‘Not really, I just felt like it. Don’t worry, he’ll soon get patched up. And, in future, he’ll think twice about calling me names, and so will his friends.’ That was the end of that, just another day’s work in the life of Tony Lambrianu, and another problem solved.

6

TOP DOG

‘Lambrianu, Lambrianu, that’s all I’m fucking hearing! I’ve had it up to here!’ Marlon raised his hand to head height to make his point.

The room was stifling; there was no air, and they couldn’t put any fans on because it would blow the very expensive cocaine around. Marlon was hot, sweaty and bad-tempered. He was sitting at his cocaine-encrusted table, surrounded by his bodyguards and, yet again, they were telling him about that fucking madman.

‘What’s wrong, boss?’ Errol, one of Marlon’s most trusted men, stepped forward. His feet sounded heavy on the floorboards – left bare, as it made it easier to mop up spillages. ‘Everything's nice and easy, has been since you and him became friends. It’s good, easy money – better than when we were dealing with that other guy.’

Marlon jumped up and grabbed Errol by the throat. He was beyond angry. Cords stood out in his neck as he throttled his bodyguard. Damp sweat patches were visible in the armpits of his bright red shirt. ‘Whose fucking side are you on?’ Marlon’s large, black, heavily ringed hand squeezed tighter around Errol’s neck. Errol was trying to push him away. The other men in the room froze and cast each other sideways glances. This was not the time to interfere.

Marlon's hand gripped tighter. Errol's eyes were bulging as he tried to breathe. His face was so close to Marlon's, they were almost touching noses. Spit flew out of Marlon's mouth as he rasped into Errol’s face, ‘I’m the fucking boss, do you hear me? That fucking half-breed is nobody. I let him work the other side of the water because it suited me, that’s all.’

Marlon had made his point and so loosened his grip, leaving Errol to gasp for air and stagger towards a wooden chair. Errol sat down heavily. He held his neck, trying to breathe, his head drooping down toward the floor. Marlon was a big man and could easily have choked him or, worse, broken his neck.

‘What you gonna do about him, boss?’ Marcus sat at the far side of the room on an old sofa. He felt nervous breaking the tension, but felt it was the right thing to say.

Marlon was breathing heavily from the exertion, and his chest heaved as he slowly got his breath back. He turned to Marcus and smiled, then flexed his hands and rubbed his nails on his shirt, as though polishing them. ‘Get fucking rid of him, boy, what else? It’s time that Nancy boy remembered who I am.’ He straightened the black leather hat he was wearing. ‘I deserve respect; I’ve been around a lot longer than him and yet all I can hear on the streets is his name, not mine.’