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  The club opposite offered a change of scenery while the girls received their final going over, thirty minutes to pass by with a few quick drinks that were to be gratefully received.

  Billy ordered the drinks, he was no longer surprised at the extortionate prices charged, he had no choice but to accept it. When he was last out it had been a fraction of the cost yet now people willingly paid hand over fist in added taxes. It made him proud not to contribute to that system; he was pleased to just take from it instead. ‘Over there Cyrus,’ he pointed to an empty cubicle as Cyrus followed with the drinks. He hadn’t spoken much to him that day, he had been angry at him for turning up late and offering no explanation.

  ‘Why did we have to come here, surely we could have stayed over the road?’ He placed the drinks on the table and slid Billy’s over to him.

  ‘I’ve had it up to here with seeing all that pussy today, all that foreign cock going in and out of them young girls. I can’t believe that some of them are married and doing that just for a few quid.’ He glanced around the room as the words fell from his tongue as easy as if they had been rehearsed.

  ‘We could have gone to the other bar, they were setting up I’m sure they would have served us.’ Cyrus took a swig of his beer and placed it back down.

  ‘Yeah maybe, but it don’t harm no-one to have a change of scene does it?’ His eyes remained scanning the dimly lit room, a few patrons flitting from the bar to their seats making the most of the happy hour.

  ‘Weren’t you looking at buying this place once? Back in the early eighties?’

  His eyes hovered back in the direction of his friend as he thought about his comment, ‘Yeah fuck me that’s right!’ he said in surprise as he remembered the time. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as his head tilted back. ‘Aint fuckin changed much as it? Not like I had planned for it. Anyone we know own it?’

  ‘I don’t come up West no more, least… not socially anyway, so I wouldn’t know,’ he confessed shaking his head and raising his glass again. He was aware of the time available to them .Despite the ageing whore hound Candice and Billy being best friends all of a sudden, he didn’t think she would appreciate being fucked about twice in one day. The girls needed to get back to base on time and his actions already that day had cost her a small amount of dough in way of a future discount. Billy had stepped in as she let rip and negotiated on her behalf. Whatever was going on between the two of them it seemed more than just an employer and employee relationship to Cyrus? Their private meets behind closed doors were becoming more and more frequent.

  ‘We’ll have to change all that soon. When we get some fuckin wedge behind us we’ll spend an evening up here to hell with the expense. I aint going to live my life a slave to money.’

  Nodding his head silently Cyrus kept an eye on the time. Billy’s eyes continually wandered around the room as if searching for something. ‘I need a slash,’ said Cyrus as he stood up.

  ‘What’ll you want me to fuckin do? Hold your hand!’ Billy said as Cyrus stood glued to the spot.

  The toilets were to the left hand side of the bar. Walking away from them was a figure Cyrus recognized.

  ‘No course not,’ he said as he moved away and slowly walked across the room.

  It didn’t take Billy long to set eyes on the man. The real reason he had chose to be a patron of the establishment that very evening. For weeks he had been having him followed, gathering tit bits of information on his habits and frequent social locations. The visits he made here were far from sociable from what he had been reliably informed. He watched as the young man strutted toward a table crowded by his cronies. Paid henchmen who did his dirty work and made him feel important. From the distance he could see him gesturing his farewells, he grabbed a heavy looking black holdall from the far side of the seat and dragged it across to him knocking glasses off the table on its way. Billy’s eyes flitted to the static bouncers turning a blind eye to the commotion. His rowdy gang acknowledged his exit as he barged straight through a group stationed by the main door and made his way to the street.

  Billy followed from a distance not wishing to be seen just yet, he knew there was an alley just around the corner. It was a perfect location for what he had in mind and conveniently it was where his target religiously parked his car. Keeping him in sight he mixed with the others travelling down the street, darkness was quickly descending and providing the adequate cover he needed. The man turned right just as expected. Billy sped up his foot work and gathered pace. The urgency of getting to him before he secured the safety and solitude of his car was the only thing on his mind.

  Walking swiftly he turned into the alley; ahead of him two parked cars sat in the nightclubs private bays. Stood there fumbling in his pockets for the keys to one of the cars was Martin Locke. Billy remained as silent as he could as he approached from behind; he clenched his fists as he had done thousands of times before in preparation for violence. His heart was racing and his body high with adrenaline; feet away his foot caught an empty beer can on the ground, the sudden noise alerting his victim.

  Locke spun around startled as Billy slammed his right fist straight into his face. His nose split in two with the force, blood spurted out as he flew back against the car setting the alarm off.

  Billy hit the dazed man again; this time with his left fist followed again by the right leaving no doubt he had broken his nose.

  Locke instinctively reached to protect his face releasing his grip on the holdall he was carrying. It fell to the floor as Billy continued to land blows onto his upper body and torso. He slid to the floor unable to protect himself, the sudden attack catching him completely off guard.

  Billy saw the key in the door lock; he twisted it deactivating the alarm before unwanted company arrived. ‘Mother fuckin cunt,’ he rasped as he raised his foot into the air and stamped it down on Locke repeatedly. ‘You think you can just fuckin attack one of me oldest mates and get away with it?’

