. Just lately, he’d begun questioning his role within the firm.

  At the age of thirty-nine, the fact that he still took orders from Freddie, even down to which doors he worked, had started to bother him. He was a face in his own right, after all.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at?” Danny turned his attention to Matty Payne, one of the firm’s younger hanger-ons. He’d detested the lad on sight. He was one of those kids whose mother should have swallowed the night he was conceived.

  As far as he was concerned, the kid should crawl back to the council estate he came from. Payne had even had the cheek once, to ask him if he wanted to buy a gun. What the fuck would he want a gun for? He was old school and wasn’t adverse to getting his hands dirty. He would rather use his fists, boots or a blade, than have something over within a second, because he’d squeezed a trigger. Where was the satisfaction in that?

  “I said, what are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing.” Matty looked down at his feet, his cheeks flushed pink.

  Danny took a sip of his brandy, all the while, his eyes remained firmly focused on the young boy. Everything about this kid, from his close-cropped hair, to the ill-fitting cheap clothes that hung off of his thin frame, irritated him.

  He could feel the hatred seep out of him, and would have liked nothing better than to obliterate the little rat, there and then. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something about Payne that got underneath his skin.

  “Leave the boy alone. Who’s rattled your cage, eh?” Freddie, grabbed hold of Danny’s elbow and pulled him close. “We need numbers today. Don’t fuck this up, all because you’ve got a personal beef with the lad. Do you hear me?” he said, leaning into Danny’s ear, his voice suddenly menacing.

  Danny nodded his head, but inside, he seethed. His eyes were hard as he swallowed down the irritation. For twenty years, he had stood alongside Freddie Smith, and only now, as he looked around him, he realised what he had to do.

  After all these years, it had finally sunk in. He would always have to toe the line. Freddie would never allow it to be any other way, and with the likes of Matty Payne joining the ranks, thinking he was one of them, he decided he needed out. He gulped down his brandy and immediately ordered another. This would be the last job he did, he decided. Once today was over with, he would tell Freddie exactly where he could stick his firm.

  * * *

  Freddie could almost taste the excitement in the air, the thrill of the unknown. His body felt like a tightly coiled spring, ready to release at any moment, and he knew from experience, the feeling would stay with him, until his fists had thrown that first punch.

  As per usual, he was the focal point amongst the firm, a role in which he thrived. Only today, he felt more uneasy than usual. From the corner of his eye, he watched Danny.

  The man whom he had watched grow from a young lad to the man he was today, now stood at the same height as him. Over the years, there had been many men who had tried to take over, but he’d always remained the Top Dog. They had neither the power or knowledge to push him from the ranks.

  Danny, on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish. If it was to come down to it, McKay could easily over-power him. The sheer strength of the man was enough to tell him that.

  Standing at just over six feet tall, McKay was a force to be reckoned with. Fighting was second nature to him. He’d always been more than happy to steam in with his fists or size eleven boots. It had made him stand out as a young lad, and was what had made him climb the ranks and become a well-respected member of the firm so quickly.

  More than once, he’d been glad that Danny was one of theirs, only now that fact felt threatening. Danny didn’t only have the power to take over, he also had the knowledge of how the firm ran. He was too clever for his own good, and if he’d been anything other than a heavy, a thug, he would have made a bloody good copper.

  Freddie was worried, not that anyone would be able to tell that by looking at him.

  He had a sinking feeling he just couldn’t shake off, when it came to his num
ber two, and he decided, there and then, he would keep a close eye on the younger man. He would bide his time and if, and only if, the time came, would he deal with it, as quickly and as quietly as he could.

  * * *

  They drained their remaining drinks, and in a single file, they left The Tavern. Once out on the street, they made their way to the car park. From there, they would drive toward Barking, on the outskirts of East London.

  The atmosphere in Danny’s car was almost tangible.

  “I still think we should have steamed into that Greek ponce’s restaurant, instead of arranging this meet,” Danny said.

  Freddie dismissed him. “The place will be swarming with customers.”

  “Element of surprise. We could have taken the lot of them out, and been on our toes within minutes,” Danny argued.

