Lord of London Town

“A tooth for me and Pearl. Not yours anymore.” Vinnie held it in the air. “See, Pearl,” he said to the ghost of my sister. “They can’t hurt our family anymore.” He hummed, then stopped and stared at the empty space beside him, his cheeks reddening. “I love you too, treasure.” He placed the tooth in the travel tin he carried in his shirt pocket and got to his feet, his eyes snapping in our direction. Johnny stiffened in my arms.

“Artie, listen,” Johnny said, his tone hitching higher to maniacal levels. “You’re just a kid. You all are. What your old man has you doing here isn’t right.”

I tutted in his ear. “What’s not right is you skimming profits from the firm that’s served you well.”

“I haven’t, I swear—”

I pushed him to the ground and looked around us. There was some rope in the corner. I towered over the fat piece of shit on the ground as the blood of his men crept closer to his sweaty skin. “Get the rope,” I said to Freddie. He did. I looked at Eric and Charlie. “Lift him up.” I pointed to the metal spindles on the bannister. “Tie his arms to the bottom of the spindles.”

Charlie and Eric carried Johnny to the staircase, and Freddie tied his wrists to a couple of the metal spindles. The wall was high, and when they moved back, the fucker just hung there like something out of the Tower of London. As my boys stepped back, wetness appeared on Johnny’s trousers.

“Aw, he’s pissing himself,” Charlie said, wiping his knives off on a white embossed handkerchief he took from his pocket. “Shame he wasn’t this scared when he thought it would be a good idea to rob us blind.”

“Undo his shirt,” I said to Eric.

Vinnie moved behind me, sitting down on the chair Johnny had been sat in earlier. His arms wrapped around the hallucination of my sister, and he was content to hold her and watch the show he knew was coming. I turned back to Johnny; his shirt had been ripped open, his torso bared. Taking my favourite knife from my pocket, the one my old man gave me for my thirteenth birthday, the one I’d used on my first kill, and every kill afterwards, I walked closer to Johnny.

“I’ll give it all back.” The whites of his eyes shone bright as fear bit at his flesh and bone. I licked along the metal of my blade. I savoured the metallic tinge it left on my tongue. “Artie, listen to me, boy.” He smiled at me—it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve known you since you were born. I’m your Uncle Johnny. I used to pick you up from school.” I stopped a foot before him and stared dead into his eyes. Silence filled the basement. “Let me speak to your old man. Get him on the phone. I can work this out with him.” He laughed, and it instantly boiled my piss. “You lot are still just kids. You shouldn’t be doing this yet. You should be out in the world sowing your oats, not doing your fathers’ dirty work.”

I fought a smirk. This fucker was there at my first kill. Gave me a slap on the back, a cig and a dram of whisky in congratulations. He didn’t care about me being a kid then.

“You stole from the firm.” I watched that fucking offensive smile slip from his face. I looked at Eric. “Hold his knees up.” Eric moved to Johnny and pushed his knees up like he was sitting on an invisible chair. I moved closer to Johnny, and I nodded to Freddie. He knew what I wanted. He brought over one of chairs from across the room and placed it under Johnny’s legs. Eric let go of his legs, and Johnny’s feet rested on the seat, knees still bent.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice shaking. I looked down at his bare stomach. The arsehole had had one too many Sunday roasts. This would be like gutting a pig.

“You said you wanted my old man.” I met my “uncle’s” wide gaze. “You should do. Dad is a ‘kill them quick and get out of Dodge’ kind of man.” I pointed the knife at his face. “You know this. You stood by his side most of his life.” I nodded toward my boys. “Just like my brothers have done with me.”

“I fucked up, Artie. I’ve royally fucked up. Let me make it up to you.”

“Charlie?” I said, never taking my eyes off the piece of shit before me. “Would you betray me?”

“Never, cuz,” he said plainly.

“Eric?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Freddie?”

“Wouldn’t ever happen, Art.”

“Vinnie?”

“Never, never, never. Not for all the money in the world,” he sang. “It would hurt Pearl. I would never hurt my Pearlie.”