Get Some

by

Daniel Birch

‘All the old knives which have rusted

in my back, I drive in yours.’

PHAEDRUS (THRACE OF MACEDONIA)

This book is dedicated to all those

who serve in our armed forces.

The bravest of the brave.

I would like to thank the following...my friends - you know who you are. My family, always. My ace work mates for being – well - ace,

listening to me rattle on and giving me biscuits.

Tim Roux (author of the fantastic 'Missio' and 'Dance of the

Pheasodile' ) for believing in my work and for so much help that I

wouldnt know when to start, and, for being a friend.

Also to Night Reading. The phase of NightReading.ning.com is

changing the literary world as we know it, bringing people together.

There are so many outstanding authors like Minnette Coleman, Gerald D Johnston, Tantra Bensko, Eve Lorgen, Genevieve Sawchyn, to name but a few. I encourage all you readers out there to look them up, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. Also a thanks to Bruce Essar with whom I am working on a secret project (wink wink, cha ching) - again, a fantastic author of titles like ' Edible - The Faith' and 'The Visible Man' . Tim and Bruce...you rule !

Thanks to the local talent of Hull for putting Hull on the map, Nick

Quantrill whose great new book 'Broken Dreams' is on the shelves now, Holly Roach with her brilliant poetry collection 'Plans to change and other fables', and last but not least Richard Sutherland with his debut book 'The Unitary Authority of ERSATZ' - which is pretty fricking good to say the least, as well as boasting one of the best book covers ever!

So there you go. Cheers dudes, hope you enjoy the book! : D

ISBN 1451557868

EAN-13 9781451557862

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

‘Get Some’ was first published by Night Publishing, a trading name of Valley Strategies Ltd., a UK-registered private limited-liability company, registration number 5796186. Valley Strategies Ltd. can be contacted at http://www.valleystrategies.com.

© 2010, Danny Birch

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also by Danny Birch:

‘Clipped’

‘Clipped – The Editor’s Cut’

Chapter One

THE IRAQI DESERT, NEAR THE PROVINCE OF DIYALA – 0200

HOURS

We were roughly one click away from our operation when we started checking our weapons. I remember thinking over and over that I wasn’t going to miss this. Not one bit.

I hated missions in the middle of the night. I hated the fucking sand.

I hated all the killing.

It was bloody hard to try and get all the sand out of my rifle. Sand - what a useless substance. I was sick of sand, had it under my fingernails, in my ears, in my boots, between my toes, fucking sand.

Ridding my weapon of sand had to be done. Last thing you wanted was your weapon jamming. I had the Barrat 50 calibre, a beast of a sniper rifle, which over the years had become like a friend to me. I turned my night vision on because I couldn’t see shit in the dark, never mind ridding my rifle of fucking sand particles. I checked all my other shit too.

Water – check, ammo – check, knife – check, night vision – check.

I was good to go.

Sat round in a small circle with the other guys, I listened to them chatter. Dave was as silly as they came but all the same he was an animal when it came to combat. Nobody would think this 5’1” skinny twenty-something would be so dangerous by the look of him, but he could kill with the best of them. He kept us entertained with movie quotes all the time; his best were always from the movie ‘Airplane’.

Sometimes, just randomly in battle, he would pull some silly line out to get us all laughing.

Samson was quite the opposite, an explosives expert from down

south. We didn’t really get on, but he was Trigg’s boy, so it was to be expected, I guess. What that man could do with C4 was scary. He could plant detonated triggers in mobile phones, cars, and I even heard that he once placed a small device in a ball point pen. At a huge 6’7” with muscles to match, you could see why Samson was his name, and assassination was certainly his game.

Spade was a great lad, always getting into trouble, though. He was a basic grunt but he was also a fine shot with an assault rifle. He had recently swapped the standard issue SA80 with an American M16. He nicknamed it ‘Mary’ and took it to bed with him. He definitely had a screw loose, but he wasn’t ‘bad crazy’ he was ‘good crazy’, most of all he was ‘our crazy’, which was good for us.

Now onto Trigg. We had met many years ago, before the Army, before all this stupid shit got out of hand. He had his own agenda, always, but before I had told him I was getting out of the army, and out of the game, we were ok. I wouldn’t say we were ever friends, more acquaintances, and partners in crime when we started out. I guess he needed me and I served a purpose. I can see that now.

Trigg could be anything. He could be cold, he could be happy, he could warm, he could be sad. It all depended on which side of the bed he got up, and in truth he scared people. I wasn’t scared of him, ever.

But I was scared of what he was capable of.

Trigg was in charge of OP Sam. He was an expert in field ops and needed me (designated sniper) to get perched with my rifle and supply back-up from a distance.

A few days before the operation I had told Trigg I was getting out - out of the army and out of the game. We had a blazing row and he looked at me like I was shit from then on. I just hoped his new disliking for me wouldn’t affect the mission.

It was hard to try and get him to understand my reasons, but in truth it wasn’t me he cared about. He had a vision, and I was fucking it up for him. I just couldn’t do it any more.

I guess my eyes had just been opened. I mean without her, and without Joey, God only knows what things I could have been doing.

They were saving me, from myself and from this life that just wasn’t me.

I know that now. I know I’m worthy of a normal life.

Operation Iraqi Freedom- that was the official term used when we came here. Freedom my arse. It was a cluster fuck if ever there was one.

That night’s mission had a title too; only there were just a few select people who would ever know about it. You see Op Sam was a Black Op.

Black Ops are rare, and obviously classified. This Black Op was code-named ‘Sam’, after the driver. I think they named it that to keep us from thinking about him. Two weeks prior to the Sam Op, a convoy of medical trucks had been hit by Iraqi RPGs (rocket propelled grenades).

The front convoy had the chief medical officer in it, and he was driving. Graham ‘Sam’ Donnelly was a man everyone had respect for. It is a common misconception that the medical men in the forces don’t see any action. I have seen what they do with my own eyes. I have seen them come in the middle of battle, bullets flying everywhere, helping downed personal. I have seen them totally disregard their own safety, disregard all protocol, all for us.

Sam epitomised the word brave. He wasn’t just a great doctor, a great soldier, but also a great man. He was one of them faces that we all loved to see around. He always had time for a chat, no matter what it was about. I myself had spilled my guts out to him about all sorts of things, and he was great at giving advice. He was known as ‘Sam’ because he was seen as a Samaritan, a man we could all go to. Sam the Wise, some called him.

And now Sam was dead.

When they found his body, the only way he could be identified was from dental records. He had been blown to pieces. Poor bastard never had a chance.

The convoy had been hit and the men back at base wanted blood. Our CO (Commanding Officer) had pleaded with the suits back home to strike the area, if only for the families of Sam and his men, and for morale in the camp. The strike was denied. ‘Not in the interests of the war’ we were told.

The CO wasn’t having any of it. When I was asked by my CO to be part of this black op, I originally declined - I was getting out in 21 days - but then he said the mission would be a man short, because nobody else was available with my expertise. So I guess they had me over a barrel really. I kind of took heart that at least I was getting some for Sam, but in truth I was done with the killing, done with all the madness.

I just wanted to get home to her.

Trigg kept everything quiet until a few minutes before the mission.

We had been briefed, sure, but the details were kept to a minimum for Op Sam, something which I should have questioned from the get-go.

We had all done our checks and were ready. We had our night visions switched on. We called it Hulk vision for obvious reasons. We needed it too because out there in the desert the nights were as black as it got. The wind was sweeping up sand into the air, so we all had our rapists’ masks (balaclavas) on.

Trigg sat crouched with us. We were at the bottom of a hill. We weren’t that far from were we needed to be. Trigg gave us the info…

‘Right then, lads - the Intel. First hut, other side of this hill. This is where your targets are. They are all to be tagged and bagged, kill em all, possibly 8 targets inside, armed too so be aware, and try and keep it quiet, no grenades if possible. You have silencers so there isn’t any excuse. Second hut, just behind, with the car outside, is the one with our informers. Now I know this is the first you have heard of this, but they must be kept alive. They provided us with our info and have more info which the CO needs. Me and Samson will go first and secure hut 2.

You three wait for our say-so on the COM, then Dave and Spade move in, with Tommy providing fire from the sniping position. Both I and Samson and our informants will provide cover from the back.

‘Questions?’

Not sure of the best plan of action, Spade spoke first. ‘Yeah sounds good but how we doing this? A quick knock ‘n’ drop, or are we throwing a few stun grenades in waiting for them to run out then tagging them?’

I decided to have my input because the safety of the men was my main concern. ‘Careful is the key, my man. No more knock ‘n’ drops, man, not when I have 21 days left. No we have to be doing this careful, sorry Spade; I know you wanna pull some Rambo shit. Think of hut 1 as a drum. We will beat it from the outside with bullets, and then throw a few grenades in. That should do it. Minimum chance of damage to us is key always, however boring it may be. We wait for word off Trigg when he and Samson have secured hut 2, then we roll. That cool with you Trigg?’

Trigg didn’t acknowledge me, but he nodded to the other guys.

‘Cool. Let’s move.’

We all got ready. We got our COM earpieces turned on which went in one ear. I always liked to have COM in one ear, and my music in the other. People said it was a distraction but it helped me concentrate if anything. Maybe because I was a sniper and further away from the action, I could afford such a luxury. Still, people have their own ways of getting into character, and this was mine.

‘What you rolling to, Tommy? Some evil shit? Bit of techno to get the blood pumping or some nasty rap or rock shit to get that mean feeling?’ asked Dave.

‘Nah, mate. Some therapeutic shit. I’ve got a dance track on, Livin’ Joy – Dreamer.’

All the guys seemed to laugh at me, but I didn’t care, my taste was my taste.

‘What? You really are losing it, Tommy,’ laughed Dave.

‘You know what, Dave, it is to stop me from losing it. You see this fucking tune, this tune, she used to drive me nuts with it. She used to have it on all the time, so it reminds me of her. Come to think of it, everything does these days, Dave, so yeah, it keeps me sharp, makes me look forward to what I’m getting when I get out of here.’

‘Which is? Bit of ooh là là?’

‘Ha-ha, you’re a caveman, Dave. Her, it’s her, mate, it’s her I get. That’s all I want. But, hey, if I get the other stuff then who am I to argue, eh?’

Always being one to wreck the moment, Trigg couldn’t help but have his say. ‘You focus on the fucking job, homo. Don’t go getting misty, not here, not now - you fucking do this shit then go, leave the fucking army you homo. Go run to your little Bransholme bitch and fucking toffee-nosed lawyer fuck friend, cunt. You know what I have in me ears? Die, Motherfucker, Die by Dope - a man’s tune, bitch.’

At this point Trigg’s insults just went over my head. I found him pathetic and just laughed. ‘Ha-ha, yeah, because music makes you a man - fucking joker.’

‘Fuck you. Right then, Samson, we are Oscar Mike (ready to go/move out),’ was Trigg’s reply before he and Samson headed off to hut 2 to secure the informants. I watched through my riflescope as Trigg and Samson slowly sneaked in a crouched running position towards hut 2.

I remember the night being so damn windy. I adjusted my sights a little because the wind always fucked things up when going for a long shot. I positioned myself about 60 yards away from hut 1. I could see multiple targets in hut 1 through my scope, most of which were shadows moving about. I kept pulling my scarf over my mouth as the fucking sand kept blowing up into it. Fucking sand.

Both Trigg and Samson were out of sight now. I got a confirmation off Trigg that he and Samson had reached hut 2 and were secure. I gave the nod to Dave and Spade to roll out.

Hurrying forward parallel at about 10 metres apart, both Dave and Spade rushed just over the hill. They were around 30 yards from hut 1. They both hit the dirt with their weapons aimed at the hut. I adjusted the frequency on the COM so just Dave and Spade could hear me.

‘Guys, I just wanna say be careful, ok? Stay frosty, guys. I know Trigg would have you up in there Rambo fevering them motherfuckers, but we do this easy, lads. I don’t wanna lose any more mates. We don’t get close until they stop firing, which they will of course once we get going. Also, about protecting them informants and keeping it quiet, that is secondary to your safety. If things get FUBAR, then light up the fucking night, you dig?’

‘Ha, yeah, I dig,’ laughed Spade

‘Yeah me too, dad, cheers,’ joked Dave.

It was quiet as we waited for word from Trigg. The only real sound I could hear was the wind and the sand whistling in the air. It was too quiet.

Dave and Spade were perfectly postured, waiting in position, hidden by my friend the sand. Or so we thought. That’s when the bullets came.

‘Fuck! Dave’s hit, man. Dave’s fucking hit!’ screamed Spade over the COM.

It all happened so fast. I looked down to where Spade was. He was already making his way to Dave, who didn’t look good and wasn’t moving. I had to make the protection of Spade my priority as he shuffled through the sand to get to Dave. The bullets whistled through the air. They looked like fast white flashes through my night vision.

I took my first shot of the night. I steadied myself, breathed in as my aim fell still. I could see a man with a heavy machine gun. He must have been the one who took down Dave. I could see him just behind hut 1. ‘Ah, you sneaky bastard,’ I thought as I got set for his head. I breathed out as I squeezed the trigger. Almost a perfect shot. It took half of his head off.

With my second shot I took out a barrel which I had been eyeing up earlier. I figured it was a barrel of fuel. I had figured right as the barrel exploded into the air along with two men close by.

My next shot echoed through the night sky. It was a distinctive sound, which you could easily separate from the normal sounds of a burst from an assault rifle such as an AK or an M16. I was happy to see I had my first headshot of the night. Perfect shot, the head was completely off. The blood looked as black as oil in the night vision as it sprayed out of his neck. People don’t fully understand the power of today’s sniper rifles. If you think of it like this, with just a 6.5mm caliber Carcano rifle, Oswald hit JFK, a moving target, and basically took his head off. A 50 calibre weapon is designed to disable machinery. Once I saw a man get hit when the sniper aimed for the engine of a truck and the man was at the other side. 50 Cals are the monsters of the sniping world. If a 50 cal bullet is shot at you and comes within 6 inches of you, then it is taking a piece of you on its journey.

Firing some random shots, I made my way to help Spade with Dave. The bullets flew by my head as I got to Spade who was panicking. I removed his night vision quickly. The night had been lit up now and there was a fire burning from the blown up fuel barrel which at least made it easier to see.

‘He’s fucking dead, Tommy,’ shouted Spade amidst the gunfire.

With my fingers on his bloody throat I confirmed Dave’s death as I checked his pulse. In doing so my hands were covered in his blood.

Dave had been shot in the head and in the throat. Death was instantaneous.

‘We have to get away from Dave. We are exposed here, Spade,’ I tried to tell Spade who looked in shock, something strange from him because he was a veteran in combat.

‘We can’t just leave him!’

‘You have to for now or you’re dead too.’

Spade followed me back to my original sniping position.

We sat behind cover of the hill. The bullets were still flying in our direction, flashes of light. Some were aimed at us, some random shots, but they were zooming past our heads and bodies all the same. Doing my best to calm Spade down, I figured we had to sit for a few seconds and assess the situation.

‘Look, you take the snipe stick, Spade, I’ll take yours. We have to act now. There ain’t no time. I’m gonna get to hut 1. You back me up with the Barrat. For now we have to assume both Trigg and Samson are toast, otherwise where the fuck was the suppressing fire from the back? They ain’t making their presence known so I think they’ve copped it, mate. We can’t run - we have to take these fucks out. I think they knew we were coming. I need you with my Barrat to help me get to hut 1. Once I’m there I’ll try and do what I do best...’

‘Which is?’ asked Spade who was now calmer.

‘Get shit done, of course. Back me up. I’m gonna circle to the right, flank ‘em, then come up from behind taking cover from the car near the burning fuel barrel - a long shot, I know, but the only shot at this point, you follow?’

‘I dig. Use you COM and let me know what you’re doing. What you gonna do once your there?’

‘Nothing fancy, bro, just try and kill the fuckers. Simple.’

Running in zigzags, Tommy sprinted and ran to hut 1. Spade gave support with the sniper rifle and looked for Tommy in his scope. He saw Tommy kill two men with his M16 - both shots were close range – then Spade lost Tommy for a second. He saw him reappear and slit a man’s throat from behind. There were some more shots but Tommy again was out of focus. Spade waited impatiently for a glimpse of Tommy, or anybody. The firing had stopped at least.

It had been a few minutes now. Spade decided to get up and go and try and find Tommy.

As he got closer he shouted ‘Tommy? You ok, mate?’

There was no reply.

The night’s sandy wind could be heard again, mixed with the roaring flames from the burning fuel barrel, as Spade edged closer.

There were dead bodies scattered on the desert floor and all around hut 1 which was also on fire, but no sign of the rest of the men. Spade stayed alert, frosty, just as Tommy had said. Spade preferred the gunfire compared with the eerie quietness as he at least knew were he stood when in the shit. He paced slowly towards hut 2.

‘Tommy? You in there? Trigg? Samson?’

Still no reply as Spade edged closer.

Getting to the door Spade switched back to night vision as he could see no lights were on in hut 2. He grabbed the door handle and twisted the doorknob ever so slowly.

It seemed he heard the shots before he felt them.

There were two shots at first, then a third, as Spade fell and tried in vain to keep his stomach intact with his hands as he followed his rifle in dropping to the floor.

His night vision goggles had half slipped off one eye. In one eye he could see the floor in bright green, in the other he could see the pretty orange and yellow flames of the fires all around. He could kind of hear a muffled laugh, then he saw some boots approach him. Everything quickly started to fuzz. He couldn’t feel pain, just a feeling of coldness as he slipped away.

Chapter Two

Standing above Spade, Trigg admired his handy work.

‘Get some! Now that’s what a fucking double-barrel shotty does at close range, Samson. Fucking bang-bang-bang, none of this tip-tap silenced shit. Look at him, deader than dead, not even any need for a double tap. Nice.’

‘I agree,’ added Samson as he lightly tapped Spade’s head with his boot to check for signs of life.

‘Look at him, all zombiefied ’n’ shit. Tell you what, this plan of yours, Trigg, it’s going well so far. I’m liking it. I’m liking it very much.’

‘It’s how we roll, baby,’ laughed Trigg as he high-fived Samson.

Coming out of hut 2, four Iraqi men stood and joined Trigg and Samson. Two of the men were dragging Tommy, who was unconscious, by his boots. Another man had a big suitcase which seemed heavy as he lowered it to the sandy floor. The last man approached Trigg smiling. He had a fuzzy old-fashioned styled side-parting haircut with a thick moustache reminiscent of Saddam Hussein’s. This man was obviously in charge as he said something in his native tongue and sent one of his men running round the back of hut 2 for their jeep.

Wearing more or less the same attire, which was full combat gear, the Iraqi men were heavily armed and looked ready for battle.

The man who approached Trigg spoke decent English as he shook Trigg’s hand firmly.

‘I trust we are done now, yes?’ he asked as another man opened the suitcase. It was full of heroin.

‘It seems so, my friend,’ laughed Trigg as he cut one of the foil bags then wet his finger as he dabbed it into the heroin. He smiled. Its bitter taste told him that the heroin was of high quality.

‘Now that is good shit,’ Trigg nodded as he approved the merchandise. Trigg knew good shit from bad when it came to heroin.

‘Please though, my friend, just tell me you’re gonna kill this fuck, will you? Why the fuck did you want him alive?’

Chuckling as he helped his men put Tommy in the back of the jeep which had been brought round, the man in charge shrugged his shoulders. ‘We need him, Trigg. I say before - a soldier boy good for us, we can sell him, we can trade him, he good for our cause, gives us good, er - how do you say? - stature, respect. We also maybe have fun with him, you know, kick and punch him a little, and try out some new torture methods.’

‘But he is gonna die, right? We need him dead, comprende?’

Samson asked as he looked nervously at Trigg.

‘Yes, but we have to gain some things first. I assure you men he won’t be seeing your lands again. It doesn’t matter if we do a beheading on camera, or a shooting, or maybe he will starve to death. Who knows, but dead he will be, very soon my friends, very, very soon!’ The man in charge looked so happy and excited to have a British soldier as a captive, he felt like he had struck gold.

The deal was that Trigg and his men took out the men in hut 1. These men weren’t to be trusted, and the deal between the group of militants and Trigg was that Trigg killed them and delivered a British soldier. In return, Trigg got a case full of uncut heroin which he was to get back to England and offer as tribute to X Company.

Making his way to the back of the jeep, Trigg watched Tommy, who was coming around, slowly opening his eyes. Tommy’s hands and feet were bound with rope and he couldn’t move much. He opened his eyes fully and saw Trigg staring at him.

‘Yeah, wake up faggot,’ screamed Trigg, ‘you see, you see what you made me do? You coulda been part of this Tommy, part a something special. You could have gone back with me, joined X Company, and maybe got your own turf, who knows? But now look at you - a soon to be dead motherfucker.’

Confused and hurt Tommy looked at Trigg and shook his head. ‘Don’t do this Trigg. I know we have our differences but we were friends, Trigg. They are gonna do God knows what and kill me, you know that? I don’t deserve it, Trigg, come on, tell them to let me go! Come on, I’m going to be a dad, mate, a fucking dad, if not for me, set me loose for Emma and the baby. Come on, Trigg.’ Tommy looked in

Trigg’s eyes but didn’t see any pity, any hope of him coming round. What Tommy once knew of Trigg was gone, and the cold-hearted greed-driven madman was what was left.

Looking back at Tommy, Trigg aimed his gun at Tommy’s head. He moved his arm in a circle as he toyed with Tommy’s look of fear and pain.

He gave Tommy a going away present in the form of a bullet to the shoulder. Tommy screamed in pain.

The Iraqi men shouted in their own language as the man in charge of the Iraqis did too. ‘He is no good dead. Now we go my friend, now we go.’

Rushing into the vehicle, all the Iraqis zoomed off into the windy night as Trigg stood with Samson and headed back to base.

‘Well, they got Tommy, and we just got made, eh, Samson. Fair trade don’t you reckon?’

‘Fucking is, Trigg,’ agreed Samson.

Both Samson and Trigg looked around at the small patch of carnage littered with bodies.

‘Right Samson, we burn this whole place up, Dave and Spade too. We will say they fought bravely blah blah, they will get medals and shit, will do their peoples proud.’

‘And Tommy?’

‘Oh fuck him; he’s an MIA (missing in action) my friend. Gone, toast. Fuck me, just imagine what they’ll do to him, ouch!’

‘Yeah’ sniggered Samson ‘He’s in for it all right.’

Chapter Three

HULL, COLEFORD PRIMARY SCHOOL – 1983

‘Friends are God’s way of taking care of us’, least that is what my mother used to tell me. Most of the time I would disregard my mother’s religious quotations but, for the day I met Tommy, she kind of had a point.

‘What a goal!’ cried a big fat kid called Timmy as he celebrated his goal. The playground was always bedlam during playtime, especially in summer. Kids running around going in all-different directions would have made anyone dizzy. It was hard for the playground supervisors to keep an eye on everyone, but they tried their best.

The supervisors could have done a hell of a lot better on that morning.

Playing on a small stretch of grass away from most of the noise and schoolyard mayhem, two children were in a world of their own.

Sat down with his lollipop in his mouth, the little boy finished the daisy-chain and handed it to his little girl friend.

‘There you go,’ the little boy said, as he smiled happily, innocently, oblivious to the vultures circling.

‘Thank you. You’re my best friend,’ the little girl replied, and passed him a daisy chain in return.

‘Wow! Yours is even better and bigger than mine,’ he smiled, putting the chain round his neck. He had no idea this wasn’t what boys did. He had no idea that boys were supposed to be tough and didn’t play around making daisy chains with girls.

‘We need another player.’ Timmy wasn’t asking, he was telling the young daisy chain maker that his services were needed on the football field.

Looking terrified he answered quietly, almost under his breath, he was sad ‘but I don’t like football.’

Timmy approached him ’you what? You don’t like football? But you like playing with girls? Ha-ha!’ Timmy turned to the other boys, all watching and waiting for Timmy to stamp his authority. ‘You are playing football. We are short.’

He then broke the poor boy’s heart. Walking close to him, the brittle boy quivered with fear as Timmy broke the daisy chain.

The little boy found guts he never knew he had and kicked big Timmy in his shin. ‘I don’t want to play!’ he cried as he tried to pick his daisy chain up, but Timmy was on him in a flash.

Kicking the little boy’s legs away from him, Timmy jumped on top of the little boy as he cried, and started to strangle him.

That’s when I met him, that’s the first day I met Tommy, for that little scared boy was me.

BANG! Out of nowhere I saw a fist hit Timmy, then again, then again. The look on his face was priceless, as was mine I should imagine, for up to that day that was the scariest moment in my life. I had never known violence, so this was like the scariest thing ever! I would have screamed for my mother if I thought she would have heard me.

I was truly terrified.

‘Get off him fat boy,’ Tommy snarled as he stood with both fists clenched.

‘But Tommy, look at him, he’s a girl! He plays with girls and makes daisy chains.’

‘He’s a girl, is he?’ Tommy asked as he walked towards me and offered his hand. I took his hand and stood up, behind him.

Spotting the daisy chain on the floor, Tommy picked it up. He quickly fixed it as the other kids looked on, wondering what he would do next. He put it on around his neck, he looked at me. ‘Fasten it would you?’ I did as he asked. He then looked at all the other kids, addressing them with his seniority.

‘Look. Everybody look! I wear daisy chains.’ His eyes wandered the crowd of kids which had gathered, waiting for a challenger to fight him.

‘Now who wants to call me a girl?’

Nobody did. Ever.

‘The name’s Tommy,’ he smiled and offered his hand. I shook it with a beaming smile whilst wiping my tears with the other.

‘I’m Joey Graziano, and I’m seven.’

‘I’m eight next month’ replied Tommy. ‘And on my birthday, my stepmother’s buying me an army suit!’

‘Wow’! This kid was soooo cool. We left the girl where she stood and went and played war games, using sticks as guns and berries as grenades.

From then on we were joined at the hip. We were best friends, no, scratch that...

We were brothers.

Chapter Four

Things just aren’t the same for gangsters these days, the game’s changed. It is a whole new world out there where guns and grot wire have been replaced by lawsuits and back hand deals. The latter was how I wanted get him. You have to make some deals if you want things done, make friends in high places, we could never take Trigg on in a street war, no way. Still, Tommy was Tommy, and who could ever tell him, me? Yeah, right.

I’d better start from the beginning. Tommy, guess it all starts with him. The man changed my life, saved my life even, because had it been me in his position, I’d have been dead. It could have been me in his position so easily, I still remember that day, as if it were yesterday.

He saved me. I got my life, he got his, fate some would call it. Me? I think he just always tries to help others, no matter the cost to himself.

The day in question is not the day I met him, when he saved me from big fat Timmy, no, no, this was the day, the day which would change our lives forever.

So wise for his age, I swear everybody loved him, including the girls, but Tommy only had eyes for one girl, Emma, whom he had been sweethearts with since he was a late teen. He just stood out from the rest, good at every sport you could imagine, football athletics anything, he excelled. A real character that, always seemed to smile no matter what his predicament and, believe me, life threw him more than his fair share. He had the world at his feet; he was a star amongst all the kids.

BRANSHOLME, HULL, ENGLAND, 1989

We were both 13 years old. We had been inseparable for the best part of 6 years. Tommy had taught me how to fight. In return, I had taught Tommy how to do his times tables and helped him with his reading.

Getting help with schoolwork was hard for Tommy. He had been in and out of different foster homes for a while now, a few years here a few years there. Hardly the best foundations for giving a child a good chance. Yet Tommy was always optimistic. His take on it would be as long as he got fed and had a roof over his head, he wouldn’t kick up a fuss.

I always asked him over for tea at my house when I could, and my mother thought the sun shone out of his arse after he had helped me so many years back. That was a great thing about my mother. You see some people hold grudges, never forget being wronged by someone.

My mother was the total opposite. She held love grudges, she never forgot when someone did her a right turn. If someone was nice to her or did her a favour, she wouldn’t forget it for life.

I’m sure my mother would have adopted Tommy, but my stepfather, total cock that he was, didn’t want any more children. He could hardly bear the sight of me, so one more stray would have probably sent him over the edge. By the time my mother left him, it was too late.

Tommy and I went to the same school. At first both Tommy’s attendance and work were exemplarily.

But everything would change.

What strikes me as odd that morning is that my mother had had a talk with me. She had heard I had stolen a policeman’s helmet, which was true of course as the policeman had stopped to help some people push-start a car in the road. To cut a long story short, he basically took his jacket and helmet off to help the people whose car had stopped.

Myself, Tommy and a few other kids were hanging out. I saw the helmet, I took it and ran, thinking I was hilarious as my friends laughed and rolled over ’cause the hat was so big for my head it fell over my eyes as I ran, resulting in me tripping over and getting caught by the policeman.

Being the best and most lenient policeman I had ever met, he basically let me go with a clip around my ear, trashing the theory that ‘all coppers were bastards’ at the same time. I remember the policeman looking me up and down. A few people from down the street were watching so he couldn’t kick my arse. ‘I’ll let you off with a warning, young man,’ he said. But I could tell if people hadn’t have been around he would of broken his foot off in my arse. Kneeling down to my ear he whispered to me ‘I don’t forget a face. I’ll have you, you little shit.’

I smiled.

But with my luck being what it is, the old fuddy duddy from across the street, Mrs Crabber (whom we called Mrs Crapper), had seen the incident, put 2 and 2 together and come up with fucking 16. She basically told my mother I was this and that and I was stealing and blah blah fucking blah. My mother, bless her, knew Mrs Crapper was a walking, talking gobshittter, so took what she said on board and spoke to me. She talked about how crime didn’t pay and to never steal from anyone, and always help people. It was a proper mother-to-son lecture.

We’ve all been there, so I took her words of advice on the chin. ‘Yes, mam,’ was my reply as I donned my serious face and vowed to be a good lad from now on. How the hell was I to know what was would transpire that day?

Chapter Five

There were many old wives’ tales and Urban Legends around my block growing up. Amongst the best was that the German Shepherd dogs in the garden of number 43 were actually werewolves. I knew it wasn’t true but still would never go in the garden should our ball ever go into number 43’s garden. ‘Fuck that’ was the usual response if anybody said ‘go fetch the ball.’

Another one was of poor old Bethany Green. Word round the goody van was that old Beth was actually called Mary. Now Mary in actual fact had a disfigured face down to an accident with a chip pan many years ago. But, somehow, probably due to kids being kids along with kids being bloody cruel, a story had been concocted which we sort of believed. We believed she was called Mary, and if you stood outside her garden and said ‘Bloody Mary’ 10 times she would come and get you. The story was if she looked at you in the eyes you turned to stone like Medusa did in Clash of the Titans. We tried it once and I fucking nearly shit myself when I saw her. However I ran home and told my mother, who gave me a whack around the head and told me the truth about Bethany Green and her horrible accident. She even made me go cut her grass once a summer after that.

But, there is always one rumour, one story on the street that is true. No matter how awful, no matter how terrifying, the worst one out of them all was true, because he was real.

Mr. Murok - the man who beat children.

With poor Tommy having spent different spells with different foster homes, it was inevitable that he would have had some bad times.

I remember the weeks after Tommy was removed from the Muroks’ family home for his protection. Tommy was bruised but never really spoke of what happened to him. I remember seeing a change in Tommy after his spell with the Muroks. He seemed more aware of things. The playfulness of a once laugh-a-minute child had been replaced with a twitchy, and even sometimes paranoid, version of Tommy.

Tommy was like it for months after, but after being placed in a new home for a while, he seemed to get back to his old self, being happy again and playing with me down the street every other day. But to those who knew Tommy, you didn’t mention Mr Murok.

We had been picking brambles for my mother. She made the best bramble pies, and we were walking home and without really thinking we ended up walking past Mr Murok’s house.

