He heard the soft thrumming noise that heralded the arrival of the private lift and, settling himself into his chair, he waited patiently to begin the meeting he had been waiting for for a year, and which would cement his legendary status in the criminal underworld once and for all.

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy

‘Listen, Declan, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, believe me, but what else could I do, for fuck’s sake?’

Peter Barker, the elder of the Barker brothers, looked into Declan’s face with its usual blank countenance. But his colour was high, he was flushed red. Declan could tell the man was angry, and so he fucking should be. This was a piss-take, especially now when everyone knew there was something serious in the wind.

‘Look, don’t shoot the fucking messenger, mate – I’m trying to do the right thing here.’

Declan shook his head. This was the last fucking thing he needed tonight. The music from the nightclub was loud, even through the heavy fire doors of the offices. He hated the music they had to play in the clubs these days; it was fucking abysmal – it sounded like electrical interference to him. Declan sighed and, as calmly as he could, asked, ‘Who did you say told you this, Peter?’

Peter took a large joint out of his jacket pocket and, after lighting it, he puffed on it fiercely, before he answered his friend’s question. ‘I told you already, Declan – it was Jack Cornel. He was full of it. The stupid-looking northern ponce! I was all for hammering him, but my brother Billy stepped in. He reckons that this is about nausing up Michael’s meeting with the Colombians – though how they know about it is fucking suspect in itself. You and I know the Cornels have never been happy answering to him. Michael never gave them their due, and they fucking knew it. They are so fucking full of themselves. They still seem to think that the North is a fucking no-go area for us lot down here. The M1 passed right over their fucking heads, I tell ya.’

Declan laughed at the man’s words despite himself. He could be funny, could old Peter Barker. He had a dry humour which wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but always hit the proverbial nail on the head.

‘So they have come down south, determined to cause fucking havoc, have they?’

Peter nodded sagely. ‘Basically, yeah. They think that if they cause problems for Michael, the Colombians will see the error of their ways. That’s the real worry. Michael won’t want any kind of issues, will he? That stands to reason.’