That way, they will use you again.
Unfortunately, what Vince had failed to realise was that, if you were going to sell information, you had to decide on which side of the fence you sat. You couldn’t sell to both sides.
If you were going to transact with the police, then you had to take the status of a paid informant; though that of course came with its own risks. Or you sold within the criminal infrastructure, between the different crime families that ran the width and breadth of the country.
Vince got greedy and made the mistake of trying to sell to both, which only ended in having a price on his own head from both. It was never really established which side got him, but it happened all the same. He washed up on the embankment, next to the building site of the Thameside Restaurant. It was in the process of being turned into, what is now, the National Film Theatre.
Kenny however wasn’t that bothered. Vince had taught him all he needed to know, directly and indirectly. He had also left him quite a large sum of money in his will, which had enabled Kenny to start his legal enterprises.
Kenny still traded and sold information. Sixty nine years old and he was still at the top of his game. He was admired and feared simultaneously, by most people he had met in his lifetime and was now able to live on his reputation alone.
His silver grey hair retained shards of ebony, revealing the blackness it once held. Beady, pallid irises, almost colourless, blended into the whites that lay underneath.
Old kind eyes that could be replaced with a fear-provoking stare, by the mere dilation of dark furtive pupils.
The lines around his jaw gave him more of a distinguished and illustrious style, rather than the old and ripened age it should show, assisted by the fine-cut tailored suits; his trademark attire. The opened top buttons of his crisp white shirt revealed skin that was not grey and saggy but toned and with an olive complexion. His total physical presence commanded utter attention.
Over the years, he had expanded his little profitable business of intelligence laundering and branched out into information gathering. This meant that if anybody wanted to find someone or dirt on someone, he was the person to go to.
He took full advantage of all technological advances that had occurred over his life time and there wasn’t any security he couldn’t work his way around. The boom of the internet in the 90’s helped his business no end. Nobody could really hide then.
He had the pawn shops for legitimate reasons. He had children and grandchildren and wanted to leave them something that was honest and clean. The money from his other business was dirty. Kenny was as bent as they came but his family was everything to him and he never involved them in his other dealings. Not even his wife knew about his other life and the incredibly dangerous and violent men he dealt with on a daily basis.
It’s funny but a lot of wives and girlfriends of the criminal fraternity do not know what their man is really involved with. They frolic in the fantasy of being married to a bad boy, a face, they enjoy the money and the big houses and flash cars and the expensive clothes but they generally have no idea of the extent of their partner’s ventures.
Kenny believed this was a good thing. He never let on to his old woman, when she was alive, although she was probably turning, make that spinning, in her grave; god rest her soul. Kenny had done some bad things in his life. Things he wasn’t particularly proud of. He justified those parts in his life that were deemed unholy, by telling himself that he did what had to be done.
He ran a risky business and dealt with some low lives of the world. Sometimes people would try to pay him retribution and he would manage that, as and when it happened. Kenny’s gift was always being one step ahead.
He knew to expect the unexpected. It had served him well and more importantly, kept him alive.
Even now, he could
Unfortunately, what Vince had failed to realise was that, if you were going to sell information, you had to decide on which side of the fence you sat. You couldn’t sell to both sides.
If you were going to transact with the police, then you had to take the status of a paid informant; though that of course came with its own risks. Or you sold within the criminal infrastructure, between the different crime families that ran the width and breadth of the country.
Vince got greedy and made the mistake of trying to sell to both, which only ended in having a price on his own head from both. It was never really established which side got him, but it happened all the same. He washed up on the embankment, next to the building site of the Thameside Restaurant. It was in the process of being turned into, what is now, the National Film Theatre.
Kenny however wasn’t that bothered. Vince had taught him all he needed to know, directly and indirectly. He had also left him quite a large sum of money in his will, which had enabled Kenny to start his legal enterprises.
Kenny still traded and sold information. Sixty nine years old and he was still at the top of his game. He was admired and feared simultaneously, by most people he had met in his lifetime and was now able to live on his reputation alone.
His silver grey hair retained shards of ebony, revealing the blackness it once held. Beady, pallid irises, almost colourless, blended into the whites that lay underneath.
Old kind eyes that could be replaced with a fear-provoking stare, by the mere dilation of dark furtive pupils.
The lines around his jaw gave him more of a distinguished and illustrious style, rather than the old and ripened age it should show, assisted by the fine-cut tailored suits; his trademark attire. The opened top buttons of his crisp white shirt revealed skin that was not grey and saggy but toned and with an olive complexion. His total physical presence commanded utter attention.
Over the years, he had expanded his little profitable business of intelligence laundering and branched out into information gathering. This meant that if anybody wanted to find someone or dirt on someone, he was the person to go to.
He took full advantage of all technological advances that had occurred over his life time and there wasn’t any security he couldn’t work his way around. The boom of the internet in the 90’s helped his business no end. Nobody could really hide then.
He had the pawn shops for legitimate reasons. He had children and grandchildren and wanted to leave them something that was honest and clean. The money from his other business was dirty. Kenny was as bent as they came but his family was everything to him and he never involved them in his other dealings. Not even his wife knew about his other life and the incredibly dangerous and violent men he dealt with on a daily basis.
It’s funny but a lot of wives and girlfriends of the criminal fraternity do not know what their man is really involved with. They frolic in the fantasy of being married to a bad boy, a face, they enjoy the money and the big houses and flash cars and the expensive clothes but they generally have no idea of the extent of their partner’s ventures.
Kenny believed this was a good thing. He never let on to his old woman, when she was alive, although she was probably turning, make that spinning, in her grave; god rest her soul. Kenny had done some bad things in his life. Things he wasn’t particularly proud of. He justified those parts in his life that were deemed unholy, by telling himself that he did what had to be done.
He ran a risky business and dealt with some low lives of the world. Sometimes people would try to pay him retribution and he would manage that, as and when it happened. Kenny’s gift was always being one step ahead.
He knew to expect the unexpected. It had served him well and more importantly, kept him alive.
Even now, he could
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