Daniel and Peter were starting with the Lansons. Micky’s uncle was a seriously big fish, in a very, very small pond. So small, in fact, that it was easy for the Baileys to walk in and take it away from him. Jed Lanson didn’t have an eye to the future: he still thought he was hard enough to keep a hold of what he had created. But the fact that this boy – his own nephew – was confident enough to mug him off, spoke volumes to the Baileys. It was time for Jed to disappear. First, though, the kind of disrespect Micky L had shown his uncle had to be dealt with. It was a diabolical fucking liberty and, to the Bailey brothers, it was tantamount to fucking mutiny.

Daniel picked up a ball-peen hammer and, motioning to his men with his chin, he said angrily, ‘Hold his fucking hand out. I’m going to teach him a lesson about loyalty he won’t forget in a hurry. You should have known that family is worth more than strangers, boy. You mugged off your uncle, your mother’s brother, your own flesh and blood. You’re a fucking Judas, in every sense of the word.’

Daniel watched as his men did his bidding without hesitation. Micky fought them with all his might. A ball-peen hammer had that effect on people. It was a legal weapon you could put in your boot without worrying about a tug from the Old Bill, unlike a shotgun or a machete, both of which could lead to a serious nicking. A hammer, on the other hand, was like a screwdriver or a chisel – a legal tool for legal business – even though it could inflict serious and personal damage in the right hands. In his hands anyway.

Micky was sweating with fear, and Daniel grinned at him, before taunting him, ‘You thought you could take us for cunts, did you? Call my brother a fucking coon, and me a coon’s asswipe, and you really thought we would let that go?’

He brought the hammer down on the boy’s hand, as it was held on the concrete floor. Everyone heard the crunch as the bones were shattered, the blood splattering everywhere.

The pain was excruciating, and Micky, feeling the bile rising in his stomach, knew he was going to black out. He finally understood the enormity of what was going on, just as Daniel Bailey had intended. He had been seriously harmed, and he could die in this stinking factory, on this stinking floor.

Daniel shook his head at what he perceived to be the sheer skulduggery of the man before him. ‘Fucking look at him, will you? Fainted, like a fucking little girl. Hold his head up, boys. When he finally decides to rejoin us, I’m gonna take the wanker’s teeth out. He won’t be fucking smiling at anyone for a few years.’