Top Dog

by Kerry Kaya

  These days, he only played for fun, even though he could wipe the floor with men twice his age. He was a wasted talent, and if only he’d knuckled down and continued practising, then who knew just how far he could have gone.

  Three years earlier, Lewis had come into contact with Freddie Smith, and ever since then, he’d been working for Freddie in some form or another. Just recently, he’d been given the task of collecting debts. Lewis loved the job, he loved the reputation it gave him, and he loved acting the big man.

  Even if some of the special jobs he had to do for Freddie made him feel both ashamed and sick, he wouldn’t change his life for anything. Chalking the cue stick, Lewis was about to take a shot, when his mobile phone rang. He saw Freddie’s number flash up on the Caller ID, and felt his stomach form an instant knot. He knew what the call would entail. Freddie would have a special job for him to do, one he didn’t particularly like, but it was money, at the end of the day. He threw down the cue stick, then walked out of the snooker hall. Little did he know, this was to be the last ever special job he was to do for Freddie.

  * * *

  Pulling out a bottle of bleach from underneath the kitchen sink, Danny placed it inside the holdall, amongst his clothes. He was all set for the next day. Everything was in place to end Freddie’s life. He took the holdall out to his car. This time tomorrow night, it would all be over. As he walked back inside the house, he glanced up, to see his wife watching him from the bedroom window. He felt his stomach lurch, and he paused for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

  She would never understand that he was doing all of this for her. He would do anything to keep both her and little Danny safe, and he knew that if he didn’t do something about the situation with Freddie, then he couldn’t guarantee their safety.

  He couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if he was taken out and he was no longer around to protect them. She and their son would be left alone. Would Freddie come after them next? Just how far would Freddie be willing to go, to destroy everything he loved? Danny wasn’t prepared to take that chance. Freddie had to go.

  * * *

  “Do you fancy a cheeky line?”

  Lloydy and Terry Stevens were in the Railway Public House, in Dagenham East. They had gone out for a drink with a group of friends. Despite this, for most of the evening, they’d found themselves huddled together at the bar, with their backs to the group. Neither of them were in the right frame of mind to be out partying.

  All Lloydy wanted to do was get out of his nut, to forget his troubles. He’d downed pint after pint, even double shots of Sambuca, yet nothing was having the desired effect, even though, by rights, he should have been paralytic by now. He finally acknowledged the fact that tonight wasn’t his night. He would stay sober, whether he liked it or not. He looked across at Terry wearily.

  “I said, are you up for a cheeky line?”

  “Yeah, mate.”

  Lloydy followed Terry into the men’s toilets. He may as well. It wasn’t as if he was going to get plastered.

  He waited for Terry to come out of the cubicle, then walked in, closing the door firmly shut behind him. He used his bank card to expertly cut the coke on the top of the toilet roll holder. Making two thick lines of the white powder, Lloydy then swiftly rolled up a twenty-pound note.

  He swallowed quickly, as the bitter aftertaste trickled down his nasal passage, and he waited for the numbing sensation to work its magic, savouring the moment. It was only after taking coke, that he believed they could actually take Danny out. The coke made him feel invincible. Immediately afterwards, Lloydy snorted his second line. He had a feeling it would take quite a few lines to get him through the night.

  * * *

  Danny woke early. In all honesty, he had hardly slept through the night. He’d tossed and turned, until the morning light had begun to stream through the window blinds. Maxine slept soundly beside him, and he crept out of the bed, careful not to wake her.

  In the kitchen below, Danny flicked the switch on the kettle. He needed coffee, and spooned a large spoonful of coffee granules into a mug. He liked his coffee black and strong.

  Sitting down at the breakfast table, Danny sipped the scalding liquid, savouring the peace and quiet, before little Danny woke and screamed the house down. Once he’d finished his coffee, he would bring his son downstairs, he decided. He wanted to spend the morning with him, just in case anything went wrong today. He pushed the thought from his mind. Keep thinking positive, he told himself. Everything was going to go to plan.

  By the time Maxine came down the stairs, her hair array, and with sleep still in the corner of her eyes, Danny had already given their son his breakfast.

  “Hey, what’s all this?” she smiled. It was a first for Danny to let her have a lie in.

  “Just spending some quality time with my little man.”

  Laughing, Maxine nodded toward their son. “I think he has more porridge over his face, than he’s actually eaten.”

  Danny smiled. “You’re okay, aren’t you son?” he asked, as little Danny gave him one of his heart-warming gummy smiles.

  After wiping over little Danny’s face with a wet wipe, Maxine sat down at the breakfast table. Danny pushed a mug of coffee in front of her.

  “Look, Max, I’m going to be out for most of the day and night.”

  Maxine narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s work,” Danny answered, the lie easily tripping off of his tongue.

  Maxine nodded her head. The lie about the gym clothes her husband had told her was still fresh in her mind. “I see.”

  Danny ignored the tone in her voice, determined not to leave the house in an argument.

  “I know you’re lying to me. So, where are you really going?” she demanded.

  “I told you … work.”

