After their usual chat and Maggie’s eternal tea and biscuits, they got up to leave. Suddenly a thought occurred to Alex and as he walked them out the back entrance, he pulled them to aside and whispered, ‘That Percy bloke over there, do you know him?’

The police officers glanced at each other and then back at Alex, making him realise that there was more to Percy than met the eye. ‘Why, what do you know?’ they asked furtively.

‘Oh nothing. He has some strange ways that’s all and apparently he has friends in prison that he’s throwing mobile phones to. It’s not a secret and I’m not grassing anyone up. It seems everyone knows.’

‘Don’t worry, Alex. He won’t go back to prison. For one, he’s too old with heart problems and secondly, he works for us. He’ll get a slap on the wrist and a fine that he’ll never pay.’ They were about to walk off, when Alex stopped them again.

‘What do you mean he works for you? Who the fuck is he? I need to know; my family’s safety is on the line,’ he spat out.

Sighing and looking at each other, they realised Alex’s anxiousness. ‘He’s an informer. Don’t worry about it – he’s not your problem.’

Alex was gobsmacked at this revelation. ‘An informer? Does he know about me?’ The detectives shook their heads. ‘No, not unless you’ve told him, which means the deal is off.’ Alex watched them as they casually walked away and got into their car. He thought about good old Percy; the neighbourhood watch who helped everyone and gathered information. But he was curious to know why Percy was on licence from prison in the first place. He doubted anyone knew and for the time being his lips were well and truly zipped, although he did wonder if Mark knew anything. He seemed to have his fingers in a lot of pies when it came to people’s business.

‘You okay Maggie? What did those two have to say?’ Alex asked when he walked back inside.

‘Just the usual Alex. They wanted to know if anyone has contacted us, just chit chat really. You know they have to come and check on us. Stop worrying, we’re okay. Well, for now anyway.’

Satisfied that the police had said nothing else to upset Maggie, he smiled.

Maggie smiled back. ‘I’d better get on; thirsty people out there.’

Alex’s mind was in turmoil. He now knew Percy couldn’t be trusted with anything, although he wasn’t going to tell him anything anyway. Musing to himself, he rubbed his chin. This wonderful suburban neighbourhood had so many secrets once you scratched the surface. He would wait and see what the next bombshell would be. Maybe Mark would turn out to be MI5 or something.

7 BOUNTY

Walking down the iron staircase and along the landing surrounded by prisoners in blue uniforms, the prison guards walked on either side of Paul Pereira, one of the Portuguese mafia bosses awaiting trial. Now in his late sixties, with his grey hair swept back from his face, he still had an authoritative air about him. His uniform was freshly ironed; his highly polished shoes that one of his lackies in the prison had spent their time doing shone almost like glass; and the Windsor knot in his tie gave him that added extra something. Pereira ran this prison; no one dared cross him, and other inmates divided themselves, leaving a walkway for him to pass through. A well-built swarthy looking man, his body was powerful, and he walked straight and upright almost like a sergeant major, staring at the other inmates as he passed them with his dark piercing eyes.

‘This way Mr Pereira.’ One of the guards held out his hand, indicating for him to walk towards the left corridor.

‘Who is my visitor? Is it my lawyer?’ asked Paul in a heavy accent.

‘I don’t believe so Mr Pereira; family I think.’ Although he was in custody, the guards still called him Mr Pereira. They all knew of his reputation and none of them wanted to get on the wrong side of him. Their jobs weren’t worth it. Taking him into a solitary room with a table and two chairs, Paul looked up and frowned. He could see it wasn’t his lawyer, but one of his associates. He wasn’t sure how he had introduced himself and so kept silent.

‘Cousin Paul, it’s good to see you.’ The visiting man before him stood up and held out his hand to shake his.

Paul turned to the guards. ‘Leave us, I wish to talk to my cousin alone.’

Glancing at each other, the two guards nodded. ‘No funny business Mr Pereira, please,’ one said.

‘Funny business? What am I? A fucking clown!’ snapped Paul at the guards and pulling his chair out, he sat down. ‘No problems.’ Lowering his tone, although without a smile, Paul nodded his head. ‘Go take a piss, everything is okay here.’

