London Large: Blood on the Streets by Robson Roy & Robson Garry

Author:Robson, Roy & Robson, Garry [Robson, Roy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: London Large Publishing
Published: 2015-11-08T23:00:00+00:00

43

Kuznetsov, accompanied by a phalanx of brawny thugs in evening dress, turned left past the Old Vic theatre and then left again, before pulling to a halt outside a small block of flats no more than a stone’s throw from Waterloo station.

Fired up but firmly in control of his emotions, Kuznetsov looked about him as he exited the car. The night wind howled through the empty concrete streets. One of his stone-faced lieutenants put the key into the lock of a small ground floor flat and opened the door.

The heavies checked the flat and ushered Kuznetsov into the living room. A doctor was removing a bullet from a bloodied man who lay sedated, drifting in and out of consciousness. Kuznetsov approached him and administered a firm slap to the cheek.

‘Vladimir, tell me what the fuck happened? How could you allow this to happen?’

Agapov sprang to attention as the adrenalin rushed through his body and overpowered the sedative. He knew who Kuznetsov was, of course, but had always thought he was too far down the food chain to ever meet him face to face.

And here he was. The numero uno. The top honcho. Taking time out to come and see him on a one-to -one basis in a pokey little flat on the wrong side of the river.

Kuznetsov did not usually concern himself with the day-to-day activities of what he euphemistically referred to as his delivery units. Street violence, a murder here and there he expected - part of the general strategy to ensure his delivery units stayed on top. His financiers set them cash targets and if they didn’t deliver they replaced the local leadership. Agapov knew this and he had always delivered. Until now.

He was aware of the organisation’s penalty for failure. Situations didn’t get more serious than this. He calculated the odds of getting out of the flat alive.

Absolute fucking zero.

He flinched as the quack pulled the last of the bullets embedded in his right calf muscle.

‘Sir,’ the doctor said to Kuznetsov, ‘should I seal wounds now?’

‘No.’

Kuznetsov took a seat.

‘Explain, now. Include all the details of this feud.’

Agapov’s breaths become short and sharp. His eyelids were getting heavy. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in hiding before Kuznetsov’s men had picked him up. He’d lost a lot of blood. He felt he couldn’t last much longer.

The top man administered another slap.

‘Talk, Vladimir. Now.’

Agapov came around once more and did his best to recount the details of the last few months. Just a few fist fights over control of a couple of clubs south of the river at first. Then a murder, then another in retribution. The cycle of revenge had got out of control faster than the anger of a spoilt brat who doesn’t get the right toy.

Agapov gave him everything he knew about their enemy, which was actually very little. He knew where they lived; he knew, or thought he knew, what their capabilities were. But he had to confess, he had no idea they were capable of pulling off so devastating an attack.

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