It was a nice house. Four-bedroomed, semi-detached, with a stateof-the art conservatory and a really well kept garden. In the summer the flowers used to protrude out of his fence so me and the boys would pinch them for our mothers.

During that warm summer day I guess Mr Murok was just minding his own business. We were certainly the provocateurs.

As we walked up I saw the change in Tommy’s face.

‘You ok, Tommy?’ I asked.

He didn’t answer; he just dropped his basket as he looked at the house. Something bad happened to him in that house. It wasn’t until we were men that he told me he had been beaten for eating a biscuit.

As a kid I didn’t understand why Tommy was silent, stood like a statue. I asked a few times what was wrong, but still there wasn’t an answer.

Tommy had a look, and the look scared me. I thought that Mr Murok had maybe just been mean to him, so I got a stone ready.

We could see Mr Murok. He was in his kitchen. I said to Tommy, probably because I wanted to impress him, that I was going to smash his window.

I did. Little did we know that Mr Murok had ran for Great Britain in marathons. Oh yes, the chase was well and truly on.

The stone I threw from about ten feet away smashed through the window with ease. I don’t think that I or Tommy expected it to break so easy, but break it did, and Murok ran like a man possessed trying to get us.

The chase lasted a good 10 minutes. We ran in and out of streets, over fences, but the fucker kept coming for us.

We knew we were in the shit, so Tommy, being the more streetwise of us, decided to hotwire a car for us to get away.

We took what was a cool car in that day, a Ford Cortina, in race red. Now I loved cars at that age. I had even driven a few that our friends had stolen from time to time. I took the wheel once Tommy got it going, and things went downhill from there.

It all happened so fast. The car started, it seemed we had just flown down the street when I swerved to miss Mr Murok as he ran out in front of us, but I hit him anyway. He flew in the air and cracked his skull on the pavement, leaving Murok to be spoon-fed for the rest of his natural life.

Both I and Tommy owned up to what we had done. My mother wasn’t too bad, after some initial lectures off her and the police she didn’t mention it much after. She knew the stories about Murok, not that it made it ok what we did, but nevertheless, I think she was happy Mr. Murok was no longer a danger to children.

For the police this was a no-brainer. Tommy had pissed them off for years and, although he had never done anything serious, he was a pain to them, and the system as it was decided I got let off with a harsh warning, and Tommy got put into care, into a children’s home for ‘unruly kids ‘.

I was beside myself, both with guilt and a real fear of losing my friend.

The smug faces of the police at the court will always be fresh in my mind. They actually looked happy about this kid, my friend, being locked away in some horrible place. It was bloody awful. No child should have to go through it. I know he did wrong but, fucking hell, he was a kid for fuck sake.

I couldn’t believe it, they wouldn’t take me. ‘But it was me it wasn’t him. I nicked the car and hit the man. It was me, it wasn’t fucking Tommy!’ I felt embarrassed as I realised I had started to cry. These cops didn’t want anything but Tommy, they hated him and he had been a little bugger to them for years, they wanted him away. The only thing, which was nice was seeing Tommy smile at me.

Years later he said something that meant the world to me. He said ‘that day, Joey, the day they took me away, it was the first time anyone had stuck up for me in my life. I had never witnessed that, not for me, someone fought for me. I had a best friend, I didn’t give a shit about going to Hepshaws, for me that shit was easy, it was the feeling that someone actually gave a fuck about me, that was priceless. I actually, for once, felt that I had some self-worth.’

The outcome of that incident shaped both of our futures.

Every weekend I could, I tried to visit Tommy. He was surrounded by criminals and people who didn’t have much of a chance, people who had been given the shitty end of the stick.

In the years Tommy spent in Hepshaws, Tommy added more and more misdemeanours to his name. Theft, taking vehicles without the owner’s consent, assault, and the list goes on. If you were to look at his record it would seem there was a life criminal in the making, and that’s what they saw. I knew he wasn’t that guy, he really wasn’t. That’s what being locked up with other crims does, especially as a child, and it fucked him up.

They saw someone with a record, but when they looked closer, they realised Tommy wasn’t just some punk with half a brain with an attitude of ‘look at me, I’m the victim the system has failed’ like most of the born-to-lose thugs he resided with. No, Tommy was clever, he calculated his endeavours, he did his homework – but most of all he learned from his mistakes.

They recognised this; they watched him.

Places such as The Hepshaws Institution for Young Offenders were like a breeding ground for criminals, and when they identified guys like Tommy, they targeted them. They new a potential criminal with promise when they saw one. It was already inside him, all they had to do was chip away the pieces and sculpt him in to what they wanted.

They were the Army. Or least they said they were. Disguising themselves as Army careers personnel was a masterstroke. It was easy. Send a man in uniform, throw in a few forms, promises of this and that. To the kid that is going nowhere fast it all seems too good to be true, and it is.

X Company was more than a gang, more than a crew. They were organised, connected, and deadly.

The policy of X Company’s recruitment was no man could be part of the organisation unless he had had at least three years’ military service. Once a target came to their attention, usually with no family, no ties, then the young man would be sold the idea of the army, to prove himself as honourable, to be part of something. Then, when they eventually got out, they were recruited into X Company and given the chance to work a turf and become an earner. If all went well then any member could rest assured he was untouchable. If someone fucked with you, they were fucked with ten times as bad.

It was like the rules of the old Cosa Nostra. You fuck with a made guy, and it’s your arse.

They threw him a friend in the shape of Trigg. It was no accident that they ended up as bunkmates. They both saw the army careers guy, and they were both sold the dream. They basically had two choices: stay in Hepshaws, the academy for fuck ups and amount to nothing, or cut short the stay, get special dispensation at 16, and join the infantry, do the service, and look forward to a life with X Company when the service was finished.

I saw the road Tommy was going down. I tried and tried to tell him he was being played, but he didn’t see it. He had a new buddy in Trigg (who hated my guts for the record).

I saw Tommy every time he came home and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I couldn’t be around him too much because he was into too much heavy shit, and I was going in a different direction.

He was better than what he was doing but I couldn’t get through to him, nobody could until he met Emma. Still I was always there for him and would have never abandoned him, ever.

Tommy, my friend, they had polluted his mind and I was powerless to stop it.

My life took a different route. I had been lucky to do well in exams, I was also lucky in college. Then I got lucky at university, lucky, that’s what they always told me. So with my luck I also got a Law Degree. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to make sure nobody got locked up who didn’t deserve it, not on my watch. I wanted to be someone who could look at himself in the mirror and know that I tried.

To me it was some deep ‘man in the mirror’ type of thing. I had to change my ways, had to make a difference.

I had to find my calling card, find my identity, make something of myself. I didn’t just owe it to myself, I owed it to Tommy. I knew scum when I saw it, and I knew victims of ‘wrong place wrong time’ too, but the career I chose would see to it I helped them all, the good and the bad.

So while I did the law, Tommy did the war.

Chapter Six

YORK, ENGLAND - PRESENT DAY

L. Blakeman & Sons was the tailors to go to should you want the finest suit money could buy. ‘Tailors since 1972’ read the sign on the shop window. Ricky Trigg really looked the part as he smiled to himself in a full length mirror and inspected himself carefully in his new £500 black pinstripe suit.

Nodding at the tailor in acknowledgement for the fine work, Trigg wanted Mr. Blakeman’s expert opinion.

‘What do you think, boss? Sleeves look ok? What about the tie? Gotta look the shit for my meeting today. Would you go with the cufflinks or not?

Standing back so he could get a good view, Mr. Blakeman smiled and told Trigg what he wanted to hear. ‘If you go with the grey and black cufflinks, sir, that would be my recommendation. Also I think the sleeves are splendid. You have to show a tiny bit of cuff so in a slight blink you catch the cufflinks. Plus the cufflinks compliment the tie.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I like it.’ Trigg smiled and nodded. ‘I’m walking out in this shit. Well it ain’t shit, but you get me, don’t you?’

Trigg looked at himself smiling vainly again, he was so happy. ’Yep, I’m one handsome motherfucker. What’s the damage boss?’

Walking out of the shop wearing his new suit, Trigg walked into the busy high street. He grabbed a cigarette and lit it. He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. After buying a morning newspaper from the paper stand seller, Trigg walked towards his car which was parked in sight at the side of the road. Enjoying the morning sun, Trigg’s karma started taking a nosedive as his phone rang. Looking at the caller id, Trigg saw it was one of his guys calling. ‘Fucking hell’ he thought to himself.

’Yeah? Make it quick, Mario. Got a massage at 10.30 and my steroids are kicking in, so I’m as horny as a motherfucker. Need to bust a nut before this meeting ‘cos I’m tense. So this better be good.’

‘Trigg, I have some news. Trigg, I ...’

’News? Is that all? I can get that from my paper! Look Mario I ain’t concerned if someone’s missed a payment and I ain’t concerned if someone needs a scaring - what am I paying you for? Did you not hear me before? I’m fucking busy, you greaseball Italian fuck, el busy, or however you say it in Italian, el busyito! Ha!’

‘You sat down?’

’I fucking swear to God I’m gonna grot you with a whore’s g-string if you don’t spit it out. What, Fuckhead? Your fucking with my fucking being, my chi, that’s why I told my therapist I can’t relax ‘cos fucking boneheads like you keep irritating me…’

’Trigg he’s...’

’What?’

’Trigg he’s alive.’

After a moment of cold silence, Trigg crunched the cigarette he was smoking in his own hand, not reacting from the pain of its burning him. Pacing backwards and forwards near his car, he was shocked, amazed and downright pissed off.

‘You there? You still there Trigg?’

Breathing slower and straining not to flip his lid, Trigg tried to focus. ‘Yes I’m still here, Mario. Look, I’m sorry, but you know how I get, right? Talk about shooting the messenger. Oh fuck, fuck, fucking fraggle fucker my fucking morning is ruined. Right, look, I have my meeting, remember? The meeting, and nothing can unscrew me at the mo. I can’t have me fucking thinking head being fucked with ‘cos this shit today’s fucking important shit. Now get the guy’s together and I’ll be over later. In the meantime find me out some truths, not ‘he saids, she saids’ Mario, but truths. We need to have facts on this.’

‘Will do, Trigg.’

Standing for a moment as he ended the call, Trigg looked into the sky. It was a beautiful day.

‘Ok, motherfucker, round two,’ he said out loud as he started the ignition and zoomed off down the road.

Chapter Seven

4 MONTHS AGO - SOMEWHERE IN THE IRAQI DESERT- 0400 HOURS

He couldn’t see. He wasn’t blind though, it was just that his vision was restricted by the blindfold around his eyes. They must have put it on when he had passed out. The last thing he remembered was being dragged into a building. He savoured the warmth as they dragged his body inside , then the warmth turned to cold as he saw a picture of Saddam Hussein hanging on a wall. It was staring right at him. His worst fears were confirmed with one quick glance. He was forced to look at a man; the man was bearded with angry eyes. The man shouted words he didn’t understand and then hit him with the butt of his rifle.

After that it was lights out.

He heard strange voices as he woke in a language he didn’t understand. He could smell sweat, he could also smell burning. The air was so dusty that he found it hard to breathe.

Tommy could feel the sweat dripping down his head onto his face, then rolling down to his chin. It made him thirsty. He was so thirsty.

The shoulder hurt like hell. His head was worst though. ‘That bastard Trigg! That bastard!’ Tommy now remembered Trigg had shot him in the shoulder. He needed medical attention.

Tommy had started to panic

‘Who the fuck are these people?’

Deep down he knew. He was just too scared in his own mind to accept he was in the presence of some of the nastiest people on God’s earth. And these people were here for him. What were their intentions?

Tommy knew. He knew what they were here for. He was under no illusions.

He just prayed deep down that for once he was wrong. He had to gather himself, gather his emotions.

Then a voice in a language he understood. ‘What did you say?’

Tommy asked out loud as he couldn’t quite make out the words of the comforting voice without a face.

‘Stop breathing so heavy. You’ll tire yourself out, son. You a soldier? You must be a soldier?’

Tommy let the words sink in. It was an American accent. He felt so good that wherever he was he was not alone. He told himself it must be an American soldier who had also been captured.

‘Thanks, I’m just so hot. I can hardly breathe. Yeah I’m a soldier. You?’ Tommy replied whilst trying to work out how close the voice was.

‘No, my friend, a reporter. It is hot. You gotta breathe more easily buddy. Chill out a little. You been processed yet?’

‘Processed? What’s that mean? Wait don’t answer that. You mean tortured, right? Wait, don’t answer that either. Oh no.’ Tommy knew what the voice meant.

Tommy had another flashback and he remembered being in extreme pain with what felt like a rock hitting his head a few hours ago.

That rock was in fact the butt of an Iraqi AK47 rifle introducing itself to his forehead. After that it got misty.

‘Look, hey, I don’t know your name. Well, whoever you are I tell you, I’m getting the fuck outta here, I ain’t seen anything yet, I’m kinda fuzzy headed, took a big crack from a rifle on me head, all I could hear was gibberish before I passed out, then I wake up in here.’

There was a shuffling as the voice sounded closer. ‘Look, buddy, first rule, keep quiet, they go fucking ape-shit when we make noise. Look, buddy, the likelihood of us getting out of here is slim – yours slimmer than mine. You’re a soldier for fuck sake, a prize; they’ll be parading your ass for sure. This is the place you stop bullshitting yourself. I know in your mind you think you’re gonna be the one to get out, that by some miraculous way of fate some camo wearing grunts are gonna barge through here and save your ass. Then you’ll go home to a big brass band with cameras asking how you coped. You write the book, do the TV interview. Your woman parades you to everyone as the hero come home. Ain’t gonna happen, my friend. Second rule, tell them what the fuck they need to know. If not, it will be a long long stay for you’.

Trying to scratch his nose which was itching whilst having his hands tied was challenging, but Tommy did it by simply brushing his head up against his shoulder as he answered.

‘Well, I guess I’m fucked then, ‘cos I tell you I don’t know shit, nothing which could help them anyway. All I know is I got fucked over by someone close to me, and I’m fucking stupid because my gut told me it weeks ago and I ignored it. But I am getting out. I’ll get out all right. I ain’t dying here. Got shit to deal with, and although I’m shitting bricks, I’m gonna try and have the courage to live. Any fucker can die’.

The American sounded serious as his voice grew louder ‘Wrong attitude. Whatever you have to deal with forget about, for now. Deal with the situation you’re in. You will learn, oh yeah, you gonna learn.

Look, when it comes to the questions they ask give them anything. Make it up if you have to. Just make them feel like they are winning. But don’t give them it too easy. First you have to stall, like you actually give a shit. Then give them bits of info. If you break immediately then it looks suspicious. Give them a piece at a time and it looks like they’ve done what they want and broken you into submission. That’s the trick’.

Suddenly Tommy heard a commotion. The jibber voices were back. ‘Fuck!’ thought Tommy. He hoped that the voices were not heading in his direction.

‘Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm,’ he told himself over and over as he realised the voices were in fact getting closer. He heard what sounded like keys jangling, quiet foreign whispering, and a door opened. The door sounded metal or something as the door squealed open.

Then loud gibberish as someone grabbed him and slapped the back of his head. He tried to walk but his legs were weak and he fell to the ground. He was kicked twice in the stomach. He screamed as dust entered his mouth. Someone stood on his fingers and he felt his little finger break, the bone clicking as he cringed with pain. He was picked up, still blindfolded, and dragged away.

Laughing as they dragged him to God knows where, Tommy had the feeling this could be it. ‘Are they going to execute me? If so, please make it quick,’ he asked the gods. ‘Please make it quick.’

Chapter Eight

PRESENT DAY

Having been told to wait in Major Roux’s study, Trigg’s eyes wandered across the wall, admiring the various pictures and accolades of this military legend.

The study was exactly as he expected: spotless wooden floors, wooden walls and a wooden desk with expensive looking burgundy leather seats either side.

There were pictures from the Falklands War in which Major Roux looked just the same as his more recent pictures on active service in the former Yugoslavia, and the even more recent photos of him in Iraq.

Straightening his tie and his sleeves from his new suit, Trigg waited in anticipation of Major Roux’s appearance, for today he would find out Major Roux’s decision.

Finally.

The thing about Major Roux was that he never gave any indication of what he was thinking. He always had a straight face and was always very well spoken. He didn’t tolerate fools. He valued knowledge, education and people with forward-thinking attitudes.

Having tried to get some sort of inside whisper all week, Trigg had found his attempts had fallen upon deaf ears as those closest to the Major would never whisper, never give hints, never dance, no matter who the enquirer.

‘Sergeant Trigg,’ barked the Major as he entered the study in a slow stroll.

‘Major Roux,’ replied Trigg as he offered his hand, which Major Roux shook with a smile. Gone were the formal salutes. They still used their ranks, and respected them, but the salutes were no longer required.

Sitting down opposite each other, Trigg was made to feel more at ease by the Major’s surprisingly polite manner. He had met him a few years back briefly but hadn’t spent enough time to get to know him or pass any judgment on his character. The word round the campfire though was that Major Roux was not to be fucked with in any capacity.

Smiling lightly as he sat waiting for the Major to say something, Trigg started wondering what was what. The Major had walked in with a file in his hand and, upon sitting down, started to read it, paying no attention whatsoever to Trigg. His eyes scanned up and down the paper. He looked at the second page but obviously didn’t read it, instead giving a ‘hmm’ and a grunt before putting it down. He looked Trigg up and down.

‘Combat in a wide range of environments, made stripey (Sergeant) in good time, good confirmed kill tally, yet you chose not to continue? Why?’

‘Sir, thank you, sir. As I told 2nd Lieutenant Graves, I want in this, I want in. I’ve wanted in X Company for years. I have had my own things going sure, but when your organisation approached me years ago I was dead set on making my name, to get noticed and become an earner, and with all respect to the earners you have who I’m sure do well for you, I am different, I get things done, my record in the street and in field speaks for itself, sir. I’m a worker, it’s what I’m about, sir, and given the chance I could do some damage out there for you, I promise.’

Twiddling a pen around in his fingers Major Roux gave out a sigh, his face perplexed.

‘I do not doubt any of your credentials here. The mere record of your service in the field should have got you a meeting some time ago. I know how you work; I know what you’ve been doing in and out of the service. I also have to add that the tribute from your latest escapades in Iraq did not go unnoticed, but it is that which leads me to my next point.’

Getting up from his chair Major Roux walked over to a cabinet just to the left of his desk. It was encased in glass and contained numerous medals which served as proud reminders of the Major’s many years given to the Army. Major Roux opened the cabinet and carefully took out a medal. The medal was a gold cross with curved edges, overlaid with white enamel. At the centre of the cross there was a raised laurel wreath in enamelled green surrounding the Imperial Crown in gold, on a red enamelled background. The ribbon that held it was a deep crimson, flanked by narrow dark blue stripes at the edges.

Major Roux held it in his own palm for Trigg to see.

‘This is the Distinguished Service Order Medal, awarded for good leadership, or so they say. Now I love and hate this award for two very different reasons. On the one hand, I love it because it serves as a reminder to me that I made some right choices on that fateful day, and as a result I saved lives. On the other hand, I hate it because it serves again as a constant reminder that on that day I also made some terrible errors of judgment which subsequently cost some good men their lives. I have to live with that. We live and die by our decisions and, more importantly, other people live and die by our decisions. This fact is true both in the service and out here, in our world. The men who serve X Company are highly trained, highly disciplined individuals. Like me they have made mistakes, they are only human, but now we serve each other in the quest for substantial wealth with less chance of getting our heads blown off.’

Putting the medal away back in the cabinet, Major Roux seated himself. ‘I’m going to talk to you about a few things before we go into your involvement in my organisation. You need to know the truth from the fiction, Sergeant Trigg.’ The Major brought out a petrol lighter which sported the logo ‘desert rats’ which was a term used for the men who served in Iraq. He lit a cigarette from a polished wooden case. Trigg sat obediently listening and taking notes in his mind.

‘I remember years ago, when I first formed X company, I said my sole purpose was to make sure that I, and the comrades whom I trusted, were no longer palmed off with medals and forgotten about - that we would get what we deserved, what we had risked our lives for. I saw man upon man slaughtered during my time in service, so I spent the last few years building contacts around the world and using them to form something to benefit us men of honour. My best friend many moons ago when I was a keen grunt once told me ‘get out of this shit, it’ll kill you’, and it surely killed him. No money went to his family because he was on Deep OPs. No money goes to the men of unofficial missions, as you know. Honourable men forgotten. We got sick of it. We started with some arms deals, and then, when that got risky, we got into booze, tobacco and, more recently, narcotics. You see X Company is a brand now to us, a symbol. We have become known. For one, we are a unit, no quarrels, everyone knows their place and we follow the chain of command as we would in the army proper. But our interests are not of a legal nature, therefore we are vigilant as to whom we do business with but, most of all, as to whom we…employ. Now you might ask yourself what I am getting at with my whole speech about medals and what not, and assuredly you already know what we do. As I said when we approached you a few years back, we told you nobody got in without time in the service - at least three years. You did that as well as making a mark in this city with your criminal endeavours. So I know, I know, you could be an asset. But it is the business with what I hear is an ex-friend which disturbs us, disturbs me.’

Trigg’s head dropped. He had known this would come back and bite him on the arse.

‘Boom,’ smiled Major Roux

‘Let me explain,’ Trigg said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

‘No, let me explain,’ smiled Major Roux. ‘The facts as we understand them are that you did a deal with Annah, you got the shipment of heroin, and you threw your friend in with the deal. Your friend. We would probably have turned a blind eye to the matter in the light of the generosity of your tribute but, Trigg, he was a soldier.’

‘He was a gutless fuck, sir ‘There was venom in Trigg’s voice.

‘A soldier nonetheless, a soldier, Trigg. The fact is we knew of you both from the days you guys ran the markets - the DVDs, the CDs, the fake perfume. Oh yes, we have monitored you boys for years. Now, when we approached you both with regard to your potential services a few years back, I knew you were both interested. I mean that was easy to recognise as you both signed up for active service within the same year. I also recall Tommy doing some jobs for us. It cannot be ignored Trigg, the man is respected whatever your differences .Yet, when on leave some time back, I recall Graves approaching you and it was his belief that Tommy wanted no part of the drugs, wanted no part of anything illegal anymore, which was a disappointment to us, but we thought we could work on him. We know he is friends with that hotshot Joey Graziano, something of a hotshot lawyer I am told. That’s spells trouble, Trigg. Graziano has friends in higher places than makes us comfortable and the last thing we want is attention, especially from a lawyer. A lawyer who can’t be bought, I might add.’

Getting all the more irritated at even the thought of Joey and Tommy, Trigg didn’t know what this meant for him. ‘So what? That’s it? I can’t get made on account of a what if? In all due respect, Major, I’m ready!’ Don’t let this mishap affect your judgment please.’

‘I’m not, Trigg. You see, we are all resourceful men in X Company. We all bring something to the table, that is always good policy, particularly in a business such as ours. Now we, I, am thinking that were you to handle this mishap, as you call it, yourself, you would prove to us, to me, that you are a man to be taken seriously, a man we can trust, but more than that, a man who handles his affairs swiftly, discreetly and professionally. Now, I don’t want to hear how you do it and I don’t want to hear when you’ll do it, just mop this mess up quickly.’

Smiling at Trigg, Major Roux told him the golden words, ‘You’re in, Trigg, for now, though we will keep it small with you, a few pick ups here and there to get you acquainted with our people on the street. If all goes well with your problem then I think we can point some major operations your way. If you prove competent and loyal to X Company, you’ll find that the rewards are exceedingly high.’

Disappointed but understanding the Major’s perspective, Trigg nodded in agreement. ‘You have my word, Major Roux. I will erase the problem, quietly and with no comebacks.’

‘Outstanding,’ concluded Major Roux, ‘now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my brag rags on (full military uniform with medals). The last time I was nuts-to-nose in ribbon was the day of my court martial.’

‘I heard, Major, a goddam disgrace. However, you know what they say, your rank is your rank, in or out of the shit. We earned it, and no cock-faced judge with fake stripes can take it from us.’ Trigg stood to attention as the Major walked to the door and opened it for him. ‘It’s been an honour meeting you, Major. I hope to speak with you soon.’

‘Likewise,’ replied the major. ‘Now haven’t you got a wife to go home to or something? It would do you good.’

‘Not me. I’m a million dollar man who needs a billion dollar bitch. Ain’t many of them about, so I just fuck the rest.’

‘Fucking is a young man’s game’ commented the Major, ‘but good luck to you, if that is what you want.’

Walking to his car with a sweat on, Trigg could hardly breathe, so he eased his tie loose. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it, taking quick drags. He grabbed his phone from his inside jacket pocket and dialed Mario.

‘Fucking knew it, Mario, cunt ain’t even back yet and things are fucking up for me. The mere fucking whiff of him has people backing off - him and that fuckhead lawyer.’

‘Relax, Trigg, we can sort this. What about the Major? Can they help? You in or what? Talk.’

‘Yeah, I’m in, but they said they can’t do too much shit with me till this mess is sorted. I send them two kilos of uncut shit to be repaid like this. It’s fucking bullshit, Mario.’

‘It’s necessary bullshit though, Trigg. You want the ride, you gotta pay the toll, in this case the toll is getting rid of the problem.’

Walking in circles near his car, Trigg was getting more and more wound up. ‘I KNOW! Fuck me; the thing is how do we get rid of the problem? We can’t buy Tommy, and we sure as fuck can’t buy that fuck lawyer. So where does that leave me, Mario. What other choices do I have?’

‘You haven’t any, Trigg. Tommy has to go. No two ways about it. Should have killed him back in Basra, but how were we to know he’d get out of that shit alive. Should have been dead ages ago, but he keeps coming back. You know as well as I do he’s a dangerous motherfucker who raises friends quickly. The Major knows that too.’

‘I know. He has to go.

‘And the lawyer?’

‘Don’t worry about him. I know exactly what to do with him.’

Chapter Nine

During the interrogations we were always blindfolded and, daft as it may seem, it did make a difference. The whole concept of not knowing when or where the pain is coming from is terrifying. No amount of training I had received prepared me for it. Sure, we had the standard training should we be caught and then tortured, but nothing prepared me for this.

Tommy sat there with his blindfold still tight around his eyes. His breathing was erratic. He was scared. The men who had collected him loved seeing their subjects quiver in fear. The room was silent. This in itself was a form of torture, the wait, the long wait of fear, the fear of knowing that something so so awful was going to happen. The fear of knowing that some indescribable pain was going to strike on some part of my body.

‘Please God, not the nuts’ I prayed silently as I waited for the inevitable.

‘Name?’ the voice said.

‘Tommy.’

‘Rank?’ the voice asked.

‘Tommy.’

‘RANK’ the voice was agitated.

‘Corporal.’

‘They don’t send Corporal’s out on missions like the one you were on. I say again, rank?’

‘Oh fuck. Look me shoulder’s fucking killing me. I’ve been shot. Oh you dumb fuckers.’ Tommy spoke slowly as he tried to get them to understand. ‘I have beeeeeen shot, you know? Bullet? Gun? Shot? El shoto?’

‘I understand everything you say. Ok, Ok, you want to make jokes, you want to test your strength, yes? Ok.’

Tommy’s heart beat faster as he realised that getting clever with a man whom he could neither see nor touch might not have been such a good idea. ‘I’m just in pain, sir; I am in pain, that’s all.’

Footsteps could be heard leaving the room with another set coming in. He heard the sound of shuffling about. ‘What the fuck are they doing?’ Tommy thought nervously.

Out of the blue Tommy felt indescribable pain. The men in the room laughed and joked with foreign words as Tommy cried. The torturer, who Tommy could not see, had inserted a nail into the top of Tommy’s thigh with a hammer. Tommy shuffled as the pain shot up his leg. The nail wasn’t all the way in yet though. As the torturer twisted the nail round and round, Tommy could feel the head of the nail scrape his bone as it was driven in deeper and deeper.

Screaming with rage and shuffling left and right in the chair with pain, Tommy let his anger be known. ‘I’m gonna kill all you fuckers, you fucking sick bastards.’

‘Name and rank?’ the voice said with a hint of laughter.

‘I told you! I fucking told you, my name is Tommy, and I’m a fucking Corporal! Arsehole!’ Tommy wanted to kill this motherfucker. No, Tommy wanted to rip this guy’s fucking eyes out with pliers, then set him on fire, and that would have been too good for him.

‘Arsehole? Arsehole you say? You see, Tommy, I speak the perfect English. I understand everything. We are done with the questions for today.’ The voice then spoke what might as well have been Martian to Tommy. It sounded like people were leaving the room in some hurry.

There was still someone in the room with Tommy, though. The door shut. Tommy heard the squeak of the door. He felt a sudden sharpness on his throat. Then what felt like a punch to his stomach, then again, then to his face, once twice, again and again. ‘Aghh, you fuck, you sick fuck!’ Tommy screamed. He was in pain, but he was also mad. He felt some of his back teeth get knocked out; he spat them to the floor as his head hung down taking punch after punch. The punching continued long into the night until Tommy passed out. He was tossed back into his cell.

Chapter Ten

It seemed like as soon as I woke they were on me again, the fuckers. That’s the way it went for the first few weeks - sleep then a good kicking, sleep, then questions and a kicking.

On this particular day I was lucky, though. Somehow my blindfold had loosened and I caught my first look around. My eyes hurt like hell and my vision wasn’t too good because I’d been in the dark more or less for weeks. Well, I say it was weeks, I was going by my body clock, it could have been days for all I know. I had managed to scout about with my eyes and realised that there were two floors. The first floor had two trucks parked inside. It kind of looked like an old warehouse with an upstairs - not too big. I was in one of about four cells.

I wondered about Spade every night. I’d hoped he had survived but I knew the possibilities were slim. I wondered every night about Emma. How was she? Was she showing yet? I had to get home, I had to get home to my baby, and my baby to be.

I was in a real shithole. It was daytime, there was a small window at the top of my cell, it had no bars or glass, just an open vent really with light shining in from the outside. Then, as the guards stormed into my room and picked me up, I saw the man next door as they dragged me out. He did an action with his fingers across his chest. I realised it was a cross he was doing on his chest, the way Rocky used to before each fight in his films.

Fuck.

I didn’t get a good look at the guy in the cell next door. I only really saw that he was bald and wearing rags. How long had he been there?

After being sat back in the room he had only been in hours earlier, Tommy awaited the next batch of treatment. He was physically exhausted. His shoulder had at least stopped bleeding from the bullet he had taken off Trigg, though, but his knee was numb after having a nail hammered into it earlier, and his face was swollen, bruised and bloodied.

As Tommy’s eyes wandered the room he could see two guards stood near the door. Then, as he looked to his left he noticed the table.

‘Oh shit, oh fuck me, what the fuck’s all that there for?’ Tommy asked as his eyes examined the sharp and scary instruments on the table. The table reminded him of a surgeon’s table of apparatus before doing an operation.

The guards just talked quietly in their own language. Walking in slowly a new man appeared. He was a short man around 5ft and a half. He was wearing beige camouflage combat trousers with a green vest. Tommy sniggered as he noticed the awful moustache the man had with the equally dodgy side-parting in his hair. He had a clipboard with some paper attached and a map, which he placed on the table of doom.

The man pulled up a chair and sat about a foot away from Tommy.

‘You sleep well, Tommy?’ the man asked, smiling.

Now Tommy knew this was the same voice who spoke to him last night. ‘Like a baby, thanks to your guards playing football with my head. Listen, my shoulder and my knee are fucking killing me. Is there any way you could have a doctor look at me, please?’

The man talked to one of the guards, who then walked out of the room.

‘It is being dealt with, Tommy. Now I have some questions. They are quite simple. Before I ask, I want you to think.’

‘Water, I need some water.’ Tommy was so thirsty; the heat was becoming unbearable for him. He had a fever and the room felt like a greenhouse.