Once the guards had left the room, Paul grabbed hold of the man in front of him by the shirt collar. ‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re playing at?’ Struggling to release his hold, the man stood back.

‘I’m sorry Mr Pereira. It was just an accident. The family fitted the description and they lived at his old address. It made sense.’ The man’s eyes widened with fear and he was pleased they were inside prison walls, because he knew for sure that Paul would have killed him otherwise. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow and he stood staring at Paul, waiting for his next move.

‘Alex Silva is not that stupid! Do you really think he is going to return home? I am in here for extortion, racketeering, murder and drug smuggling, all because of him. He has betrayed me and now I want his blood! I don’t intend to die in a shithole like this. He has a fifty-million-pound bounty on his head, and it’s rising the closer the court case looms. Surely you can get it right for that sum of money. For Christ’s sake, can’t anyone do anything right these days?’ Once his rant was over, Paul sat down on his chair again. Feeling somewhat safer, his visitor sat down too.

‘The last we heard Silva was in France with his family, then he just disappeared. Once we heard about the family at his house, we thought… well.’ The man stopped talking and stared at Paul nervously.

‘You, Tommy, are a hitman. That is your job and you can’t organise a simple thing for me. Silva is under witness protection. He turned evidence against me and the other families. The police need him to put us away and are hiding him until he has served a purpose and then they will drop him. But that will be too late for me. He cannot go into that courtroom and give evidence against us – do you hear me? God only knows what he has spewed to them already!’ Paul said, banging the table with his fist.

Tommy looked at Paul’s face as it became red with anger. ‘We’ll sort it boss, I promise. I came to apologise about that family. We’re human, we make mistakes!’

Lowering his voice, Paul looked up from under his lashes. ‘Those human mistakes you talk about, come back to me. Everyone knows I want Alex Silva out of the picture, so any mistakes that you make come back to me. I wish it was you they were looking for because Alex would have found you and buried you by now. If nothing else, that slimy bastard was a professional.’

Squirming in his seat, Tommy looked down at the table. He’d known this wasn’t going to be an easy visit. Someone had to tell Paul that the family that had been assassinated wasn’t Alex Silva’s. It was a misjudgement – a tragedy – but where the fuck was Alex Silva? He’d disappeared into thin air.

Paul’s voice was almost a whisper and he seemed to have composed himself again. ‘Somebody knows where he is Tommy and he can’t hide forever. This case has been going on for over a year while they gather more evidence against us. They have shut down my brothels, my drug business has been busted; do you know how much money I am losing every day that I am in here? Thankfully, I have partners on the outside who are looking after my affairs. But that means I am relying on motherfuckers like you to get me out. Shit, they may as well throw away the key.’ Paul sat back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair.

‘Boss, you own the streets, you have people out there, but no one has come up with anything.’ Tommy felt he was pleading his case too much, but he desperately wanted Paul to see reason.

‘He killed my brother. For that alone I want him dead. He waited while he got out of his car, shot him in the head, and then pulled his pants down, cut off his balls. He told the police that it was at my orders. Some police think my brother had it coming, but, for fuck’s sake, it was in broad daylight and there isn’t one witness against him. I want justice, not only for myself, but for my brother.’ Paul hit the table with his fist again.

‘Yeah, but didn’t your brother…’ Realising that his mouth had run away with him, Tommy stopped short. He could have bitten his tongue off.

‘Didn’t my brother what? Finish your sentence, Tommy. You’ve obviously heard the lying rumours. Say what’s on your mind.’

Almost trembling with fear, Tommy put his hand on his leg to stop his knees from shaking. He didn’t want to speak, but didn’t want to incur any more of Paul’s wrath. ‘Some people say…’ Tommy swallowed hard and moistening his dry lips, he knew he had to finish the sentence. Paul sat there stony-faced, staring at him. ‘Some people say that your brother tried raping Alex’s wife… although, I know that’s rubbish. But people like to make up stories, don’t they.’

‘Yes and some people like to repeat them.’ Glaring at Tommy, Paul pushed his chair back, sending it screeching across the floor. He stood and walked towards the door at the end of the room and knocked on it. Instantly the guards opened it to let Paul out. Tommy sat in the empty room staring at the door, in case Paul came back in. Rubbing his face with his hands, he took a huge breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn’t wait to get out of this miserable place.

