Читать книгу The Rebel: The new crime thriller that will have you gripped in 2018 - Jaime Raven, Jaime Raven - Страница 12

It didn’t take long for Roy Slack to reveal his plan to Danny Carver. It was a simple one, after all.

Danny’s reaction was predictable. His jaw dropped and the colour retreated from his face.

‘Is this a fucking joke, boss?’ he said, his voice stretched thin with shock. ‘Because if it ain’t, then I think you might have lost your marbles.’

Slack stood up and stepped out from behind his desk. It was uncomfortably warm in the office so he slipped off his cardigan and threw it on the chair. His white shirt had dark patches of sweat under each armpit.

He crossed the room to the cabinet with the bottles of spirits on top.

‘Care for a whisky, Danny?’ he asked.

‘Too bloody right I do,’ Danny answered. ‘And please make it a large one because I think I need it.’

Slack smiled to himself as he poured out triples of his finest malt, flown down from his favourite distillery in the Highlands.

He handed a glass to Danny. ‘You’ve been with me a long time, mate, and you’re the only person in this world who I’d trust with my life. It’s why I’ve told you what I intend to do and it’s the reason I’m now going to tell you why I want to do it.’

Danny’s hard face fisted into a frown and he rolled out his bottom lip.

‘Well, I’m all ears, boss,’ he said.

Slack sat down beside him on the sofa and sipped at his whisky.

‘I also need you to know that you’re going to be well looked after whatever happens,’ he said. ‘I’m going to transfer a large sum of cash into your offshore account first thing in the morning. If the firm survives then you can stick around if you want to. If it doesn’t you’ll have the option to fuck off abroad and enjoy an early retirement.’

Danny’s frown deepened and he tilted his head to one side.

‘Sounds to me like you’ve given a lot of thought to this, boss,’ he said.

Slack nodded. ‘It’s been rolling around inside my head for weeks. Now I can’t wait to get on with it.’

Danny grinned, showing off his two gold teeth.

‘Well, it sure is an insane idea,’ he said. ‘But for what it’s worth I reckon the fuckers have it coming. Most of ’em are more crooked than we are.’

Slack knew he could depend on Danny not to fill his nappy at the thought of what was going to happen. They didn’t call him The Rottweiler for nothing. He was a man of violence, a crazy fuck, who had maimed and killed more men than he could probably remember.

He was also fiercely loyal and had carried out heinous crimes on Slack’s behalf without a second’s thought. He was completely devoid of empathy and compassion.

For that reason Slack had absolutely no doubt that he would be able to count on him in the days and weeks ahead.

‘So come on, boss,’ Danny said. ‘There’s no way you’d be set on doing this just to hang on to what you’ve got. There has to be something else, something that you’ve been keeping close to your chest.’

So Slack told him, and for the first time since they’d met, Danny Carver was lost for words.

‘So now you know everything,’ Roy Slack said. ‘And that’s a privilege I won’t grant to anyone else. The rest of the guys will be fed information as and when I deem it to be necessary.’

Danny was slow to respond and Slack could tell that he wasn’t sure how. What he’d just been told had come as quite a shock, and he was shrewd enough to know that his world was about to be tilted on its axis.

‘I’m determined to see this through for the reasons I’ve just given,’ Slack said. ‘So don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. My mind’s made up, and since I’m still head of this outfit I’ll expect you to support me.’

Danny drained the whisky from his glass and found his voice.

‘I won’t try to talk you out of it, boss. Not because I know it’ll be a waste of time, but because if I was in your shoes I’d be tempted to do something similar.’

Slack was pleased but not surprised. He and Danny were very much alike in the sense that they had no respect for authority and both harboured a simmering hatred for the police.

It went way back to those early years spent on a rough council estate in Peckham when the cops were their enemy.

As teenagers they were sucked into the gang culture and from there they embarked on a life of villainy.

They eventually went their separate ways. Slack stayed in London and built a reputation for himself as a hard, uncompromising gangster. He served his apprenticeship as a thief, a pimp, a drug dealer and an enforcer. And all that time he managed to stay out of jail by outsmarting the law.

But Danny wasn’t so lucky. At eighteen he stabbed to death a man who came onto his girlfriend in a pub. He was convicted of murder and spent twelve years in prison. When released he went to work with a bunch of mercenaries in Libya. After a couple of years in that hellhole, he returned to London and offered his services to his old pal from Peckham.

Slack had been only too pleased to give him a job, and it wasn’t long before Danny became his right-hand man.

‘So have you got any questions, mate?’ Slack asked as he got up from the sofa to pour some more drinks.

‘I’ve got lots, boss,’ Danny said. ‘But they can wait. I’d rather we got down to business and you told me how we’re going to get this party started.’

Slack poured two more whiskies and then sat back down on the sofa.

‘It’s already started, mate,’ he said. ‘Yesterday I spoke to our friend Carlos Cruz in Mexico. He owes me a big favour and I called it in.’

‘What do you want from him?’ Danny asked.

Slack took a deep breath and held it for a second before speaking.

‘I want him to supply us with an assassin,’ he said, as though that were quite a normal request to make. ‘Someone who won’t be on the radar of any law enforcement agency anywhere in Europe. As we all know the best and most prolific contract killers work for the Mexican cartels.’

‘What was his response?’

‘He told me he’d be only too happy to help and that he’d ring me this evening.’

Danny’s brow peaked. ‘So assuming he delivers, what’ll be the next step?’

A slow smile spread across Slack’s face. ‘We then make use of the information that’s been passed onto me by our mole inside the organised crime task force.’