  Locke was trying to protect himself; he curled up in a ball while Billy continued his barrage of violence.

  ‘You kids think you’re so fuckin tough. You aint got a fuckin clue what tough really is.’ He kicked again and again as the man on the floor continued to bleed. ‘Cyrus is worth more than any of you cunts, he’s a fuckin stand up guy.’ He stopped to catch his breath; Locke squirmed on the floor at his feet beaten without throwing so much as a punch. It had been easier than he thought even with the element of surprise.

  Locke carefully lowered his arms below his bruised and bloody face; he wanted to catch sight of his assailant. ‘Who the hell is Cyrus?’ He muttered and coughed, blood spilt out of his mouth and down his chin. He spat out three front teeth, one of them gold. His arms fell to his ribs as he realised the pain he was feeling from that area. He started rocking back and forth. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ he screamed.

  Billy grabbed the holdall and placed it on top of the car. ‘Don’t fuck me about, you did wrong so don’t start claiming ignorance now. I saw it with my own eyes. I was there, it was my party for fucks sake and you just march straight in and kick the fuck out of him.’ He pulled on the zip pleased his pay day had arrived at last.

  Locke thrashed his head about on the ground, blood forming a barrier between him and the cold concrete. His eyes were contorting with pain and confusion, his mouth involuntarily yelping. ‘Honestly I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, I really don’t!’

  That annoyed Billy; he was from an era where if you did something you didn’t turn around later and deny it. Before looking in the bag he turned on Locke again, he kicked him in the ribs. ‘Three months ago, you gate crashed a private function before getting thrown out. My private function you worthless cunt and this is your payback!’ He kicked him again.

  Locke’s entire shell moved an inch toward the car, the blood spreading on the ground with him withering about in agony. His body rested against the front wheel.

  Billy peeled back the gap the open zip had le
ft; he peered inside and began to laugh. ‘Just what I wanted,’ the bundles of used notes stacked in variable denominations were his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or more specifically, the funding for his new endeavour.

  ‘You can’t take that,’ Locke said. ‘It’s not mine,’ he spluttered trying in vain to get to his feet.

  ‘Too fuckin right, the first truthful thing to come from your mouth,’ he kicked him again. ‘It’s all mine now,’ Billy laughed again at the sight in front of him; he wondered why Cyrus had found it so hard to stand up for himself.

  ‘I’ll tell you what I know about that night at the club, why I attacked that man,’ Locke offered coughing and repositioning himself upright. The fight was over before it begun, he knew there was no point resisting now, it was too late and the damage was done. ‘If you just leave the cash, I can’t lose that.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish, you expect me to listen to some bollocks, you picked on the wrong fella. It’s as simple as that,’ Billy turned his back and walked away, unwilling to listen to any attempts to keep hold of the dough.

  Locke called out; ‘Someone told me to be there at ten, told me attack him.’ He was desperate to keep the money; the beating he had received would be inflicted upon him tenfold if he lost it.

  Billy paused at his words; he turned to face him and slowly walked back toward him. Locke flinched nervously, cowering against the car with hope in his eyes. Billy rubbed his chin and looked at the holdall; he raised it in the air and dropped it beside the injured man. ‘Ok then, tell me what’s so interesting that it’s worth me leaving all that dough.’

  Locke wiped his mouth clear with the sleeve of his arm, his split lips causing him to wince. ‘You know the owner there? Matt McQuaid, his brother Steve called me and said he needed me there to do him a favour.’ As Locke spoke he kept his eyes on Billy all the time, fearful of more violence erupting.

  ‘Fuck off!’ Billy shouted in response. ‘You dirty fuckin shit stirring cunt.’ Billy made a move toward him, intent on inflicting more harm to cease what he considered lies from a desperate man.

  Locke raised his hands, palms facing outwards begging for mercy and calm. ‘I’m not lying, honest. That place never gets any trouble just because he owns it, there’s no doorman most nights because it isn’t needed.’ Billy’s frame bore down intimidating him. ‘How else would I get out of there without so much as a kicking?’

  Billy thought back, his drink blotted mind from that night only allowed him to recall so much. The facts were foggy, yet his admission sounded sincere and the desire to keep the money was certainly a motive for truthfulness. ‘Why the fuck would he do that? What’s his problem with Cyrus?’

  Locke was shaking his head, ‘I never spoke to him directly; his brother was the go between. I don’t know anything for sure but I do know it wasn’t about the old man; he was just a means to an end and it didn’t work out as planned anyway.’

  The conspiracy raced around his mind as he struggled to make sense of what he had heard, Locke shifted uncomfortably as Billy lashed out uncontrollably at the car kicking and punching it for several seconds as the realization began to dawn on him and pieces fell into place. Matt had tried to encourage him to defend Cyrus, thus instigating a situation where he would be jailed again and sentenced harshly because of his previous convictions. It hadn’t worked out and it had been a thoughtless minor effort, but an effort nonetheless.

  His eyes set on the man on the ground, the informer. Whether it was beneficial to him or not, he despised grasses. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out the baton he carried. The foam handle rested nicely in the palm of his hand, he had longed for a reason to pop its cherry. Gripping it tight and with a flick of the wrist it extended to its glorious 26inch length, perfect for the damage he intended to cause.

