Violence in the Blood by Mark Newman

Author:Mark Newman [Newman, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Fiction Thriller UK Scottish Glasgow Noir Gangland Mafia Vengeance Murder Abduction Torture Ma
Amazon: B01GOL73C6
Publisher: Mark J Newman
Published: 2016-06-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10: 1988

Thompson was standing outside the gym, the street deserted, the waiting over, it was time for show and tell.

Edwards ringside, surrounded by his main players. Supposed big hitters. Local hard men. The kind who most right-minded people cross the road to avoid.

He was in the doorway, observing. Reconnaissance, taking it all in. A crowd of six or seven bodies gathered, watching two fighters sparring. He guessed the big guy they were fawning over was Edwards.

One of the minders turned to grab a water bottle, spotting the stranger lingering at the back of the gym. ‘We’re closed, mate, private training session.’

Malkie said nothing, continuing to stare, his eyes burning in to Edwards, willing him to turn and face him.

The minder was getting impatient, striding toward the figure. ‘You deaf, pal? Closed. Fuck off.’

‘Heard you the first time,’ he pointed towards the large figure, ‘guessing he’s Edwards. Go tell your boss I’m here.’

The minder’s eyes strayed to the holdall, his hands twitching. Concern on his face, unsure whether he’s staring into the eyes of a gunman. Keeping his eyes locked with the stranger, watching for any sudden moves, he called over shoulder, ‘boss, got a visitor.’

Edwards turned, irritated at the interruption. Didn’t recognise the figure in the doorway. ‘And you are?’

‘Name’s Thompson, Malkie Thompson.’

Blank faces. ‘Supposed to mean something?’

Malkie smiled, and opened the holdall. ‘Depends how you choose to look at it.’ Taking a bundle of cash, the minder reaching for the 9mm tucked in his waistband. Malkie counted tens and twenties, letting them float to the floor. ‘Easy there big man, no drama.’ He ignored the minder, focussing on Edwards. ‘Consider this a peace offering, your cut, two grand.’ He waited... No response, just Edwards’ cold murderous stare.

Satisfied, he turned and walked out, making his way to the bottom of the stairs, listening.

‘....taking the fucking piss, Vin. We should do the bastard, now.’

‘No, not like this. Now we got a face and a name. Let’s get the background, we want all of ’em. Get me Morrison, now.’

Malkie sauntered to the car, Frank and George waiting inside.

‘How’d it go?’

‘Like I said, George, piece of piss.’

Frank adjusted the rear-view mirror. ‘Ripe for the taking?’

‘Falling from the tree, Frankie.’

Contact made. Malkie had walked into the lion’s den unarmed, dumped two grand on the floor and walked out unscathed. Urban legend in the making.

Two days later, Edwards sent his reply.

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