Authors: James A. Shea
Robert Payne pulled his hood back down, put his car into gear and smiled. There was still time to make it to the airport.
He looked down at the gun; he needed to make sure he got rid of that himself on the way. He wasn’t used to having to perform these tasks in person, but needs must. The situation had to be closed down; the final risk had to be mitigated.
He should have known Billy Blake wasn’t up to the task. He’d seen something in him, or at least he thought he had, something which reminded him of a young Charlie. But he clearly over-estimated the middle of the Blake brothers. If Billy Blake hadn’t been dead already, he’d be making plans to put a bullet in the little shit’s head, for making him have to kill Charlie himself.
It was his last play though, Robert Payne knew he was too far in now. He’d pressed too many buttons, put all his pieces into play. He’d got the Mexicans to consider alternative arrangements, made sure DS Early earned his monthly pay offs. After that, there was no way back.
That morning when he’d been tied to the chair, whilst taking the blows from Billy, his mind had been whirring with ideas. The punches themselves were nothing; he’d been brought up in boxing halls, spent hours sparring with and without the pads. Sure, his face was fucked up and his leg was a mess, but his mind was working fine and it had been formulating a plan.
A plan from nowhere to mitigate his greatest risk—his best friend Charlie O’Neil.
Blake hadn’t needed much persuading. Like most youngsters in the trade they just wanted to be a name, or be associated with a name, and this went a long way before making money. The idiot.
Nothing came before making money.
On the plus side, he hadn’t had to take care of Leroy Elkins at least. Robert had always despised that man. He’d watched Mickey walk into the bar and watched no one walk out. Good old Mickey; not a man who’d go down without taking everyone else with him. His death was his one regret.
It had crossed his mind at the time that he should go into the Blake’s place, to make sure Mickey was dead, and even have a look inside his bag, finally find out what was actually in there. But it had soon become clear that there was no chance of that—as soon as he heard the automatic gunfire. From that point, two things were clear. Mickey wasn’t getting out of there and the old bill would be arriving quick time. It was just like Elkins, forever the coward, bring some big guns in to do a job like that.
Mickey being dead was a damn shame though; he was someone to have in your firm, a proper name, serious people. Business is business though, and Robert knew that Mickey would never have accepted that the business had to evolve without Charlie O’Neil.
Robert glanced at his watch; he could definitely still make the flight. A weekend in Vegas, before coming back to the smoke on Monday. Then let Jackie, the grieving widow, tell him her terrible news and about all the awful happenings since he’d been away. He would, of course, now have to identify some stupid chump to go to war with and make it all look above board. Finally he’d have to put a few good boys together and make a new team. There was a lot of work still ahead of him.
Boxing first though.
Lovely.
Thank you for taking the time to read my first novel, I hope you enjoyed it. All characters within it my story are purely fictional and based on no real people.