  “Fucking hell, Danny, are you trying to get us all nicked?” This came from Tony, or Big Tone, as he was more commonly known, due to his formidable size.

  “I’m just saying, that’s how I would have played this out. Now the bastard Greeks know that we’re coming,” Danny answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Freddie shot him a look. “It’s a good job that I’m running this firm then, eh? Fuck me lads, we would all be in the nick tonight, if it was left to McKay.”

  Despite himself, Danny allowed a small smile to cross his lips. It was a veiled threat, to remind him of who was in charge, not that he needed reminding. Freddie had never let any of them forget that fact.

  “Sod that. I had enough trouble the last time I was nicked,” Lloydy said.

  Big Tone laughed. “He hasn’t had a shower since then. He’s still paranoid about dropping the soap.”

  Danny laughed along with the rest of the occupants of his car. At some point over the years, the majority of them had all had their collars felt. It had almost become an initiation rite.

  * * *

  Pulling into a disused industrial area on the Southside of Barking, Danny stepped his foot on the brake and switched off the engine. “This is it,” he stated, as he surveyed the barren wasteland. Abandoned warehouse units stood in the distance. The glass windows were shattered, and brightly coloured graffiti was scrawled across the walls. The area was well and truly out of sight from any passers-by.

  The cold air hit him as he climbed out of his car, not that his brain registered this fact. Blood pumped through his veins. His firm body was taut, every muscle straining.

  “You all know what to do?” Freddie asked as he looked around at the men beside him. “This Greek bastard has taken liberties with me for too many years now, and it ends today …”

  The rumble of tyres from across the tarmac broke Freddie’s speech. It was clear to see, by the number of vehicles pulling into the once thriving area, that they were outnumbered.

  “What did I fucking tell you?” Danny growled. “Didn’t I say we should have steamed in unannounced?”

  “Just do what I pay you to do,” Freddie spat, his breath quickening with anger.

  * * *

  George Christos was a small, balding man, whose jovial face belied the vicious nature he had been naturally graced with. Coming from a large family, he rarely travelled anywhere alone, which was just as well, considering he’d made many enemies over the years. As he stepped out of the car, he adjusted the navy blue cashmere overcoat he had shrugged across his shoulders, then spread out his arms in a greeting.

  “Freddie,” he smiled. “A very strange place to do business,” he stated. His Greek accent was heavily accentuated. “I feel this is not to be a happy meeting.”

  “Too right it’s not. You’re stepping on my toes, on my territory, trying to muscle in on my pubs and clubs, and it ends now … today,” Freddie spat.

  George Christos looked around him at the vast number of brothers, cousins and nephews who stood beside him. “Your pubs and clubs?” he asked, in mock surprise. “I do not believe they belong to you, Freddie. Why, you only ran the doors, did you not? And now, I will be running them.”

  Spittle gathered at the corner of Freddie’s lips, so tangible was his anger. His face was pale and drained of all colour. “I’ll fucking kill you before this day is out.”

  George Christos gave a small smirk and nodded his head toward his brother, Alexandros. “Deal with this,” he ordered, before quickly retreating back to the safety of his car. He’d not got to where he was today by getting his own hands dirty, and why should he, he argued, when he paid out a significant amount of money for others to do the deed for him.

  * * *

  Danny curled his fists into a ball. Adrenalin coursed through him, and the charge, when it came, couldn’t come quick enough. He could feel the crack of a cheek bone, as his fist connected with flesh. He had never felt more alive, than he did right now, as testosterone raged through him. He loved the buzz of a good old tear up. He loved inflicting as much damage as he could, and could think of nothing better he would rather be doing.

  As his opponent fell to the ground, Danny grasped the man’s head between his hands, and smashed it repeatedly down onto the hard concrete. Swiftly, he moved on to the next Greek.

  He knew he wouldn’t stop until he was spent, until the very last member of George Christos’s firm were either down on the floor, or had run from the meet. He glanced up to watch Matty Payne go down, underneath a rain of blows. Any other man would have gone to his aid, as it was an unspoken rule. Instead, Danny sneered and turned his back. The little rat could fight his own battles, as far as he was concerned.

