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Chapter Twenty-Two

'Come on, Lil, let's be having you!'

Jimmy Brick's voice was as miserable as it had always been but seeing Lil had put a measure of pleasure in it that was hard to detect unless you knew the man very well.

Lil turned in her seat to face him and she saw immediately that the years had not been kind to him. After Patrick's murder he had been on the scene for a while and then he had just seemed to drop off the face of the world. No one seemed to see him or hear about him. He had just disappeared. He wasn't in clink, she knew that much. It seemed he had sold up and moved on.

Jimmy looked what he was, an old bruiser; someone who was displaying all the characteristics of an old fighter. He could still hold his own and he certainly looked capable of causing a row on a whim.

Lil's face had lit up with pleasure and that pleased him no end. He had seen her from across the pub and he had recognised her immediately. Even though she was older she had not really changed that much. In fact, he was amazed at how little she had changed since the last time he had seen her. He pushed that from his mind. If Lil brought it up, he would discuss it. Otherwise he would leave well alone.

Life in Spain had finally got to Jimmy and he missed London more than he would ever have believed. He had ended up hating it out there. It was filled with has-beens, wannabes and grasses. He had been called back to England like many others, through missing the weather, the women and the opportunities it afforded men like him. As he sat in the Crown and Two Chairmen pub in Dean Street and looked at Lily Brodie the past seemed so recent and yet he knew that was only because the memories were so vivid. If he lived to be one hundred years old he knew that day would be as fresh then as it was now.

'Bloody hell, Jimmy. Long time no see.'

Jimmy smiled. His balding head that he now shaved bald, rather than have the thinning hair on show, made him look old and yet his tanned skin and expensive clothes appealed to Lil and she told him that. 'You look bloody well, Jimmy. Where have you been?'

Jimmy pulled up a chair and, as he sat beside her, he caught her distinctive scent; a mixture of Estée Lauder perfume and Revlon lipstick.

'You look good yourself, girl. I've been living in Spain. I'm over for a while and maybe back for good. I ain't made me mind up yet.'

'I bet that's a lovely place to live.'

Jimmy sat back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and surveyed her. Lil knew he was making a production of the look, but that was Jimmy. He had always had a soft spot for her.

'Spain is a glorified shithole, Lil. No one would live there permanently unless they were in serious danger of getting their collars felt. I suppose it's all right if you have a family or whatever, but on your Jack Jones it's no good.'

She grinned and Jimmy noticed her even teeth. She had a lovely smile and the best of looks, as far as he was concerned.

'You couldn't settle anywhere else. You're a Londoner like me and we can't seem to settle elsewhere.'

Jimmy laughed with her and then they were quiet. The atmosphere between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts, making them both feel shy, suddenly.

'Well, I am Hank Marvin', Lil. Fancy a bite to eat?'

'Why not? I just have to meet my boys and then we can shoot off.'

Jimmy was getting them a drink when he saw the boys arrive. The eldest, Pat Junior, was the living image of his father and on first sight he felt his heart constrict with the shock. It was like looking at Patrick again; he had the same stance, the same walk, everything. The younger boy, Lance, was still a strange-looking cove as far as he was concerned. But he hid his feelings and as Lil introduced him, he felt the pull of them all. They were a family that had been devastated overnight but it was plain to him that they had pulled through it somehow.

Pat Junior sat down and, peering at the older man with interest, he said quietly, 'I remember you, Jimmy. You were a great mate of my father and it's a pleasure to see you once again. He loved this pub, I know. When I was away I met a lot of his old cronies and heard all the stories about him. They spoke highly of you.'

It was a simple statement but it began a friendship that was already obvious to both of them. Pat felt the older man's emotion at being reunited with his old friend's sons and Jimmy Brick was reminded of the man he had been close to for so many years.