‘Of course,’ the man said. He opened up his own water flask and gently poured some water into Tommy’s mouth. ‘Not too much, not too much,’ he said as the water spilled out of Tommy’s mouth and down his neck.

Feeling a little more composed, Tommy breathed and gathered himself again. ‘Right, fuck it, what do you want to know?’

The next ten to fifteen minutes I explained to Mr. Haircut 2007 that our mission was very simple.

A Black OP.

We had been ordered to check out a few huts which, according to our intelligence, could have been holding some Iraqi militants who, the day before, had blown up a convoy of UN Red Cross trucks carrying medical supplies. The powers that be were angry and wanted badly the people who had done it. It was a five man team, headed by the field ops expert, Trigg. I explained to Haircut that I and some of my crew had been fucked over somehow by our own man.

I told him the truth. It was not ‘good intelligence’ I was giving. It was the truth, though, nevertheless. It had no bearing on the war, was totally useless information, and he knew it. Mr Haircut proceeded to ask me about bombing routes, what my next mission was. How the fuck was I supposed to know that? I explained that my kind was treated like mushrooms where it came to Intel, fed shit and kept in the dark. I knew one thing and one thing only, orders.

They decided to torture me anyway, whether it was for more info or even for some sadistic fun on their part, who knows? I was tortured for roughly three days. I was punched, kicked and sometimes even bitten.

Believe it or not that was just for starters. When the guard came back who was supposedly finding someone to treat my shoulder, he only brought back a knife. The knife was glowing red and I knew it was red hot. I braced myself for the inevitable. Mr. Haircut stuck the blade into my wound sending me into shock. He said that the burn would close the wound. I suppose I was lucky, though, the bullet had apparently gone straight through and when I’d passed out from the pain of the burning, I at least had a rest for a while.

I remember on the third day of me being processed, the man was asking me questions again to which I had no answer, and I really didn’t.

I had not eaten for a few days and my physical strength was…well, not good at all.

I was under the impression that Mr Haircut was getting fed up with me. I really had nothing to tell him and I thought he was starting to sense it too. He threatened to take me to a village nearby where our bombs had killed many women and children weeks earlier. He strangled me as he shouted ‘imagine what they would do to you if I took you there’. Again, though, I had nothing. I was beginning to think that maybe if I just lied about something it might keep them happy, but then thought if it was checked out maybe they would kill me for lying. I was getting desperate.

It was getting serious now. It became apparent that these men were fishing for something in particular. He was asking me about different routes of my company, which I didn’t know. After taking off two of my fingernails with a weird scalpel-like instrument and then rubbing the wounds with salt, the man stabbed me through my left hand. Yes, I felt it, but to be honest after having my hands tied so tightly for so long, I had lost a lot of circulation in my hand so I guess it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I was then released from the chair and thrown on the floor where Mr. Haircut and three more guards threw me about and played football with my head and body, repeatedly kicking stamping and punching me.

It became evident to me that these men were not proper military - some bullshit little faction fighting their own war with their own cause.

Unfortunately for me, they had struck gold in capturing what they called an ‘infidel’.

Chapter Eleven

It was my fourth consecutive day of torture, I knew that much. I didn’t know how long I’d been held captive for sure though.

I had started to get my wits back a little and realised I was in the throes of death. I’d heard that during torture the trick for the assigned torturer was to find the sweet spot. That spot where they know if they hurt you there that you’ll squeal like a pig. The thing is I really didn’t have a high threshold for pain, I mean for God’s sake I’m scared of the dentist, so the thought of somebody torturing me is enough to make me want to close my eyes and call for my mummy. I know what you’re thinking, coward right? Well I’m no hero. Id’ rather be a live coward then a dead hero any day so call me a coward all you want, I’ll be that happy coward with two arms, two legs and a heartbeat, thank you very much. The thing is, sat there, in that chair, being hit from all angles with God knows what, I started to anticipate the hits.

I was, in some weird way, building up resilience.

The hits still hurt, but the pain was more … I don’t know … more diluted I guess. This is when I thought in my brain I could be in the shit because, surely, if I wasn’t feeling pain then I must be dying. A prospect I was beginning to accept.

I had enjoyed a slight break. They had left me alone for roughly two hours. In that time I began to reflect, take everything in. I began to think to myself ‘okay, this might be the place I’m going to die’.

I was drenched in my own sweat and urine. I was in pain, but a lot of my body was numb. I thought that even if they untied me right now I couldn’t even walk out of here never mind run.

I had a few moments to pray. I had never been religious. Not ever.

My Grandmother had been a Catholic, God rest her soul, but I’d never bought into it. It’s kind of funny though that when you’re at death’s door how much you actually start to hope something is out there. I was begging in my own mind for help, from God knows where, crying out for some sort of hope, pleading, that I wouldn’t die here. Not here, not like this.

Upon Haircut’s return I noticed he had brought in a video camera, along with a tripod. His film crew were mostly carrying AK47s, though, so I think it was a fair assumption that they weren’t from Sky News.

Haircut sat down. ‘You will go on TV.’

Always straight to the point these fuckers.

‘Like fuck I will,’ Tommy snarled.

‘You will. You will make video. You will say what we tell you to say.’

‘Afraid not, absolutely not. No fucking way. I’ll kick, I’ll scream, I’ll tell them everything you’ve done. Fuck you, fuck you.’

There was no way I was going on film. No fucking way. Trigg and his goons would have loved that. ‘Nope, I ain’t begging to these fucks,’ I thought, even if they kill me. In fact, at that moment, death would have been quite a fucking release.

Mr. Haircut was raving mad. He shouted at the guards who pointed their guns at me. I laughed, foolishly. Haircut un-holstered his side arm, a desert eagle I think. It was probably mine that they had taken off me.

I felt the business end of the gun pressed against the side of my head. It was cold. He screamed in his own language.

I visualised my own brains flying out of the side of my head as the bullet penetrated my skull. I saw in my mind my own dead body on the floor as the cavity at the back of my head seeped out blood mixed with brain matter. I remember saying to myself ‘now it’s time to be afraid, and it’s okay to be afraid.’

I breathed in slowly. I remember the sweat dripping down my forehead into my eyes. I tried to clench my hands but they hurt too much, I then closed my eyes.

I heard the safety being taken off, and then I heard the click. It was so strange because I had flashes, much like you see in films, flashes of my life, a kind of mix tape full of shit I’d done wrong, shit I’d done right, and even some random shit. It sounds crazy but it was all in a split second too.

But most of all I remembered Emma, oh Emma. I fucking love her. I remembered Trigg, that bastard, what had he done? That bastard!

Nothing happened.

They all laughed and joked in their native tongues as I cried.

One thing that will stay with me forever is that sound, the click of that gun. There may have not have been loud noise but, for me, that quiet clicking was deafening, and it echoed through my soul.

Chapter Twelve

How long had I been here? Fuck knows. My mind said weeks but my body said months.

The torture had calmed down the last few days. My body clock told me it was around 8 in the evening. I noticed my neighbour had vanished from the cell next door. Had he been released? Been killed? I didn’t know the man, but God knows I hoped he’d been released.

Waking and then managing to stand to my feet I noticed my hands were not bound. It felt good to stand but the sheer effort was tiring and I sat again, and stood, then sat again. I had to save my strength. I sat, composed, for the first time in a while. I thought of one thing and one thing only - Trigg.

Why did he do it? Why? We could have worked it out. He’s so fucking dead. I swear he’s so fucking dead.

Gonna deal with you Trigg, gonna deal with you.

I replayed the last few years, key incidents between myself and Trigg. I tried to understand the reason for his betrayal. I couldn’t think properly. My mind was full, my feelings were overwhelming me, I cried, then I cried some more, I felt broken, I was an emotional wreck.

Maybe I did deserve to die. Maybe Trigg was doing the right thing betraying me, but the reason I wanted to get out of the life was to become a good man again, the whole gangster shit was grinding me down. But Trigg didn’t get that, he loved the lifestyle and wanted to go and make big money with the ex-military come criminals who ran the crime outfit known to those who knew about it as X Company.

I was lost in self pity. Part of me longed for death, albeit a quick one. I remember thinking to myself ‘Please just let this fucking shit end’.

It was right then, at that precise moment that something inside me snapped. A change in me I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I felt anger.

When I am angry I am dangerous.

But it was this anger which would keep me sharp, keep me focused, get me outta this shit. Needless to say, my first thoughts were that I needed to stay alive, and when I got out of the shit I was in, not if but when, my business would be strictly revenge. Pure fucking volcanic revenge, I remember thinking that people were gonna have to re-write the meaning of the word after what I was gonna do.

‘Bring the pain, you fuckers,’ I said in my mind.

Now I had never been the hardest of guys, nothing close to some whom I knew, but I knew, I always knew, I had a few things my peers didn’t have - brains and, more importantly, resilience. I could take the hits and get back up, not just physically but mentally too.

I remembered the foster parents dumping me when I was younger. Never bothered me in the slightest. Missing out on the football team at school. Again, I felt nothing. Even when I was older, if I ever missed out on anything or was wronged in some way, I picked myself up and kept moving forward. It was a strength I had learned, a sort of ‘never let stuff beat you’ type of thing. It was fair to say not much ever did. I was always strong willed.

It was that will, that sense of sureness of myself and knowing my own mind that led me to challenge the ways things were shaping up. I had to challenge it. I was sure that my beliefs were right and didn’t give a damn what Trigg thought.

I had picked myself up emotionally, I had told myself that I would try and escape. There must be a way, I thought, there just has to be. I could handle a weapon so, if I could just play possum and get one of the guard’s guns, I could get out, I was sure of it.

My new-found enthusiasm put me in good spirits. I curled up and thought it best I get some rest. I just hoped my positive mind was still present in the morning. I thought of music in my head, I was a right music nut. I loved all sorts from rock and rap to even, dare I say, some old cheesy stuff which I would never admit to to my friends. At that moment as I laid there, I had my scheming mind in motion, going through ways I could get out without dying, whilst humming different tunes.

I had been asleep for a little while and heard my door go. I was getting some food. They had given me food everyday, if you could call it that. Some days I was basically given chickenfeed, some days I got a little meat. But I couldn’t believe my luck.

It had gone quiet in the place that night. Usually you heard all sorts of shit going on, guards talking, vehicles coming and going.

But it had been quiet for hours.

When the guard came into my cell and offered me what looked like a cooked meal…well I nearly cried, seriously. If they had just offered me food I would have probably done anything they asked! Ok so it wasn’t a steak with veg and mashed potatoes, but damn, to me this rice and weird sauce shit was the fucking business, the best thing in months.

The guard looked happy as I ate, I had seen him before. He was looking at me as I finished the meal in what was probably a new world record for eating quickly. Once I finished he took my plate.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ I said with a full mouth, because at this point table manners had gone right out the fucking window.

‘Thank you,’ he said back. Thank me? I didn’t get why he thanked me, but this dude seemed ok. By now anyone who didn’t throw me a beating was ok.

Walking closer to me, he looked like he wanted to say something.

He ‘ummed’ and ‘arred’ as I could see him struggling to find the right words.

He sat down in front of me, placing his rifle on the ground. I noticed he had a tasty looking grenade on his belt, along with a side arm, which looked like a Desert Eagle or Glock 9. I tried not to stare at his weapons.

I wanted them…badly.

‘You not bad man,’ were his words. He continued ‘I from family, big family.’

‘I from family too,’ I said, Ok, I was lying, but I was trying to humour this guy.

‘Sister? I have two sisters, and one come to me, she come to me and say the English man army help with water of well. Now my sister have water, so I feel bad for you, my friend. You not all bad. This thing, it business to them, business. I feel bad. You know you will die here. I’m feeling bad for you.’

Now I know this motherfucker meant well, but shit, talk about ruining my morning. Saying I was going to die there was probably not the best way to get into my good graces, even if he thought ‘you not bad man’, fucking prick.

I nodded at him politely, he stood and I could tell he was deep in thought.

He came closer, he put a bottle of water next to me, he said ‘drink, then hide. If they find I give water they get very mad’.

‘I will, I will,’ I promised. ‘Thank you sir, thank you,’ I added. I could tell this guy genuinely felt bad for me, the meal, the water. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in months.

He turned and started to walk to the door. I stood up slowly and walked to the door with him.

‘Thank you again,’ I mentioned. ‘Your friends? They not here tonight?’ I asked as I couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was.

He stood facing me at the door ‘No, outside some of them. We have three outside on guard all time. We have one asleep downstairs in truck. Ha, we need sleep but if get caught we in trouble, ha.’

‘Ha-ha.’ Ha-ha indeed, as I laughed with him he hadn’t noticed me looking around scanning the area, scanning for other men with my restless eyes. He kept laughing and everything inside me said ‘kill him! Do it now while you have the chance’, but I was weak and couldn’t have a long fight should it come to it. But now was all there would ever be.

So I killed him quickly.

With all my power, almost like I had summoned it from the gods themselves, I struck. I struck with my fist to the underside of his nose. I heard it crack, I even felt it crack. Once, twice, then the third time, as the bones in his nose crumbled completely in front of my fist. I wasn’t stopping until his nose was destroyed. I caught him gently as he fell forward. I caught him quietly too, for this was a stealth kill. I noticed the blood lines in his eyes, that was because I’d punched the underside of his nose that hard, that the tip had cracked and spiked the frontal part of the brain, causing the weird zombie like look in the eyes. Some Martial Artists say use the palm for such a kill. It’s true, a palm can do it but, trust me, a fist works better every time.

Chapter Thirteen

Thinking about Tommy the night before got me upset. Still no fucking word. What was the army playing at? If only we had some word.

Still, I think we all had something telling us in the back of our minds that he was gone, and in some horrible way. I didn’t want any sort of word to confirm it. I had to still believe he was ok. I had to.

I really felt for poor Emma. It was hard for me so I knew she must be going through hell. I had been remembering Tommy taking me out on his bike. He loved motorbikes and I had it in my mind to get one.

Foolishly, I mentioned it to my wife.

Now Wednesday mornings at work were never my favourite, but this Wednesday morning had started so bad it really seemed like it was going to be the bitch of the bunch.

Firstly, my dear wife and I had been arguing from basically as soon as we woke, which was 6 am. I had told her I was going to see a man after work that I knew that could maybe get me a cheap bike. I was done with her dictating what I spent my money on. It wasn’t like we had kids so, apart from house payments and everything else, she basically spent the lot - joint accounts - I tell you, its downhill from there.

Being the controlling evil bigot she is, she went even more crazy than usual. Now, ok, it may sound selfish that I wanted a Harley. I know they are expensive. But we had more than enough money coming in, and she never had a problem using my money for spa days with her and her shallow plastic-breasted friends. I also turned a blind eye on all the credit cards and on all the random shit she bought on an everyday basis. She was a kept woman who managed to fall out of work when she realised I had money. It didn’t bother me at first, money means nothing to me. I’d be happy to be with a girl who didn’t have 10p to her name if I thought she was the right one for me.

It was the principle of the thing. It was the only thing I had wanted to buy for myself since we got married. I think the last thing I bought for myself was a suit for my wedding! So yeah, we had started shouting and carrying on right away. I stormed off earlier than usual just to get out of the house. I had a McDonald’s breakfast in mind and nobody was stopping me.

On the way to get my breakfast I was contemplating leaving her, I wasn’t happy, this wasn’t love. I felt like I was trapped. But enough of that, breakfast time.

I got to the window of the drive-through. Because the intercom wasn’t working, the window opened.

‘Hi, Hun, can I have a …?’

Before I had even got my words out, she looked at me all smugly and told me there had been an accident in the kitchen and all service was suspended for a short while. I asked her if she could maybe even throw me a bacon sandwich. She looked at me as if I had two heads and told me no, while smiling…bitch!

I plodded along to work, thinking to myself I’d maybe nip in a café and get something then, boom, my tyre.

Fucking Wednesday’s!!

So like I say, Wednesday mornings hated me. But things were about to turn. I arrived at work late, pissed off and generally not at one with the world.

I decided to seclude myself in the realms of my office. To take refuge in tossing it off on my computer, I got on Facebook, changed my status to ‘Joey Graziano is....fucking hating Wednesdays!’.

I also thought I may do some social chattering and generally waste my day while eating biscuits and nipping out for the occasionally cigarette. I had no clients today, so because of my start to the day I informed my receptionist that there was a ‘no calls’ rule for the day.

After a few hours of painting my mail order A Team van and then perfecting my putting with my office golf set, I heard the chime of evil…the phone.

‘I said no calls today, Hun, I told you. I am unable to work because of the world’s refusal to feed me.’

‘You didn’t say no clients, though, Tommy.’

‘Oh, that’s funny. Hun, ha de fucking ha!’

‘Well you didn’t Joey, and this man is a potential private client. He isn’t your regular scally type. It’s money, Tommy.’

‘Mmm, there it is right there, the route of all evil, yes, ok, let me straighten myself out a second. And this man is where?’

‘He is in the waiting room, Joey.’

‘Send him in, Hun. And, Hun…thank you. Without you I would do nothing all day.’

That last bit was true. She really pushed me. You would think she was my boss.

Sitting at my desk looking professional, as one does when seeing a new client,was like being in a play, and if you knew your role, it was easy. For one you had to look the part; secondly, try not to stutter, speak clearly and when you speak be ready to answer questions on what you have said. You have to know what the fuck you are talking about, though. Some clients, not many, but some, tend to be educated and can trip you up. Hate them fuckers. I have two plays from the Joey Graziano play book when dealing with those sorts, anticipate and manipulate.

Law. Some say it takes hard work to get where I have, and it did in some sense. The studying was hard, the tedious hours reading books and so on became a drag. But once you got there... easy.

Easy peasy.

My take on the law was simple… a collection of rules for a society to live together by, some moral, some practical. And the punishments our laws hand out are for the prevention of chaos.

Simple.

As the man entered my office I sat straight. I was doing the old pen in the mouth routine, with a slight frown as if I was deep in thought.

He knocked as he entered.

‘Hello, Mr. Graziano,’ he said as he slowly walked in. He looked at me, sizing me up almost.

‘Hello, sir.’ I offered my hand which he shook firmly. ‘Please sit.’

We sat down and he told me his name.

‘I am Mr. Valukana. I come because of a glowing recommendation from an old client of yours.’

Valukana was well dressed, well groomed, and certainly well spoken from my first impression of him. He had an accent I could not place. He spoke perfect English, but there was an underlying accent there.

‘Well thank you, Mr. Valukana. Call me Joey, please. To which old client do you refer?’

‘Ok, Joey, you can call me Valukana. You will remember him, Joey. He says you are the best criminal lawyer he has ever had. With the amount of trouble he gets into that, my friend, is a compliment. His name is Slava.’

I knew the guy, instantly. Slava was the kind of man who epitomised the phrase ‘career criminal’ and through his crimes had probably helped build the very office I sat in.

‘Yes, yes, good old Slava, Slava Fachenko. Although, as I remember, he is not that old. Is he still working the club scenes, the nightlife?’

‘That he is. But he works for me now.’

‘Ah, he in trouble?

‘No.’

Valukana sat there silently for a minute or so. I have to say he made me uncomfortable with his quietness. There was something, well, quite scary about him, and it was freaking me out.’

I broke first.

‘Well, sir, you must have a reason to see me today, so what can I do for you?’

‘What can you do for me? That is one way of putting it. Another way of putting it, my friend, would be what can you do for yourself? Are you following me?’

I was confused. This man was quite intimidating to say the least. ‘I’m not sure I do follow, sir. Enlighten me.’

Valukana stood. I watched him as he looked at my photos on my wall. He browsed my various certifications and achievements, which my secretary had put up might I add, not me. He then turned and looked at me. He had piercing eyes.

‘I am led to believe that you represent a Mr. Rushworth? Is that correct Joey?’

‘It is, sir, but I cannot talk about an active client or any client for that matter. I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you have heard of a little thing called client confidentiality?’

‘Ok, Joey, ok. I don’t mean to push. I know you are as clean as they come - the cleanest.’

‘As a vicar’s sheets,’ I joked as I felt the mood of the room lighten a wee bit.

Valukana laughed, to my relief.

‘I know you can’t talk about him, Joey, but I can. Off the record, if it makes you feel better. This Rushworth was from Latvia originally. Correct?’

It made me mad that he was fishing about a client, in my office too, the cheeky bastard.

‘Look, on the record, I can’t talk about anything which I know fuck all about. Adding to that, I think you have overstayed your welcome. I cannot and will not discuss client matters and I’m sorry to say you have to get the fuck out of my office if you are hoping I am going to disclose things to you.’

Valukana laughed.

I didn’t.

‘Denial, Joey, is fucking beautiful. You truly are a good lawyer. You even have me believing you. Joey, don’t be alarmed, I just need the same favour you did for Rushworth. I need a fucking different passport. I fucking swear to you, not ever will I ask anything remotely illegal again…ever. I will even throw so much work your way, to do with my impending building permits and legal issues. Seriously, I will be throwing a lot of business your firm’s way, and I just need a passport for my guy. Immigration are proving to be constant ball busters.’

This guy was funny, and had a charisma about him. I felt a hell of a lot better now.

‘Look, I am telling the truth, I am not denying anything. I helped him because he needed it, and on the whole he is a nice man .I don’t do the passports personally, I’m a fucking lawyer, but I know of somebody who knows of somebody.’

I wrote down a number and passed it to him.

Valukana shook my hand again. He seemed so intense when he was serious.

‘You ever need anything, anything, you call me, ok?’ He passed me a number. ‘You may hear things about me, but not all of it is true. Just remember, Joey, you ever need me, whatever it is for, and I am here.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled as he started to walk off. He then turned to me. He looked and smiled again. I remember thinking ‘just fuck off!’ But he didn’t.

Opening his jacket again, he pulled out a cheque book.

‘I take it a cheque is acceptable?’

‘Yes. You could have paid in reception, though, but here is fine I guess.’

My standard fee for a private client varied. I didn’t really want to take anything off the man, but figured if he wrote a cheque for a few pounds I could throw it in our firm’s Christmas fund for the hospital.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he handed me the cheque. He then walked out of the office.

Thank God. I wanted to get back to my lazy, fucking Wednesdays.

I then looked at the cheque. It was for five hundred pounds.

Should I take it? Why would he give me this much money?

I decided I would return it in the post. But now it was relax time again, time to do nothing. Yes!

My receptionist was an angel, great sense of humour, plus she always said what was on her mind. She told me the truth and when I needed to pull my head out of my arse. I needed that type of person around me at work because I get de-motivated, as we all do from time to time.

I had just got comfy in my chair - I was determined to paint my A Team van - when I heard the phone again. ‘Aaagh’ I shouted as I picked it up.

‘Joey, you have to take this.’

‘I don’t have to take anything, honey, apart from shit off my wife, constantly and every day,’ I joked as I had just started to finish painting the side panels of my A Team tin model van.

‘Joey, I’m serious, you just have to take it, that’s all I can say.’

I don’t know what it was but there was a hint of something in her voice. She wasn’t her usual bouncy self; a disturbance in the force so to speak.

Maybe my wife had croaked. I should be so lucky.

‘Ok, put them through, Peggy Sue!’

I adjusted my mood and put my mini paint brush down and fixed my work head back on. My voice was chirpy, but serious. Someone didn’t want me to relax today that was for sure.

‘Hello, this is Joey Graziano. How can I help?’

‘Joey?’

The voice was familiar, but it was a bad line. It sounded like whoever was calling was ringing near a road.

‘Yes this is Joey. Can I help? Who is this?’

There was a pause for a few seconds.

‘Joey it’s me. It’s Tommy.’

Bang, just like that.

I nearly dropped the phone.

Fucking Wednesdays.

Chapter Fourteen

U S MILITARY BASE CAMP ANACONDA – BAGHDAD, IRAQ 1100 HOURS

After putting in a week’s emergency leave at work, I was on the first flight to the American Military Base, Camp Anaconda, which was a giant base built by the Americans just north of the capital Baghdad.

Having a few friends in the military myself, I managed to pull some strings and board an army flight. I still paid obviously and it was a little bumpy, but I didn’t give a shit. I was going to see my friend. I hadn’t seen Tommy for six months, and the crazy thing was he had supposedly been dead for four of them.

I didn’t get long to talk to Tommy when he rang; he just said he was tired and ill. I asked him if he was ok. He didn’t answer and just said he needed some treatment and wouldn’t be home for weeks yet. He asked me to not to tell Emma straightaway. He said he had his reasons and I respected them, even though I knew Emma would kill me if she knew I knew without telling her.

Like I said it wasn’t a long call, I was just hyped that he was alive, although I was scared of what state my friend would be in. Did he have his legs and arms? Was he disfigured? I called myself an arsehole in my mind for thinking such terrible thought but I couldn’t help it, I just hoped he was ok. I couldn’t believe he was alive.

Before I left for my flight there was something Tommy said which caused me a little alarm.

‘When you leave your house, and I mean as soon as you leave your house, go see Crazy Keller. He will give you a currant bun.’

It sounds innocent I know, but ‘innocent’ is not a word that you would associate with a man known as Crazy Keller (he tried to set Tommy on fire once) and for those of you who didn’t know the slang around these parts, ‘currant bun’ was not a tasty treat packed with calories, but something that rhymed with bun… packed with bullets.

After making a swift pit stop at Keller’s, I got on my way. It was actually quite surreal flying into Baghdad. I talked with some soldiers who had been on leave and didn’t want to come back. I also talked to a few young lads, one was 18, one 19, they looked too young for war, they were hardly men. Talking with them about what they expected made it dawn on me they never had many choices. That seemed to be the way of things, like Tommy, he opted for the Army and active service to get out of Hepshaws.

I remember Tommy’s first leave after his first tour in Iraq. He had a different look about him. Someone asked him one night that was it for queen and country, for freedom why he fought. He gave them a blank look and said ‘I fight for the man on my left, my right, behind and in front of me. Queen and country? Politicians? That’s all well and good but they don’t have AK’s firing at them do they? RPG’s flying above their heads. All I give a damn about are the men I serve with, I don’t think about the reasons. I know only orders.’

Once I landed at Camp Anaconda, the absolutely massive US Military Base, I was blown away with how quiet it was. I expected choppers flying everywhere, jets screeching in and out, tanks rolling past, but I suppose that’s a mix of me not knowing shit about the army life, and too much TV.

As I entered the base I was greeted by a Captain Walter Redman, I didn’t expect to be met by someone with such a high rank. I thought some medic would meet me and take me to the Military Hospital.

After introducing himself he said I could call him Walter or Captain. I called him ‘Captain’ because it just sounds cool, doesn’t it?

Walking with the captain he gave me the rundown of what the base did. He was friendly enough but was holding something back. I know people, and I have a gift of seeing straight through them. Maybe that was the lawyer in me talking but something was rotten in Denmark.

After all, a British Soldier had been rescued and / or found alive. Surely after all the debate over friendly fire, this was a happy story for the Americans to gloat over?

I wondered, why all the hush.

I was becoming restless with the guided tour by the captain. I wasn’t here to learn the history of the Second Recon Division. I wasn’t here to learn about the men from back in ‘Fort Hood Texas’, although I’m sure they were all great soldiers. I was only interested in one of them, Tommy.

After walking the halls and seeing the photos, we came to the captain’s office. He offered me a seat and a coffee and asked me if we could speak in confidence. He wanted my word. I couldn’t give it to him, as I had no idea what he was about to say. Adding to that I knew he wanted to tell me, and he did.

He explained the circumstances on how Tommy came to be at Camp Anaconda, and not at an English base. He had asked for my word not because it was classified per se, but he just didn’t want any public spats with the British Army, especially because of the recent friendly fire incidents.

I then gave my word, as I wasn’t interested in anything military, just my friend. We talked for over an hour.

When I got out of the office I felt shocked, not only from what I had just heard, but at what my friend Tommy had been through.

I was walked down a long corridor. There were men in pain waiting to be airlifted out of there, but more concerning were the men who said nothing. I dared not look either side of me as I walked through. These poor men, I felt sad for them, but I also felt proud that men could be so brave.

They were, they are, our fucking heroes.

When I got outside of Tommy’s room, the captain looked at me funny as I froze.

‘It’s here, Mr. Graziano, your friends room is here. You can go in.

You ok, sir?’

I couldn’t breathe I was so nervous, I had flown thousands of miles to see him but I was afraid now. I didn’t know what I would say. My mind had frozen. How could anything I had to say possibly null the pain of what this man, my friend, had had to endure?

‘Just give me a minute please, Captain, would you?’ I asked as I slowed my breathing down a little.

‘Certainly.’

The captain walked off to give me some time but stopped about ten paces from me.

‘You know, Mr. Graziano, when I asked him, asked him if he had any family to call, he said he had nobody, nobody but you and a girl called Emma, I believe. Gonna give you some advice. At the moment you’re all he’s got. He’s felt alone for a long time. Bottle whatever you’re feeling, sir. We call it ‘soldiering up’. Get in there and see him. The kid has been to hell and back. He needs familiar faces.’

I opened the door. Tommy was laid out wearing nothing but union jack boxer shorts. He had a Walkman on. I could hear the music – it was Lenny Kravitz’s ‘Are You Gonna Go My Way’. He was nodding his head to the music. I paused for a second as my eyes scanned all his scars. He looked like he had been tortured for years, not months. His body was a sight of bandages, stitches, cuts and bruises. I saw his hand, his left hand, it was minus two fingers.

What the fuck had happened to him? Who did this?

It was at that moment that I’m not ashamed to say my eyes just filled up.

Chapter Fifteen

Joey’s mother used to tell Joey off for having a go at me doing what I did. She was a great woman. She still tried to tell me not to do bad, which I could never promise her or Joey, but then she always would say it was all part of God’s plan and that things would come good.

I don’t believe in many things. People believe in shit their whole lives. Now I ain’t knocking them. Whatever your beliefs, if it gets you by and serves a purpose, then believe, and don’t let nobody tell you otherwise.

So what do I believe in? For one I believe you make your own luck in this world; you get out what you put in. Nobody ever gave me a handout. I know I went about shit the wrong way before Emma came into my life. Joey had tried for years, not that he had ever given up on me. Joey used to say what I could be, what I could do, but I could never see it. I think I took advantage of the fact that I knew he would always be there for me, no matter what I did.

When I met Emma she opened my eyes. I knew this girl had the answers. Eventually I said I would try and live my life right, leave this game behind. I don’t know if it was the Sociology degree which made

Emma more understanding of me or what, she just knew shit, shit I didn’t know. I don’t know if that was from books or whatever, I just think women do, they really know a lot of shit, shit us men just don’t get.

Emma never told me to get out of the game, not in so many words, but she told me the game would kill me, and after many a late night talking, and sometimes arguing, I saw the light.

The thing was the game didn’t want to let me go.

Reflecting on my life in that cell that morning did good and bad things to my mind. The good part consisted of plans for the future, you know? It may not sound big to some, but for me making Emma happy, doing right by my child to be, and getting an honest job, God damn that seemed like some good shit to me. Shit that would give me balance.

But what about the bad I hear you ask? Well, sometimes you have to do bad to get the good, and I’ll tell you, I was about to do a whole bunch of bad to some motherfukers. I’ve heard people before battles in my unit. I’ve heard them getting psyched up about ‘bringing the noise’ and ‘bringing the pain’, all the usual bravado before going in and getting some in the field.

Not me.

I wasn’t about bringing the pain.

Pain?

Hell no. I was about bringing death. I had my mind made up; I couldn’t die in some mud hut in Iraq.

No sir.

On this day I was all about bringing the death.

On this day I would have to become something else. Step outside of myself. If only for a while I had to become death. I shifted all my emotions, all my feelings of love for her, I couldn’t carry all that on this journey, I hid it deep inside, and I would save it for when the time was right.

