Karim Hussain shrugged. He was a huge specimen of manhood, with a bald head, and an expertly shaped beard. Women loved him. Rumour was that he was hung like a donkey, and his preference was for tiny blondes. ‘Do I look like his fucking social secretary?’

Davey had to laugh. Karim was one mad bastard. He hated drunks and, in fairness, Davey had never seen the man take a drink; he was strictly a Diet Pepsi man. ‘All right, we will sort him. But you know this ain’t like him.’

Karim nodded. ‘If I didn’t know better, Davey, I would say he was under the influence, know what I mean? And I don’t mean the usual recreational.’

Davey didn’t answer him, but motioned to his brothers to remove Danny and place him in the office. There was a large sofa there where he could sleep it off. Going outside the club he phoned his cousin, and all he got was voicemail. He was annoyed; this was no time for Danny to be dropping Es and fucking around. They needed their wits about them, and Danny should have known that better than anyone. He was supposed to meet with the Allens tonight. He and Petey were expected to sort out the situation the Allen brothers had caused. Danny was more than aware of how important it was, so his getting off his face was not going to look good for any of them.

Davey was suddenly worried, and he wasn’t sure why. But this all felt terribly wrong. Their old man would hit the fucking roof if this was to become common knowledge.

His phone rang and he answered it quickly, relieved to see that the caller was his cousin Petey.

Chapter One Hundred

Delroy was in Brixton. He had a few calls to make there, and they were the kind of calls that were better made face to face. He was a great believer in the personal touch; that way you ensured that you kept a proper handle on your business affairs. Delroy, like all the Baileys, never used a mobile phone for more than a few days, never had a contract of any kind, and always used a phone box if there was one available. Mobiles were too easy to trace, and they made it far too easy to get in touch with people. In their game that was always a no-no; the less evidence you left behind the better.

Delroy was meeting his son on Acre Lane. The boy was learning fast that the best way to keep your eye on your earn was to make a personal appearance when necessary.

He pulled over in his BMW, and Delroy Junior climbed in.

‘All right, son?’

Young Delroy smiled. ‘I’m good.’

‘You ready for this?’ The boy nodded, but Delroy’s heart sank; he could smell the strong aroma of skunk coming off his son’s clothes. ‘You sure about that?’