meant challenging Billy head on.
Billy stared back at John for a moment, as a predator would stare down a weaker animal. A smile started to spread across his face; John suddenly felt uneasy.
“If you weren’t my brother,” Bill said, still smiling. “I would take that glass out of that old man’s hand, who calls himself our uncle, and stick it in you throat.” He paused. “Do you understand?”
John found himself nodding. He saw Nick out of the corner of his eye, now interested in the conversation. His smile matched that of Billy’s.
“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” Billy said.
John knew better than to say anything more; this was not an empty threat. He glanced across at his uncle, who just shook his head.
“Good,” Mary smiled. “I’m pleased we cleared that up. No we can focus on the matter at hand; Charlie O’Neil.”
“Yes Charlie O’Neil. He has to pay for how he’s insulted our family. Sending a skivvy like Mickey the Bag to leave such a message for us—that he didn’t need us anymore. Who the hell does he think he is?”
Mary smiled.
“We know his business. The money from the clubs and bars is nothing to him. His real cash comes from dealing with those South American wankers,” Billy said.
“If you can take that, you take his empire,” Mary agreed.
“Yeah and how did he build his empire in the first place. He was just the strongest guy at the time, the one that would be the most violent, the one who would be most feared. But his time’s gone. This is our time now.”
“You should go to Robert Payne’s tomorrow. He might make a deal. He could be sick of working with a lame duck like O’Neil,” Mary said, her whisper like an instruction to Billy.
“Yes, yes, that’s what we’ll do. The three of us will go to Payne’s tomorrow. What’s that place in South America John, that they deal with?” Billy asked, looking back at John, seeming calmer now.
“Juarez,” John said, almost to himself.
John had learnt this from a week when he had worked closely with Payne. Shortly after starting work with the O’Neil firm, Payne had selected him to give him a hand with some ‘office tasks’. After all, he was the only Blake brother who had completed school.
“So what’s with your brothers then?” Robert said, still sitting behind his desk.
John was sat opposite him, surrounded by paperwork, He was trying to calculate the VAT on the variety of invoices that surrounded him.
“I mean, you seem like a decent kid, you can use a calculator and have manners,” Payne continued. “They are important traits. Now if I had your brothers in here, I reckon I’d have to fumigate afterwards; and there’s no chance that either of them would be able to figure out something as complex as a calculator.”
John smiled and nodded, not quite sure what he should say to something like that. Robert Payne didn’t look like a gangster or master criminal; he resembled an accountant who liked going to the gym. He always had a suit and tie on, with a pair of reading glasses in his jacket pocket. His was hardly an image that many would find scary. But John was not fooled by this; Payne was a cold-blooded killer.
John had spent the couple of days prior working in Payne’s office, much to Billy’s annoyance. Payne had said he needed some help with the books and that he should leave the other stuff to his brothers for the next couple of days. In that time, John had gained a better understanding of O’Neil and Payne’s business. On that face of it, they were sat in the main office of the haulage company that Payne and O’Neil were joint directors of. This particular haulage firm, however, made most of its money from importing cocaine from Juarez in Mexico.
“Seriously, what’s the deal? Why are you so different?”
“I don’t know, they’re alright when you get to know them,” John said. But that was a lie; he did know why his brothers were so different to him.
“Get to
Billy stared back at John for a moment, as a predator would stare down a weaker animal. A smile started to spread across his face; John suddenly felt uneasy.
“If you weren’t my brother,” Bill said, still smiling. “I would take that glass out of that old man’s hand, who calls himself our uncle, and stick it in you throat.” He paused. “Do you understand?”
John found himself nodding. He saw Nick out of the corner of his eye, now interested in the conversation. His smile matched that of Billy’s.
“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” Billy said.
John knew better than to say anything more; this was not an empty threat. He glanced across at his uncle, who just shook his head.
“Good,” Mary smiled. “I’m pleased we cleared that up. No we can focus on the matter at hand; Charlie O’Neil.”
“Yes Charlie O’Neil. He has to pay for how he’s insulted our family. Sending a skivvy like Mickey the Bag to leave such a message for us—that he didn’t need us anymore. Who the hell does he think he is?”
Mary smiled.
“We know his business. The money from the clubs and bars is nothing to him. His real cash comes from dealing with those South American wankers,” Billy said.
“If you can take that, you take his empire,” Mary agreed.
“Yeah and how did he build his empire in the first place. He was just the strongest guy at the time, the one that would be the most violent, the one who would be most feared. But his time’s gone. This is our time now.”
“You should go to Robert Payne’s tomorrow. He might make a deal. He could be sick of working with a lame duck like O’Neil,” Mary said, her whisper like an instruction to Billy.
“Yes, yes, that’s what we’ll do. The three of us will go to Payne’s tomorrow. What’s that place in South America John, that they deal with?” Billy asked, looking back at John, seeming calmer now.
“Juarez,” John said, almost to himself.
John had learnt this from a week when he had worked closely with Payne. Shortly after starting work with the O’Neil firm, Payne had selected him to give him a hand with some ‘office tasks’. After all, he was the only Blake brother who had completed school.
“So what’s with your brothers then?” Robert said, still sitting behind his desk.
John was sat opposite him, surrounded by paperwork, He was trying to calculate the VAT on the variety of invoices that surrounded him.
“I mean, you seem like a decent kid, you can use a calculator and have manners,” Payne continued. “They are important traits. Now if I had your brothers in here, I reckon I’d have to fumigate afterwards; and there’s no chance that either of them would be able to figure out something as complex as a calculator.”
John smiled and nodded, not quite sure what he should say to something like that. Robert Payne didn’t look like a gangster or master criminal; he resembled an accountant who liked going to the gym. He always had a suit and tie on, with a pair of reading glasses in his jacket pocket. His was hardly an image that many would find scary. But John was not fooled by this; Payne was a cold-blooded killer.
John had spent the couple of days prior working in Payne’s office, much to Billy’s annoyance. Payne had said he needed some help with the books and that he should leave the other stuff to his brothers for the next couple of days. In that time, John had gained a better understanding of O’Neil and Payne’s business. On that face of it, they were sat in the main office of the haulage company that Payne and O’Neil were joint directors of. This particular haulage firm, however, made most of its money from importing cocaine from Juarez in Mexico.
“Seriously, what’s the deal? Why are you so different?”
“I don’t know, they’re alright when you get to know them,” John said. But that was a lie; he did know why his brothers were so different to him.
“Get to
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