Time was against me. But I was stronger now. Not only did I have food inside me, but now I had an AK47 and a combat knife…nice! But the real treat was the grenade, oh sweet Jesus I was excited when I saw that bad boy. It felt like Christmas.

You see there are grenades, and there are grenades. And then there are incendiary grenades, and they are beautiful.

An incendiary grenade basically fucks up everything onsite, period.

Designed primarily to destroy vehicles and artillery, they are the bad boys of the grenade family. These bad motherfuckers work using a chemical reaction which lets out crazy heat, a heat caused by the thermite inside, and when the thermite goes pow!, it produces heat in excess of 2200 C. Now that’s a lot of heat, enough to ruin anyone’s day.

So I got the gun, grenade and blade, but I also had the fucking body in my cell. I had a quick walk around before deciding what to do next, I had to think ahead, think clear. After killing the guard I had a few moments where I wanted to pull some Rambo shit, but I knew if I did I would be out-gunned and out-manoeuvred.

So I stalked my prey.

I crept downstairs and saw the other guard asleep in the truck. I could have slit his throat quite easily, but I didn’t. I looked outside from a downstairs window and there were around six men, all listening to a radio which was on low volume. They were all armed. The only way was to use the grenade, but I knew I had to be at a safe distance because these fucking grenades have way too much boom for me to have outrun them in my condition. I could walk fast but there was no way I was running anywhere. I couldn’t use the grenade inside either, no fucking way. I knew I would be incinerated. I really doubted whether these fucking idiots knew what these grenades could do because to carry one on a grenade belt in a country at war was like walking around with a fucking TNT necklace at a firework display. Not clever. Still, their stupidity was my gain.

Tiptoeing back up to my cell I knew what I had to do. Every morning these fuckers had a routine, I don’t know why but they did, and what they did was when Haircut turned up, which was every day. He would stand and shout shit at them, and they would go in a room downstairs. They would talk and after around ten minutes they would all fuck off and do different shit like head off in trucks somewhere or, if it was a ‘beat Tommy day’, they would come up here and randomly kick my arse while a few stayed on guard downstairs.

I needed a plan. I couldn’t act now; it would have to be in the morning.

Plan A was to hide the body, hope to God they didn’t notice, and wait until they went into that room to talk their gibberish. Upon their going in the room, I would quietly make my way down the stairs, head for the door, then out, sneak round the outside of the building, get a safe distance, then hurl that grenade like a fucking Olympian thrower, and hopefully that would do it.

Plan B wasn’t really a plan; it was the Rambo option. In simple terms, to go fucking postal.

One thing was for sure, there would be some fucking boom-boom at breakfast.

Chapter Sixteen

Opening his eyes Tommy wiped his eyes and face. His face was covered in soot and powder and his body was covered in rubble.

It was now light. He could smell fire and hear a few groans nearby.

The first thing he saw once he opened his eyes was a huge mass of smoke. He could breathe though. He tried to move his body and wiggled his toes to make sure he wasn’t paralysed. To his relief the toes moved perfectly. His body had seemingly come through the events relatively unscathed - there wasn’t even any huge pain in his body, apart from the odd pains of the torture,

Now Tommy had a new challenge, to see if he could free himself. His feet were free but his legs were covered with rubble. He only had one arm free and, quickly but carefully, started to move a few rocks and rubble from his other arm. Now he had two arms free. He sat up, slowly moving the rubble from his legs. He then dragged himself backwards away from the rubble and examined himself. He seemed ok.

It was time for me to get the fuck up on my feet. I sort of told myself cheesily ‘Get up soldier!’ You know what I mean. So I did. I rose to my feet. I was wobbly at first but stayed stood. I stood with a sort of pride, a sense of achievement that I had stayed alive. Ok so my plan didn’t work to the dot but fuck it, I didn’t give a damn how I was free, and alive was alive. The other thing on my mind was that I had to get up before anyone else did, because if Mr. Haircut or any of his fucking posse found me they would surely finish me off, and fuck that.

All around me were little fires; the whole place was more or less flattened by the grenade .I walked around slowly and saw some feet under some rubble. I figured the guy under was injured or dead so I nicked his shoes. My feet were bleeding and had sores, so the feeling of having shoes on my feet after God knows how long felt like pot noodles to a piss head. Isn’t it funny how you take the smallest things such as footwear for granted? It felt like an amazing find, I have to say.

So there I was, the lone survivor of the blast, the last man standing so to speak, walking around the rubble searching for anything I could scavenge.

That’s when I saw him.

That’s when I hit the wall.

He moaned in pain as I came across him. He was sitting there with a huge boulder on his leg which had all but crushed it. There was bone and flesh all squashed and flat. His leg looked like road kill. He was crying out in his native tongue when he saw me. He looked at me in disbelief.

I knew what he was thinking at that moment. How the fuck, out of all the people in there, had I survived? I wondered that too. But I walked over and sat beside him, not knowing of my intentions at first.

It was Mr. Haircut. He was in pain, great pain, and he was scared.

Fucking beautiful.

The wall I referred to was a place in my mind. I felt relieved and very much overcome with joy that I was free and alive, but now I had this man, Mr. Haircut, the man who had tortured me, sitting there as helpless as a child in front of me, begging, crying, and dying.

I had come to the wall, the place were I could walk away, walk away from this mess and try and find my way home, or move forward, past the wall, and do whatever it was in my heart to do. I had a fire burning up within me.

A fire of vengeance.

In all my years being involved in this business, I was proud to say I’d never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. Ok, I’d killed a few but, with good reason, and they were all bad. It’s an occupational hazard in my game. The guys I had clipped had tried to kill me but, nevertheless, killing a man is serious shit, and when you do it, I really think you lose a piece of yourself every time.

However, it was in mind that if I should find anyone breathing, they would die.

Someone once told me that one day in this game I’d hit the wall, and it didn’t matter which way I went. I could turn back, or climb over it, but in terms of taking a man’s life who couldn’t defend himself, the wall was a symbol of choice.

If I killed this man and embarked on what I felt in my heart (my mission of revenge) I would have climbed it. Once over there, there was no going back. What innocence I had left would be long gone. I always had my limits, the point I wouldn’t go beyond, that was my wall.

The point of no return.

Mr. Haircut was just the beginning, I’m not proud of it, but it had to be done. Some people believe in an eye for an eye, I believe in an eye for two eyes, and maybe even more, depending what has been done to me. No matter how cold it may sound, I had to kill this fucker. He had tried to kill me, and to me this was fair game.

For the first time in my life I wasn’t just climbing over this wall into the unknown, I was breaking it the fuck down, along with anyone who stood in my way.

Chapter Seventeen

‘Well, I bet you have some questions going around in your head, eh?’ Tommy almost sniggered as he spoke, but the snigger wasn’t the friendly kind, more a devilish snigger laced with hate.

Tommy circled the man, slowly. Mr Haircut’s eyes followed Tommy as he walked around him, circling his prey.

‘I honestly don’t know what to do with you, y’know. Fucking killing. All this shit’s new to me, you see. But let’s get one thing straight, you are gonna die. So whimpering or whatever the fuck ain’t going to do shit. I’m just trying to figure out how to do this shit. Getting my bearings so to speak. The only question I guess is if I do it quickly or creatively. Right now I have to say I’m leaning towards the creative, sadly, doesn’t look good for you at all.’

Tommy sat down as he continued to speak. He was relaxed and spoke quietly, almost whispering.

‘I’m of the thinking, Mr. Haircut, that seeing as though you guys took your time with me, it’s only fair I reciprocate. Show you that same undivided attention that you showed me.’ Tommy ran his fingers through his own hair, wiping some more powder off his face in an attempt to tidy himself up. ‘Unless…unless you have any…information perhaps? Information on how you come to have me in your custody?’

Mr. Haircut spoke, panicking and shaking as he stuttered his words out. ‘I was doing my job, I was under orders, orders, you a soldier you....’

‘So what if I’m a soldier, so that gives you the right to torture me? The motherfucking Geneva Convention ring any bells?’

‘But sir, I, er, we, thought you were...er, but, the man who gave you to us ….’

‘Ah, now we are getting somewhere. The man, tell me about the man who, how did you put it, gave me to you. Explain that. Explain it all.’

Tommy noticed that there were some cigarettes hanging out of Mr. Haircut’s trousers. Tommy knelt down as Mr. Haircut squirmed, thinking Tommy was going to do something.

‘Relax, Fuckhead. I wanted your cigarettes. Now I need a light. Shouldn’t be difficult.’ Tommy walked over to a little fire caused by the grenade. He knelt again, lighting his cigarette in the flames. He turned back to his captive.

‘Now…talk.’

Going into a lot of detail, Mr. Haircut spoke of how he and his group , known simply as ‘Annah’, meaning ‘ The Answer’, had been dealing with various groups and factions. They were against the war. They were basically against everybody. They hated their own corrupt government, the U.S., England, basically everyone who in some way, as they saw it, caused harm amongst their people.

Tommy sympathised with that. He couldn’t understand the war either. As Mr. Haircut continued, he went into detail about how Annah had to do deals here and there to raise money for its cause. One of his bosses had met a contact who had met a contact who wanted drugs which they had in abundance. In return, the contact would give them money. However, an additional deal was struck whereby the contact also promised them a soldier who would fetch a high price and expand Annah’s circle of influence yet further.

It was Annah’s objective to process the soldier, find out who he was, and sell him to the highest bidder, whether that be the Iraqi Army or some other group who wanted to parade a British soldier on TV. Mr. Haircut explained it was just for money, nothing personal.

Chapter Eighteen

After a short but interesting chat, me and Haircut were done. Now it was to more pressing matters. I could hear a few more moans and groans so I decided to have a walk around and see who else was still breathing. After all, Mr. Haircut wasn’t going anywhere soon so I figured I’d leave him to stew for a while, the least I could do in return for how he had treated me.

Being in that room I hadn’t had the foggiest idea of how big or small the place was where I was being held captive. It wasn’t massive, however it was of a decent size. Haircut told me it was an old fuel depot for the Iraqi Army which he and his buds had converted into their very own operations centre. It was fairly simple, but now flattened.

I walked through the rubble, well I limped rather than walked, but I also knew I had to get the fuck outta here. Odds were this place was well known, so some fucker would be by here sooner or later. It was fair to say I would make sure everybody was dead before I left. My main point was I was going to try and find my American cellmate. Even if he was dead, he deserved a proper burial. Haircut said he wasn’t handling him and didn’t know where he was. I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not.

Walking through all the building’s rubble, I managed to get an AK47 rifle, a favourite with the Iraqi militia, as well as two handguns. Got me a Desert Eagle and a Glock 9, nice! All had ammo in them. The Eagle had about half a mag, the Glock a full clip, and the AK47 was empty but I managed to find ammo on the floor so I loaded it up appropriately. I love AKs. I remember my sarge used to say ‘just point ‘n spray, and you’ll ruin their day’. Fucking amen to that.

I spotted my first victim. He wasn’t under rocks, but one of his arms was missing. He was groaning something. I wasn’t gonna waste my ammo – fuck that. I knelt over him. He was saying something about Allah.

‘Oh really?’ I said. I wasn’t interested, and at this point the very thing which made me human left me momentarily. People have asked me what if feels like to kill. well I would say it depends. Doesn’t feel good, I’ll tell you that but, y’know, when some fuckers hurt you or yours, I would say it ain’t that fucking bad either.

In moments of rage a man can find out how far he can go and I was going all the way with these bastards. I knelt above my former captor and went for the neck break.

You know when you see people on the telly breaking someone’s neck and there’s this ease in how they do it and then a click? Well, it ain’t always that easy. See, this fucker who was laid out was a big lad, decent shoulder and neck muscles. So you have to really give that neck a good crank. I have two favourite methods - there are many more but, hey ho, I’ll just go through the two for now. So here we go, neck breaking 101 with moiré!

Right then, let’s say you’ve decided to kill a man - good for you.

Today we are using the neck break .Now you’ll need a few things: firstly your mitts, and secondly some determination. Got the goods? Good, now it’s time to get killing. For the simple traditional neck break, take the subject in a good old fashioned head lock and squeeze tight, (like the ju-jitsu guillotine lock). Please feel free to kick and punch the subject before doing so. Then simply bring the subject to the floor (whilst still maintaining the head lock) and, as his head is trapped and secured, move your grip up, then to one side, basically turning the bones in the neck and at the top of his vertebrae so that all connections are severed.

During the transition from head lock to neck break you will hear a clicking noise. Don’t be afraid, in fact be happy, as this means you have done a good job. Sometimes they may not be dead. Don’t panic. Think of it as like following shampooing instructions; if not satisfied, just rinse and repeat - in other words try again. Sorry for going all psycho there, it’s just I am in fact a self defence expert and shit like that fascinates me. It’s not like I’m raving mad. I guess I’m just good at killing.

Back to the point. I was going to do this guy by neck break number two. I rolled him onto his stomach. I sat on his back, put one leg either side of his head, grabbed under his chin interlocking my fingers, and pulled back, crack-bang-wallop, as quick as that. It is quite humane really. He was crying from pain beforehand, so I guess I released him.

One minute he was yelping, the next he was a no-pulse motherfucker.

Funny how shit goes.

One minute you’re comfortable in your own little world like this fuck - he was chilling with a smoke earlier as I pelted my grenade - the next minute you’re in the proverbial shit with someone like me ripping all connections from your spinal cord.

I didn’t count on this many survivors. After my neck break, I got the chance to test my skills on five other survivors. I did two neck breaks, a jumping head stomp (which took me two attempts ’cos this fuckhead had a head like a fucking bowling bowl, nearly broke me god-damn foot, the motherfucker. I did a ground and pound on the fourth which sounds sadistic, I know - to pound a man’s head in – but, shit, the fucker bit me! I thought he was dead, leant down to listen for signs of life, and the shithouse bit my fucking neck like a vampire. I was mad as hell.

Last but not least I was saving something special for Haircut. I administered the Death Grip, a technique I learned years back. It is a fantastic technique, sometimes hard to perfect, but when done right it will submit anyone, and then kill them. If you’re good you can do it with one hand, and it gives you a huge feeling of power over your enemy.

I chatted more to Haircut before I killed him, found out some interesting things, but then it was time.

I looked him dead in the eyes and leant over him, ‘Just so you know, I’m not just a corporal, I’m a highly trained sniper. I have killed captains and generals, even your precious Manu An Abayi.’ Manu An Abayi was like a local religious figure in these parts, but the powers that be wanted him smoked, saying he was a liability with his preachings, which was where I came in. Everybody was pissed as all the little factions respected him. He was like their version of Desmond Tutu.

‘You, you bastaaard! You kill man of god, you do this, you go to hell, you baaastard.’

The cries of Haircut made it all the better for me. It hurt him. He was a proud man, I could tell, had his beliefs. I respected that. Maybe on another day in another world, me and this guy could have shared a beer and a smoke and talked shit, but this wasn’t the day, and this wasn’t the world.

‘Yep, I killed that hollowing fucker with four hollow point bullets, three in the back of the fucking head, one in the front – closed casket motherfucker. That’s how we do it. Just wanted to share that shit with you before you croak. See, you never broke me, you never could – ever’.

‘You bastard, you English bastard. I spit on your queen and fuck your children, you go hell, you go hell.’

‘You first.’

Tommy grabbed Haircut’s hair with one hand. The other hand was clenched as tightly as possible on Haircut’s windpipe. He used his thumb on one side of the windpipe, two fingers on the other side (the infamous Death Grip). He stared into Haircut’s eyes ‘Sshhh, die, die, Motherfucker, die’ and die he did…slowly and in agony as Tommy’s grip got tighter as he crushed the windpipe in his hand. Tommy’s grip had been so tight that his own thumb had pierced the skin and gone into Haircut’s throat. He could feel the inside of Haircut’s throat collapsing as he drained haircut of air, and of life.

As Haircut struggled with his last breath, Tommy whispered in his ear…

‘Nothing personal.’

It should never feel good killing another human being, but there are always exceptions, and I’m afraid I did enjoy it. What had I become? I didn’t know, but I did know they had chipped away at my spirit; they had chipped away at my soul.

They, they were bastards, they were, and they were going to get what was coming to them.

Chapter Nineteen

‘Hey big man,’ I said to him as he opened his eyes. He looked thin, so thin and tired. I couldn’t imagine what physical pain he had endured to get the countless cuts and bruises on his body. As he sat up he smiled with a frailty I had never seen in him before.

‘How was your flight? Everything ok?’ were his first words to me.

Typical that he would ask me how I was doing.

Typical Tommy.

I told him I was ok considering what had gone on. I made polite small talk because I didn’t want to press him about any details, not yet, and I didn’t want to put any undue stress on the guy. After all, he had been through quite enough.

‘Hey they say I’m going to make partner this year.’

‘Always knew you would, bro. The wife treating you ok?’ He laughed slightly as he knew this was a sore subject with me. He knew my marriage was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was in still very much in Disasterville.

‘Fucking hell, Tommy, haven’t I been through enough?’ I joked.

Trying to pulling the sheet over himself, Tommy’s smiles turned into a face full of anguish and pain. He could hardly muster the strength to do it himself, so I helped.

I looked around the room, typical army medical room, no frills. His only companion up to this point had been the intravenous drip next to his bed which he was plugged into.

The captain I had been greeted by earlier had given strict instructions that no person was to see Tommy without the proper military clearance. I fortunately had that clearance. Tommy had asked for nobody else. I thought the secretive nature of Tommy’s whereabouts spoke volumes and, one way or another, I was going to get to the bottom of it.

‘The meds helping, Tommy?’ I asked

‘They are actually, Joey. I also got some protein shakes off Captain Redman. He’s a nice guy.’ Tommy started to close his eyes again. ‘I’m tired Joey, I’m so fucking tired. I am feeling less pain than I did, but I swear man, I’m tired.’

‘It’s ok, kiddo, you gotta rest. There isn’t any rush to do anything, Tommy. You’re here to get better buddy.’

‘But you have to know.’

‘Have to know what?’

‘It was fucking Trigg, Joey, it was all Trigg. They tried to kill me. I can’t believe they fucking tried to kill me.’

I knew it wouldn’t help him for me to go mad, and I was, I was livid. But I had to savour that anger. For now, I had to be here for him and get his head right.

‘All in good time, my friend, all in good time. Get your head down buddy, get some rest. I will be right outside, Tommy, and we will talk soon.’

‘Cheers, Joey, cheers for not forgetting about me.’ He seemed to drift off.

As if I would forget about him. I would never abandon a brother, ever.

I adjusted his pillow and pulled the sheets right over him. I also placed a bottle of water right next to his bed so he didn’t have to get up to the mini fridge. I made my way out of the room where the captain was waiting. I wanted answers…now.

‘What the fuck happened to him, Captain?’ I was furious. I couldn’t believe the state of Tommy. I had to keep it together for Tommy in his room but out here I could let go. ‘I fucking want answers now,’ I shouted as the captain tried to hush me, leading me into an office.

‘Please, sir. Please sit down.’ The Captain looked genuinely concerned. I could feel his empathy.

‘We found Tommy near an abandoned compound. Well, I suppose another way to describe it would be a destroyed compound, because there wasn’t much left. It had been in what we call a hot spot for Iraqi militants. We are not sure as yet who they were, why they had Tommy, or what their cause was. But one thing is for sure, they are quite a few men lighter.’

‘So you took the men into custody?’

‘Ha-ha.’

I wasn’t sure why the captain was laughing.

‘And that’s funny why?’ I asked because I certainly wasn’t getting the joke.

‘Look, Joey. May I call you Joey?’

‘Sure.’

‘Look, Joey, I’m not laughing at your boy or what they did to him. They deserve to burn in hell, and that’s the thing: they were all dead, Joey, the lot of them. Your boy Tommy here is a modern day GI JOE. He damn wasted all of the motherfuckers, all that were there anyhow, and by the looks of things, Joey, he took his time’.

‘What? How?’

I couldn’t believe it. I was under the impression he had been rescued, but it seemed Tommy had escaped without the aid of anyone.

The next question would be how Trigg was involved in this. Trigg, that fucking bastard, the man has, and always will be, pure fucking poison.

The captain described to me about the area where Tommy was found, an old abandoned warehouse-type building apparently. He said that there wasn’t much left when they got there. They had gone there just to investigate some ‘activity’, as he put it.

‘Yeah, we had some recon marines in the area. Now you gotta understand, Joey, that apart from Fallujah, Diyala was one dangerous place to be. I mean one minute the people wave at you, the next you got a god damn RPG (rocket propelled grenade) flying at you from the same god damn person. And what’s also crazy is these here neighbourhoods are supposed to be Christian neighbourhoods too. I tell you, one big cluster fuck. Seems your boy blew the place up somehow.

From the sulphur my men said they got a whiff off I’d guess your boy found an incendiary grenade or a C4 charge, but my guess isn’t the latter. We have a pool going between the guys to see who’s right.’

‘Yes, well, I hope that works out for you. I just hope he is going to be ok. Is he going to be ok, Captain?’

The captain’s blasé attitude concerned me at first but, thinking back, I guess the things he had seen, well not just him all guys in war, I suppose you have to have a sense of humour.

‘He will be fine, young Joey. We don’t just fight well y’know. It ain’t the Hilton here, but he is getting the best medical care there is, doesn’t matter he’s a Brit - a soldiers a soldier.’

True to the captain’s word, Tommy was well looked after. He had soldiers coming to see him to play cards as he got better and, being a British guy, he became the celebrity within the medical quarters.

I cannot speak highly enough of the medical staff’s commitment to help Tommy. They were amazing. The captain too was such a nice man. He set me up with a hammock and said I could hang around until Tommy was ok to go home, which was great because I got to hang around with some great characters from the US military, as well as being close to my friend.

Chapter Twenty

It is strange because that day I had called Joey’s office to talk to him. I needed to talk to Joey because he was the only other person that knew Tommy, I mean really knew him. Joey’s secretary couldn’t tell me where he was. She said he was having some time off, so I rang his mobile phone and still no answer. I figured I would catch him later on.

That day started like any other really, or any other since he’d been gone. I had a ton of things to do. My friend Sarah was due to take me out shopping, clothes shopping, I didn’t feel like it but I wouldn’t stay this small for long and people had begun to notice my bump, so I needed clothes, and seeing as though I couldn’t chat with Joey I thought I’d get out and try and switch off for a while.

I felt selfish sometimes if I didn’t think about Tommy, like I had no right to do anything myself because that would mean I was forgetting him. I, along with his friend Joey, refused to believe it at first. Joey was in some ways worse than me. He said he wouldn’t ever swallow it until they found a body. I didn’t know what to believe but at that time, especially after a few months of constantly crying, I decided I had to focus on the bump and maybe a little on myself too. Everyone said that is what Tommy would have wanted, and it hurt but I knew they were right.

Sarah had been so busy with all her work. She was finishing a teachers’ training course after which she would be going to teach young kids at primary school. It was her dream job and she was close to it. I could relate to her zest for her work as I worked helping underprivileged kids with a Council-funded project. My work was important to me but most of all it was really rewarding.

That day Sarah had taken me to the Meadowhall shopping centre and was pulling out outfits for me by the dozen. I don’t know how big she expected me to end up, but half the time I was declining and saying ‘I am not going to end up as big as that!’ I wanted nice clothes. I didn’t want to look like I was wearing a tent, but also didn’t want to look like them big fat pregnant girls who wear tight outfits with their bump sticking out…That is just wrong!

It had been a few hours and I needed food which wasn’t so good for my figure but good for the baby, I guess. During my pregnant state I could have given even Tommy a run for his money where it came to eating. Sarah and I had decided to ignore the current diets, plus I had an excuse…eating for two! Yes that old chestnut. After eating a chicken wrap-type thing, I got on to him again. I couldn’t help it, but Sarah was so cool she would just listen and if I needed it she would be there on standby with emergency tissues.

I couldn’t help but noticing this guy with camo-type shorts on. That was it, the smallest thing would remind me of him.

I started by going on about Tommy’s dress sense and how he only bought like one pair of jeans every year or something. Then came a question Sarah asked that I really loved to answer, she asked me how I met Tommy. I had known Sarah ever since I was twelve, we just seemed to bond straight away, and both Sarah and Joey were like my rocks over the first months of Tommy’s disappearance.

How I met Tommy could never be beaten, ever. I don’t care if it was in a film, a book or a whatever, that night we met, it was amazing.

He rocked my world.

You hear people talking of romance when you are single and you always think ‘I wish it would happen to me’, or sometimes, if you’re as negative as me, you may think ‘that will never happen to me’.

But that night it did. At last it was my turn.

We had hit L.A’s that night, which was the in club of the moment. I was out with the girls and we were having a really great night. I was dancing the night away on the dance floor. The worst most cheesiest songs in the world were being played and I loved it.

It was a night the club called ‘Dirty Grease Night’, hence it was full of songs from Grease and Dirty Dancing, the songs were all pounding out of the speakers and I was well away. We all were. We didn’t care. If the beats were right, we’d dance all night.

Usually when a group of young good looking girls were dancing away, there would be the occasional horny pissed-up bastard thinking he was Romeo himself coming up and trying to grind up on you, in which case such men were ignored until they went away. We were no exception, because my friends were all good looking girls, and that night I was smoking hot if I don’t mind saying so myself! I had a figure-hugging black dress on which showed off my good legs, my hair was down in ringlets and I had my most recent best pair of shoes (though I could hardly walk in the mothers).

It seemed I had just finished getting down to ‘You’re The One That I Want’ when I noticed him. He was cool personified.

Now, any guys reading this take note, chat up lines don’t usually work. Well, normally they don’t, but Tommy’s chat up lines weren’t normal. If you are going to use a chat up line, then use some creativity. Tommy had the creativity, he had the looks, he had the confidence, yes – he had it going on.

Walking up to me with a swagger that was hard to ignore, he smiled those pearly whites at me. He also had a certain amount of cheek as he looked down my top and made no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact. He licked his lips and said ‘Mmm, yummy.’

I couldn’t help but laugh, like a giggling little wally.

Being a couple of feet away he spoke. ‘Hi, I’m Tommy.’

‘Hi, I’m Emma.’ I said back. I was a little embarrassed because he was really fit. Yes I think it is fair to say I fancied him immediately.

‘I noticed you from upstairs when I was looking down on the dance floor. I would have come speak to you sooner but I have a swollen ankle and it took me some time to get downstairs.’

‘Oh right,’ I said as I noticed he had his weight on one foot. ‘From what?’

‘Moon walking.’

‘So, do you dance?’

‘Yeah, usually, but I can’t with my dodgy foot.’

‘Where are your friends?’

‘Everywhere,’ he said as he looked and couldn’t see anybody. He then laughed. ‘Nowhere.’

‘Ha, why me? There are loads of girls in here.’

This is when his lines came out.

‘I don’t know. I looked at you and thought she’s like the wind.’

He could barely keep a straight face.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah, hey you wanna grab some food. Got hungry eyes you see, then maybe after I could give you the time of your life.’

I was laughing out loud, he was funny, and silly, and lovely all in one. I went with him to get some food, good job too because he said if I refused he was going to say nobody puts Tommy in a corner.

I told him I actually preferred the film Ghost to Dirty Dancing, and he replied ‘ditto’. We had such a good night.

He was the bad boy, he was cool, also devilishly funny, but inside he was amazing. It took me a while to get to see the inside, but once his barriers came down he was an amazing human being. He was the one.

I loved telling Sarah about Tommy. She knew I did. She had heard my stories about him a million times over these past months, but I couldn’t stop talking about him. I tried over the hard times to get into my work. I was on maternity leave but still tried to finish a paper. I was committed to writing for a youth development program.

I looked at my bump and the tears started again. I couldn’t live without him, and it was breaking my heart.

Chapter Twenty One

After a few weeks of interviews, interviews and more interviews, the powers that be decided that I could go home. I have to say that after I told my story to the Military Police and some other high ranking suits, they just wanted to cover it up and keep me quiet.

With all the shit on the news about soldiers doing wrong and all the other bullshit about the war, the last thing they needed was me creating a shit storm, and I got a nice sweetener too in the form of much needed cash into my bank account. I didn’t want to go on TV and slag the army, not at all.

It was Trigg I had a beef with.

During my weeks at Camp Anaconda, between all the interviews with countless officials, the doctors really took care of me. They give me food and medicine, and I was checked for everything. I lost two of my fingers on my left hand. They had been broken when I’d been tortured and had got infected. I couldn’t feel them anyway so I wasn’t really bothered. Besides, I volunteered for some medical trials and apparently in a year’s time I’m trying out some super-cool new technology where they can give me new fingers, like robot ones or something. How fucking cool. I’ll be Tommy Vader!

Anyways, like I said, they had built me up. I had three to four protein shakes a day, my hair had grown back, I had gotten a shave, was eating warm food, I’d took a shower. It is amazing how life’s simple pleasures seem so fucking unreal when you haven’t had them in so long. But for me the best had to be taking a shit in a normal toilet, not having to worry about a scorpion or something biting your arse or your friend trying to push you in the hole you were shitting in, or someone throwing a flare whilst you were crapping. The list was endless. But sat on a toilet, with a lock on the door, with proper shit roll, I tell you…amazing.

Joey took the flight home with me. He had stayed with me until I left Camp Anaconda. We talked and talked. I had missed him, he was my bro. He told me how Emma was and that he checked in on her all the time. He told me he was getting a divorce from his crazy wife, which didn’t surprise me. Joey’s wife was a money driven bitch. Ok she had the ass of a goddess but she was still a crazy bitch. I was glad he was getting shut of her.

I told Joey everything, about my history with Trigg which he knew about anyway really, about X Company, who Joey knew was always trying to get ex-military lads joining up with them. I also told him about the night, about how I was betrayed, fucked over by one of my own. I told him about the torture, and I told him how I got out.

I think the most surprising feeling for me came when I first saw her.

She didn’t know I was coming. I wanted to wait until I was clear to leave the army until I saw her, or even got word to her because even though I had got free, I wasn’t taking anything for granted anymore. I wanted to wait until I got on home soil before celebrating.

We had got word to Sarah, Emma’s really close friend, that she had to wait at home. Sarah quizzed my friend, Private Blumforth, but he never gave anything away. He just said that someone was coming to see her, and it was about Tommy. Sarah called him a bastard and demanded to know what it was about.

Having just got within a street away from Emma’s house, Christ, my house I guess too, I had Blumforth stop the car. Joey was with me in the back.

I got out. I couldn’t breathe.

Joey got out of the car and came round to me.

‘Hey, what’s up big man? Nearly home. She’s at your home. Tommy.’

‘I know man, I know. It’s just…’

‘Just what, Tommy?’

‘I don’t want any fuss man. I must have put her through hell, Joey. It’s all my fault, man, I shoulda listened to her. I shoulda listened to you. I fucked everything up, man, everything.’

Passing me a smoke, Joey wasn’t having any of me blaming myself.

‘Listen, we have all made fucked up choices. Look at me. Supposed to be Mr Brains and I go and marry a dumb bitch like her. Damn, I more or less married her for her ass!’

‘Ha-ha, I know. You always were an ass man, Joey.’

‘Damn right.’

‘But the thing is, I still feel guilty, Joey.’

‘You shut up, now. You haven’t done shit wrong, Tommy. You have a woman there who loves you. Do you realise how special that is? Tommy, you’re going to be a dad, mate! A fucking dad, ha-ha!’

‘I am aren’t I?’

I felt better after Joey reminded me of that. We both threw away our cigarettes and jumped back in the car.

‘Get ya foot down, private,’ I yelled as Blumforth sped away down the street, then into Emma’s street.

We parked on her drive. I got the flowers I had picked up on the way. I got out of the car. I was so scared. I just hoped inside she looked at me the same, that’s all I wanted, that look off my Emma.

‘Go get her, tiger, go get your girl,’ Joey said as he and Blumforth smiled on. They stayed in the car. Christ I was so nervous.