  Cyrus left the club after waiting for five minutes, he was sure that Billy had slipped out for a smoke with the intention of returning to polish off what remained of his expensive drink. He looked left and right down the street with no sign of him in the immediate vicinity. Crowds occupied the street now that night had fallen, eager strip club guest’s keen to protect their anonymity shuffled by. He began to cross the road guessing his friend had returned to collect the tired girls without him, literally shagged out.

  The sound of a distant ambulance responding to an emergency call could be faintly heard above the din of traffic zooming by.

  ‘Cyrus, get the others and I’ll meet you at the mini bus,’ Billy’s voice loomed from beside him before tearing away into a different direction. He due fully continued his path as instructed.

  Billy opened the rear of the bus, keen to hide all evidence of his extracurricular activities. Placing the holdall under one of the rear seats his joy over his financial gain was overcast by the information he had come to hold. The implications it bought with it were not to be considered with a faint heart. He slammed the door shut, his colleagues would soon arrive, and his concerns would have to wait.

  Chapter Seven

  The door swung open inwards slamming against the wall behind it, plasterboard indents proving the quality of the building. His eyes fixated on Dave stood towering above the head of the household surrounded by men on his payroll who were failing to do anything to earn their keep. Looking around the barren room it was clear to see that the young family had fallen on hard times, on the small coffee table that remained because it was of no value stood a flurry of receipts from a local legal pawn shop. Matt despised those types of shops, the ones that offered a tenth of the value of goods simply because they knew how desperate the seller was for cash.

  A young father prematurely bald presumably through financial woes and burdens of responsibility cowered defeated in the corner of the room, his wife and two children crying and pleading for his safety from a man whose actions at that moment seemed unknown to Matt.

  ‘What’s going on Dave?’

  Dave stood up straight and turned to face him, another man’s blood covering the top of his torso staining his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. ‘Exactly what you told me, as always!’

  Matt shook his head in denial, bewilderment written clearly across his face like ink on the front page of a daily newspaper. He looked at the family sobbing and hugging for comfort and solace, the smallest child grasping her teddy bear with no worries or woes beside that of the immediate well being of her family.

  ‘I never said to do this!’

  ‘They owe us money,’ Dave said uncharacteristically raising his voice. ‘Fucking leeches sucking us dry, their making a damn mockery of us by not paying the rent, their nothing better than squatters.’

  The wife’s eyes locked with Matt’s, silently pleading for mercy on behalf of her husband.

  Dave lashed out again, drew back his right leg and kicked at the man without any care for those close by. ‘Over £1200 the cunt owes, as if the rent isn’t cheap enough anyway!’

  With the other men around and the victim’s themselves he was in a predicament as shrugging shoulders met his glare around the room. No-one seemed willing to put themselves forward to cease his over the top actions. Moving forward he pulled Dave away before he could strike again, cries and whimpering filling the air of the two bedroom terraced house.

  ‘Calm down Dave, not in front of the family!’ He pushed him back ushering him out of the room. He told him to go outside then he made his way back to the group.

  Dave stood by the doorway angry at the premature ending to his assignment, he observed as Matt approached the beaten man and bent down to whisper in his ear. After several seconds he struggled but managed to nod his head, agreeing with whatever it was that was said to him or asked of him.

  Matt stood straight and took some cash from his pocket, he handed it to the woman who hesitantly took it but only after further prompting. He gave instructions to the men scattered about the room and followed Dave out of the house.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing Dave?’ he ask
ed. ‘And don’t give me that crap about following my instructions.

  Dave pulled on his suit jacket, the one he had grabbed upon leaving the room and did the first few buttons up hiding the bloodied shirt.

  ‘It’s the only way any of them ever learn.’

  Matt shook his head in despair and ran his fingers through his hair while he considered the actions. He paced the small front garden.

  ‘You obviously know that he could go straight to the old bill after we’ve left, and if he doesn’t then she might because women either don’t frighten so easily or just don’t consider the consequences.’

  ‘Yeah...well you sorted the problem now haven’t you?’ Dave sneered. ‘Bunging them some cash just undermines what I was trying to achieve.’

  ‘Hush money Dave in the hope that they don’t have any silly ideas. We can do without any attention at the moment you know that. What’s wrong with you lately you seem to be on edge all the time?’

  ‘Maybe I do but some problems can’t be solved as easily as chucking money around.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing…forget it,’ Dave replied. ‘You obviously don’t need me here.’

  The tension in his voice was transparent to Matt; he had something weighing heavily on his mind and obviously didn’t want to discuss it. Anger and frustration being vented out through random violence wasn’t his usual style, until then he had only ever witnessed Dave strike out after calm deliberation, never spur of the moment. As Dave roared off in his car narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle Matt pushed the morning’s events to the back of his mind, when he felt ready to share his worries then he could perhaps offer some advice but until then all he could do was clean up his mess.

  Matt climbed out of his car at the club; his daytime visit allowed him time to think to himself. The peace and quiet unmatched by anywhere else he was able to go at such an hour.