Lil watched the exchange and she was pleased to see the way the two of them seemed to take to one another. She also saw that Lance, as usual, was quiet and keeping his own counsel. She felt the usual distaste at being in his company but tried to make sure he didn't realise it. Lance was someone she saw as an outsider. She couldn't help it and she had tried to suppress her feelings but she couldn't. He sat there and she felt nothing for him except a deep and abiding distaste.

Every time she saw Janie, she was reminded of just what this son of hers was capable of and, even though she knew it had been forgotten by most of the people she knew, she would never forget what he had done and she would never forgive him. The only saving grace he had was how he was with Kathleen. Although Lil loved her dearly, Kathleen irritated her if she was around her for too long. She wanted the girl to pull herself together and stop being such a weak and powerless individual but she knew that was something that would never come to pass. Kathleen was always going to be a weakling; it was in her nature and Lance had been the only one over the years who had the patience to spend time with her.

Lil sat back and waited for the men to finish chatting; they already looked as if they had been together for years and she took that as a good sign. Pat could do with a Jimmy Brick in his life and, like his father before him, he knew that as well as she did. She caught Lance staring at her and the good feeling disappeared as it always did when she had to acknowledge him in any way. She didn't voice her thoughts; she had learned to keep them hidden away but Lance knew how she felt and that knowledge pleased her. She didn't want him thinking they were ever going to bond; she knew that nothing in this world would ever make her love this boy.

Kathleen was sitting in the front room watching TV She always watched Frank Spencer repeats and no one ever thought to turn over. She laughed at his antics and it was a real laugh, a deep belly laugh that made everyone around her happy. Kathleen's nerves were bad and she had very little in her life that made her truly happy. As she watched Frank get caught on a skateboard and dragged behind a bus, she was roaring with laughter and Colleen and Christopher were also laughing. They were waiting for the programme to end so they could turn over to 'Happy Days' and the Fonz. But they were like the others: willing to forgo anything if it made Kathleen happy even for a few moments.

Eileen came into the room with a tray full of cups of tea and she saw that Kathleen's laughter was, once more, turning to tears. She swallowed down her irritation, feeling guilty for her annoyance at her sister's distress.

'Come on, Kath. Cheer up, love. You took your tablets?'

Patrick had taken Kathleen to a doctor in Harley Street and he had diagnosed her as a manic depressive, whatever that was. He had prescribed antidepressants and Kathleen was not happy about taking them. Only Lance seemed capable of getting her to swallow them. Once she had them she seemed spaced, admittedly, but at least she was happier. Eileen sat beside her twin and hugged her tightly.

'Come on, Kathleen. Stop this, will you? Drink your tea and take your pills. If you don't, I will be really upset. You take them for Lance but not for anyone else and when he gets in I want to be able to tell him that you took them for me without a row.'

Kathleen didn't take her eyes off the TV but she swallowed the pills with the scalding hot tea and Eileen sighed with relief although Kathleen was still crying. The last few days she had been so low that they had nearly taken her back to the doctor again. But according to Pat, once the pills got in her system she would be much better. Well, Eileen hoped so. She was her twin and she hated to see her like this. She was so unhappy and, even worse than that, so uninterested in her life or the world around her.

She was a teenager and she was already like an old woman. Eileen, on the other hand, was full of life and enjoying every second with as much energy as she could muster.

She sighed once more and, picking up a small hand mirror and her tweezers, she set about tidying her eyebrows. She had her eye on a new boy at school and she was confident that she might just get him.

As much as she loved her sister, she was embarrassed by her at times. She had been off school for a few days and Eileen was ashamed to admit that she had actually enjoyed her absence. For the first time in ages she didn't have to watch her and take care of her, she could just go to school and be like the other kids. This thought made her ashamed and she smiled at her sister once more. She wished she had the patience of Lance; he seemed to know just what to do with her, no matter what her mood.

She knew Kathleen was her twin sister but she was past the stage where she put all her energy into her sibling. She wanted to be young and she wanted to enjoy her life and with Kathleen like she was, that was not an option.