  “Really?” Maxine asked, raising her eyebrows.

  Danny nodded his head to placate her. “Of course. Where else would I go?”

  When his wife didn’t answer, Danny sipped at his coffee. She didn’t belong in his world. She would never understand.

  Once showered and shaved, Danny left the house. He had pushed the gun down the waistband of his jeans. The jacket he wore ensured it was fully covered. He then drove toward Plaistow. The fact that there was a strong possibility this would be his last day on Earth was pushed from his mind.

  * * *

  Danny was one of the first to arrive in The Tavern. This was to be the meeting point, and he planned to be there before Freddie. More than anything, he wanted to watch the man’s face, as he walked in and saw him stood at the bar. Within the hour, members of the firm began filling the pub. They greeted Danny, as they always had in the past, and offered to buy him drinks, all the while, unaware of Freddie’s murderous plan.

  It was Lloydy, who eventually gave the game away. He couldn’t look him in the eye, and the fact that he was glued to Terry Stevens’s side, told Danny everything he needed to know. It was these two men he needed to watch.

  He almost laughed, a huge belly laugh, in fact, that Freddie actually believed they could take him out. Freddie had clearly underestimated him, but that was Freddie all over. He had never looked at the bigger picture.

  * * *

  Walking the short distance from where they had parked the car, toward the pub, Freddie and Big Tone were deep in conversation. It wasn’t too late to call everything off, as far as Big Tone was concerned.

  “Why don’t you just out him?” Big Tone asked, for the third time that morning.

  Freddie shook his head. “I want that cunt dead.”

  Big Tone’s heart sank. None of this made sense to him. “C’mon, Fred. The man’s got a kid.”

  “Who will more than likely turn out to be a bigger bastard than his father,” Freddie spat. “I’m doing the world a favour, in disposing of McKay.”

  Big Tone looked across at Freddie. The man actually believed what he was saying.

  Pausi
ng, Big Tone brought Freddie to a halt. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” His voice took on a pleading tone. “Just out him. We can call this off. Let him go home to his wife and kid.”

  Anger was clearly evident across Freddie’s face, and spittle formed at the corner of his snarled lips, as he pointed his finger toward his friend. “Are you not fucking listening to me? McKay is going down. I want him obliterated. I’ve told you, time and time again. How many more times do I need to say it? McKay knows too much.”

  Big Tone swallowed deeply and nodded his head. He had done everything he could to help Danny. There was nothing else he could do. The man’s fate was sealed.

  * * *

  When Freddie walked through the door, with Big Tone close behind him, Danny wasn’t disappointed. He took great pleasure in seeing the contempt for himself, spread across the older man’s face. A part of him still couldn’t believe that it had come to this, yet he knew the problem between Freddie and himself had been bubbling under the surface for a long time. It was always going to come to a head. That was how things worked in their world. He watched, as Freddie leaned in close to speak privately in Big Tone’s ear, and when that message was relayed to Lloydy and Terry Stevens, he saw the two men nod their heads.

  Inside, Danny seethed with anger. Despite this, outwardly, he appeared calm, giving away no tell-tale signs that he was aware of what was being planned.

  They wouldn’t be able to organise a piss up in a brewery, Danny thought to himself, as he drank his brandy, all the while, silently observing everything around him.

  After ten or so minutes, Big Tone finally made his way toward him. “You okay, mate?”

  Danny nodded his head. At this precise moment in time, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He was fuming that these muppets obviously doubted his intelligence. He wouldn’t forget Big Tone’s, Lloydy’s, or Terry Stevens’s involvement in the attempt on his life, and if he survived out the day, then at some point in the very near future, their time would come. If it was the last thing he did, it would be to make sure these three men paid the price.

  * * *

  As per usual, Freddie was calling the shots, and for once, Danny didn’t argue the case on how he thought they should bring George Christos down. He silently let Freddie do the talking. When it was time to leave The Tavern, he kept himself toward the back of the crowd. He wanted the four men in front of him, so he could watch their every move. He wouldn’t put it past them to try and take him out, whilst he was unaware. After all, that would be the only chance they were going to get. It was the only way they would ever get him down onto the ground.

  Danny was on edge, whilst waiting for the attack on himself. He could feel the hard firearm inside his waistband, cold against his skin, and he resisted the urge to pat it. He knew Freddie would be watching him closely, and he couldn’t let any of them know he was carrying.

  “Hey Danny, come on. Jump in the motor and I’ll give you a lift down there,” Big Tone shouted out, once they were outside, ready for the off.

  Danny shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay, mate. I’ll take my car.” He wasn’t that stupid, he muttered to himself, as he climbed into his car and started the ignition.

  He waited for Big Tone’s Range Rover to pull out of the car park, and then followed suit.

  * * *

  Against his better judgement, Freddie had decided to have Danny taken out after the visit to George Christos’s restaurant.

