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  * * *

  Danny lay back in the bath, the soapy suds covered his aching muscles. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles. A small chunk of skin was missing, more than likely caused by some Greek’s tooth. He dropped his hand back into the warm water and closed his eyes.

  In the kitchen below, he could hear his wife, Maxine, chattering away to their son, little Danny. He tried desperately to drown out her voice, but he couldn’t drive away the disappointment he’d seen in her face, when he had finally staggered home from the meet, with blood staining his shirt.

  Since then, his wife had given him the cold shoulder. The rational part of his brain didn’t blame her. It was the irrational part of him that wanted to shout, “This is who I am, get over it!” He knew, though, that it would be difficult for her to comprehend any type of violence. As hard as he knew she would try, she would not be able to either rationalise or condone his behaviour, if she were to find out just how much of a naughty bastard he really was.

  He climbed out of the bath, dried himself, and then sprayed a generous amount of deodorant underneath his arms. Once dressed, he made his way down the stairs. He pushed open the kitchen door, and stood leaning against the wooden door frame.

  “You okay?” he asked his wife.

  When Maxine didn’t answer, he sighed and crossed the kitchen. He picked his son up out of his highchair and kissed the top of the little boy’s head. “I take it you’re planning on just ignoring me all day then?”

  Stood at the kitchen sink, Maxine turned her head to look at her husband.

  He gave her a small smile to take the edge off of his words. “Come on, Max, enough now, eh?”

  “No,” Maxine said, as she held up her hand to cut him off. “You promised me the last time that you wouldn’t come home in that sort of state again. What’s wrong with you, eh? Coming home covered in blood. You’re like an animal.”

  Danny looked his wife in the eye. As much as he loved her, at times, she aggravated the fuck out of him. “It’s work.” He shrugged his shoulders, already bored with her whinging and whining.

  “Just like the last time was work, I suppose?” Maxine gave a sarcastic laugh.

  “It is what it is, babe.”

  Maxine turned her head away and continued drying the dishes. Despite her anger, she loved this man with all of her heart. But at times, even she had to admit he truly tested her patience. She felt him come behind her, and when his hand gently rubbed her shoulder, she sighed. “I’m just scared that you won’t come home one day, that’s all.”

  Bursting out laughing, Danny leaned forward and nuzzled his face in her dark hair. “Of course I will, you silly mare.”

  Throwing the tea towel down onto the worktop, Maxine turned to face him. “I mean it, Danny. Someone could end up killing you one day.” She pointed toward the small television set on the kitchen counter. “You see it on the news all the time, someone’s been stabbed or shot.”

  “Leave it out, Max,” he laughed. “As if that’s ever gonna fucking happen.” He pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and narrowed his eyes. Big Tone, flashed up on the Caller ID. “It’s work,” he said, handing over their son and leaving the room.

  * * *

  Big Tone took a sip from his pint of lager. A layer of white froth remained on the top of his lip, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand, before giving Danny a wide smile. They were sat at the farthest table in the saloon bar, in The Albany Tavern, far away from prying ears.

  “I take it this is about Freddie?” Danny asked.

  “Look, I don’t know what went on between the two of yous, but for the sake of the firm, it needs sorting out, and quick,” Big Tone answered. Eyeing the brandy glass in Danny’s hand, as an extra precaution, he sat back in his seat. He wouldn’t put it past the man to smash it into his face. He certainly had the temperament to do just that.

  The action was not lost on Danny, and he slowly swirled the brandy around his glass, before swallowing the liquid down.

  When Danny remained silent, Big Tone changed tact. “Look, mate. This trouble with the Greeks is getting out of hand. Something has to be done about them.”

  Danny began to laugh. “Is that what all of this is about? You need numbers?”

  Shaking his head, Big Tone, leant forward. “Look, I’m not going to lie. Freddie is not happy, mate. In fact, he’s pissed off, big time, but at the end of the day, we need you. I’m here as a mate, and all this talk about you leaving the firm is madness. What are you going to do without work, eh?”

  “Nah, I’ll tell you what’s madness. Having little pricks like Payne on the payroll. That was Freddie’s call. That’s how Freddie wants to run things now. What the fuck is it all about?”

  Big Tone shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough. The kid isn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but …”

  “Don’t tell me,” Danny interrupted. “He makes up the numbers?”

  Big Tone shrugged his shoulders, as if to admit defeat. “That’s about the size of it, mate. Look, Freddie wants to go with your plan, and take out the Greeks at their restaurant, in Barking, on Saturday night.”

  Faced with a dilemma, Danny sat back in his seat. A huge part of him wanted to cave in. He’d been looking forward to running the Greeks out of East London. The feud between the two firms wasn’t something new. It went back years. The other part of him knew he would never make anything of himself without leaving Freddie.

  He would always have to live in the man’s shadow, doing as he was ordered to do. He knew he would easily find work elsewhere. He’d been head hunted more than once over the years. Only his loyalty had kept him working for Freddie.