Pat was outside the hostess club his mother had been working in for years and he was not impressed. It was scruffy, and not just the usual seedy scruffiness of Soho, all top show and dim lighting; this place was so dilapidated that it would be apparent even in darkness.

He watched as the doorman, a large black man, walked two men into the club. He observed that even the doorman was a scruff-bag and that his suit had seen better days. He was going through the motions and that told Pat enough of what was going on around him. This was a front. The money this place earned was nothing compared to whatever else was going on here. The real business had to be a serious earner and his mother must have been aware of it at some level. He wouldn't press her on it though. He knew she was close-mouthed because she didn't want him and Brewster at loggerheads.

The bouncer came back out to the small foyer and recognised Pat. He knew who he was, Pat had established himself all over the Smoke. That this man knew him from the off was pleasing to him though. Either that, or someone had heralded his arrival, but he forced that thought away. Pat was on his own because Kathleen was on a mad half-hour and Lance had gone home to look after her.

Pat had phoned home earlier and got Eileen. He guessed Eileen wanted to go out and, knowing Lance would walk over hot coals for his little sister, she had probably exaggerated her symptoms so he would come home and take over. Pat grinned. Eileen was a shrewdie, bless her, and she had the right idea and all. Why have a dog and bark yourself? If you could get someone else to do it, why not?

'Can I help you, Mr Brodie?' The man spoke with a quiet respect that Pat knew was genuine. Up close he saw that he wasn't that much older than he was himself. He was a good-looking boy; obviously of mixed-race parentage and obviously able to have an almighty row if the fancy took him.

'Where's Brewster?' It was a statement more than a question.

The doorman didn't move for a while; he was as still as a corpse as he made a decision that would affect the rest of his life. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was earwigging, he said, 'He ain't here but he will be back within the hour; he is meeting up with someone you know.'

Patrick nodded slowly. 'What's your name?'

The man held out a meaty fist. 'Colin. Colin Butcher.'

They shook hands and Pat felt the strength of him and the coolness of his palm. This was someone who would not easily be rattled and, once more, he wondered if this was a set-up. He knew the different angles that were used in their business and in stir he had been taught all about them and how to deal with them, by the masters.

But his instinct told him that this boy was good and he decided to trust in it. After all, it had never let him down before.

'I think I'll wait then, if you don't mind?'

Colin smiled then and he looked a completely different man. He had a wide, open smile that was automatically guaranteed to make whoever was on the receiving end of it feel relaxed.

Pat knew then that this man would be an asset to any business. He had the right demeanour and the sense to keep quiet.

'Can I get you a drink?'

Patrick nodded. 'I think I'll go through to the bar and wait there.'

They walked in the club together and Pat felt comfortable with him. He also felt optimistic when he saw the full extent of the club's shabbiness. It was a dump, and dumps were always easier to reclaim than palaces. He suddenly remembered walking in here with his father and he noted that it had the same flock wallpaper on the walls and the same dark-grey carpet that he remembered. It smelt of fags, cheap deodorant and desperation, and he decided that it smelt just like Brewster himself.

Ordering a large Scotch, Pat settled himself at the bar and looked the hostesses over. They were watching him warily and he knew they were wondering if he would be as big a shite to work for as Lenny Brewster. He hoped not.

Brasses bothered him. Not because of how they earned a living but because the very act that made them money was also the thing that stripped away their self-esteem and their enjoyment of ever being with a man. Once women resorted to the game they saw everyone around them as marks and this was what made them so unreliable in the long run. They had no loyalty to anyone, not even themselves.

Pat noted everything around him without even seeming to glance away from his drink. Another little trick he had taught himself in gaol; unexpected eye contact could be the death of you and, in certain prisons, it often was. He had also learned patience and he stood now, completely relaxed and at ease with his surroundings, and waited for Brewster to return.

Spider was watching his son play snooker and he was also watching the time. He knew it was early yet and that Pat wouldn't be there for a long while, but he was nervous. Something he had not been for many a long year.