Chapter Twenty Two

‘Sit down, Emma,’ Sarah said seriously, ‘I have news.’

Those were her words. They brought me neither comfort nor consolation, and I prayed.

I prayed they wouldn’t bring me closure.

I tried ringing Joey but still no answer.

Was he alive? Was he dead? They were the two questions in my mind, as bold and to the point as you can get. No doubt there could be a million questions I could ask, but at that moment, when Sarah had said she had been contacted by a Private Blumforth, the only question was if Tommy was alive or not.

It had been three hours, three hours from the phone call.

Those three hours seemed like three years, three lifetimes even. I couldn’t help visualizing. I tried to stop. The images in my brain went from bad to good, good to bad. I saw a man in my mind coming to my door with a flag and a letter like in the movies. I heard the speech about how Tommy was brave and so on. I saw myself crying and crying and screaming. I also dared to dream of Tommy standing there, not a mark on him, looking at me the way he did, like it was the first day we met. Looking at me with his big smile. I held on to that glimmer of hope, that whisper of maybe…maybe.

‘Emma!’ Sarah shouted. ‘Car.’

I felt as if my legs couldn’t move. I was sat at the kitchen table with a photo of us. The photo of the last time I had seen him. I clung to it as I took a deep breath.

‘Come on, honey.’ Sarah wrapped her arm around my shoulder as she helped me up.

‘Come on, you have to go to the door. I will be right here.’

I walked. My breathing was slow as I braced myself. I remember thinking if it was a soldier with a flag I was just going to slam the door in his face.

I opened the door and looked downwards at my garden path. I daren’t look up. I could hear footsteps coming closer, slowly, then I saw them. There was a person standing next to me and they grabbed my arm. It was then and only then that I realised I was shaking and crying. My eyes slowly moved up the person’s body as I trembled in a state of panic. I saw beige sandals, my eyes went further up, blue jeans, then flowers…

‘Babe,’ the voice said.

I looked up to his face and saw him there, his eyes were squinting as he fought back his tears the best he could, but he was smiling too.

We wrapped our arms around each other and he kissed me a million times over, we laughed, we cried, we couldn’t get our words out quick enough and it was like an explosion of feelings all coming to a head at once.

He held my face softly with the palm of his hands.

‘I love you. I missed you,’ I said as he looked at me.

Smiling back, Tommy held me again and whispered in my ear ‘If it was hard missing me, you should try missing you.’

We headed into the house where Sarah was going mental screaming with joy. Both Joey and even the driver, Private Blumforth, joined us as we all laughed and cried. I wonder what I would have done if he hadn’t been stood there, if that Private had brought me a flag instead of my Tommy.

The truth is I don’t know, and I don’t wanna know.

People talk about love and I know there are many theories. I’m not saying mine is right or wrong, it is just mine. I believe that when you have a love, such as the one I share with Tommy, that it is so full, so warm and beautiful, that whatever holes there are in your life it doesn’t matter, because that love is always there, in the light and in the dark, it is like an invisible pillow you can always rest on, and when it isn’t there, I don’t think it matters what you have, because compared to true love, nothing will ever be enough.

I have friends who look at me like I have two heads when I talk about my feelings for Tommy, and to those who have never had such feelings I guess I can forgive them for thinking I’m mad.

Some may call it mad, I call it love.

Chapter Twenty Three

‘Yeah I know, I heard already,’ Trigg snapped as he took yet another call, which was to inform him that Tommy was home. A few of the bar staff looked at Trigg on the sly, wishing he would calm down because his swearing out loud was bad for business. Everyone in the bar could hear Trigg as he cursed on the phone.

‘Do you think I didn’t know? What the fuck am I supposed to do? No, you tell me? Am I supposed to kill the fucker on his first day back? Well what you ringing for then, to do me fucking nut in with this shit? I’m fucking busy, doing deals ’n’ shit, making the deniro. It will be dealt with, but dealt with when the time is right. In the meantime I don’t need to be notified whenever he is spotted. Yeah later, fuck face!’

Standing at the phone behind the bar in the popular pub/club and daytime eating venue ‘Rocco’s‘, Trigg found himself getting more and more agitated. It seemed the more he tried to ignore the subject, the more it grated on him.

Trigg was at Rocco’s on business. He had just sorted a deal out with the owner, Paul, that gave Trigg the contract to supply the booze and cigarettes. It was a huge deal worth a lot of money. Both parties were happy and it was also a victory for X Company because it meant that most of the top-earning clubs in Hull were now in bed with them.

Now X Company was supplying most of the top-earning clubs; the plan afterwards was to go after the betting shops and casinos.

After slamming down the phone again, Trigg made another call on his way to the cellar underneath the bar. He had decided to call Tommy. It rang but it went to answer phone. ‘You’re fucking dead,’ said Trigg amongst the crackles as the cellar wall defeated the signal.

Down in the cellar was where Paul, Samson and Mario had been sorting out a few finer points about their new arrangements.

Walking down the little steps and into the cellar Trigg lit up a cigarette in an attempt to chill himself out.

‘Look Paul, hate to tell you what to do in your own place, buddy, but your gonna have to fuck off for a bit. I have shit to talk about with my boys and I’m borrowing this cellar for an hour or so.’

Not complaining one bit, not that he would either, Paul got up and headed for the stairs.

‘Oh, and Paul, get them tarts behind the bar to cook us up some fucking chow. I’m so hungry I’m fucking farting fresh air.’

‘Er, Trigg, the chef isn’t in until 12 o’clock, buddy, and the girls don’t cook so …

‘I guess your cooking it then, Paul, ’cos I’m fucking starving here - so get to it, times a wasting.’

Hurrying off up the stairs Paul made himself scarce so Trigg and boys could talk.

‘I can’t believe people aren’t supposed to smoke in pubs ’n’ shit,’ commented Mario as he stretched back with his cigarette in his mouth.

‘Fucking ri-di-culous, mate’ laughed Samson. ‘The thing is they’re taking away everything. You can’t do or say shit no more. Fucking PC do–gooder fucks make me wanna puke. We can’t say shit no more.’

‘Such as?’ laughed Trigg.

Cutting in, Mario was itching to make a point. ‘Ok, Trigg, take me for example. Now I’m from Italy, ok. I was raised here but my dad, God rest his soul, was a thoroughbred Italian. We’re grease balls.’

‘Wops,’ laughed Trigg

‘Goombahs, Meatballs, Dagos, Olive-heads,’ added Samson.

‘Ok, ok, ok, we’re a whole bunch of names. Thing is, you think I give a fuck? You know what? I heard you can’t even say jewboy now.’

‘No fucking way!’ Samson’s raised his eyebrows as he spoke.

‘It’s correctness gone mad. I mean you guys have to describe me when talking to other guys. Let’s just say there’s two Marios known about town, wot ya gonna say? You’re gonna say ‘Yeah, it was Mario, Mario the wop’. I tell you fucking shit people say you can’t do. Way it’s going, it’ll be illegal to wank soon.’

‘You know what gets me too, lads?’ asked Samson.

Both Trigg and Mario sat smiling as Samson continued adding fuel to the debate.

‘We fucking go to war with the fucking Iraqis and Afghan fucks, we go to war for the people, the same fucking people who say we can’t say shit. We’ve fucking earned our right to call people whatever the fuck we want. Now the Yanks, they call them Hadjis, which you have to admit is pretty fucking funny. We have always called them Pakis but obviously, due to more ’n’ more Pakis in our community, now we had to change our nicknames for them, so we call them Rag-heads. Now what the fuck is wrong with calling a Rag-head a Rag-head?’

‘Beats me, Samson,’ laughed Trigg. ‘Fucking Rag-head’s a Raghead to me, always will be.’

‘Same here,’ agreed Mario.

‘It’s like Niggers,’ continued Trigg, ‘now how the fuck can a Nigger call a Nigger a Nigger but we can’t say Nigger? Anyone explain that fucking shit to me. You get fucking Niggers on TV saying ‘I’m black ’n’ I’m proud ’n’ all that shit. Could you imagine a white boy coming out ’n’ saying that shit? They’d string us up lads, I tell ya. Fucking Niggers sitting there taking the fucking moral high ground as ’n’ when it suits them. Fucking Niggers, I tell ya. It’s like I said to Rochelle, y’know Rochelle, that little black bird with the tits and arse to drool over ….?’

‘Yeah, I know her. Fucking nipples like sugar dummies,’ laughed Mario.

‘Yep, that’s the one. I was trying to explain to her one night. I ses ‘Bitch, just because I asked you if both your parents were Niggers doesn’t mean I’m racist. I fucked you didn’t I’? I mean you seen her, she’s black but not black, not a full bourbon but more like a coffee cream. I just assumed one of her parents must a been white. I told her I wasn’t a racist. I mean we have fucking Black Ricky working the markets don’t we - good little earner too.’

Samson outed his cigarette as Paul came down into the room with the food.

‘Three full English breakfasts, lads, how’s that?’

‘Fucking tops,’ smiled Trigg as he rubbed his hands together. After serving Trigg, Samson and Mario with their food, Paul asked if he could get anything else for them. Trigg grabbed Paul’s arm just as he walked past.

‘Yeah, ok, well just a question actually. Where do you stand on Niggers?’

‘Niggers?’

‘Yeah Niggers. Well not just Niggers, Paul, but the whole racial names thing. What’s your take on it?’

‘Well, I guess I just kinda think that whenever you get into an argument, and let’s say things get heated, you will use the first thing you see.’

‘Explain,’ asked Mario as he tucked into his food.

‘Ok, let’s say I’m arguing with a big fat guy. Now if me and him get heated over whatever, and he starts calling me names, you better believe I’m gonna refer to his weight. I’d be like ‘shut the fuck up you fat fuck’. Now let’ take another. I’m arguing with some big nose fuck, what am I gonna say ‘Hey you big nose fuck’, catch my drift?’

‘Yeah, so your saying that if you argued with a Nigger ….?’

‘Yeah, ‘you stupid fucking Nigger’, that’s my point. I don’t think it’s racial. I aren’t gonna go fucking running around with white sheets on my head. I have some good friends who are black and I don’t give a fuck what colour people are, but you upset me, whether you a Coon or a Kike, you’re gonna get fucking verbalised.’

Munching into his bacon as he buttered his toast, Trigg realised he had lost his train of thought.

‘You know all this talk of ‘can do’ and ‘can’t do’, fucking Niggers and Wops and shit, it threw me off – which is good because I was in a fucking foul mood earlier. I got another phone call lads, another ‘guess who’s in town’ phone call.’

‘From who?’ asked Mario with a mouth full.

‘Fucking Nick, that landscape gardener - y’know, that ex-radio op, talks with a lisp, sounds like fucking Quasimodo – says he saw Tommy going to Emma’s with two other guys, one in a suit and one in a uniform.’

‘Ha-ha, yeah, I know him. Fucking slavering bastard he is. Yeah, the suit will be that lawyer fuck,’ added Samson.

‘Hmm, I know, it’s winding me up that he’s here, yet I can’t do shit, not yet anyhow. Anyways the point I’m trying to make lads is this - remember the plans I said I could make for the lawyer?’

Both Mario and Samson looked on. Both stopped chewing their food. There was a silence.

‘Yeah, you got it lads. Get it done.’

Chapter Twenty Four

Being a lawyer had its perks.

An invitation to a game of golf was a usual thing in my profession.

In fact, my employers encouraged me to get a membership with the local golf club to try and mingle with a better standard of client. They knew I loved playing the game as I played with friends from university once a month. The thing is, it really wasn’t me to go to play for work reasons. I always found it hard to hold a convincing shop face, but I guess I had to do my bit for the firm, so I occasionally went and mingled with a few fat cats every once in a while and tried to fit in. It was a good way of bringing work in, I guess, plus I got to kick their arses at golf. I’d heard some people in my line of work let the potential clients win to get on their good side …fuck that.

I destroyed them every time.

Today’s invitation came at a good time. I was on a leave of absence from work and Tommy was with Emma at the hospital doing baby stuff. It was only his second day with Emma so, of course, they needed time together, so I had a day to myself. Usually I would not hesitate to accept an invitation for a game with a friend, but it was the man who had invited me that had me perplexed.

Valukana, the man, was somewhat of a mystery to me. Having been involved with the criminal justice system for a while now, I got to hear a lot of whispers. For example, the small-time chaps who got caught on petty crimes like possession would every now and then say ‘I’m working for the…’ and it was different most times. It could be a ‘such and such family’, it could be ‘the Poles’, ‘the Turks’, or even a ‘crew from Manchester’. It would usually be a load of crap because in reality these small-time guys never knew where it was coming from.

Every now and then, though, you would see a consistent pattern of bullshit. So when 30 or so people are saying they are dealing with ‘the Russians’ for instance, there just might be a little truth in it.

I had started hearing a few things about a ‘new crew‘coming to town. Upon my first meeting with Valukana at my office when I gave him the contact number for the passport man, I had received a few invitations to his new casino.

I ignored them.

I also had a thank you card, which I presumed was for the passport number I gave him. It seemed I had made an impression on the man. I also knew that he had thrown some business our way. the properties he was investing in were handled by our firm’s commercial property lawyer, for instance, and from what I heard, Valukana had more than a few quid stashed away.

You know what chit-chat is like, though. By the time it gets to you, you may have the 50th different version of what might have been a 10 percent truth. So when I was told Valukana was an ex-Mafioso, I brushed it off.

Then again…

When someone says ‘Yeah, that man’s ok…but I heard he killed somebody once’ it kind of does make you think ‘hmmm’. And I don’t know if its just me, but I kind of can’t help but prejudge someone. I know I shouldn’t. It’s like if someone is charged with murder, people automatically think ‘dodgy fucker’. It’s in our nature, but then sometimes that same dodgy fucker is as innocent and as normal as you or I. But mud sticks, as they say, and when you have that sign on you its hard to shake off.

Declining such a nice offer from the man made me feel bad at first. I just got the whiff of some weird underling issue Valukana had. Maybe he wanted to be friends with me somehow, but for what and why? Something was rotten in Denmark for sure, so I took the coward’s way out and called my secretary at the office and asked her to call him saying I was unfortunately engaged. Sorted right?

Wrong.

I had spent most of my morning in the gym. I love to keep fit. On that morning I had split my workout into two parts. It was important not to over-train or work too many muscle groups, so I’d decided to do half-an-hour’s cardio and an hour on my legs. I had crap legs - my knees were knobbly and no matter what I did, I think a sparrow’s legs looked beefier than mine. But still I tried…in vain.

I had just started on the legs when my phone rang. My ring tone which seemed to echo in the weights room was greeted by looks of disgust by the other gym members. After all, mobile phones were supposed to be left in the lockers or switched off. I also think that having the song ‘Gay Bar’ as my ring tone might have been the reason

I was looked at funny, not that I’m gay or have anything against gay people. It was a private joke because a friend at the office went to a gay bar and I made fun of him because he got embarrassed easily (yes, I am evil). I played the tune on my phone when I walked past him at work and it annoyed him. Yes – I’m a child.

Anyways I picked up the call and walked out of the weights room into a quiet corridor. It was a private number and I figured it might be a client. It wasn’t.

‘Hello,’ I said as I crouched down to take a breather from my monster workout.

‘Hello, Joey.’

I recognised the voice. ‘Fuck, its Valukana,’ I thought as I prepared my shop voice.

‘Hey, hello there. Did you get my message. Would have loved to have played today but you know how it is, busy-busy-busy, ha-ha!’ (My fake laugh even irritated me).

The phone went silent but Valukana was still listening.

‘Hello? You there?’

‘I’m here Joey, busy-busy, hmm. The thing is, Joey, you passed me in your car earlier. You see, I deliver certain packages to your gym. Some men like aid in their quest to keep fit.’

‘Yeah, the roids, eh? I get it. Look, is it Mr Valukana or just Valukana? I…er ….’

‘Just Valukana, Joey, just Valukana.’

‘Ok, let’s start over. Just hear me out here because, despite what you may think, I am not an ignorant man. First off, I know - ok I don’t know but I’ve heard - that you are kind of a bit of a gangster, and I am a lawyer, get my drift? I just know these types of things. I’ve been in the system a few years and I’ve heard of these wise guys who are all up and tight with their lawyers. The thing is, the lawyer ends up either vanished or discredited and, quite frankly, I’ve worked too damn hard to end up that way. I know you’re being friendly but seriously, man, I just keep myself to myself, y’know?’

‘I understand Joey. What’s the other thing?’

‘Ha, well secondly is you just fucking scare me dude. Seriously!’

‘I scare you, Joey?’

‘Yes. I mean, you’re ok ’n’ all but, I don’t know, you’re just, there’s just a fucking coldness there, dude, and it fucking freaks me out.’

Laughing hard down the phone Valukana couldn’t contain his amusement.

‘I can’t believe you, Joey, I scare you. I tell you what, Joey; you have the scariest weapon a man could have.’

‘And what would that be - my briefcase?’

‘It’s your mind, Joey. The number one weapon anywhere, everywhere, is the human mind.’

‘Well, I don’t feel like that to be honest, but thanks, ha.’

‘Joey, it is no big deal. The man you helped - with the passport – his family are of major importance to me. You helped him. You then sent the money I gave you to the hospital for children. You are different. Look, Joey, I have dealt with many lawyers - some corrupt, some not so corrupt - but you are the first not to want my money, or any taste of my money, and I hear you’re from the street. You have morals and you have balls, those qualities, my friend, money cannot buy. I’m just new to the area here, Joey. I have been trying to learn golf but I am useless at it. I thought with you being a lawyer and with the few golfing pics on your office wall, then the least I could do was invite you for a game. I won’t be talking shop, Joey, and it would be just two guys whacking a golf club, I assure you. I am being honest.’

‘Man, I really feel like shit now.’

‘Don’t, Joey, it’s ok. You are just careful who you’re friends with – a problem we share in fact.’

‘Yeah, ok, fuck it. You know what? It’d be good for me. Where are we playing?’

‘Well, I have just secured 5 memberships at the …errrm … ok, here it is …. and the memberships are for The Alwoodley Golf Club, at a place called Wigton Moor in Leeds. I hear it’s the business, Joey, but haven’t been there myself yet.’

‘Are you kidding? Valukana, there are regular tournaments there. They host county and national competitions. I think it has a 5 star rating with Golf World too. How in fuck’s name did you get a membership there? I heard the waiting list was two years.’

‘Ha-ha, Joey…it is five memberships, and Joey, you want to know how I got them?’

‘Er, that’s a no. I’d rather not.’

Chapter Twenty Five

‘No, no, no, you don’t hold it like that. Come here.’

There was something weird about him, he was icy.

Standing behind me, he helped me to adjust my arms and posture.

‘You grab it with two hands, back straight, keep it steady, aim for your target, remember to breathe, exhale as you see the shot…’

It certainly was helpful advice, because I shot straight onto the green.

‘You see, Joey, it’s all about concentration, always, my friend.’

I couldn’t believe it. Valukana was amazing at golf. There was no way he was learning to play like he had told me over the phone. As it turns out, Valukana had played some of the best courses the world had to offer.

‘So, come on, how long?’

‘How long what?’

‘How long have you been playing? I can’t believe I took all that in about you being a learner and all. You had me there, and here was me thinking I would be taking another scalp today. Damn I’ll be lucky to finish par with you.’

‘Ha, Joey, an old saying goes ‘When you’re weak, act strong; when you’re strong, act weak’. It was all an act. I had to have you thinking you were at some advantage, had to boost your ego, I had to get you here.’

The way Valukana seemed to want to be around me still had me wondering about his intentions. I kept my eyes on him. I watched him as he watched me. He seemed to be trying to suss me out, but why?’

‘I am in need Joey.’

There it was.

‘In need of what?’ I asked as I looked at him. I wasn’t being played by him, even if his ice-like eyes seemed to be looking straight through me, seeing my insides curl.’

‘You see, I need another identity. I have only been in this country for, ooh what, about a month. There are people who would like to find me, Joey. I need to start afresh.’

Ok, this wasn’t too bad. I had the thought that he was after me cleaning some money for him. There was no fucking way I was doing that. By cleaning money I mean money laundering. Wise guys, gang types, whatever you want to call them, they were always approaching people to try and launder their money, people like me. There were certain ways of doing it, but like I said, there was no fucking way. A new identity didn’t seem so bad, as long as it was legal.

‘Have you spoken to the police? There are ways of doing it all legal, you know. It doesn’t have to be cloak and dagger all the time.’

‘But it does, Joey. Look, I am going to be straight with you. Your guy, the guy whose number you gave to me, he has helped me with a new passport.’

Passing his new passport over I saw his new name, impressive, he sounded like a villain out of a movie.

‘Hmm, interesting name. So, you have the passport. What more do you need?’

‘I need a background, Joey, a legitimate background. I am going into business, as your firm has seen. I have put all the new businesses into my new name, but I need to create a history, a track record, so that if anyone looks into it, it will seem that I have been here in this country for a while and that I am a legitimate businessman.’

‘But that is easy,’ I chuckled, and it was. You didn’t have to do much in this day and age to change your past, especially in the age of computers and computer hacking. Ok, I know this was illegal, but I felt like helping him.

‘Don’t you see, Joey? That is why I need you. I haven’t got an idea how to do such things, I…’

I had to stop him in his tracks, I wanted to help but there was no way I was compromising myself or my career, no matter what he threw in front of me.

‘Look, I can show you the way. I can show you. I have no problem with that. After that you’re on your own. I will take you to some people who can go through the process, show you the wheres, the whats, and the what ifs on the computers and so on, but then you and them have to do it all. You have to do what you do, and it will have nothing to do with me. Once you are introduced, it’s you and them. Agreed?’

Walking over to me, he looked as icy as ever, serious, like he was going to kill me. What had I said?

I held my 9 iron tight and got ready to bash him with it. He extended his arm and offered his hand, which I shook.

‘Joey, you are helping to save my life. I will not tell you why, but you are. I would give you money, lots of money, if I thought you would accept it. Instead I can only offer my gratitude and my loyalty which, for me, is a thing which I don’t give easily. I promise you, you will not regret this. I will not bother or burden you, but if you want to come play golf, hang out or whatever, then that would be great. In the next few months I also have a casino opening. I hope you would honour me to be there on opening night. You could bring your wife. I would love to meet her.’

‘She’s a bitch.’

‘Ha-ha, aren’t they all, my friend? I bet she’s a ball breaker though, isn’t she? Come on you can tell me.’

We laughed and chatted as we went round the course.

In fact it was a great day. Valukana never talked shop again for the rest of the day.

We just played, just two guys having a game.

Afterwards I called some people who called some people.

Valukana had his meeting set. He was getting his new background. As I drove home listening to power rock ballads, I started to wonder how a man could be so desperate to erase his past. I guess it was a question that I really did not want to know. I knew the man but I didn’t want to become his friend and, as much as the day had gone well, as much as I had surprisingly enjoyed Valukana’s company, there was no getting away from the fact that this day had been, and was, just business.

Chapter Twenty Six

I knew that Emma would never pressure me to tell her what went on over there. That’s just her. She would never ask me to do something I didn’t want to do, but I wanted to. We shared everything and I think the success of our relationship has always been built on complete openness.

I remember when we first started going steady. I told her about all the shit I was into, the illegal shit, everything.

It’s not that she didn’t care. Quite the opposite. She wanted me to see what I was doing with my own eyes and she never quit on me. I thank God she didn’t. Many others would have ran for the hills if their boyfriend had come back in the middle of the night covered in someone else’s blood, and that’s exactly what happened one night a few years ago.

It was the day I got my ‘bones’.

The term ‘bones’ or ‘getting your bones’ was used as a way to describe somebody getting their first kill in the game. I got mine, not that I ever wanted them but, as they say, stay in the game long enough, you’ll either get your bones or be someone else’s.’

The day I killed Lee Redman was a turning point for me. I started to see how the game had affected me, affected my judgment, but most of all how the game moulds you into what it wants. The game is the game, and you either play or you get played, smoke or get smoked.

Owing a decent amount of money to some not so decent characters is enough to get you killed in the circles I was in. Lee Redman owed 25Gs - that’s 25 thousand. Word is he had taken a loan from X Company for his much doomed pawn shop. The thing is, it was a good idea and, if he had had some business sense, it would have made money. I mean, this is Hull for fuck sakes, everyone is skint and always looking to sell shit.

The thing is he did the worst thing ever, he loaned money out, and like I say – this is Hull.

Redman had word that X Company had sent a guy to ‘see’ him. He wasn’t stupid. Redman knew he was either going to get one more chance or be wearing concrete pumas by the week’s end.

Now, when all this shit was happening, I was on leave from the army. I still had my connections on the street while I was away, and I had a few businesses I had pieces of, I had a few stalls on a few markets. I also had a piece of two newsagents. They didn’t make huge money but were a steady income all the same, an income I could’ve lived on if I had needed to.

Now the thing with Redman and me started out ok. I had got him some tills for his shop, not your crappy old ding-ding tills either, they were proper electronic tills that the supermarkets have. I had known a guy who knew a guy and I got a good deal. I sold them to Redman and he had promised to send the money in the post to Emma. That was it - it was only 300 quid so I wasn’t chasing him. I had gone to his shop that day because he had been rude to Emma. I wasn’t going there to kill him, not at all.

Emma had bumped into Redman in the supermarket with Sarah. Emma, being the friendly girl she is, noticed Redman and asked him how he was. Now she didn’t know anything about our business together, she was just being friendly. Redman told her to fuck off and to tell me I wasn’t getting a penny because the business had gone under.

He then told her not to look at him funny and called her a cunt.

I wasn’t having that.

The thing is she didn’t even tell me on that period of leave I had at that time. I just heard from a guy who worked with Sarah. Apparently Sarah told this guy and there you have it - small town.

I didn’t ask Emma about it. I just thought ‘what the fuck’ and figured I’d go see Redman as he locked up at 5 p.m..

I followed him to a multi storey car park. I didn’t think he had seen me walking after him. I have to say this sounds dodgy, but I say again, my intention was not to kill him, just to put the windies up him. I didn’t care about the 300 quid, it was the principle, and most of all how he had spoken to Emma.

I wanted to make it clear that if he saw her again, he got the fuck out of Dodge. I didn’t even want him to look at her the wrong way.

I got to the third level and lost sight of him. I had been made. I remember thinking how sloppy I had been. I had never been seen before and after all my job in the army, as a sniper, was based on stealth, so this fucker making me was an insult.

It was just as I was thinking that that I felt it. A huge whack on the back of my head. He had pistol-whipped me, and I was out for the count.

I woke up again when I realised I was in the boot of his car. We were driving somewhere and it was bumpy. My hands weren’t tied or anything, but I had no fucking room to manoeuvre. When the car came to a halt he opened the boot. I tried jumping out at him but he hit me with something and it knocked me out… again.

I don’t know how long later but the next thing I knew I had come back to life near the river Hull. I was laid on the riverbank that is situated in the middle of Bude Forest, near what was to become Kingswood in Hull some years later.

Looking up as I got back my wits, I had to admit I was in a bit of a predicament.

He stood there above me, he was shaking and panicking as he waved and shook that Winchester shotgun, and for those of you who aren’t familiar with the Winchester, it is one hell of a shotgun that packs one hell of a bang. If you aim in the direction of your target and pull the trigger, it is odds-on you will record a kill.

Thinking back, Redman must have feared for his life because those Winchesters don’t come cheap. Even at a street price you would pay around 700 quid for one of them bad boys.

‘Hold on a fucking minute, Redman, calm the fuck down. What are you doing?’ I said as I tried to get his attention.

‘No!’ he screamed at me. ‘You and your chums have been following me all week. I know it, I know it, I know you’re all trying to kill me but, guess what, I’m taking you first, and I’ll shoot any bastard that tries to get near me.’

He was fucking cuckoo. Nothing I said made a difference. I tried telling him I wasn’t with anyone. I told him the truth about how I was only going to put the windies up him for shouting at my Emma.

Nothing registered though. The thing is, I at first thought he wouldn’t have had the bottle, but when he started looking around, then ordered me to strip off and to get closer to the water, I figured we were way past fucking around. He put my clothes in a bin liner and threw them into the brown muddy water of the River Hull. I again tried to talk him out of it. He shouted insults at me and held the shotgun with one hand aimed at my head from about a foot away.

I was going to have to kill him, and quick.

‘For starters, Redman, you aren’t holding it right. If you’re gonna kill me, then you have to hold it with both hands because the Winchester kicks like a mule.’ I wasn’t lying, and while I knew that giving weapons advice to a man pointing a weapon, which in all probability would have blown my head off from the few feet away where he was standing, was stupid, it was my only shot to get his attention.

It did the trick.

As he adjusted with his other arm, I dived at him with a rugby tackle. The weapon fired as I did so, and I felt the burn from the shot on my naked back. So it was damn close but I wasn’t hit.

We wrestled and I managed to overpower him with multiple strikes to the head. I worked my ground and pound and left him there as he bled from numerous points on his face.

I was still naked, stood there on the riverbank, it was night but not completely dark yet. I stood and kept the Winchester on him as I got my breath back.

‘You fucking idiot, Redman, what the fuck? You were like, proper gonna kill me wasn’t you? You fucking arsehole, I can’t believe you.’

Amazingly to me, Redman was still defiant.

‘I don’t give a fuck. You best kill me now, ’cos if I see you again, you and yours are fucking dead.’ Like I say, it was amazing where this guy got his balls because nobody can argue that this bloke had some stones on him. It dawned on me by watching him in his defiance that I couldn’t just let him go with a bitch slap.

Now I don’t know if any of you have ever seen a film called ‘Carlito’s Way’? One of my favourites I have to say. I think the main thing I got from that film was the message the film had within it for all would be gangsters - never leave a loose end, ever. If you have seen the film, you will remember ‘Benny Blanco from the Bronx’ and how a simple misunderstanding earlier on in the film led to Carlito’s undoing.

Well I don’t leave any Benny’s, fuck that.

So I shot him before I changed my mind. The blast took his head clean off, just as I had thought. There wasn’t much mush to clean up as bits of his head had flown into the shit-infested River Hull anyway, but I still had a hole to dig.

I took his body into the woods. I stashed him by some trees because I needed something to dig with. Redman’s car was parked not far away from the riverbank, so I hoped there would be something to dig with in there. I didn’t find a spade, but I did find a plastic ice scraper and a steering lock so I had to make do. To my relief I also found a raincoat and a pair of work boots. I put the boots on along with the raincoat. I guess the only problem was that my arse and my bits were still on show as the coat only went down to my waist. I just thought fuck it and got on with it, hoping nobody would see me.

A few hours later and he was under the ground.

I was covered in mud and blood, I maybe should have grabbed Redman’s jeans off him but there was blood all over them and I didn’t want any of his blood-soaked clothing - I had enough blood on me already. There was no way I was leaving the Winchester, though. I wanted to dispose of it myself so it could never be found. I thought I’d get it melted down at an iron works.

I stashed the car a block from my place, and ran home. I was lucky it was dark now and, apart from running past an old man in my half naked state holding a shotgun, I didn’t see anyone else. I don’t even think he noticed me. He seemed in a world of his own.

When I got home that night, I confess I tried to sneak in, I was living in my flat back then and Emma had just moved in. Emma knew about the things I was doing but I wasn’t going to wake her up and say

‘Honey, got my bones today!’ was I? So I crept into the hallway, I took the boots off along with the raincoat.

I decided to raid the fridge before I got cleaned up and stashed the Winchester. I found some ham and stuffed a few slices into my mouth. I then found a strawberry milkshake so I guzzled it down as I turned around in the dark, but there a was light shining from the fridge, that’s when I saw her, standing there just staring at me in shock.

I must have been quite a sight, totally naked and covered in mix of mud and blood, with a milkshake in one hand and the shotgun in the other.

Chapter Twenty Seven

‘Babe, wait a minute, I can explain.’