  After what seemed like hours, yet in reality, was only minutes, it was all over. Danny helped members of the firm up from the floor, whilst using the back of his hand to wipe away blood from his own mouth. He breathed heavily, waiting for his heart to, once again, reach a steady rhythm. It was only now, as he watched George Christos and his men speed away from the scene, that he would allow his taut muscles to relax.

  Aware of being watched, he turned to see his boss staring toward him. It was at that moment, the older man lunged forward.

  “What was that?” Freddie demanded.

  “What?” Danny took a step backwards and held up his hands. He looked around himself, genuinely puzzled by Freddie’s outburst.

  A vein pulsated at Freddie’s temple and spittle gathered at the corners of his snarled lips. He jerked his thumb in the direction of Matty Payne, who at that precise moment, was slowly being helped up off of the floor. “We don’t leave our own,” he spat.

  “He isn’t anything to me.” Danny gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

  “He is one of the firm,” Freddie roared. He took a step forward and stabbed his forefinger into Danny’s face. “And we don’t leave our own to get a hammering.”

  Pushing Freddie roughly away from him, Danny could feel his temper rising and he battled to keep it under control. “That bastard is fuck all to do with me. He’s a muggy little cunt. So come on, you tell me, why the fuck do we want the likes of him hanging around? Can’t you see what a fucking embarrassment we’re becoming?”

  Freddie moved closer, his voice was low, angry. “The second that lad pulls a punch, he is one of us.”

  “The fuck he is,” Danny yelled back. He looked around him at the men he had known for most of his adult life, before turning his attention back to Freddie.

  He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Since when did Matty Payne take precedence? Since when was Freddie more concerned with some spotty kid, rather than the fact that the Greeks had just hot footed it away on their toes, with the business in hand still unresolved?

  “Do you know what? I’m done. Done with all this shit. Do what you want with the firm, I’m out!” He turned and walked away from the only life he’d known, all the while, he could hear Freddie shouting obscenities at his retreating back.

  * * *

  “I don’t trust him.” Freddie rubbed at his temple, before lighting a cigarette, his second in the last ten minutes.

  Big Tone, narrowed hi
s eyes, confused. “C’mon, Fred, this is Danny we’re talking about. If they were to cut him open, the firm would run through his veins. I mean, come on, he’s been around even longer than I have, and I’m practically a relic.”

  Freddie shook his head. They were sitting in the garden of the Spotted Dog Public House, in Barking. “He knows too much. He knows everything, mate.”

  “Are you saying he’s a grass?” Big Tone’s mouth fell open.

  Freddie shrugged his shoulders. “All I know, is that he knows too much, and we don’t know what he might do with that information.”

  Big Tone, took a few moments to think about this. “Look, do you want me to have a word? I might be able to knock some sense into him, and if I can’t, then at least we will know how the land lies.”

  The men fell silent. The sound of people around them, sitting at nearby tables, was suddenly loud to their ears. Finally, Freddie spoke.

  “McKay’s causing too much trouble. He’s getting involved with things he shouldn’t. And as for wanting out, I won’t allow it. We can’t allow it,” he said, emphasizing the, “We.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the overfilled ceramic ashtray, and continued. “At least not until we know what he will do with the information he has, not only the firm’s business dealings over the past twenty years, but also the information he has on us.” He watched as Big Tone raised his eyebrows at the last part of his sentence, and knew he had the man’s attention. “Exactly, mate. This is why we can’t allow him to walk away. He knows too much about all of us, and some of the shit we’ve been involved in over the years, will carry a hefty sentence, should the Old Bill get wind of it.”

  Freddie decided to leave out the part that was really worrying him. What bothered him more, much more, was the fact that Danny could now go on and start up his own firm, and he was getting too old to be chasing rival firms off of his manor, especially when that rival firm was run by his much younger, stronger, number two. He waited for Big Tone to digest what he’d just said, and when the big man nodded his head, Freddie gave a satisfied smile.