The boy was a grafter, no doubt about that. He was also a handful; he had heard great things about him in poke and he knew that now he was out and about he was determined to get what he saw as his due. Not just his due, but his mother's due as well. She had been royally used and it was common knowledge. Pat and Lance had been kids and had not understood the seriousness of what had happened but now they were men, and men had a habit of taking great pleasure in reaping revenge when they could.

Spider watched the people in the bar, most of them had had run-ins with Brewster; he had not made a point of keeping friends close. Yet it was friendships and families that were the backbone of their way of life. You needed people you could depend on and that you could trust. Loyalty was important, especially if anyone got their collar felt. Keeping your trap shut when questioned by Old Bill and doing your bird without a squeak was considered the correct way to behave. Brewster had so many enemies now that he would only need a phone booth for a meet with his most trusted friends and advisers.

He had approached Patrick through other people, not even having the nerve to do the dirty deed himself. It was common knowledge and no one who knew about it was impressed. Everyone was waiting though and no one was going to say a word until the two had met and an outcome was decided. Until then, it was a waiting game and the waiting should finally be over tonight.

Jimmy Brick and Lil were walking into the club just as Lenny emerged from his car. His driver always dropped him outside the doorway, in full sight of his doormen and his workforce. The club itself earned a few quid but it wasn't really anything to shout about. It was his office space and where he went to plan or execute his serious skulduggery.

Seeing Lil with Jimmy, he felt his usual anger rising to the surface.

'All right, Jimmy? Long time no see.' His voice was louder than he intended and he knew he was overdoing the friendliness. Him and Jimmy had never really been mates; in fact they had only tolerated each other. But he knew he had to show willing; he had realised that his usual disinterested rudeness would not go down too well at the moment.

Young Pat, as he was being called by all and sundry, seemed to have the same force as his father; it seemed that people were drawn to him. They had a high regard for him and he was only twenty. It was a fucking diabolical liberty to expect him to meet up like he was some kind of fucking gofer. But he knew that he had to suss this out and make sure that he was at least seen to be doing the right thing.

Now, in the middle of it, he had Jimmy Brick looking at him like he was last night's bunk up. Lil was watching him; she had lovely eyes and, in fairness, she was still a very shaggable woman. Although Lenny was often seen with young women, he was actually far happier with the grown-ups. He liked his women to have a bit about them; liked to take the woman from someone else if possible. It suited his strange sense of humour. There was nothing like shagging a rival's bird or, even better, a rival's old woman. It added to the excitement as far as he was concerned, and it also marked the spot, like a dog pissing on a street corner to mark his territory. It let everyone know he had been there and he had done that.

Once he had acquired them, used them and made his point, he discarded them without a second's thought. They were old news, so why would he keep them on board?

Now though, as he followed a silent Jimmy into the club, he felt the urge to laugh. He had arranged a little reception for them all and he was looking forward to seeing their surprise when they realised what was coming their way.

Jimmy Brick was not happy about taking Lil in with him but he had no choice now; she was coming inside with him or without him.

As they walked up the rickety stairs towards the office, Lil was reminded of how many times she had made that journey over the years. Now it seemed that this club was once more going to play a part in her destiny and in the future of her children. She was surprised to find that she was shaking.

She kept thinking that Lance should have been there. That no matter what she thought of him privately, he should have been there with Pat to sort this out once and for all. It would always be remembered that he had not been present and she knew that, in years to come, it would cause problems.

Pat Junior was already inside; he was actually seated behind the old desk, the desk that she had bought one sunny afternoon from Camden Market with Patrick. Now it was scarred from years of hot cups of tea and unattended cigarettes. It was scratched and stained but it still held a certain charm for her. And she could see her husband behind it once more, in the guise of her eldest son. Never had he looked more like his namesake than he did now. He had the same cold look, the same easy manner and the same promise of violence if he didn't get what he wanted.