Thinking back now, I know that maybe I didn’t use the correct words. Especially whilst I stood there in all my nakedness, covered in blood.

She looked at me with her mouth open. It sounds funny now but she said I tried to cover my cock and balls with the milkshake.

‘Tommy? What the fuck?’ She wasn’t shouting but I think it was fair to she wasn’t pleased.

‘Babe, I been in some right mad shit. Look, it aint as bad as it looks, I…’

‘Ain’t as bad as it looks? Tommy you have been gone for 5 hours. I tried calling a few of your numbers but as usual nobody could tell me where you were. Then you come home at this time, looking like you’re auditioning for a part in a zombie movie. Tommy, what the fuck are you doing? First I have to sit here worrying about you in the army, then this shit? I can’t do this no more, I just can’t.’

Hearing those words ‘I can’t do this anymore’ woke me up. It was like a huge slap in my face. I had made her cry, it gutted me. I wanted to jump out of myself and nut my own head. Most of all I was ashamed that I was doing this to her, the girl I love.

I was an arsehole.

After getting cleaned up, I sat down with Emma and we talked. I mean we really talked and I realised I had been so selfish. I think ever since I had known her, she had never tried to tell me what to do. I had always been a free spirit and just kinda did what I did. It doesn’t work that way, though, when another person is involved in your life. I don’t think I realised what I was putting her through.

I started to open up to her more and more. Now I don’t know if I believe in that whole soul mates shit, but I tell you what, I reckon if that term is right then we are as close as anyone would get to it because that woman, my girl, she fucking knew me inside and out and the fucking insane thing about it all is that she loved me, even after knowing all my darkest secrets. Now that’s my idea of true love, when all the layers are stripped and you get seen for what you are, and they still don’t leave.

We talked for weeks and weeks, and I knew that my life was changing. I was a different man, a better man, and the crazy thing is my friend Joey had tried to tell me all this years ago, about how all the vile deals and deeds were fucking me up, but it’s what I knew, all I knew. It took the love of a good woman, and the realisation of the possibility of losing her, that made me step out of myself and realise what was important.

I had to get out, out of the army, out of the game. The entire gangster shit I’d been doing, the army shit, I saw through it all for what it was, and what it is - shit.

When I talked to Emma about the shit I’d been through in Iraq, she just listened. With the shit I spilt to her, I could have written a book, but she never criticised me, she never judged me. She listened and I realised the importance again of sharing shit, sharing them dark dark secrets, getting it out there in the open.

I tell you, I had had offers of shrinks and God knows what, but none of them had shit on Emma. She was like fucking Yoda, I swear. I’d tell her shit like ‘Yeah but babe I’m feeling so fucking full of rage, I want to kill the bastard’ when talking about Trigg and what he had done, and she would reply with her Yoda terms like ‘Rage spreads in the empty soul’. Ok, Yoda might have said ‘empty soul you will have if rage spreads’ but you know what I mean. She would come out with these little pieces of knowledge that a street guy like me didn’t possess. She made sense in my senseless mind, she calmed me and helped me dissolve all the rage, fear and doubt by just talking to me.

When I killed Haircut and the others, I swore revenge. My soul was full of a burning itch to come home and kill Trigg and Samson, to inflict a pain so horrible that their ancestors would feel it. I wanted to get home and start some shit. I even had a ‘You’re dead’ message on my mobile’s answer phone. I couldn’t hear it properly because it was crackly, bad signal, but probably from Trigg, pathetic bastard.

I guess the truth is after coming home and being with her, the only thoughts I had were of hope - hope of a new life, of a new beginning. I was done with all the rage, done with revenge. Emma said revenge was like a wheel: if something turned it would turn, and turn and turn.

She was right. I didn’t need it. I had everything a man could want. I didn’t give a fuck about that nonsense. I made a conscious decision to leave the shit from over there over there. It wasn’t going to spoil what I had here, no fucking way. For the first time in weeks I wasn’t angry.

I was going to be a father - me, a father!

If all went well at the dinner I was planning, I was going to be a husband too. I kept my fingers crossed.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Returning to work after a crazy few weeks, I really had my head on.

It was amazing to me just how Tommy not being here affected my overall happiness. I had my friend back. He was doing great and had told me he was proposing to Emma. Happy times.

My whole chi had been affected for the better since he had come back. I was really getting my teeth into my work and that Valukana character I had played golf with and helped out had recently thrown quite a lot of work my company’s way.

My firm was handling all of his business deals from what I heard, and he named-dropped so the bosses were pleased with me that I brought him to us. I didn’t handle any of Valukana’s stuff. It was all commercial property deals and buying people out and so on. Word around my work was that this Valukana was rich and had connections.

Whatever Valukana’s intentions, he was certainly making a mark on the Hull property market.

My home life was thriving too, honest. I had talked things over with my wife and we had consulted our own lawyers and amicably come to an agreement over the money side of things concerning our divorce.

It was a huge relief I tell you that. I now have two mottos were it comes to marriage: the first was always ‘never a marry a woman who can beat you in an arm wrestle’ which was silly, I know, but now my new one was definitely ‘never marry a woman who you can’t talk to’ because she was like the opposite of everything I was. I was in lust, not love, and, like the wally I was where it comes to love, she mentioned marriage and I said ‘Wow! She must really love me’. I didn’t stop to think about the fact we hardly talked - it was just sex, sex, and more sex. When the sex had died down we kind of looked at each other and said ‘Hey, wait a minute, who the hell are you?’ I had been so silly.

Oh well, you can’t let a costly mistake like marriage get you down.

So I was glowing, my work was great and my life was great. I was single again, and please believe me I was as horny as a three-balled tomcat.

That night I decided I’d hit the town. I had asked Tommy but he was doing his version of pretty woman tonight so I got dressed up and hit the town by myself. I was aware a few friends of mine were out, so I said I would meet up with them.

Arriving at a black tie party at the Royal Hotel, I met a few friends and we had a right good old jolly time. I wasn’t sure what the occasion was. I had just gone because Malcolm had invited me.

Malcolm was a guy I had gone to university with, and Peter was a friend from another law firm in Hull. They were both good company and we talked about football, women and work. It was refreshing to feel free and also not have that ache that I had had when Tommy was away.

We decided to call it a night at around 1 a.m.. It was fair to say we were drunk, but it was happy drunk and I swayed as I tried flagging down a few taxis as they drove by on the road.

We headed towards Beverley Road and decided to walk and stick our arms out until a car stopped.

After walking for around 15 minutes I needed a tinkle, so I went behind a bin in the street because I was really bursting, I know I could have been fined if I had been caught but tonight I wasn’t bothered. I would usually wait like any other decent human to drain my main vein, but nature had called and I was too drunk to hang around.

Trying to stop mid–piss is a hard thing to do. I defy any man to try. It is bloody painful, but I tried. As I looked around, something wasn’t right.

Ever had that feeling that you’re being followed? I also noticed my phone had been ringing as it was vibrating in my pocket. I had a look and I had a missed call from Valukana. What the hell did he want? I wasn’t ringing back, not at this time of night.

The feeling had been with me for a few minutes but, as I had started pissing, I noticed two men who had been hanging around outside the club earlier. I didn’t see their faces clearly but it was them. I could tell because one of them had a distinctive white shirt with a weird tribal pattern on it, the other had a look of a bouncer with his black three-quarter-length coat and shirt and tie.

Were they following us? If so why?

I stayed frosty as I zipped up my pecker and approached the lads who were telling the never-ending ‘your mamma’ jokes.

‘Well you’re mamma’s so fat her belt size is the equator,’ laughed Pete as Malcolm responded with…

‘Well your mamma’s so fat, to fuck her I had to roll her in flour and find the wet spot.’

Keeping my eye on the men glaring at me across the road, I whispered to the lads that something was wrong.

Chapter Twenty Nine

No matter how you do a proposal, it is always going to be nerve-racking. When I thought about it logically, it would make sense that she would say yes, but you never know, do you? You know what women are like.

I had spoken to Joey earlier on that day. I wanted some good ideas. We had come up with quite a few, but most of the ideas we conjured up between us were ideas that we as men would find hilarious, which was no good really because it had to be special for her.

Now Joey’s best idea I thought was using a donut. He said I could stash the ring in a donut, wait until she knew it was in there, and pop the question. I thought it was funny but the thought of Emma choking to death scared me, so the donut option was out. Joey also thought that a re-enactment of the end scene of pretty woman would be good but I didn’t want Emma thinking I saw her as a prostitute. Besides, if anyone was saving anyone, she was saving me.

We came up with some right crackers, but I had a plan I thought she would like, and I was going to go with it.

I had the ring, I had the setting, and I made some calls.

Impressing a woman is easy, if you put the time in. For my proposal with Emma, I was going all the way, I wanted her to laugh like crazy, but also I wanted her to know in her heart I wanted to be with her as long as I was breathing.

If I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anybody.

I took a taxi to where I needed to be. I didn’t drive a car so me getting anywhere was always dependant on lifts off folk or a taxi. The fucking public transport was a joke and I had stopped taking the bus because of the arseholes who get on it. I’m not saying I’m too good for public transport, not at all, it’s just the social menaces such as the scallys and chavs just grate on me. The last time I took a bus was the time I was on leave and ended up fighting with a bunch of them. I had asked this young 18 year old lad to turn the music down on his phone.

He had gangster rap blasting out with ‘fuck your bitch’ this and ‘you motherfucker’ that. The thing is there were people with kids on the bus.

Whatever happened to headphones I wondered?

Yeah, so anyways, I asked, he refused, I grabbed the phone and threw it out of the window. Three of them came at me, but they were little bitches who couldn’t fight for shit so I gave the three of them a few whacks and got off the bus before the driver called the police. People actually clapped me as I walked off.

So arriving at my destination I walked into the popular Connelly’s Club and met the owner, Mr Jack Swayby. I had known Jack years back and I had put in some time with him when he was getting his club kitted out. I managed to get him a cheap stage for his acts to use, so Jack owed me a favour. Jack was great. He agreed to what I wanted.

I went into the staff room as Jack introduced me to the chef and a few of the waiters. I talked with them and slipped them a 20 each. I then headed back home to chill out and relax for the day before the big night.

Once I got home I decided to contact Lorraine. Lorraine was married to Dave and I know she had had the funeral for Dave already but I just needed to talk to her. If Spade had any family I would have done the same for him too, but he was a man on his own in the world. Such a shame really because he was a top bloke, they both were.

I spoke to Lorraine for about two hours over the phone, I would have visited her personally but she had moved to Ireland after Dave’s death. She wanted to know everything. I pleaded with her, I begged her not to ask me, but she was adamant. She wanted to know what his last moments were like.

So I told her, I told her the truth, sort of. I said that we were having a right good laugh up until the OP went FUBAR, I told her what the military couldn’t tell her. I told her about the Black OP and how it went down, but I left out the bits about me and Trigg. She didn’t need to know. She wanted info on Dave and I gave it to her.

What I meant by the term ‘sort of’ was I told the absolute truth, all apart from a few bits.

Nobody can call me for trying to make it easier on Lorraine. I told her Dave didn’t suffer because he had been subjected to a chemical agent which had blown up near the place in which he was killed. I told Lorraine Dave had been subject to an obscene amount of sodium thiopental which is actually an anaesthetic. It is such a powerful anaesthetic that it is the first of the three shots given to people who get the lethal injection, along with the death doses of potassium chloride and pancuronium bromide. I had copied a story Dave had told someone else’s wife. He used to read about chemicals and science type stuff and it sounded believable, so I used it.

I told her when Dave was shot, he told me to tell her he loved her, and would always love her. She cried over the phone but also said she was so happy he didn’t suffer.

Telling lies have never been a strong point of mine, but in a way I was telling her the truth because I had seen the letters he used to write before every mission. He did some that day but they were never found.

I knew what he would have said, that’s why I told Lorraine what I did. It’s what Dave would have wanted.

I felt better having spoken to Lorraine, it was one of them things you know you have to do but you put it off because of the awkwardness, but it was done now. During our marathon conversation I told her I was popping the question to Emma that night. She laughed when I told her my plans and wished me all the best.

Chapter Thirty

‘Just keep walking gents,’ I said as Malcolm and Pete pleaded with me to call the police.

We kept walking calmly. Malcolm asked me who the men were, but I had no idea. Pete seemed the most scared and kept saying ‘What if they try and rob us’ to which I replied ‘Rob us for what? I don’t have my cards on me, just cold hard cash tonight, and that’s gone too.’

We turned and the men had gone. Pete was relieved to say the least and Malcolm seemed to lighten up too. ‘Told you, boys, just drunks lost or something.’

‘Whatever, Malcolm, they looked bloody scary individuals to me and Joey said he had seen them near the club. They could have been following us, you know.’

‘Bollocks.’

I stopped them mid-argument. A car was coming towards us rather fast. ‘Lads.’

Both Malcolm and Pete kept yapping until I had to shout to get their attention.

‘Lads!’

By the time Pete and Malcolm heard me, the car had stopped a few feet from us. It all happened so fast then. Four men in balaclavas jumped out and one in particular aimed a gun at me. Pete and Malcolm were proper panicking as the other three men threw both Pete and Malcolm to the floor. There was a lot of shouting as the man who had the gun on me pressed it hard into my temple.

Make no mistake, I was scared.

Looking around and trying quickly to assess the shit as it was going down, I knew that two of the guys were the guys who had followed us. I could tell by the white shirt of the one and the bouncer-like look of the other. They must have been picked up and come around for us in the car.

But who were they? What had I done? Or what had we done?

My only guess, as I stood there defenceless, was that I must have pissed an old client off, either that or it was just a random thing. I was never a big believer in random, though, due to my line of work perhaps.

The man with the gun on my head spoke amidst the shouting. I knew his voice wasn’t local. He kind of had a Manchester-type twist to his lingo.

‘Right, everyone, shut the fuck up. You too, lads. We’re here on a job, yeah?’

The other three lads standing over Pete and Malcolm all nodded and said yes to the guy with the gun on me, so it was safe to say he was the big cheese.

What got me is he said ‘Job’. A job? What the hell?

It was then I knew this couldn’t be random… fuck.

‘Get them up,’ the man said, referring to Pete and Malcolm. Getting up sheepishly, Pete and Malcolm both did as they were told.

The guy with the gun took the gun off me. I have to say I got my heartbeat back then because I thought I was in trouble, big trouble. He looked at me in the face, then he went into his pocket and looked at a photo, he looked at his guys and nodded, then looked at me again.

‘You Graziano? Joey Graziano?’

‘Yes, that’s me. What’s the problem here?’

‘No problem,’ he said. He then looked at his guys as he walked towards Pete and Malcolm. I hope he wouldn’t hurt them because he was the one with the gun. He put the gun on them. ‘Any of you two fucks move and your dead. You watch.’

Both Pete and Malcolm nodded their heads in compliance.

‘Right lads, do it, but don’t kill him,’ he said as I stood there paused for a second, the words seeming to bring it home in one quick bang that I was just about to get the living shit kicked out of me.

The words ‘not the face’ came to mind.

Chapter Thirty One

THE PROPOSAL FROM TOMMY’S POINT OF VIEW

Now I don’t care if you’re a lawyer, a bricklayer, or a cleaner, shit I don’t care where you work or what your status is. Throw some money around and you will be treated like fucking royalty.

It doesn’t have to be crazy amounts of money either. Let’s say you’re taking your better half out. You notice the place is packed and you want some quiet time. It really is easy. Just stick a 20 in the host’s hand and smile, then tell him or her you want a quiet table, a romantic little spot.

Chances are you will get it.

When you leave, be the man, find the manager and say hello, tell him how good the food was, tell him you like how he runs shit, throw him a 20 and get his card. The next time you want a table, you ring him and it’s done. No more waiting in the bar spending daft money on overpriced watered down beer.

Having done a few good turns for Jack Swayby at Connelly’s, I was already in his good books, but I had managers of restaurants eating out of my hands in most places due to the fact I played the game, and played it right.

Like I mentioned before, this night was going to be special. Emma was taking ages to get ready, and I didn’t moan at her once. I just chilled watching the TV as she did what women do when getting ready.

When she finally came downstairs, I was gob smacked. She was stunning. Wearing a figure-hugging blue dress with matching shoes and her hair in ringlets, oh man, she really did look way too good for me. I could have jumped her right then and there.

I had told her it was just a romantic dinner for me and her.

We took a normal no-frills taxi, she asked were we were going and I told her. She was concerned because she had some friends who couldn’t seem to get a reservation at Connelly’s but I told her it was sorted. She asked what entertainment was on but I kept it all hushhush.

‘It’s a surprise, babes,’ I whispered in her ear in the taxi.

Being in the line of work I had been in before the Army, I guess it was inevitable that I would love movies such as ‘Goodfellas’. So, me being me, I went for the Goodfellas entrance. It was all arranged by Jack.

THE PROPOSAL FROM EMMA’S POINT OF VIEW

Before we set off I looked at him and he looked so cool. He was smart, don’t get me wrong, but he kind of was like a scruffy smart, something he did very well and it drove me crazy.

On the way there I nagged him to find out where we were going, what was on. I have to admit I can’t keep sane when I am being surprised. It was the excitement. After all this time I was being wined and dined by the only person I would want to do it for me.

When we got there the queue was stretched out from the club doors way out into the car park. I wouldn’t have waited like that, especially with the dress I had on. It was freezing.

I told Tommy we didn’t have to go in Connelly’s. I told him I wouldn’t wait like the people standing outside in the cold.

He smiled at me like he was as cool as Han Solo himself.

‘Follow me, we don’t do queues, babe.’

Looking around the alley Tommy led me down my first thoughts were that I was hoping he hadn’t taken me down the alley for a quickie - not yet anyways.

Luckily he hadn’t. We got to an old brown door where a waiter greeted us.

‘Evening, Emma,’ he said as he opened the door for us and took our coats.

We were taking the ‘Goodfellas’ route. I couldn’t believe it. I remember telling Tommy when we watched the film on VHS many years ago how cool it was. He had remembered. I could hear the famous song which was used in the film by the Ronettes ‘And Then He kissed Me’ playing in the club.

‘Wow!’, I thought. Tommy was really surpassing his usual efforts, not that I complained, because a tin of Roses and a smile was usually about the limit. He had changed, that was for sure. He just seemed so damn grown up, and happy - it was fantastic to see.

Walking past the hallways and through the kitchen where the chefs and cooks all knew my name somehow was overwhelming, It had me laughing my arse off and I remember thinking ‘How the hell did Tommy get the club to do all this? For me?’

But, to my surprise, the best was yet to come.

As we walked out of the kitchen, a waiter led the way carrying a table just for two above his head. He placed it down at the front of the main floor which was packed with people all wining and dining. They all clapped us. it was surreal.

We sat down and the Manager, a Mr Swayby, came over and introduced himself to us, or me, because the way him and Tommy laughed when they shook hands it was obvious Tommy and he had history.

‘Hello and good evening, madam. Please may I take this opportunity on behalf of myself and all the staff to welcome you to Connelly’s.’

He was so charming. He held out a bottle of rosé wine and waited for my approval.

‘If you would please accept our finest bottle of Pinot Noir Rosé, a rare table wine sold exclusively by Connelly’s, which was produced in the mountains of the Santa Clara Valley, compliments of the house.’

Both I and Tommy nodded as if we knew where that posh place was. Santa Clara? The only Santa me and Tommy knew wore a red suit and came down chimneys.

It seemed so much to take in. It was like I was royalty. I kept thinking what in God’s name had Tommy done to get all this and more the point what was he up to?’

Sitting down at our table we laughed together. It seemed like it was the only moment we had had together since we had got in, what with all the fuss over us and all.

Tommy asked if I was happy. I said ‘Of course I am, dummy, who wouldn’t be?’

After chatting and feeling a little more relaxed, we sat and ordered our food. The service was fantastic.

Being the bloody greediest bugger on the planet, Tommy just had to have the House Mixed Grill. ‘Babe, it’s the biggest thing you can get,’ was his reason. I always tried to get him to try different dishes when we went out to eat. He would say ‘Hmm, yeah, that sounds nice, honey’, and then, a minute later, guaranteed, he would say ‘You know what? That all sounds nice, but I reckon I’m gonna go for the mixed grill’.

Still, it was just one of the numbers of things I loved about him. After all, a girl doesn’t want a man who eats less than her.

We sat there at our table, full up and drinking our wine. It was so romantic.

Right then the host came onto the stage right in front of us and told us all to get ready for the night’s entertainment.

One of the reasons that Connelly’s was sold out that night was because of the act that was performing. Now I had no idea, but it was the Two Steps act from London. They did musical shows and tonight’s was a mix of Footloose, Grease and Dirty Dancing! I couldn’t believe it. I was in heaven. Wow!

It was a crazy night. The show was amazing and I felt dizzy from singing and trying to dance a little bit. I usually would have been dancing all night but the bump restricted my flow and I got tired quicker.

We stayed talking and laughing as if we had just met. We reminisced about the years gone by. After all, I had met Tommy in my late teens so we had been together for a good ten years.

It seemed we were in our own little world. Neither me nor Tommy realised that most of the guests had left. The stage was empty and the staff had begun to tidy up and get ready for closing. We both thanked Mr Swayby before we left. I was tired and asked Tommy if he would call a cab but he insisted we took a little walk first.

It was nice actually, walking down the street. There was no wind, which wasn’t bad for November, and it was quite mild outside. We walked and Tommy said we could get a taxi from the taxi place which was just around the corner.

Tommy stopped.

‘You remember when I first saw you in here?’ Tommy said as he pointed with his head. We were outside of the LA’s nightclub. It was closed now but it was still the place where we had met, bless him.

After shuffling around in his pocket, Tommy brought out a little black box and got down on one knee. He opened the box which revealed a beautiful purple Tanzanite stone. He knew purple was my favourite colour. The ring was amazing, but what was more amazing was the night, it really had been the perfect night.

So this is what he was up to. I couldn’t believe it. Tommy had always been opposed to getting married.

Looking up with puppy dog eyes he just said it in his typical no nonsense way ‘Will you be daft and marry me, Emma?’

I got down on one knee and joined him, crouched, and we kissed.

‘You never even had to ask, honey. Course I will. It’s always been you, always has, always will be.’

We sat there in the middle of the street and kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and I never wanted to stop.

Chapter Thirty Two

I still felt sorry for Malcolm and Pete. They kept saying ‘Sorry, Joey’, and poor Malcolm had begun to cry. Malcolm’s tears amused the man who had the gun on them and he laughed before telling them to shut up and be quiet.

First of all the two men who had hold of me tied my wrists together and stretched my arms out over my head. I have to admit I was terrified. I think the worst thing was because it didn’t look like they were going to beat me beat up, which would have scared me enough and been more than ample.

No, these masked men were planning something a little more sinister.

Having my arms stretched out above my head they laid me on the concrete. One of the men went to the car and brought out a nail gun.

My heart beat like mad in fear.

To my relief, the nail gun was only shot into the concrete above my head. The men then connected my tied hands to the nail which was dug into the floor, so I was suspended whilst being laid and stretched out. They did the same with my feet, tying them tight, and connected them to a nail in the floor.

So there I was, stretched out. I couldn’t move. I tried to wriggle left and right and kept asking them why they were doing this and also what I was supposed to have done. There was no answer.

The man with the gun moved Malcolm and Pete further away from me (about 20 foot away) and asked the two men ‘is this safe enough away?’, to which the men said it was.

Panic was truly getting a grip of me at that time. One of the men went into a white carrier bag and pulled out some pink rubber gloves and a penknife. My eyes followed his every move as my heart pounded in fear for what they were going to do.

The man at my feet was handed a ball of what I thought was chewing gum at first, but when I saw him cutting it and attaching a few bits here and there I soon realised it wasn’t bubble gum, it was semtex - plastic explosive - and I was well and truly in deep trouble. He spoke to me in a sort of cynical tone.

‘I’m not going to kill you, Graziano, just take away your legs and, who knows, maybe your cock and balls too, but you being a lawyer ’n’ all won’t have any anyways, right?’

The man’s joke drew laughs from his men as I laid there numb, in acceptance of my fate. You see, I wasn’t a fighter, never have been. When the shit hits the fan, I freeze. I just haven’t got that edge, I didn’t know this way of life. I didn’t do violence.

After cutting away a few wires here and there, it must have only taken about five minutes to assemble the miniature sized bomb which was going to blow me in half.

The men then smiled at me and one of them spat in my face before walking off to the others. I was alone and scared stiff as I watched a red light which was embedded into the semtex at my feet flicker on and off rapidly.

It was surprising to me that after a few minutes the men got into their car, taking Malcolm and Pete with them. I had just been left there.

It seemed like hours and the semtex still hadn’t blown. I watched the red light still flicker. I wasn’t any expert in explosives but thought at least if the light kept flickering I was ok.

A car finally stopped, it had been raining so my eyes where wet and my vision was restricted. I heard footsteps and a language being spoke which sounded like Russian or something.

I felt someone kneel down close to me, and they wiped my eyes. I couldn’t believe it once my brain digested the picture in front of me. It was Valukana, along with a few other men I had never seen.

‘Joey, Joey, Joey. We seem to have something in common after all.’

‘Which is?’ I said as he smiled at me.

‘We both have the same enemy.’

Valukana’s men spoke in their native tongues as Valukana told me not to worry and that these men at my feet were well trained in explosives.

The light stopped flickering and to my relief my legs didn’t go boom. They untied me and I got into the car with Valukana.

We drove to his club and on the way he told me everything.

The truth was Valukana was aiming at taking on the gang known as X Company. Because Valukana had not been in the country long, it was his plan to get established and then take it to the street with X Company. Valukana had more connections and wasn’t going to share the business of all things corrupt with X Company. All had been nice between Valukana and X. Valukana had been leading X into a false sense of security by supplying X with some drugs and other items.

But tonight X fucked up. They had put in an unusual request for a pound in weight’s worth of plastic explosive. Valukana assured them semtex came at a price. He just so happened to ask them what it was being used for and he was told it was going to blow a lawyer in half. He asked the name and was told.

As I had mentioned before, this Valukana always had a scary face, but he looked mad.

‘Joey, I am en route to see a Major Roux. Do you wish to come along?’

Just being happy to be alive was enough for me, so I declined. I wasn’t a gangster. I didn’t want to see what Valukana was going to do.

‘I’ll pass, but thank you anyway,’ I said. ‘Just please don’t kill anyone. It isn’t worth it.’

Valukana smiled.

‘Kill anyone? Where is the fun in that? No, Joey, this was only another example of how sloppy X Company is. You see, if I had sanctioned a hit, you would be dead. Further to that we have already started the de-throwning of X Company. It started yesterday if truth be told, and it ends tonight.’

Chapter Thirty Three

‘Beth, just tell her if she doesn’t do it then she can say goodbye to her friend’s party next week.’

Major Roux was growing all the more agitated at his daughter’s refusal to do her homework. Young Katie was the typical teenager, 14, misunderstood, and saw her parents as the enemy.

‘Will do,’ shouted Beth, the Major’s better half, from up the stairs. Sitting in his study going through the books for the month, the Major needed quiet.

Then he heard the door.

‘For fuck sake,’ he thought.

On his way to the door, Beth shouted down ‘You got it?’

‘Yes, dear, probably next door again asking to borrow my tools,’ Roux replied.

‘Irritating bastards,’ he added under his breath.

Opening the door, the Major saw a bunch of men stood there in balaclavas. One of the men hit the Major with the butt of a rifle and knocked him clean out.

Coming round a few minutes later, the Major woke to the sounds of screaming. ‘Beth! Katie!’ Roux cried out as he saw his wife and daughter with their hands tied.

Roux tried to swing out at the man in front of him but fell sideways onto the floor. He had been tied up too. ‘You’re dead men, dead men,’ Roux hissed as one of the masked men sat him back up in his chair.

The man in front of Roux removed his balaclava. ‘I am Valukana, the man one of your idiot soldier boys tried to buy semtex off earlier.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘We are talking about Trigg. He has an obsession with a friend of mine named Joey Graziano, and Joey’s friend Tommy. This will stop, tonight.’

‘Or?’ inquired Roux.

Valukana nodded to the man on his left who started to pour liquid over Roux’s wife Beth and their daughter Katie.

Roux began to rage as he recognised the smell of the liquid. It was petrol.

Valukana threw a plastic bag which looked like it had a large ball inside it onto Roux’s lap and told another man to take the bag off. The man peeled the bag away. Something sticky clung onto the inside of the plastic as the bag was removed.

‘Ugh,’ Roux exclaimed as he shuffled the object from his lap onto the floor. The object was a human head. ‘Who is it?’ Roux asked.

Picking up the severed head, Valukana put it directly in front of Roux. Valukana was smiling. ‘What? You don’t remember your own men? Our dear friend 2nd Lieutenant Graves? If it’s any consolation, he did put a smile on my face. He was a fighter, had spirit. But by the time we took his head off, he had given you up, the way they always do.’

‘Who else have you killed?’ asked Roux

‘Well now, let’s see. We took four of your guys from the docks this morning. Erm, one was called Li’l Pete - he had a mouth on him – some fucking stuttering prick called Melvin, and the other two I can’t remember. Anyways we set them on fire and tossed their crispy bodies into the Humber, ha-ha. Was quite entertaining actually, watching them dancing around on fire. We had bets on who would stop dancing first. Yeah, it was a sight. Then we visited your tobacco warehouse on Ings and fucked that up too. We stole all your shit then put eight of your guys in cement. You see, we have some works going on at an old factory we are restoring. Anyways, seems your guys will be helping us with laying the foundations, so to speak, ha-ha. You don’t believe me? Look at these.’

Another masked man showed Roux some photos of the burnt bodies and then of the men who were thrown into the cement.

Roux sat there in silence.

‘So that’s twelve of your men gone in – what - a few hours. Word is you’re about a 30 man strong outfit. My guess is that the rest are running by now, my friend, if they haven’t stopped to tell you, so you’re all alone. It’s over for your outfit. Me and my guys here run this shit now. We have been quietly pissing all over Hull marking our territory for days. It’s our playground now and you didn’t notice a thing. Slack, Major Roux, slack.’

‘So what are you going to do with my family?’

‘Well, that’s entirely up to you, Roux. Firstly, I am taking over Hull. All your shit stops. You get the fuck out tonight. Secondly, you sever all ties with that twisted fuck Trigg and his pals. You leave them to us.’

‘And if I don’t?’ asked Roux.

‘Well,’ Valukana lit a cigarette, ‘if you don’t, I light a fucking match.’

Chapter Thirty Four

After all the waiting, all the jitters, she had finally said yes. I tell you to see her face light up the way it did, to see her smile like she did, it was a beautiful thing.

After we got home Emma spent hours and hours on the telephone telling everyone in the world it seemed. I had agreed to meet Joey in the morning, so I would tell him then. He was the only person I had to tell really.

I sat in the living room for a little bit of peace. Emma could get a gold medal for chatting and I was tired as my strength had still not returned to what it was. I seemed to get tired quicker. I was skinny compared to what I was but the weight was coming back slowly but surely, one sausage roll at a time.

Getting used to my left hand being minus the two fingers was the real bummer, though. I was always right handed but it’s mad the things you still do with your left. For example, I couldn’t reach for the remote with my left hand any more as I used to, it was weird tying shoe laces and much harder to wash my hair. It sounds crazy but even when I took a piss, I always took my cock out with my right hand, but when I put it away again I always zipped up with my left, so all that was confusing too. I would never have thought that my two bottom fingers did anything useful.

Sitting in the living room I gazed out of the window. It was pissing it down outside and I remember thinking back to years ago when I was just a teen, astray and mental with Trigg. I remembered hating this city, hating the fact it rained all the time. Funny thing is I prayed for it when I was shackled from head to toe in that mud pit. I longed for something to remind me of here, this place, my home. There really was no place like home.