  “So, Freddie’s finally admitted I was right all along, then?”

  Big Tone threw Danny a look. How was he supposed to answer that? “He’s probably just covering all angles.”

  Danny burst out laughing. “Covering all angles? It’s not a fucking snooker table, Tone.”

  “C’mon, Danny. What do you want me to say? I’m trying to make things right between the two of yous.”

  Getting up from his seat, Danny went to the bar to order them another round of drinks. He needed time to think. The feud with the Greeks wasn’t solely to do with who ran the doors. It was personal. By the time he returned with the filled glasses in his hands, he already knew what his answer would be.

  “Okay, I’ll be there for the meet with the Greeks, but after that, I’m out. I’m already in the dog house with my missus, and this will push her over the edge,” Danny sighed. “Oh, and I promise, no more trouble with the kid.”

  Physically relaxing, Big Tone smiled. This had been easier than he’d expected. “Nice one, mate.”

  Danny raised his glass in a toast. “To the firm.”

  Mirroring the action, Big Tone smiled. “To the firm.”

  Downing his lager, Big Tone heaved his heavy body up out of the seat. “One more for the road, mate?”

  “Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.”

  An hour later, they left The Victoria Tavern. Once they were in their cars, Big Tone watched in the rear-view mirror, as Danny drove out of the car park. He then pulled out his mobile phone, punched in a number and brought the phone to his ear.

  After a few moments, he spoke. “It’s done.” He then switched off his phone and threw it down on the seat beside him. With a heavy heart, he began to drive in the direction of his own home.

  As unpredictable and as violent as Danny McKay was, Big Tone actually liked him. Not for the first time, did he wonder if he’d done the right thing, by coming here tonight. Freddie Smith’s decision to permanently silence Danny, lay heavy on his mind.

  Chapter 2

  Of all the things that Danny was, stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d almost laughed at the fact that they had seemed to forget he knew Freddie Smith, let’s face it, probably better than his own mother knew him.

  He knew Freddie from old, and Danny knew he would never have allowed him to walk back
in with open arms quite as easily as he had. After all, he did practically mug the man off in front of the entire firm. No, the Freddie he knew, would have had a bit more to say about the situation than what Big Tone had indicated, and he knew instinctively, the man would want revenge.

  In his twisted mind, he would think of it as using Danny as a warning to other members of the firm, who dared step out of line. At the same time, it would be the perfect opportunity to dispose of the one person who really could take over. He would be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.

  Abdul’s Gym, in Ilford, was where Danny had spent his morning. He had lifted weights for the past thirty minutes. Sitting on the bench press, he grabbed hold of a towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead, whilst he took a few moments to rest, all the while, his mind was working overtime. He had a plan, even though it was somewhat sketchy. He’d battled it out inside his mind, ever since his meeting with Big Tone, and the more he thought it through, the more he believed it could actually work.

  Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he had just over an hour to decide whether or not to put his plan into action. The situation with the Greeks was only just starting to warm up, and time was ticking.

  * * *

  After leaving the gym, Danny drove toward Gascoigne Estate, in Barking. Gascoigne was a typical concrete jungle council estate, dominated by rundown tower blocks. As he pulled into The Hope Public House’s car park, he could smell the pungent scent of decay around him. Signs of poverty were everywhere he looked. Supermarket trollies were flung alongside rusting cars, no doubt the pound coin deposits had been prised out first.

  He watched as a mother pushing a double pushchair, laden down with shopping bags, screamed at a small dawdling child to hurry up, before she beat his lazy arse.

  Danny shook his head. Scum, pure scum, he thought to himself, before making his way inside the pub.

  His eyes scanned the room, and he found who he was looking for in the public bar. This was going to take every ounce of his will-power, just to control the pure hatred he felt for the younger man.

  * * *

  Matty Payne was somewhat of a legend amongst his friends. They listened in awe, as he regaled them with stories about the firm. Somehow, he always became the hero of the story. They would be lost without him, he had them believing.

  Stood at the bar, Matty gulped down half a pint of the cheapest lager he could afford. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and began counting out his change to buy another.

  As the entrance door opened, Matty turned to look, as did most of the regulars—usually those who were either trying to avoid the local drug dealers due to drug debts, or those who were looking to score.

  He felt the colour drain from his face, when he saw Danny McKay stood in the doorway. The sheer size of the man was more than enough to make him look menacing. When the big man beckoned him over, Matty felt his insides instantly turn to mush.

  Looking around him, he saw the barmaid, whom he had half-heartedly tried to chat up once, look Danny up and down appreciatively, an effect he had on most women, and he decided there and then, he had even more reason to hate the man. Danny McKay was everything he could never be.

  For a brief moment, Matty contemplated pretending he hadn’t seen him, until, that was, one of his friends nudged him in his ribs and, then he could no longer deny it.

  “It’s one of the firm … must need me for something important, in-it,” he said. He was full of bravado; he couldn’t show his fear.

