Four solid days of territorial negotiation had been needed. Street by painful street. But the gang leaders, as all had known would be the end result, were collectively agreed as to the new normal. Smart enough to know that a good negotiation left everyone a little disappointed. Peace in our time the order of the day.

Chin looked around the table, one person at a time. All present nodded in turn, and said ‘content’. Even Albie, who would probably have loved an argument just for the sake of it. The meeting started to relax. Body language speaking of relaxation from a peak of tension. Muttered side conversations starting between individuals.

‘There is a third subject for discussion.’ Pitching his voice loudly enough to overcome the growing babble. ‘A renewed peace agreement.’

All present looked at Sammy. Wondering what the fuck he was on about. Especially as there was no third item on the paper in front of him.

‘My friends, I have a confession to make. I have broken our agreement. I was instrumental in the downfall of our associate.’

All present stared at him, mostly without expression. Too used to holding in their emotions under any and all provocations. Waiting to see what he was going to tell them before deciding what to do about it.

‘I formed the opinion about six months ago that Joe’s overly hard-line approach to the business was going to cause problems. The fact that the Metropolitan Police Service were going after him was only part of it.’ He looked around at them. ‘How many people have your people killed in the last year? With me it’s two. And one of them was an accident. It’s a handful between us, right? Not Joe. He’d offed at least half a dozen in the last twelve months. He was drawing attention. Too flash. Too brutal. You get away with that shit for so long, then you’re suddenly a modern-day Ronnie Kray. And we all know what happens then. We all get it in the neck.’

Nods around the table. A little grudging, but agreement nonetheless. Nobody wanted to arouse the establishment’s ire. Knowing that when it came to wars, the golden goose usually gets caught in the crossfire. And becomes early collateral damage.

‘I recruited an insider. Someone who could provide the sort of detail I would need.’

Albie shot him a calculating look.

‘Who? Eddie, I bet.’

Some of the attendees nodded knowingly. All present knowing the full details of Nigel’s murder on Joe’s terrace.

‘No. Richard.’

‘The geezer’s lawyer?’