Lenny saw him sitting there and, keeping a lid on his anger, he said loudly, 'I hope you'll jump in my grave as quick, son.'

He went to the small bar and poured them drinks; he was amazed to find that his hands were shaking, visibly shaking, and he knew that the boy had the edge over him for the moment. He had received no answer to his jocular taunt and he understood, for the first time, just how precarious his position actually was. There were none of his aides in the room, no one seemed to have arrived as arranged. In fact, even Colin was absent and that in itself was a revelation because he was up for promotion. He had been earning his stripes for a while and now it seemed he was happy to retreat when the aggro arrived. Colin was not a fool, he had a decent enough shit-detector and Lenny was aware of that; he had a similar one himself. It had kept him out of trouble for many years. Until now that is. Lenny had a trump card though, cards even; he had kids with Lil and they were half Pat's blood as well. He was confident that Pat wouldn't do anything too outrageous to the man who had sired his younger siblings. Patrick was like his father, he saw himself as far too decent to do anything like that. It was a weakness and he would find that out before too long.

Lil had sat down on the chaise-longue kept in there in case anyone wanted forty winks or needed a breathing space if things got out of order in the club. Many a hostess had drunk a cup of tea and vented their spleen on that sofa; it was a way of diffusing a situation that could become very difficult if not handled properly. Hostesses were fighters and they loved to fight one another when the fancy took them; a slight seen where none was intended or drugs were consumed and then caused paranoia. Now though, it seemed it was to be the throne that Lil sat on as her son reclaimed his father's businesses.

Everyone was seated now and Lenny was left standing in his own office. He stared at them all with his usual aplomb; as if nothing bothered him, which, until tonight, it actually hadn't. He leant nonchalantly against the bar; his handmade suit was crumpled and his eyes were red-rimmed from the drink he had consumed that afternoon. Even the good whisky he had poured for himself tasted bitter somehow.

Lenny kept glancing at the door, expecting someone to enter, even though he knew deep inside him that that was not going to happen. Patrick seemed to know what he was thinking because he said quietly, 'No one's coming to your rescue, mate. I saw to that days ago.'

Lenny Brewster shrugged. 'Am I supposed to be scared or something?' His voice sounded much more confident than he actually felt.

'Come on, Lil, sort this boy out, will you?' His voice was deliberately scornful; he knew he had to make an impression and he also knew he was in big trouble. For the first time in years he was afraid, mortally afraid.

Lil didn't answer him. No one had expected her to. She got up though and, walking to her son, she kissed him on the cheek. Then she said heavily, 'You can't talk your way out of this one, Lenny. You have to stand there and take what's coming to you.'

Her voice was his undoing; that she was there to see all this, to see him brought so low, was more than he could bear. It had finally dawned on him that no one was going to come up, that no one was going to help him. He was surrounded by his enemies and that was through choice; he had only ever made enemies.

The girl he had been with earlier had slipped into the club itself and he knew then that even she had heard a whisper about what might happen. She had covered her bases all right, but that even a slag like her was in the know, devastated him.

Young Patrick was still sitting there quietly. His deep-blue eyes were expressionless and his body taut and young. Looking at him, Lenny knew that he couldn't compete. But he was far from finished and he wouldn't go down without a fight.

'I ain't fucking standing for this, boy. I ain't your father, letting meself be taken like a fucking rabid dog. Looking forward to your birthday this year, son?'

Lenny Brewster had never carried any kind of firearm; he knew that if you packed a weapon you were putting yourself up for a seven-year stretch on possession of firearms charges. He had thought he had been so clever, making sure everyone around him was packing, but now he wished he had one to hand so he could blow these bastards off the face of the earth without a second's thought.

Patrick was unmoved by his words, was not going to be goaded into anger. He was calm and collected. Lil could see her son's demeanour and, standing up quickly, she said, 'I'll be downstairs when you want me. The girls will need a firm hand and the sooner I start, the better.'