  Following Danny outside, Matty found his voice. “How did you know I would be here?”

  “Where else would a rat like you be?”

  “Oh.” Matty felt his heart sink. This clearly wasn’t a friendly visit.

  They walked a short distance away from the pub, and Matty looked around him. Being somewhere secluded with Danny McKay scared the shit out of him, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

  When they were a safe distance away from prying ears, Danny stopped.

  A bead of sweat formed across Matty’s forehead, and he felt sick with fear. He was terrified that someone would find out his secret. It was becoming harder and harder to conceal it, and he’d started to become paranoid about it. Instinctively, he knew that if anyone was going to suss it out, it would be Danny McKay.

  Finally, Danny spoke. “You told me you could get hold of a gun,” he said, lowering his voice.

  Relieved, Matty almost cried. He’d truly thought his number was up. Now that he knew what it was Danny was after, he was once again acting the gangster.

  “Yeah, blud. That’s my ting, in-it.”

  The assault which followed, was so fast, it almost knocked Matty off balance.

  Physically, Danny lifted Matty up off the floor by the front of his T-shirt, which remained firmly clutched in his fist.

  “Speak to me in fucking English, you little prick. Now, can you get me one or not?”

  Despite barely being able to breathe, Matty managed to nod his head. Once Danny had released him, he rubbed at his neck, where the cotton T-shirt had chaffed his skin.

  “How soon can you get it?”

  Matty’s voice quivered as he spoke. “It’s going to take me a few days.”

  He watched Danny think this over. Finally, the big man spoke. “Okay,” he said. “I will come here Friday night to collect it. Make sure that you’re here.”

  Matty nodded his head.

  “Oh, and one more thing … keep your mouth shut about this,” Danny warned, stabbing his finger into Matty’s face.

  Matty nodded his head for a second time. He watched, as Danny walked back toward his car, then wiped a stray tear away from his cheek, before hastily straightening out his clothes. He had no intention of telling anybody about this visit from Danny.

  He wanted to stay as invisible as he possibly could, and he knew, instinctively, that the moment he opened his mouth, all hell would break loose. Out of the two, the secret or Danny, it was Danny he was more scared of, even though, by rights, it should have been the other way around.

  He waited for a few moments, then slowly made his own way back to the pub.

  Once back inside, the barmaid called out to him. “Hey, who was your friend?”

  Matty ignored her. He had enough on his mind. He was up to his eyes in something, which he had no idea how to get out of.

  Tasha Williams shrugged her shoulders and continued wiping down the bar.

  * * *

  Back in his car, Danny couldn’t wait to get off of the estate. The stench of Matty Payne surrounded him. He turned the key in the ignition, switched on the CD player and waited for the sound of U2 to fill the car. He turned up the volume, put the gear into first, then sped out of the car park.

  In all fairness, he could have bought a firearm from any one of his contacts, but Matty was the one who would be easier for him to make disappear, should the need arise.

  Come Friday, he would have the gun in his hand. It was too late to back out or change his mind, not that he planned to. All he needed to do now, was work out exactly how he was going to execute the deed. The only thing he knew for certain, was that the shooting had to happen in the presence of the Greeks, so Freddie’s murder could be pinned on the opposing firm.

  * * *

  Six miles away, Freddie Smith was sat at home, contemplating how he was going to do the exact same thing. Progressively, he was becoming more and more paranoid, where McKay was concerned. He was convinced the man wanted his firm, and that he wanted to be the Top Dog.

  All of his instincts told him that he needed to take Danny out early, before the war with the Greeks had even started. The competitive side of him wanted to wait until afterwards. Danny was the best man he had, and if they were going to bring down George Christos, then he needed him there.

  It hadn’t been an easy decision for him to make, but in the end, it had become a necessity. He and Big Tone had discussed the matter at length, for hours, and whichever way he looked at the situat
ion, he could see no other alternative, other than disposing of his number two.

  Under no circumstances was he prepared to let McKay have the chance of poaching his men, and he knew, given the choice, they would go with him, and more importantly, he knew why. He had also convinced himself that Danny knew why, too.

  * * *

  Charlene Morris stared out of the kitchen window. The view over London, from her thirteenth floor flat, was somewhat spectacular, not that her brain registered this fact.

  Her thoughts were elsewhere … mainly on how she could get her hands on some more crack cocaine. She’d smoked the last of her stash over three hours ago, and her body was beginning to crave the tiny crystals once again.

  The theme tune to a children’s television program blared out from the living room, where her two little boys, still dressed in their school uniforms, sat on the floor, transfixed to the television set, whilst they ate their tea, of chicken nuggets and fries.

  She opened her purse, and counted out the loose change for the third time in the past hour, hoping by some miracle that all she had to her name would have somehow changed.

  Rummaging through drawers and cupboards, she prayed she would come across a spare twenty pound note she may have put away for a rainy day. She was oblivious to the chaos she was creating. Tears sprang to her eyes when she found nothing.