‘Everything okay?’ one of the guards asked as Tommy stood up to leave.

‘Yes, everything’s fine thanks. Now get me out of here.’

‘Here, have one of these, you look like you need one.’ The guard took out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and handed Tommy his lighter. Taking it, Tommy smiled. ‘Thanks, I left mine in the car.’ Inhaling on the cigarette, Tommy could feel his nerves settling. He felt better already.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ the guard instructed as he marched Tommy out of the room.

The guard’s eyes started watering slightly, and Tommy suddenly complained of feeling dizzy and asked to sit down, but the guard ignored him and walked him towards the exit, and almost threw him out of the door. Once out into the open air, Tommy staggered and leaned against the wall as he tried to fill his lungs with clean air, while tossing his cigarette butt aside on the pavement. Feeling sick and disorientated, he looked towards the car park for his car. Feeling pain in his chest and finding it hard to breathe, he was tempted to bang on the door of the prison again to seek help from the guards. It felt like he was having a heart attack. Unable to think straight, he swayed back and forth as he walked towards his car. His head spun and he felt woozy and his instinct was to try and get to the hospital. Through his clouded brain, he knew he was having a heart attack or possibly a stroke, possibly brought on by the stress of seeing Paul. Paul’s anger had frightened him, and he knew what he was capable of, even though he was inside prison. With his mind in turmoil, he considered he might even be having a panic attack, but the pain was too severe for that. He needed to get help, but his mind was a blur, his eyes felt heavy and he almost fell inside the car as he opened it, his head falling backwards onto the headrest as he let out a laboured breath. Blinking hard to stay awake, he started up the car, gripped his chest and breathed heavily.

Turning towards the passenger seat, he noticed his packet of cigarettes that he had left in the car. His mind wandered back to his meeting with Paul. Suddenly, as clear as day, he thought about the cigarette he had been given by the prison warder. It was rumoured that Paul used cyanide and often boasted about it to his friends and family and joked about not eating anything he’d cooked. Through his haze, Tommy realised what was happening to him. Since when did prison warders hand out cigarettes? Stupidly, he cursed himself for accepting it. Tommy knew he was dying; he didn’t have long. Sweat poured down his face and behind the blur of confusion, he knew he had to get to a nearby hospital. As he put his foot on the accelerator, the last thing Tommy heard was the sound of a crash as he hit another car and his head fell forward against the steering wheel. His lifeless body was slumped forward, with blood running down his head and face.

Paul was in the prison corridor where the telephones were situated. Making a call, he looked at his watch and then spoke. ‘Tommy came today. He won’t be coming back. He implied my brother was a rapist. I leave this urgent matter in your hands now.’ With that, Paul ended the call. Turning towards the prison guard, he held out his hand. ‘Nice work Mr Barrow, you learn fast.’

The guard handed him the packet of cigarettes containing cyanide. Paul liked cyanide, it couldn’t be easily detected, and it worked swiftly. It had become a code between himself and this warder. Paul always carried his own cigarettes, but when he asked Barrow to fetch them for him, they both knew it was his ‘special packet’ for his enemies. Paul looked at Barrow with distaste, but he came in handy. He was greedy, like all other men he had known. Still, Paul thought to himself, at least his wine and his own food was smuggled in by this man, so he served his purpose. Maybe one day he would be sharing one of his special cigarettes. After all, he didn’t want this warder finding a conscience and loosening his tongue to the authorities.

Paul smiled. ‘Check your account, I’ve made sure you’ve got your money.’

The guard looked at him and nodded. ‘I have to see you back to your cell now Mr Pereira, is that okay?’

‘Sure thing, let’s go. Did my red wine get delivered today?’

Nervously, the guard answered. ‘Yes Mr Pereira, everything is waiting for you in your room.’

Satisfied, Paul followed him back to his cell. Anyone could be bought, Paul thought to himself. No one was above the law and sooner or later, someone would tell him where to find Alex Silva. He picked up a glass of red wine that had already been poured for him and rose it in a toast. ‘Rest in peace Tommy.’ Then he took a huge gulp.