I smiled to myself in the hope that maybe, just maybe, things were working out. I remember Joey’s mam used to say ‘smile and the world smiles back’. It’s fucking right that is. This doing good shit was really working out for me. I was becoming something along the lines of a decent person, and it made me feel human again.

It seemed I had drifted off into a warm cosy sleep when I woke to Emma and Sarah’s laughs as they giggled at me.

‘I’m drooling again aren’t I?’ I asked. I knew I looked like Homer Simpson when I slept, as any bloke does really.

‘No,’ Emma laughed. Neither her nor Sarah could contain their amusement as they laughed uncontrollably.

What were they laughing at?

I got up and walked like a zombie to the kitchen, I was tired and figured I’d have a protein shake before bedtime. It was 2.30 in the morning so I needed to go to sleep, however Emma and Sarah were drunk and I could see a couple of empty rosé wine bottles on the kitchen counter.

As I mixed my shake I noticed my reflection in the microwave. The pair of buggers had ‘trannied’ me.

Getting ‘trannied’ means that if you fall asleep, somebody puts lipstick on you, does your hair and applies make-up to your face, hence the term tranny, as in transvestite.

‘You pair of twats,’ I laughed. They kept on giggling like schoolgirls. ‘I think you have to admit, though, that I make one sexy bitch.’

They had done a good job on me I have to say. It was a good prank. I figured what the hell and joined Emma and Sarah for a few drinks. We chatted for hours and it was nice. Sarah was Emma’s best friend, just like Joey was to me.

Hmmm…’There’s a thought,’ I wondered.

I just came out and said it. ‘Hey Sarah…didn’t you ever like Joey?’

She looked at Emma and then back to me. She looked puzzled.

‘He’s married though, so…?’

‘Not for long, hun. Divorce papers are in. Tell you what, he’s a good lad, y’know. He’d look after you, and on top he has a killer personality. I just think you two would get on. You’re lovely, he’s my best mate. Makes sense, yeah?’

‘What do you think, Ems?’ asked Sarah, but by the look on her face she had already made up her mind.

Laughing at us both, Emma smiled and said ‘Hey, he is always checking you out Sarah when he comes around, so I know he’s interested. Go for it. Just glad he’s got rid of that bitch he married. He has just had bad luck with women. Before that who was it, Tommy?’

‘Ha-ha, it was that go-go dancer.’

‘You mean stripper, Tommy, he was with er…ooo …. what was her name?’

‘Jenna Jugs!’ I blurted out.

Emma laughed because that wasn’t her name but her name was nevertheless Jenna, and yes she had the jugs. It was just she was mentally unstable and crashed Joey into a McDonalds drive thru one night because Joey called her a nut.

‘She was fit though, honey. Mmm,’ I said

‘You just watch it, mister,’ laughed Emma.

What a night it had been, the proposal went great, Emma was happy, and now it seemed I was setting Joey up with a decent girl for once… Get in!

Chapter Thirty Five

Once my pulse had returned to normal I started to take in just how close I had been, Valukana outlined to me just how dangerous X Company were, or had been.

Sat in Valukana’s new casino, which was yet to be opened, we had a good talk. Here was this man who I’d never heard of a few months ago, I do him a few small favours and he saves my life. No matter how different we were, I owed him.

I asked Valukana if there was anything I could do. He didn’t have to help me, he could have let me rot. But he didn’t. While I’m not so stupid as to know Valukana had his own reasons for wanting to take down X, he didn’t have to do it tonight.

Seeming pretty relaxed, Valukana started telling me about his plans, clubs he was going to buy. This man was aiming for the top, but not the type of ‘top’ normal people refer to. He wanted the underworld falling at his feet. I said to him I didn’t want to know about his criminal endeavours. He respected my wishes but also wanted to outline what kind of a man he was, who X was and what they had done, and also wanted me to know that I owed him nothing. He looked at me, as icy as ever and said…

‘Joey, I always say, if someone does me right, I do them right; if someone does me wrong…they die.’

Needless to say, I was glad to be on this man’s good side.

He told me many a story about the crime in our area though. Over the last few years, X had controlled most of the organised activity in Hull, something I wasn’t aware of. I actually thought I was clued up to a lot of what was going on due to my connections but, in truth, I didn’t know anything. I had a judge telling me it was Albanians running the show six months back, then a barrister I knew told me he had info it was all about the Turks. What I had learned was that the whispers in our system were exactly that, and these criminals had us right where they wanted us - clueless. Word was X had the docks, had men working on different levels getting things in and out past the all-evil customs and excise agents. From tobacco to whisky, anything that was deemed profitable, X tried to deal in it. Of course there were drugs too, but only more recently.

The more disturbing fact which Valukana brought to my attention was the willingness of the law enforcement people to turn a blind eye if the price was right. Scary.

We sat for a few hours, just talking.

I told Valukana that I would have to be careful if we were to be friends, and that I couldn’t spend too much time around his sort. I felt awful saying it but I took my career seriously and from what I picked up from the time we had been chatting, I really couldn’t be near this guy.

We agreed we would stick to the occasional game of golf, which was a relief because this man was just scary, no matter how friendly he was to me. He was focused, determined, but most of all feared. He had got rid of X Company more or less in the course of one day - one day! If he could do that I figured his methods involved more than talking. I couldn’t be around people like that, but I offered my legal services all the same should he find himself in the dock. He wanted to spill the details of how he got rid of Major Roux and co, but I didn’t want to know. He left it alone, stating only that he had had a ‘messy’ few days.

I had to leave, needed to get my head down after the night’s drama. On my way out Valukana told me to be vigilant. He had heard that Trigg had been trying to get a contract out on someone. Valukana told me I would be watched for a few weeks by one of his men. I wanted to call the police but he wouldn’t have it. He said they couldn’t ‘protect fuck all’. I have to admit I agreed. The thing about the police in our country is they are not issued with guns, so when it comes to the hardcore crims, they are at a disadvantage straightaway.

I agreed on the principle but I was not to be bothered. Valukana said I wouldn’t even see the man protecting me. ‘He will remain discrete. He will not be seen or heard. He will remain in the shadows, Joey.’

‘Wow, is it Batman?’ I laughed.

‘No, Batman would be this guy’s bitch, trust me.’

It felt kind of cool knowing I had someone protecting me, but I have to admit I was still shaken.

Valukana got me a car home. On the way I kept thinking of poor Tommy. I had suffered for just a few minutes under the hands of some thugs, but I was saved. I kept thinking how in hell Tommy had survived such an ordeal. How did his mind; his body, deal with the torture?

It was only yesterday Tommy had made fun of his own hand where he had lost two fingers. He said it was his ‘ninja turtle’ hand. I guess Tommy was made different to me because I think I would have just died if I had had to go through that much pain, that much torture.

Torture…Christ the word just makes me shiver.

Chapter Thirty Six

‘It’s over, Trigg. I am not at all happy with your irresponsible behaviour and the havoc it has reaped on X Company. I never gave that order. That is why we have rules. Now it’s all over.’ Major Roux couldn’t hide his incandescent anger.

‘It’ll be sorted, Major, just calm down. Who the fuck is this guy, this Valukana? I for one have never heard of the prick. If you say he can’t be bought, can he be got?’

‘No, he doesn’t make deals, Trigg. I don’t know who he is with but people tell me he is definitely not to be messed with. You see, there are levels of organisation in our field of work, Trigg. There are petty criminals, there are semi-pros like us, and then there are the pros. This guy is a pro.’

‘What? We aren’t pros? You have had the knock (customs) in your pockets for years, you have some police on the clock, it’s all been X’s playground. How can that not be pro?’

‘You don’t understand, Trigg. In this game money talks. Valukana has it in abundance. Money buys success. It’s that simple. I hear this guy kills for fun. When he pressed the gun against my head, he wanted to pull the trigger, I could tell. It was fun for him. He poured petrol over Beth and Kate, Trigg. He was going to make me watch while they burned. He killed twelve of our guys in a day. He is crazy. My guys in the police don’t want to know. That means it’s over. He has them now.’

‘Fuck me. So what now for me? Am I out?’

‘Don’t you get it, Trigg? Am I moving over to words of one syllable? It’s over. Now I have to separate myself from you for a while. I am going down south. I have friends there, I need to lay low and I suggest you do the same. When things quieten down I will have to re-evaluate our position because we are relatively small compared to someone like Valukana. This guy, I’ve heard, has contacts in high places, and I mean all over the place. He his vicious, Trigg, I saw photos of him peeling old Marv’s eyelids off with a potato cutter. He told me my balls would be next if I didn’t submit to him, and I believe him. We are finished here. He is the new breed. For us it was never about violence, but these men, they are animals. For now you are on your own. When and if we ever have work for you again it will have to be in another place. Our time in Hull has expired. We did well to have it for as long as we did. To be successful in this game you have to know when you’re beaten.’

‘So that’s it, you just give him Hull and be done with it?’

‘Yes, I guess it is. X Company is not about street wars. X Company is about street business.’

‘Fuck that, with all respect. I’ll make it on my own. I have guys who don’t give a fuck about reputations. You say X doesn’t do wars? You guys are Army for fuck’s sake. Well I have started wars and won wars. I’ve seen and done more in one tour than this pretender.’

‘Don’t do it, Trigg. He is not a pretender.’

‘He fucking is, I tell you. It’s just he has money, money. Fuck, that’s fuck all when you have balls.’

‘It isn’t just the money Trigg. Money hasn’t made him what he is, or what he is going to be. The money has merely unmasked him.’

‘Well fuck him and his loyal ants. I’ll sort them. I‘ll sort fucking Tommy and that cunt lawyer too.’

‘Well, I guess it’s your death warrant then, Trigg. My bet is that if you take this road I’ll probably never see you again.’

‘Well guess so. Nice nearly working with you’.

After slamming down the phone, Trigg was straight on the phone to Samson.

Samson answered and sounded panicked. ‘Tell me what the fuck is going down, Trigg. I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve had fucking dock workers saying they are being laid off, I got fucking dealers saying they are being robbed and I got our wagon drivers being hijacked for their loads, some even got thrown into the fucking River Humber. Shit is going down all over the city and we are fucking standing still.’

‘Well there is some fucking major shit going down, and speaking of majors, he’s fucking gone.’

‘Whatcha mean ‘gone’? Like gone-gone?’

‘No not ‘gone’ just gone. Y’know, got the fuck out of Dodge - he’s done with it in Hull.’

‘What?’

‘I know. Fucking pussies wouldn’t know a battle if it hit them, saying that this Valukana fuck is running shit now. I mean, I know we ain’t big in numbers or anything, but are you willing to let these fucking foreigners just come in and roll us over?’

‘Fuck that, Trigg’

‘That’s what I said. Fuck that. You know what, this is all because of that cunt Tommy. I shoulda just popped him the first day he came home, hid the body and nobody would have ever been the wiser.’

‘You shoulda clipped him over there, Trigg. You get any news on the lawyer fuck?’

‘Yeah, still breathing I’m afraid.’

‘Fucking hell, the night gets worse. Had me a fucking good mini chewy bomb going on with all the trimmings too. Woulda blown the cunt in half. Fucking hell, you know how much that semtex costs, Trigg?’

‘I know, I know. Look we need to sort our shit out, get the guys in, we need a sit down. One thing that needs sorting is Tommy. We are under our own rules now, Samson, and I say we just go for it.’

‘Fucking damn right,’ snarled Samson, ‘except this time he fucking stays dead.’

‘No, that will come later. First we take his heart.’

Chapter Thirty Seven

For the first time in a long time I felt free. Free at last!

When my wife moved out it was like my ball and chain had truly been taken away. I looked at motorbikes on the internet and was like a little kid browsing through all the different makes and models. I also bought a Playstation. Pure mind numbing fun felt great.

When things started to get back to normal again after such a turbulent few months, my mind and soul felt rejuvenated. I had taken up an offer and was guilty of being naughty. I was committing a sin. Well according to my late mother, I was.

I had been spending time with Sarah and she was like a huge breath of fresh air. We talked. I mean we really, really talked. I felt like a teenager again. Was this how it was supposed to feel? She took me places I had never thought of going. She took me to Robin Hood’s Bay and we took a walk that seemed to last forever by the Cliffside. It was raining but it was beautiful. We talked, we walked, we kissed, we took pictures - proper couple-type stuff.

I would never have believed it. Me taking walks, me, enjoying scenery, me…opening up.

I think its opens your mind so much when you meet someone who can change your perspective on so many different things, like changing the course on a destination you had set and then suddenly for someone to change it mid-journey and say ‘Hey, this isn’t where you’re going, this is where you’re going’, and not through force of manipulation of feelings. They do it because in some way they relate to you, in some way they see you differently. They see past the walls, and into you.

It felt great.

Having never been one to see what was right in front of me, I had no idea Sarah liked me. She said she had fancied me for years. For years!

Deep down I wished we had got together years ago but, hey, I was just thankful she said something to Tommy and Emma that night and we got sorted, otherwise I would have been meeting the same old wrong girls, again and again and again. Such was my amazing knack of getting together with the wrong type, as Emma put it.

Yes, I felt good, real good.

Sarah was out of town for a few days doing some teacher training and I had managed to meet up with Tommy for our fitting. The wedding was only a few weeks away and we had left it late, but the owner at L. Blakeman and Sons was an old friend so he agreed to fit us and promised any alterations would be done in time for Tommy and Emma’s big day.

The suits were great. We were going to be wearing brown suits with white shirts, sporting cream cravats. We looked the business.

Apparently Sarah and Emma were having another trying on of their dresses tomorrow night, so both I and Tommy had strict orders to be out of the house for the night. We had a games night planned on the Playstation, a night of Tekken and Grand Turismo beckoned and we couldn’t wait. I loved spending time with Sarah but games nights came a close second.

During those quiet months, after all the drama with X and Trigg, and me nearly getting blown in half, I sometimes thought I was being followed. I caught a glimpse of a man a few times but could never get a clear look.

It was to my relief that it was Valukana’s man. He had given his word, kept his word. I even saw the same man shadowing me and Sarah on the drive down to Robin Hood’s Bay, I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t want to panic her. After all, it was for our protection.

Word was that Trigg had left town. Valukana had sent word again, like he promised he would, that if a hair on my head was harmed he would get involved … personally. I guess that was enough to make Trigg rethink his life.

Having spent some time with Tommy, I told him about Valukana and how he had intervened, how he had basically dissolved X Company’s hold on the city’s underworld. Tommy, like me, was grateful, but still, like me, wanted to keep a safe distance from Valukana and that way of life.

Tommy met him with me one day and extended his gratitude, to which Valukana responded the next day by sending vouchers for all the flowers and photos for the wedding to be paid for by him.

You have to hand it to the guy. This Valukana never forgot a favour.

Chapter Thirty Eight

‘No, no, no. You don’t hold it like that. Come here.’

There was still something weird about him, he was so icy…

Standing behind me, he helped me to adjust my arms and posture.

‘Remember you grab it with two hands, back straight, keep it steady, aim for your target, remember to breathe, exhale as you see the shot…’

It certainly was helpful advice because I shot straight onto the green.

‘You see, Joey, it’s all about concentration, always, my friend.’

There was something about the way he talked about the golf swing that was disturbing. I don’t know if it was just my overblown paranoid imagination but the way he said ‘exhale as you see the shot’ really made me question if he was talking about golf or re-enacting some shady scene in his head from his past.

‘Not bad, Joey, not bad at all…for a beginner.’

‘Hey less of that beginner stuff, you. Just because I’m rusty doesn’t mean I can’t play.’

‘Am I sensing one has had his jam taken out of his donut, Joey?’

‘Ha-ha, no, I don’t spit the dummy when things aren’t going my way. I’ll catch up.’

In all fairness I knew Valukana would beat me but I had to talk a good game in case I got lucky and won.

I was not one for golf in bad weather and with it being December we knew there wouldn’t be much time to play for a while. The club had closed for the winter but, Valukana being Valukana, he persuaded the owner to let us have one last game before the winter break. Snow was due next week. I for one couldn’t believe Tommy and Emma were having a winter wedding but Emma was insistent that she didn’t want to look too fat for her wedding and wouldn’t wait. I told her we would freeze to death in the church and outside for the photos but she just called me a wuss. She was right, I was a wuss, always had been.

During my game with Valukana on that sunny but cold morning I would also show my true wuss nature again.

Having known Valukana for all of a few months I had a feeling every time we met he had something to tell me. It was just his way.

We walked the course at a nice easy pace, talking about my friend’s upcoming wedding, my new girlfriend. We chatted about all sorts. Then Valukana told me that when I sorted out the contact for him there had been a little bit of a delay with some of his papers. He was sorted now though and had a new name. He asked me respectfully if I would call him by his new name and also, if asked, to never disclose anything to those who may ask about knowing of anyone by the name of Valukana.

Agreeing of course, I assured him how confidentiality was a specialty in my line of work and I would never disclose anything.

He believed me.

After we had finished, we sat and had a coffee. He had beaten me again but wasn’t bragging as much this time. I think my challenge, where it came to golf, wasn’t a challenge anymore for him but, still, it gets one outside, doesn’t it, and playing with a talented golfer such as him would only help my game. Losing did suck though.

We had nearly finished our drinks when he stopped me, mid-babble, and did his serious face…

‘Joey?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I worked for the mafia. I was a hitman’

Cutting in, I told him I really didn’t need to know any details. I knew too much already. ‘Look, I have said before, we really can’t talk about your past. I don’t need to know.’

‘Well I want to tell you. It seems once again I am to become a new name. Does that mean I become a new man? With each name I have taken, this being my third, I seem to lose a little piece of myself.’

‘Well, I’m probably not the best person to tell all this to. I mean, I’m a lawyer. The worst thing I have done in the past few years is to put plastic in my cardboard bin, and I reckon that’s about it.’

‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. There’s no lying in Joey and you tell me what’s what, sometimes even when you’re scared, and you always do so very delicately.’

‘Yeah, because I don’t want my arse to get kicked.’

‘It’s just in my life I have a lot of yes men. It gets hard to rely on one’s opinion. This new life ahead of me, it is a challenge. You see I yearn to be the top in what I do. I crave success, it drives me, it makes me crazy even. The feeling of satisfaction when I ran those silly little army men out of Hull. Well, it was beautiful.’

‘So there you go, new name, which I don’t know yet, new projects, your all sorted then.’ Standing to my feet whilst grinning a grin which said ‘Please let me leave’, I gathered my clubs hoping that was it.

It wasn’t…doh!

‘I have a few questions for you, Joey. Life questions. I ask you because I can see you make good choices.’

‘Please, I’m a nightmare, my marriage was a …’

‘Joey, what I know I know.’ There was no way I was arguing as he got that icy look again. ‘Now, I have some people problems. How would you handle a person or persons you were suspicious over?’ He sat there with a notepad and a pen. There was this guy, one big scary person, and he was asking little me for advice? I tried my best not to disappoint.

‘Well, firstly, I guess I would say ‘Don’t judge people on what they say, but on what they do’. My mother taught me that. And one of my favourites ever from my mother again is ‘Just because they look the business, doesn’t mean they are the business’. Now I could go on all day, but those two little quotes have served me well. Maybe they can for you too.’

‘Joey, I love them. I love hearing people’s thoughts and quotes on life. You listen to a man’s thoughts on life and I think it is possible to see one of two things: either what he has done, or what he hasn’t done. You see my mind is in a transitional period, the quiet before the storm, so to speak. You may hear some things about me in the future, Joey. I’m going to be unsettling many an organisation. The price of certain illegal substances will drop, it will be all down to me, blood will spill, heads will roll. So on that note, it is with great regret that I have to call a cease to meeting you, Joey. I greatly enjoy your company but think it is best for your career if you keep a safe distance.’

Ok, I have to admit I was relieved, but also quite taken aback because this guy really seemed a nice guy. But how could he be with all the vile things he may have done? But to me he was sincere, and I didn’t quite know what that meant. Did I judge him by how he treated me, or how he treated the world? I didn’t know the answer to that one.

I agreed I would stay clear and shook his hand firmly before leaving, when it occurred that I didn’t know his new name. I turned as he was walking off. I had to shout through the café. ‘Hey, wait a minute.’

He turned and stopped. ‘What’s up, Joey?’

‘Ha-ha, Christ, I feel daft.’ I laughed as I huffed and puffed. I was really unfit these days. ‘I don’t know your new name.’

‘Diezan… Hans Diezan.’ It seemed to roll off his tongue easily along with his usual icy, glassy look.

‘Hmm, sounds good, a little scary but cool. Hey, you could be a superman baddy with that name,’ I joked nervously.

He said nothing.

Offering my hand again I said farewell. ‘To life and love, Diezan,’ I said.

He gave me them killer eyes again which seemed to pierce my head.

‘Yes, but I prefer ‘Let the ends excuse the evil’, Joey, and if you need me, as always, just call.’ That saying was definitely him, I’ll say that. It was scary to think of the things this man had done or would be doing in the future. I preferred my ‘life and love’ quote, and that’s what I was hoping for really, a large slice of each, please.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Okay, you wanna know what it takes to keep a woman alive and happy? Cheese, chocolate, water, compliments and the occasional pair of shoes.

Simple.

Making sure Emma had a high volume of all of the above was my first mission of the day, apart from the shoes that is. It was Emma’s Girls’ Night tonight, so I went to the Tescos for 9 a.m. to stock up on food and drink for her. The girl’s night was an excuse for them to try the wedding gear on apparently and, knowing her friends, to eat all my food and get drunk, not that I was complaining. her friends were amazing and had been there for her during my time ‘over there’.

Upon my return I did the compliment part because she kept asking if I’d love her if she got really fat. Of course I said yes. I valued my life. Giving her the ‘honey you’re not fat’ and the ‘honey you can hardly tell your pregnant’ did wonders for my brownie points tally. I was well and truly in the good books, and to be honest I loved making her feel better.

It was the least I could do; after all she had done for me, I had a lot to make up for.

After getting all sorted, I was given my marching orders by her just as Sarah and a few more of her friends started to turn up.

Stopping briefly to talk, Sarah looked happier than ever and I couldn’t hold me tongue. ‘Is there a reason behind that big smile of yours?’

Being as coy as only Sarah was she grinned thinly ‘Maybe’.

‘Hmm, I bet that maybe wears a suit everyday and sucks at golf.’

She just laughed before telling me to tell him she was going to call him in an hour or so.

Meeting Joey out back of Tesco’s at around 11 a.m. was a good idea. It wasn’t mayhem yet. We got booze, Doritos and dips, a couple a steaks, tons of junk food and some games to play on the Playstation. We were all set as we raced to the checkout with our packed trolley.

When we arrived at Joeys we got our game faces on quick. Metallica was blasting out, we had the food out, got the games on and commenced battle on the Playstation. I picked the Porsche, Tommy picked the Ferrari, 1st level. Wicked!

‘Hey, mate, I forgot to tell you, Sarah’s calling soon. Seems you’ve made an impression there, mate. Fuck, I crashed.’

‘I’m trying. I just don’t want to fuck up. We were supposed to be taking it slow but, I have to say, she’s like fucking lightning every time I see her. I can’t explain it. She gets me bro. Shit I crashed as well. You got manual gears on.’

‘Ha-ha, I think someone’s in love. Man, listen to you, no auto gears mate, it’s easier.’

‘Hey, you wanna talk, Mr. Marriage, ha-ha, see ya. I’m first now.’

‘Ain’t no denying from me, please believe it, Joey. Gonna be the best husband I can be and father too, if I can. I’m catching up, turd.’

‘Good for you, mate. I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

‘Listen to us, Joey, we are growing up. Weird or what? Fucking Ferraris.’

‘Hmm, come on then. Enough of this lovey stuff, we’re on the next level. I rule.’

Chapter Forty

I walked into the kitchen when she rang to let Tommy carry on cursing at the Playstation. He was losing badly.

‘Hey, babe, you ok? Having a laugh then. What you all up to?’

She sounded a little drunk. ‘Yeah, we are singing Christmas songs, drinking, trying on wedding clothes. Hey, you wanna see Emma, she looks amazing.’

‘Christmas songs, hun. It’s three weeks away. I’m sure you look amazing too, by the way.’

‘Sweet talker. Keep going.’

‘Ok, I’ll play,’ I said as I loved doing this. I was a proper Mr. Softy. ‘You are like … hmm …. Ok, tell you what, I’ll say sing the words, you tell me the song. I’m going to have to sort of whisper and sing, though, because Tommy will take the piss otherwise. We did this the other day, remember?’

‘Done,’ she laughed. ‘I always kick your arse at this. What genre?’

‘80’s, of course’, hate the nineties crap and this noughty’s stuff is just dire. And you know I aren’t singing Christmas songs. Right then …hmm …. oh yeah, I heard this the other day .…’

‘Come on then,’ she laughed impatiently.

‘Can you hear me calling out your name? You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say. I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout. You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out. You got it yet?’

‘Hmm, haven’t yet, honey. You better keep going.’

She was still laughing.

‘Ok , ok, errrm, oh yeah, I got it…something’s happening, happening to me. my friends say I’m acting peculiar. Come on baby, you better make a start, you better make it soon before you break my heart … Come on you must have it now.’

To my horror I heard the sound of a load of crazy women scream out in drunken song ‘Oooh aaaaarrh, I wanna be with you everywhere.’

‘Speakerphone, baby,’ laughed Sarah uncontrollably. Busted! I have to admit it was funny though.

‘Oh hun, you’re in for it.’

‘You promise?’ she teased.

‘Hmm, so what do the girls think of my velvet voice? Can’t believe you exposed my liking of Fleetwood Mac, hun. They are going to think I’m old. Grew up on it, though, so what can you say?’

‘Erm, that you’re old.’

She loved to tease me, but I loved it.

‘Hey, by the way, hun, did Tommy try and ring earlier because the phone rang but it went dead went. It was crackly but someone asked for Emma.’

‘Don’t think so. He’s been here. I’ll ask him in a bit. He’s in game mode right now. Right, will pick you up at, what, about midnight?’

‘Yeah, that’s great, Joey-babes. See you soon. Love you.’

‘Love you too, Sarah.’

As I hit the living room again I could hear Tommy’s cursing. ‘Fucking control pads fucked mate. Me car is crap. Might as well be Fred Flinstoning it.’

‘Ha-ha, it’s because you are missing fingers, Tommy, plus the fact you are crap mate, and I rule. Accept it.’

‘Yeah, ruler of the rectums maybe.’

‘Ha-ha, come on now, you know you’re the one who had Elton John’s Greatest hits stashed away.’

‘Hey, I was 16 and nobody knew he was singing about dudes then, Joey.’

I teased him by singing Elton John songs ‘Hey Nikita is it cold?’

‘Oh you fucker,’ Tommy laughed as he jumped at me. We wrestled around the living room like when we were kids. After a marathon of two minutes play-fighting, and knocking over the food and some beer, we called it quits.

‘Right mate, steaks?’ asked Tommy, gasping for breath.

‘Yep, do mine medium please, mate.’

‘Will do,’ he answered as he went to the kitchen.

‘Oh yeah, I forgot. Did you ring your lass earlier? Sarah said someone rang and asked for her but it went crackly and the phone went dead. I know how cheap your phone is so....’

Racing into the room Tommy looked liked he’d seen a ghost. ‘Fuck me, crackly? Fuck, fuck, get the fucking car mate. Now! I’ll ring Emma.’

I raced to the car, not exactly knowing what Tommy meant. He jumped into the passenger seat with his phone in one hand and a mean looking shotgun in the other. ‘Answer, Emma, answer!’ he screamed. I sped off down the street. ‘What is it, mate? Tell me? What’s wrong?’

Looking at me, in a way I had never seen before - it was fright – he shook as he said it. ‘It’s fucking Trigg, Joey, it’s Trigg. Oh fuck, Emma, shit, shit.’

There was no need to say any more. My foot hit the metal, hard.

‘What did you bring that thing with you for?’ I asked. The last thing we wanted was gunfire around the girls.

‘Because if they’ve hurt her, they die…tonight.’

Taking a deep breath I just hoped to God they were ok. What could I say?

Chapter Forty One

It was too late by the time Tommy and Joey got to the house.

I was feeling more than merry when our lights went out. I didn’t know anything about power or electric but I knew the electric meter was outside. I didn’t know if it was a case of us running out of credit or just a power cut. Either way, I wasn’t going outside to check, especially because I had my comfy clothes on. In other words, I looked a tramp.

Sarah volunteered. She was drunk and ran out in my wedding dress. She loved it so much I told her to try it. She did and she was beautiful. I even thought she looked better than me in it.

After having a snoop, Sarah shouted down the hallway that she was going to her car for a torch. The girls and I sat there in the dark for a few moments. We had lit a few candles and we sat there waiting for the lights to come on, when one of the girls, Emily, noticed something outside.

‘What’s that light outside. Emma? It’s weird.’

I walked over to my window along with the girls and it seemed a light was moving fast in a circular motion outside, near my garden.

‘I don’t know, hun,’ I said as I tried to make out what it was. Then I made it out. You ever looked at something for a few seconds before you can make it out? It was like that.

I screamed as I saw Sarah in my wedding dress lying on the street outside my house. The torch she had been holding was round, and was rolling down the street still lit.

We all ran out to help her. Even a few neighbours came out. We called an ambulance. She was still alive. I thought she had just slipped on the ice or something, but blood was seeping out of the dress from her stomach and chest. I couldn’t believe it - she had been shot. All the girls were screaming and crying and I think the whole street was awake.

It was all like it was happening but it wasn’t. I remember Emily shouting down the phone at the police saying ‘Fucking get here. Sarah’s been shot, she’s been shot’.

Holding Sarah in my arms, I told her to stay with me.

‘It’s ok, honey, it’s ok.’ I wept but tried to keep it together at least until the ambulance got there. Sarah was semi-conscious. She was trying to talk but I told her not to. I told her to relax. She asked for Joey, and my tears were now in full flow. And then she said ‘I’m sorry I got blood on your dress’. After that I was inconsolable.

I shouted for one of the girls to ring Tommy or Joey. I needed Tommy here, and Sarah needed Joey here.

As we laid there waiting for the ambulance and the police, a car sounded near, but there was no siren. Screeching like it was in a street race, Joey’s car skidded around the corner and crashed into the next-door neighbour’s wheelie bins.

Chapter Forty Two

Once I got out of the car, I dropped the shotgun as I raced to the front lawn of our house. I had seen the wedding dress as we drove up and thought she was dead. I had screamed ‘no’ as Joey drove up and tried to get out as we were still moving, which made Joey crash in to next door’s bins.

It sounds awful of me to say but when I realised it was Sarah, I was relieved. I was still shocked and in pain but that initial sense of, well just absolute devastation which had gripped me for all of a few seconds, had passed. I was hurt, and I was still as shaken, but from my own selfish point of view I was just so glad Emma was ok.

I knelt down and held Emma. She was crying and screaming and I held her in my arms as she wept.

It was chaos. There were neighbours everywhere and Emma’s friends were all holding each other, weeping and screaming.

Oh God, poor Sarah.

Once Joey noticed it was her, his face turned to stone. He had a look of inner pain that, even with all my days of torture, I don’t think I could fully comprehend. Falling to his knees, he shuffled to her and held her. She was still alive, just alive. I could see him whispering into her ear but I couldn’t hear what he was saying as he cried and tried to cover the holes in her chest with his hands. The blood looked black in the dark night. The only red I could see was the deep red all over the dress and all over Joey as he held her, trying to stop the bleeding.

The ambulance took Sarah away so quickly once it got there. The paramedics worked so fast as they got her in the ambulance.

Before Joey got in the ambulance with her, he got up and I looked him in the eyes. I could have said so many things, so many things. But there were no words, and in that situation, that scene of tragedy, Joey and I shared a look, if only for a few seconds, and all that was needed was silence.