As Lil walked towards the doorway, Lenny, his anger as always a heartbeat away, pulled his arm back ready to take a swipe at her. As he did so, Patrick and Jimmy were up and ready for him. But it was Lil who retaliated first. She grabbed a whisky glass off the bar and, with all her strength, she smashed it into his face. As he felt the glass break, the slicing of his skin, he was so shocked he didn't even move. Putting up his hand, he held it to his cheek, feeling the skin flapping as it hung in chunks from his cheekbone. Bringing his hand away from his face, he stared down at the crimson blood and knew then that he was finished. It was over. Lil had finally got the last word and he appreciated the irony of it. He had spent his life using anyone and everyone around him and he had known his time would come; it was inevitable. He just hadn't thought it would be at the hands of the Brodies. He smiled sadly, feeling the pain now. As the cuts began to sting, he knew Lil had been entitled to that one blow at least. He had hurt her enough over the years.

Lil watched the blood seeping down his face; the bone was exposed and she was amazed that she didn't feel nauseous. He looked awful and it didn't bother her. She had no feelings either way about the wounds she had inflicted on him.

The shirt Lenny wore was drenched in his blood and she looked at it and felt a measure of relief. He had tortured her and worse than that, he had ignored her children; his own flesh and blood. For that alone she wanted him to hurt. The years of his abuse and his hate was spurting out of her now.

'Fuck you, Lenny. Fuck you, you rotten bastard. You took my Pat from me and you fucking knew you had when you came creeping round my house. You used me and you fucking enjoyed it.'

He watched her and then he laughed. 'Course I didn't. Who the fuck would want you lot? Tell me that? A fucking washed-up has-been and her gaggle of kids. Your cunt's bigger than Dartford Tunnel, darling. You're a fucking joke to me, you always were.'

Patrick walked over to Lenny then. Lenny saw the look in the boy's eyes as he goaded him once more. 'Your mother's son, you are, eh? A brass, she was a fucking brass, boy. She flogged her fanny in this very club. It's a wonder she never fucked your Lance. Let's face it, he'd be up for it, wouldn't he? Weird ponce that he is. And what about the twins, eh, the loon and the lesbian? I wouldn't want to be part of the Brodie family for all the coke in fucking Colombia.'

Lenny couldn't understand why no one was doing anything about what he was saying. They were just standing there as if he was invisible. Then he saw that Lil had put her hand up, that she was stopping them from retaliating. The fact they were willing to do as she asked, amazed him. Women had no place in his world; they were less than nothing. In fact, he had never once been bothered about one in his life.

Now, he saw the power women could wield over their sons or their lovers and he was glad he had never been reduced to anything so fucking humiliating.

'What about Colleen and Christy? What about them, Lenny?'

He laughed. His face was really hurting now and he could feel the blood dripping on to the floor. It was surreal, the whole thing was surreal.

'What about them, Lil? They mean nothing to me, no more than you ever did.'

It was said so nastily and with such malice and hatred that Lil couldn't listen to him any more.

'You took everything from me, Lenny, but it doesn't matter. None of it matters any more because if I got nothing else from you, I got those kids and they are worth the world.'

She looked at him then and she saw the blood and the sweat and she also saw the fear. He was frightened out of his life and she knew he had always been frightened of something or someone. Even Patrick had been taken out by the Williams brothers; this man would never have had the guts to do it himself. He had been the catalyst for all her family's ills and yet he had also given her two children she adored.

Her fear of him was gone; she had marked him as he had bragged about marking her. He had seen his children as nothing more than chains to keep her bound to him and they had been doing exactly that for far too long. Her son was going to rectify everything that had happened to them and, at last, she was going to be free of this man and his hate.

'I'll see you two later.'

Lil walked from the room then and she felt lighter than she had in years. People thought that violence solved nothing and they were right. But she also knew that sometimes rough justice was all that people like her had left.