  As soon as they had ran the Greeks out of East London, that smug bastard McKay would get what was coming to him, and Freddie wanted a front row seat. He didn’t doubt the men Big Tone had recruited for the job in the slightest. In fact, he was looking forward to seeing the life battered out of McKay. He had even felt a moment of satisfaction to see that the man, whom he had grown to despise, had finally learnt to keep that big cunting trap of his shut. It was an even greater victory to have watched the younger man slip to the back of the crowd, with his tail between his legs, so to speak. It was where he should have kept him for all these years. He supposed it was his own fault, really. He had given the little bastard too much power.

  Travelling the short distance toward Barking, Freddie was in high spirits. He had never felt prouder than he did at this very moment. Almost every member of his firm had turned up. A few had even come out of retirement, just for this meet.

  Tonight was definitely going to be a night to remember—one that he would treasure for the remainder of his life.

  They pulled up outside the restaurant, and once the firm had regrouped, Freddie gave them their orders. Under no circumstances, was George Christos to leave, without Freddie getting the message across to him that the doors belonged to him, and him alone. Old scores were to be settled here, tonight.

  * * *

  Bursting into the restaurant, startled shouts and screams could be heard, as the last few remaining, terrified diners ran for cover. Waiting staff hid behind the wooden bar, which sat proudly in the far corner. Bottles of alcohol and glasses adorning the bar top, glistened in the dimmed light, as their frantic calls for help were muffled by the crash of tables and chairs being overturned.

  “Christos,” Freddie roared. “Get your arse out here.”

  Greek voices filled the air, and angry shouts bounced around the confines of the small restaurant. When the Greeks finally emerged from the kitchen area, with meat cleavers and knives clutched in their fists, Freddie laughed out loud.

  “Get that Greek ponce Christos out here, and I will tell my boys to play nicely,” he grinned.

  Danny’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, as he navigated his way around the crowd, until Freddie was in his sights. He would have just one chance at this.

  His hand hovered above his waistband. On tenterhooks, Danny watched, as the scene before him played out, waiting for the right moment. Each passing second seemed like an eternity. “Come on,” he wanted to scream. “Someone make the move.”

  Finally, as the two firms surged, he took the firearm out, took aim and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was unexpected, sudden and loud to their ears. For a split second, there was a shocked silence, before pandemonium broke out.

  Chapter 5

  Danny ran as if his life depended on it, which just so happened to be the case. He could feel his heart thumping wildly inside his chest. How the fuck had that happened? How the fuck had he missed? In his mind’s eye, he replayed the events, which had just taken place, and could feel the vomit rising up inside his throat. He swallowed deeply, taking deep breaths, as he desperately tried to compose himself.

  Each time he closed his eyes, he could see the kid, and he was just a kid for that matter, dropping to the floor, a mop of blonde hair flying out behind him, his life’s blood draining rapidly from the gaping hole inside his chest.

  Fumbling with his car keys, Danny finally managed to open the car door. Climbing inside, he hastily locked the door behind him and leant his head against the cool steering wheel. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered.

  Looking up at the rear-view mirror, Danny rubbed his hand over his face, his skin clammy and ashen. Stunned, he tried to contemplate what had just taken place.

  What had gone so very wrong? Freddie was in his sights. It was Freddie he had aimed for.

  “How?” he wanted to scream, was Freddie still alive, and that poor little bastard on the ground dead? The sound of police sirens stirred Danny into action, and starting the ignition, he drove as fast as was legally acceptable, out of East London, toward Essex.

  * * *

  For once Freddie Smith was too shocked to speak. He could smell the sickly iron scent of blood on his clothes and skin. Wiping the kid’s blood splatter from his face, he finally spoke.

  “I want whoever is responsible for this, dead.”

  Big Tone looked around him at the few firm members who had assembled around Freddie and himself, and he could see the same shock he, himself felt, echoed in their faces. Somehow, they had made it to Freddie’s home in Hainault,
Essex, without getting their collars felt, which was a miracle in itself, considering Freddie was covered in the kid’s blood.

  “Did anyone see anything?” Big Tone asked, as he looked at the men, one by one.

  “Of course, someone must have fucking seen something,” Freddie shouted. “Whichever Greek did this, I want him brought to me.” He pulled the blood-stained shirt over his head and dropped it at his feet. “Get on the blower, Tone, and put the feelers out. Someone, somewhere knows about this, and while you’re at it, I want a meet, and I want everyone there,” he growled, pointing a finger in Big Tone’s direction.

  “What about …,” Big Tone asked, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  “Especially that cunt. I want him at the meet. I wouldn’t put it past him to know something about this,” Freddie spat.

  Feeling his heart sink, Big Tone took his mobile phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contact list. Would this nightmare never end, he thought bitterly? Purposely, he decided to leave calling Danny until last.

  * * *

  Danny dropped the gun onto the scrubbed pine table. The clatter of metal on wood was loud and harsh, in the otherwise quiet room. Sinking into the nearest chair, Danny then held his head in his hands. Andrew Marsh watched him warily, concerned.

  In a state of shock, Danny had driven out to Essex on autopilot. How he had made it to Andrew’s farm in one piece without crashing the car, he had no idea.