I took Emma inside the house as the police turned up and joined us inside. Emma’s friends stayed with us and told the police what they had seen, or not seen, as it was in this case.

The police combed the area talking to the neighbours as two plain clothes detectives questioned me, Emma and her friends. I told the police everything I knew, about Trigg, Samson, X Company, but in my heart I knew this would have to be settled by other means. Street means. Gangster Law.

In gangster law, the usual sentence if you fucked with a man’s family was death. It was that simple. Sarah was family.

I was relieved to hear Emily whisper that she had hidden the shotgun I had dropped as I had got out of the car. A good job too because they would have arrested my arse on sight if they’d have found it.

Thoughts of a murderous rampage with my shotgun were already going round in my brain. There was no way Trigg or Samson would see Christmas, no fucking way.

It seemed like forever as we waited for news of Sarah.

We waited…

Everyone fell silent as the phone eventually rang. I could hear the night’s wind howling against the window, the old clock on top of my TV ticking, the annoying clicking of our radiators as they warmed up the room. I answered the phone as all in the room waited with baited breath. It was a policewoman on the other end of the line.

I hung up.

Pausing for a moment I could feel everyone focusing on me. I just focused my eyes on Emma as she sat there on the chair next to me with teary eyes.

‘Tommy?’ she said as she could barely get even one word out.

As I said before, words can’t be used, all you need is silence. Crouching down to Emma’s knees, I just looked her in the eyes and shook my head as I clenched my mouth shut and held her tight. She screamed her heart out.

Chapter Forty Three

When it snows you always expect it to be cold. But on that morning of Sarah’s funeral it was the coldest I have been in my life. I could see my own breath as I looked up at the roof of the church.

It had only been a week since her death but the police still hadn’t got anything. Both Trigg and Samson had been hunted by the police but had not yet been found.

We had obviously called off the wedding. I was surprised Emma was still with me because at first all I could do was blame myself. I felt largely responsible for bringing all this into their lives. But nobody would blame me. I don’t know if I needed some blame at first, or what, but my initial feelings were that, if anyone, it should have been me, not Sarah.

Sarah… innocent Sarah.

Trying to be there for both Joey and Sarah was hard. I kinda had to suppress my own feelings of grief to be strong for them.

Joey and I had sat and had talked over the last week and, as you can expect, he wasn’t in a good place at all during that time. He wouldn’t blame me either.

‘It’s all them,’ he had told me. Joey wouldn’t hear a word of my apologies as he said I had nothing to apologise for. It was the same with Sarah’s family. I at least thought they would blame me because I told them everything. But still they wouldn’t blame me. Even though they all said it wasn’t my fault, no matter how I tried, I still had the dark figure of guilt holding me in a bear hug, getting tighter and tighter until at times I couldn’t breathe and it felt like my chest would cave in.

Gripping our hands tight, Emma and I sat through the awful motions of watching a family lose a loved one.

It was awful, truly awful.

After the priest was finished talking, some of Sarah’s family said some words, at which point even I was just falling apart from the inside.

But it was Joey’s words which hurt the most for me. He stood there at the front of the church in front of us all, shaking, holding back his anger, holding back his grief for a moment.

He had briefly gone over to Sarah’s father before getting up and whispered something in his ear, and Sarah’s father had nodded.

Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, Joey pulled out a piece of paper and composed himself before he spoke.

‘Please bear with me. I have a few words to say. Now I was only with Sarah for a few months or so, but I have to say, those months were magical, as she was magical. That is how I will remember her. I knew her years before we got together. She was the wife I should have had, the girl who had the answers. I remember years ago that I always thought she was out of my league, this blonde-haired beauty with eyes that could melt the hardest of hearts, a laugh that was so infectious that even if what she was saying wasn’t funny, you’d laugh. That’s the thing with Sarah, she was always laughing. Now I have a few words I have borrowed, although I have altered them to my own.’

God, it was so hard seeing him suffer, standing there with his soul just naked to everyone. I gripped Emma’s hand too because I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Joey continued in the freezing churches silence.

Sarah isn’t here

Here in this coffin

Sarah’s in heaven now

Where she’s smiling and laughing

Now she isn’t here, I can no longer sleep

I just think of you baby, and I can’t help but weep

You were the 1,000 winds that blow

The glint on the snow

The sun on the grain

The gentle autumn rain

When I woke next to you in the morning hush

You were the swift uplifting rush

But now I look at the stars in the empty night

And no longer do they give out light

I love you Sarah, I…

I shot up to my feet and helped Joey as he wept and couldn’t finish the words. I took the paper he had been reading from and then both Sarah’s mother and father got up and hugged Joey. They all cried together.

Both I and Emma broke our hearts along with everybody else. I felt we should go after an hour or so at Sarah’s family home. I had gone outside for a quick smoke with Joey before we left.

He was quiet, just sucking in the smoke from the cigarette hard.

Sat in the silence I wanted to say something but my brain was frazzled.

Joey talked first.

‘You have to promise me something, Tommy.’

‘Anything, bro, anything.’

‘No killing. I mean it. I’ve seen that look in your eyes. You have had it all week. Promise me’

‘I can’t promise that, Joey.’

‘You have to. I can’t lose you too, Tommy. I need you now. Emma needs you too. We both do, now more then ever. Let the police handle it.’

‘So what? Trigg gets a pass? Is that it? Joey, I can do this. I won’t get caught, I swear. Only when they die will they not be a threat. I can’t risk them coming for Emma or you, and what about when my child is born? How can I live with the thought they could be out there. That’s what they do, they hurt the ones you love. You know as well as I do that that bullet was meant for Emma. They just saw the dress. They will know by know it wasn’t Emma. You think a guy like Trigg will just go away? Come on, brother, you know it doesn’t work that way.’

‘Tommy, please. I just can’t take any more. One loss is hard enough to handle.’

I couldn’t say anything else. I was conflicted.

What to do? I didn’t know the answer to that.

I gave Joey a huge hug before I went back inside and told him he was welcome to stay at our house for as long as he needed to. He had spent the past week there but he said he was going to be late back to ours as he was staying with Sarah’s family for a while.

Both me and Emma took a taxi home with the plan of snuggling up for the rest of the day. Once we got back we didn’t talk much. The house was so quiet. I held Emma in my arms and felt my baby kick as Emma fell asleep. I stayed awake, I couldn’t sleep. I watched her, asleep, so peaceful.

What if it had been her? What if?

I got up slowly and quietly so I didn’t wake her. I put a blanket over her and thought I would pour myself a stiff drink. I didn’t usually drink but a Jack Daniels seemed like a good idea.

Chapter Forty Four

Once I had left Sarah’s parents it was pushing on for 10 p.m.. It was so nice for Tommy and Sarah to put me up for a while. The thing was I just couldn’t be on my own.

I needed them so bad. I had never quite understood the term people used like ‘you’re my rock’, but now I got it. Both Tommy and Emma were those rocks.

Tommy was great even without knowing what to say half the time. He was great by just being Tommy. Emma was amazing though in every way, she knew what to say and when to say it.

My tears had stopped for the time being. It had been a hard week, one of the hardest since my mother had past.

As a small thank you, I figured I would bring some takeaway back with me, so I rang Emma to see what her and Tommy fancied. I was in the mood for Chinese. In fact, I was dying for a Chinese. I hadn’t eaten much all week and even the tasty looking sandwiches on the table at Sarah’s mum’s house didn’t reel me in. But my appetite had just suddenly hit me.

‘Hello,’ answered Emma.

‘Hey, honey, on my way back, I’m starving. Was wondering if you fancied some Chinese.’

‘Joey, do you really have to ask? I’m pregnant, remember?’ She laughed gently as she spoke.

‘Ok that’s cool, so you’re in. What about the big man, what’s he want, or what doesn’t he want the greedy bugger?’

‘Tommy? Isn’t he with you?’

‘No, he’s not with me. Where is he? What did he say?’

I was getting worried.

‘He said he was coming to pick you up, Joey. Isn’t he there? Is everything ok?’

The sly bastard, he was going to get them without me. I didn’t want to scare Emma so I had to be quick on my feet and lie.

‘Oh fuck, I think this is him now, hun. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Actually I think we may go grab a quick drink first, then we will be home with the food.’

‘Oh yeah, don’t rush, honey. Ok, do rush actually because I’m starving.’

‘Won’t be long, hun. Promise,’ I said as I hung up.

I raced back to my car out of the Chinese food place. It was a race against time. I grabbed my phone and rang Tommy. ‘Please pick up,’ I thought. ‘Please pick up.’

He picked up.

‘Tommy, where the fuck are you?’

‘Hey Joey, you haven’t missed anything yet. I got the cunt, one of them anyway…I…’ he sounded drunk. But who did he have?

‘Tommy, calm the fuck down, where are you, who do you have?’

‘I’m at that hotel on the corner of Bev Rd, Hotel… Hotel … err… something or other, I can’t fucking say it, ha-ha.’

‘Tommy, just stay put mate. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m on my way.’

As I raced down Beverley Road to the hotel, I felt awful but I had to do it. I called the police. I had to. I didn’t want Tommy getting hurt.

I arrived not long after making the phone call. The building had four police cars outside. There was an armed response unit getting ready. I ran over to the officer at the police tape. He let me in when I told him I was Tommy’s friend and also Tommy’s lawyer.

A face I had known for many a year came over to me. Detective Dave Waterman. We had known each other for years and I was kind of glad it was him. I knew a lot of police but this man was great. We had shared a few lunches together at court.

‘Dave, what the fuck?’

‘Joey, sorry for you loss. I heard only yesterday,’ he said as he shook my hand. ‘Seems your boy Tommy has gone vigilante, Joey. We have had to evacuate the hotel. Tommy says he has a shooter in there and is about to blow someone’s head off. He’s saying ‘they’ are going to ‘get it’. Doesn’t sound good, Joey. We have our team suiting up, buddy. He doesn’t have much time. If they give the order at HQ, he’s dead, my friend, whether the guy he has hostage is a murderer or not.’

‘Fucking hell, let me in. Give me five minutes, Dave. He isn’t just my friend, he’s my brother. He won’t do it, Dave, he won’t, I swear I’ll walk him out.’

‘I can’t risk it, Joey, I’m sorry,’ he said as he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Come on, Dave. I’ve known you fucking ten years. I lost my girl last week and this guy is my fucking brother. You gonna let me lose him too? Come on!’ I had started to cry with frustration.

‘It isn’t my decision, Joey, or maybe I ...’

‘Fuck maybes,’ I screamed. ‘Who the fuck is in charge?’

‘Well, at the moment…’

‘Who is in charge right now?’ I shouted even louder.

‘Well, me but…’

‘No fucking buts, Dave. You let me in. If after 5 minutes we aren’t out …. You can’t shoot me too, but we will be I swear, trust me.’

Dave looked at his watch and glanced over at the armed unit which was waiting for a reason to go in shooting. He looked at me, almost angry. ‘5 fucking minutes, Joey, that’s it. If I hear anything untoward, I’m putting brains on the wall. You get me? Go now,’ he shouted.

The armed team fitted me with a bullet proof flak jacket which I wore over my shirt. They then escorted me into the hotel and up the stairs to room 405. The unit waited a few feet away as I appr oached the cream coloured door.

I shouted as I reached it. ‘Tommy. Tommy. It’s me, Joey. You ok, buddy.’

I took another look behind me as the unit were all spaced out over the hallway and the landing. Room 405’s door was near a window which was broken and the rain was blowing in through a curtain. There was red smudged blood on the door handle.

‘Tommy?’

Trying to avoid getting the blood on my hands as I opened the door, I twisted the door knob and peeped my head inside.

‘Who’s this Tommy?’ I said as I saw a man laid on the floor, all bloodied. Tommy didn’t answer. I noticed an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. Tommy was wasted. ‘Well it isn’t Trigg, so it must be Samson? Hmm, I see you have introduced him to your famous right hand then, Tommy?’

Sitting there with his Winchester shotgun gripped firmly in his hands, Tommy looked up at me. ‘They gotta pay, Joey, gotta pay. First they tried it with me, then Sarah. Who next? You? Emma? My baby? Can’t let that happen. Gonna blow his motherfucking head off.’

I knelt beside him. He looked at me angry. ‘Don’t try ’n’ take the gun. Don’t do it, Joey.’

‘I won’t, Tommy. You think I’d fuck with you on a normal day, never mind when you have that look in your eyes? Shit, I’m staying the fuck here.’

He laughed. He was shaking, he was drunk, confused, and scared.

I had to calm him down. ‘Say, Tommy, how long’s she got?’

He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. ‘Two, two months.’

‘Wow, two months to go. So she’s 7 months, eh? You know, Tommy, I read in Emma’s baby book yesterday that at seven months the baby - sorry buddy, your baby, your and Emma’s baby - will have fingertips, little fingertips. Apparently the eyes can open and the hearing supposedly gets much better. You see, at first all the baby can hear really is the mother’s heart, Emma’s heart, but now, wow, your baby will be hearing all sorts of stuff.’

‘I know. Emma says the baby can hear me when I sing to her stomach,’ he said as I noticed he had lowered the gun.

‘That’s right, bud, your baby needs a dad, Tommy, and your gonna be a fucking great one.’

‘But all I bring is shit. Bad shit just sticks to me, and I can’t get it off. It’s my fault. What have I done?’

‘We have both had hard times recently but, Tommy, this ain’t the way. Let the law handle it, please, this isn’t the way. Let him have justice the way it’s supposed to be done.’

Tommy stood and pointed the gun at Samson who was out, bloodied, where he had been cowering on the floor. ‘It ain’t what’s supposed to be done, it’s what’s gotta be done - a life for a fucking life, Joey.’

I looked at my watch. One minute to go. ‘What about Emma’s life? Your baby’s? Now, I swear, nothing is going to happen to them, Tommy. We already have Samson here, now all they need is Trigg. They will go away for life. Why waste yours? Because these police are coming for you, Tommy. I’ve seen them outside and down the hall, right outside the fucking door. Now I know you’ll take a bunch with you but they will kill you, make no mistake. You didn’t have a father Tommy, that wasn’t your fault, don’t do the same to your kid, to Emma, to me, please…Now we can wait for the men with guns to smash down the door or I walk you out of here, and I swear you’ll be out by morning, mate, no shit. I’ll figure what to say to Emma. Come on!’

We walked outside. I gave Tommy my suit jacket to keep him warm as he had only a vest on, and police cells were cold. We held our hands in the air as the police took Tommy away.

Dave came over smiling. ‘You were cutting it fine. Fucking hell.’

‘Dave,’ I said, ‘I need this shit to go away. I put the gun under the sink. Get rid of it. Samson is laid out in there, he’s the prize. You have a murderer now. Let Tommy go.’

‘What? Fuck no. I let you get him out, now he does time,’ he said as he shook his head.

‘No, come on, for me, give him fucking 24 hours to cool, then fucking send him home. False alarm, no weapon, just a skirmish with two drunks. Come on, for me, I’ll fucking owe you big time.’

‘You truly are a fucking weasel. Because of your loss, you get this one thing, never again. And I don’t wanna see you ever again. He does 48 hours and a fucking fine for public nuisance. Fucking hell.’ He walked off into the building to get Samson shouting ‘False alarm, false alarm, no weapons, it’s all ok people.’

Chapter Forty Five

When I woke up they at least gave me a phone call. I rang Emma but Joey had already spoken to her. She wasn’t as mad as I expected and I felt stupid for what I had nearly done. Joey had toned the night’s events down a little though, bless him, and I wasn’t going to go any further into detail.

I had been involved in a little ‘mix up’, that was all he said. He hadn’t mentioned the fact that I went to that hotel with my Winchester, intent on blowing the motherfucker’s head clean off.

I guess anger and whisky don’t mix.

My head was a lot clearer now, in terms of thought anyway. In terms of hangover, my head was fuzzy and my body felt tired.

I looked down at what I was wearing as I sat bored in the police cell. At first glance I thought that I must have looked like I’d been sleeping rough for days or something. I had my tracky bottoms on, a black vest, and Joey’s suit jacket, along with my slippers that they let me keep on as they had no laces. I couldn’t potentially hang myself with those.

Word was I was gonna be let go in the morning. Fair enough, I suppose. Don’t know how the fuck Joey swayed it with the police but, hey, that’s what he does I guess. It had been a mad week, a bad week. But I knew Joey was right. I had to let go of all this shit, let the police handle it.

Sitting there in the cell alone with my thoughts was quite therapeutic given the circumstances. I read countless bits of graffiti on the walls and I found myself laughing at the most random of things that had been written. Among the best were ‘She said she was 18’. Bad taste, I know, but still had me giggling, ‘Jon Coffee was here’, ‘the food here sucks’, ‘my dog made me eat her,’ and, last but not least, that old original ‘suck my cock’.

Then I had a brainstorm and realised there were no pens in the cell. I looked back at the writing and all of it was smudged and brown in colour. I didn’t get too close to the writing on the walls from then on.

Still, this place was like the Hilton compared to what I had been used to. Apparently I was getting a meal soon.

Getting stretched out on the bed I got thinking again. I was going to be a dad. Me, a dad.

Fucking sounded crazy when I thought about it, as nice as the thought was though. I still had this underlying fear that I would be a shit dad. I didn’t want to wreck the kid’s life and was scared of the thought of not being able to be as good as other dads.

For one, I would never be as smart as other dads and probably never as ambitious. All I cared about was those close to me. But then I thought again. Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that the way it ought to be? Ok, I was no expert, especially growing up with no parents, but I kinda thought that if all I did was care about Emma and my child, then surely they would feel loved.

That couldn’t be wrong.

After my meal I drifted off for a few hours, only to be awoken by a copper who resembled Elma fucking Fudd rattling on the cell door.

‘You have a visitor,’ the red haired and red bearded copper said before opening up the cell door.

To my surprise, it was Joey. We hugged and he smiled at me, shaking his head.

‘You were wrecked, Tommy. What the fuck? How are you feeling big man?’

Joey looked a little better. He had a very smart black suit on with a red shiny tie, his cufflinks were gold in the shape of playing cards, and his hairstyle was cool, slicked back. He looked like he had slept and this was probably the best he had looked all week. It kinda looked like he was going somewhere special.

‘Yeah, I’m ok. Cheers, Joey, my head was fucked, buddy. But I’m here now. I thought about what you said, y’know, about the Law handling it ’n’ all. You’re right, I guess. I have to think about Emma and the baby, I know. It’s just I got all fucked up over what happened to Sarah. Your words at the funeral, man, it all just like swept over me. I guess I’d been holding some shit in, not just from this latest stuff but from what happened over there. Was bound to catch up with me at some point, I guess, only human, aren’t I?’

He tapped my shoulder and walked around the cell.

‘You’re right, Tommy, only human. You are probably going through some sort of post traumatic stress. It all comes to the surface eventually, Tommy. I know you try and keep it buried, Tommy, but it does no good and, as you know, some things need to come out. All that stuff in you, Tommy, you need to get it out. It’s no good locked in there.’

‘Aye, Joey, guess I have to face some shit. It just scares me, I can admit that now. I just tried to store it away, y’know, all the shit, all the pain, didn’t want any of it touching her. But I guess it finds its own way of rearing its ugly head, eh, Joey?’

‘It does,’ smiled Joey.

We chatted for a while about my charges, or lack of them, thanks to Joey. It was sorted. I was definitely being let go in the morning. Only a few hours to go as we were already near dawn.

Joey indicated he was going to be away for a while. He said he needed some time to reflect on some things, which of course I totally understood. We all handle things differently. He did say that he would be back for the birth, though, said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

He also told me he had bought the Harley Davidson he had wanted all this time. He said he was going to get out on the road and burn some rubber. Good for him. His ex-wife forbade him to get a motorbike and he had always loved them.

I took the suit jacket off he had given me and tried to give him it back. It was expensive and I had blankets in the cell so I was warm enough. But Joey said ‘Keep it for now’. He said he had to be somewhere and didn’t have a bag or anything, which was fair enough.

After he left I laid on the bed and relaxed, just waiting for them to come and let me go. I felt something rustle in Joey’s jacket pocket. I was bored and feeling nosey, so I looked and pulled the paper out.

It was Joey’s words for Sarah’s funeral, and while I didn’t want to get upset again, I just had another quick read. I browsed quickly through the lines and then I noticed something which, when I read it, disturbed me.

The last four lines Joey couldn’t read.

‘I love you Sarah, I always will

But please forgive me, there are men to kill

So I can’t stand yet at your grave and cry

Because all those bastards have to die.’

I crumpled up the paper in my hand and two words came to mind: ‘Oh’ and ‘shit’.

Chapter Forty Six

My intention that morning was to just be gone. I felt bad I had lied to Tommy, but I figured running away was the only answer. I had it in my mind to get on my bike and go, just fucking go, to who knows where.

It’s hard to describe how my bike made me feel. Those who ride bikes get it. They will know what I’m talking about when I describe how riding a bike gives a sense of freedom, a sense of calmness.

Calmness, now that was something I needed. My mind was chewing away at me, telling me to do what I needed to do.

‘No, that’s not who I am,’ I told myself. I needed to focus. So out came my new bike. I got on my leather jacket and my helmet, and revved her up. I let loose and zoomed off down the road. Eventually I ended up near the motorway with no idea where I was going.

I just rode. The calmness wasn’t there yet, but the ride had been good so far.

Usually when riding my bike I get crapped on by a few birds – probably nature’s revenge for all the chicken I ate. Then there are the sneaky torrential rain attacks, which any biker will tell you pisses you right off. Then there are the rare days. That morning was one of them days.

It was cold as I rode, but the sun was shining, the little wind there was blew behind me and the path was clear in front of me. My foot was firmly down as I just got faster and faster, not paying any attention to how fast I was going.

It seemed like I had ridden for hours. I had to stop because my legs and hands were getting cold. I hadn’t put on my biker gloves, ‘Fuck,’ I thought. It wasn’t safe to keep riding as I was so cold, so I stopped at a service station to get a coffee and some food in an attempt to warm myself up and get my bearings.

Once I was sat with my warm beverage and cheap sausage roll, I started to feel calm as I took slow breaths.

What now for me? Did I continue my career in law? Did I stay in Hull?

Sat at the little table drinking my awful coffee and eating my cement hard pastry sausage roll, I watched a family sat across from me. They looked like they were either going or coming home from a holiday. The dad was helping his son, who looked all of five years old, butter his toast as the mother looked at a magazine with her daughter.

They all looked so close as they laughed and talked. It sounds crazy, maybe even trivial, but to watch this family got me thinking. Family? What is family? How do you define the word ‘family’? The family I had in my mother was dead, sure, but one thing I had worked out over the years was that friends, true friends, were the family you chose for yourself.

Tommy and Emma were all the family I had left. I couldn’t abandon them.

Although the pain of losing Sarah was hard, I couldn’t just run away, I couldn’t leave the people who genuinely gave a damn about me. I wasn’t going anywhere. Hull was my home.

Why should I run? I had done nothing wrong, it was them, all them.

All that I had left in this world was waiting for me. My friends…my family.

Chapter Forty Seven

‘Yeah, this is Trigg. Mario said we may be able to work something out, that you can get me outta the country?’

He was nervous as he talked, wiping the rain from his face. Trigg was clutching at straws in an attempt to evade the law which had his picture on police station walls all over the city.

‘Yeah I know I’m wanted, that’s why I gotta go and now. Mario said you could fucking help me. I can pay the price. Mario will pay once I’m en route, so whatcha say?’

The voice on the other end agreed. It was Roux, coming to Trigg’s rescue. Somehow he had managed to get word to Roux’s people that he needed to get out of England for a while. Roux agreed. The price was 100k, which included a passport, and a safe house in Spain.

In truth, Trigg didn’t care where he went. He just wanted to get out and, more than anything, he wanted to avoid time in jail. Trigg had got word off Mario that the bullets from the Sarah murder had been matched to his gun in his flat when the police found it during the raids this last week.

‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this shit, Roux. Once shit calms a bit, I’ll be back, working for you and yours, and earning some serious fucking wedge,’ promised Trigg pacing the car park near an old warehouse where he had been sleeping on the Sutton Fields Industrial estate, and beginning to feel the weight lifting off his worried shoulders.

‘You just keep to the plan, Trigg. Repeat it for me. Remember, you have to be careful. The law is searching for you,’ Roux instructed him.

‘Right, go to the Marina, and then walk along the back, past the boats, yeah? That right?’ asked Trigg, hoping all was right in his head.

‘Yes, then what?’

‘Then wait right near the sea edge for the pick up, right?’

‘Yes, but remember, make sure you aren’t followed, because if you are then my guy on the boat is compromised too, and that can’t happen. Now did you put all your kit in storage, all your clothes? You can’t take anything aboard. You see, it’s a small boat, so suspicion mustn’t be aroused.’

‘No, but Mario can look after that. I’ll ring him. He’ll take care of it.’

‘Ok, now go. My guy can be there in one hour. That good for you?’

‘Yeah, sooner the fucking better, and don’t worry, all I’ll have is the clothes I’m in and my gun. You know I don’t travel without packing. Hope your guy doesn’t mind. I trust you. It’s just I don’t know him, y’know, and I’m pretty on edge at the moment.’

‘Trigg, I would never dream of telling a soldier not to pack his side arm. Don’t worry about it, just make sure the money’s paid, and make sure you’re there in an hour.’

Trigg felt so at ease. He was going to avoid jail time and see some sun in Spain. After he hung up with Major Roux, Trigg called Mario and made the arrangements for his clothes to be put in a lock up until he knew where to get them sent.

He told Mario to be careful and that the law might make a move for him if they found out he too had ties into all this, which he did. Mario stayed cool. Trigg said his farewells and felt happy, although he wasn’t entirely happy. He was unhappy that for now his slaughter of Tommy would have to wait. But he would be back. Tommy and that lawyer would get it someday. A year, two years, maybe even three, but he would finish what he started.

After getting the cash together and tying up some small things, Trigg got out of his taxi near the Hull Marina. He paid the driver, lit a smoke and walked along the marina admiring the boats and wishing he had the money to buy one. ‘One day,’ he thought.

He got to the place. It was quiet and nobody was around, apart from a black van in the distance which looked unmanned.

Deciding to call Mario, Trigg paced the deserted spot just near an abandoned warehouse where he was supposed to meet this man he was paying to get him out of Hull.

‘Hello,’ answered Mario

‘Yo Mario, I’m fucking here man. Where’s the dude?’

‘Relax, Trigg, he’ll be there. Just wait. You got the money?’

‘Yeah I got it. I just want out of here, man, y’know. Fucking shit’s got me twitchy.’

‘Understandable given the shit that’s gone down. Just chill the fuck out and wait for the guy. After that it’s all sorted. You weren’t followed were you?’

‘Fuck no, nobody tailing me on the way in anyhow. I had the taxi do a few detours, then we did a few parallels before coming this way. If we did have a tail, which we didn’t, they ain’t here now.’

‘That’s good. Now just wait now, Trigg. All will be sorted.’

‘Cool Mario. Will catch you soon then, homey.’

‘Yeah, see you in the future I reckon. Take it easy over there.’

‘Easy? Me? Give me a year over there in Spain and I’ll be running some shit, Mario.’

‘No doubt you will, ha-ha.’

‘It’s how I roll baby, please believe it. See ya later, Mario the Wop.’

‘Later, Trigg. Stay frosty.’

‘Always, Mario.’

Chapter Forty Eight

No, no, no. You don’t hold it like that, come here.’

He was weird, so icy…

Standing to the side of me, he helped me to adjust my arms and posture.

‘Remember you grab it with two hands, back straight, keep it steady, aim for your target, remember to breathe, exhale as you see the shot…’

It certainly was helpful advice, because I hit my target perfectly.

‘You see Joey it’s all about concentration, always, my friend.’

I watched as I saw my shot hit. I was amazed to see how, with the proper tuition, you could pick it up relatively easy.

Watching the cloud of crimson mist evaporate into the air gave me a certain amount of closure as Trigg’s body fell to the floor.

‘And that, as they say, is that. How do you feel, Joey?’

In truth I couldn’t really speak at that moment. I was still watching through the scope. He was dead. As Diezan said, ‘that was that’. It was over.

‘Don’t worry, Joey, you had to do it. He would have never stopped. I have seen men like him many times. You have to put them down.’

Diezan said calmly as he took the Barrat 50 Calibre monster with the enhanced scope off me.

‘I can’t believe how calm the water is,’ I said as I watched the river laying so still. We were on Diezan’s very own little boat a hundred yards or so from the shore. Diezan had christened the boat ‘The Prutnaya’, named after his mother, he said. I used the binoculars to see some men pick up Trigg’s dead body and place it in a black van.

‘I do believe the nautical term is ‘slack tide’, Joey, when the current is neither going one way nor the other. The water remains still. It is very strange, actually, but perfect for making a shot from over a hundred yards. Well done, Joey,’ he smiled, as if proud of me.

I wasn’t seeking his recognition, not at all. I had called Diezan after I got back home that morning. I knew it was the only way we would all be safe. I also knew that if I were to beat this criminal, this fiend, I had to turn to another criminal, another breed of gangster. To beat the darkness I had to embrace the darkness. I had to look inside, if only for a short while.

I know I shouldn’t have felt guilty for killing such a cunt as Trigg, but I did, and it actually made me feel good, that sense that I had done wrong no matter what he had taken from me. I welcomed that guilt; it meant I was human. I was not a killer, I was not a gangster, I was doing what had to be done, like a farmer putting down a stray wolf who takes no joy from the kill but knows in his heart that a stray wolf can be dangerous to those close to him, and that the kill is necessary for their survival.

That stray, evil wolf had to go, and go he did in the shape of a hollow point bullet which whistled through the air like a supersonic needle gliding straight through his head as if it were already made of jelly. Jelly before, jelly after.

Now I had to live with the fact I had killed. That fact would be a constant stain on my spirit, a stain I could never wash off permanently. Sure it could fade but it would always be there.

After that day, I did what I had to do, I moved on. I took refuge in the fact things were back to something like normal, although there was only a certain ‘normal’ there would ever be without Sarah.

Still, there was a new reason to be happy a few months later, and that reason was in the shape of a little girl called Sarah, a bundle of hope, joy and ‘constant dirty nappies’, as Tommy joked.

Seeing the guy with his baby girl, it was amazing. It was the Tommy we all knew was inside but could never get out. But now he was there, I had my friend back, and that, was a good thing.

When I initially told Tommy about my early morning sniping on board the Prutnaya, he was a picture of calmness.

‘So you had to go get some, then, Joey?’ he asked. He never judged me, he said in my position he would have done the same. He even conceded that during his time ‘over there’, his time being tortured, that revenge was never far from his mind. But the only thing he didn’t count on was his own feelings changing when he got home, the change in priorities, the sense that things were no longer just about him.

It was Tommy talking like that which showed in abundance the growth of Tommy as a human being. Working as a Postman doing early shifts, Tommy went to work every day with a smile on his face. He plugged in his walkman, whistled as he walked, smiled at people on the street as he delivered his mail, patted dogs, yeah he was that guy.

As the months went on, I too got my smile back. I remembered the good things. I was studying a new area of law, Employment Law. I figured my clients would be a lot less, well, y’know, that there would be less chance of meeting any Al Capones in an Employment Tribunal.

I’d heard rumours of Diezan’s escapades in the underworld, but in truth I was glad that was all they were, rumours. The fact that I had heard rumours meant I was doing something right. I was no longer hearing it from the horse’s mouth, which could only be good. I knew soon I would hear nothing at all.

At least once a week I let rip on my Harley, made me feel free as I zoomed down them long country roads. I was taking life one day at a time, enjoying things as they came from day to day, enjoying life. I owed it to Sarah. She wouldn’t have wanted me to mope, so I smiled when I could, and gradually as time went on I smiled more and more.

My mother used to say ‘smile and the world smiles back’.

Yeah, I was slowly becoming that guy.