Lenny watched her go. He had the demonic look of a maniac and he watched in fear as Jimmy Brick and Pat Brodie took heavy chains from their pockets and then wrapped them delicately around their knuckles. He knew he would die in agony and then only after a long beating.

'I am going to enjoy this, Lenny, you fucking piece of shit.'

He laughed at them, he was on autopilot now. 'And what will you tell your little brother and sister, Pat? That you murdered their dad? I bet that will go down a fucking bundle, won't it?'

'They won't give a shit. They think you're a twat anyway, Lenny; they don't even like you.'

Patrick pulled the chain tight and gave him a hard belt; he made sure it landed on the wound his mother had already inflicted. He had learned that one in nick; if the person you were fighting had any kind of wound, worry it and keep at it and the pain would be much more intense. It was the psychological angle and all. Once a cut was there it was human nature to try to protect it from more harm.

'You are going to die, Lenny, and do you know, not one of your fucking blokes tried to stick up for you. Not one of them questioned what we were going to do to you.'

Jimmy grinned then and Lenny knew he would be over the moon at his part tonight.

'You are one fucking wanker and you spent your life taking what you wanted. Well, now it's my turn.'

Jimmy had the chain and he also had a Stanley knife and he opened up Lenny's belly with it.

Lenny felt the sting as it sliced into his skin and he saw Patrick Brodie watching the proceedings with a casual air. He knew that this was indeed his father's son. It was no more than he expected, and he hoped he would take all he had to come, like a man. Patrick Senior had, he knew. He had not once begged for his life and he had put up a fucking good fight and all.

When Patrick started to lay in to Lenny, Jimmy stepped back and watched it all with a quiet interest. He observed the younger man and knew he was going to be all right. Like his father, he had the right temperament for skulduggery and prison life.

Within minutes, Lenny Brewster was begging for mercy, but he didn't get any.

Lil could hear him screaming with pain, as could everyone in the club. No one mentioned anything though. The hostesses who were not occupied with customers sat on the meat seats smoking and drinking and acted like they couldn't hear anything.

Lily Brodie felt, for the first time in years, on top form once more. She felt the weight of Lenny's anger and his hatred dropping away from her. Even though the father of two of her children was being murdered, somehow it just didn't seem wrong to her. She turned up the music until the sound of the Stylistics drowned out Lenny Brewster's screams.

Lenny was begging for his life as they sang, 'Betcha By Golly Wow'. It seemed a fitting tribute as far as Lil was concerned. The girls were watching her carefully and she knew that they were not going to give her any trouble. They knew the score better than anyone.

As Lil stood behind the bar and surveyed her domain, she felt the rush of excitement course through her veins. Then, picturing her Patrick in her mind's eye, she knew he would have been proud of his son, his firstborn.

Colin the doorman winked at her and she smiled then. Life could only get easier from now on and she had waited a long time for that to finally happen.

Lenny Brewster's body was never found. He had been put in the crusher of a scrapyard in south London, his coffin being the boot of a Hillman Imp.

He had still been lucid as he was thrown into the boot by Patrick and Jimmy. Patrick had been determined on that much and Jimmy had been happy enough to go along with it. The last thing Lenny had seen was the two men smiling down at him as they slammed the boot shut. He had heard the sound of the crusher as it had been cranked up and he had felt the car being raised from the ground. As it swung in the air the car had felt like a metal prison and Lenny knew that no one would care that he had disappeared, that no one would even bother trying to find out what had happened to him.

The noise of the metal as it was crushed into a small cube masked the screams of the man inside as he felt the heavy crush-bars coming towards him. The car buckled and bent as he tried frantically to scratch his way out. The lifeforce was so strong that he was still attempting to escape as his head was gripped as in a vice, and his body dismantled with bloodcurdling ease. When the small cube finally passed through the machine and landed with a quiet thud on to the dirt floor, Jimmy saw Patrick hawk deeply in his throat and spit on it.

An hour later, Spider was surprised to see the two men come into his drinking club and he knew then, that it was all over.