The Faithless - Martina Cole [85]
He glanced around him at the men in the room; all were heavies, ready for anything, especially young Derek Greene. How could he have been so dense? Linford had smelled a rat and he should have listened to his friend’s instincts. But, in fairness, it had been an eventful few weeks, and he was not exactly at the top of his game because of that.
Bertie grinned, and he looked like a death’s head. ‘Come on then, Jonny, if you think you’re hard enough.’ He looked at the men around him and said almost gleefully, ‘You can see his brain working, can’t you? He’s wondering which one of us to take out first. Then he’s planning how to get out that door, and do a runner. Well, Jonny, me old son, that ain’t going to happen. Sorry for the inconvenience and all that.’ He walked behind the small wooden desk which was used by the secretary three days a week, and picked up a large machete. ‘See this? See the irony of it, do you? Well, this is going to remove your arms, and then you are going into a motor, and you are going to be crushed. I’ve been planning this for fucking years, Jonny Boy, and, now the time has come, I feel quite excited about it.’
Derek Greene’s eyes were glittering with the prospect of serious violence. Like Jonny before him, he believed they would take it all over and there would never be any pretenders to their thrones.
Jonny read what was going on in Derek’s head and laughed. There would always be another young buck like Derek, waiting in the sidelines for what he saw as his golden opportunity. Just as Jonny was finding out. That, unfortunately, was the way of the world they had chosen, and it was a foolish man who didn’t watch out for it, and expect it, even from his closest allies. And foolish he had been.
‘Look, man, it was nothing personal . . .’
Bertie’s voice cut him off. ‘Nothing fucking personal? Is this cunt for real? You murdered my mate, well, not you as such. That little matter was done by a female, a woman who was protecting her sister, that I can swallow. She was doing what anyone would have done, and my Kevin, as much as I loved him, and love him I did, done a wrong ’un going to your house. I hold me hands up to that. I didn’t like it, but I had no choice – he was determined. What I am so irritated about is that you challenged us like we were nothing. You treated us like we were amateurs. Well, I’m back, lads, and you two are over with. You’re finished, you’re fucking done!’
As Jonny looked at Bertie and saw the maniacal look in his eyes, he knew this was it. His life would end in a Portakabin in Bow. Not the most salubrious ending to a life, but an ending all the same.
‘Shove it up your arse, you silly old cunt! Bring it on! I ain’t going without a fucking tear up.’
‘I was hoping you would say that!’
Bertie swung the machete, a machete which had been sharpened into a lethal blade. It landed on Jonny’s shoulder and, as Bertie had promised, it took his arm off.
The blood was spraying everywhere, and Derek Greene felt the thrill that hunters feel when they finally take an animal down.
Linford watched in horror as his friend was butchered before his eyes. One thing in Jonny’s favour though, was he never screamed once, and that was remarked upon by all the men in the room. Even as they carried him, still alive, to the waiting car that was to be his tomb. He was slung into the boot like rubbish, and he was still cursing them loudly as they put the crushing machine in motion.
Linford watched every second with mounting dread; he had known this was not a kosher operation, had felt it in