Until, that is, they had all been brought to the notice of the local filth by a disgruntled punter. Kevin Craig had been served up by a man called Denny Harris and, even though it had been a worry at the time, it had ended up being a blessing in disguise.

Denny had a grievance, a fair grievance as it turned out, because Kevin was a greedy ponce who was taking more than he was entitled to. He was in effect shaking him down twice, something that normally would have been frowned upon by everyone concerned. That, however, was another story. The main thrust of the whole saga was that Denny had grassed, and even though Kevin was out of order, there was still no justifiable reason in their world for Denny's outrageous actions. Grassing anyone up to the Old Bill was tantamount to treason, and Denny's mistake came at a time when a well-earned lesson was not only needed, but was also welcomed by the powers that be.

Pat and the Williams brothers knew that in order to cement their new-found notoriety, they would need to make an example of someone. In short, Billy Spot and Barry Caldwell had been big fish, and big fish expected to be challenged eventually. Now they needed to show the smaller fish, the hustlers, the pimps, the bookies and the club owners, the people who would ultimately be their bread and butter, that they had their fingers on every pulse in the smoke, and would know immediately if anyone was trying to hold back any of their earnings. Pat knew that anyone who was waltzing through life without paying their due was going to brag about it eventually, and because they had had a touch without any kind of redress, they would not see them as a real threat. Instead, they would eventually take on more businesses without consulting anyone about it first, and that would be how the rot could set in. The first serious mugging off had to be sorted quickly, violently and with the maximum of fuss. If they let it go, people would soon cotton on, and that was how you lost face, because it was the smaller businesses that were the staple of any empire. The rents, as they were known, were what kept everyone on their toes. If you would go to war for a few quid, it was assumed you would be capable of murder for the larger amounts. This was a natural dilemma for anyone who was in control of any business, legit or otherwise.

So Denny, by rights, should have brought his problem to them, and they would have sorted it out. Everyone would have been a winner, Kevin would have had his wrist slapped and it would have been a five-minute wonder and of no consequence to anyone. Instead, Denny had actually had the gall to overlook them, to try to sort it out with Kevin, who was a bona fide arsehole at the best of times, and so far down the pecking order he was virtually classed as a serf. And when that had failed and knowing he had naused himself up with Kevin's bosses, he had then had the audacity to go to the Old Bill. Unbelievable as it was, this had been what had happened.

So, all in all, what was an abortion had actually ended up working in everyone's favour. Denny had been outed as the treacherous bastard he was, and had been the recipient of a world-class hammering. If he walked again it would be a miracle, and on top of that, as a known grass, he was also off everyone's Christmas card list for the foreseeable future.

The Williamses had let it be known that the filth involved was, as luck would have it, one of theirs, and Pat had ostentatiously given Denny's business interests over to a local firm who were known to make themselves busy and earn a few quid, but who would never be a contender for anyone's crown because they were not the sharpest knives in the drawer. All in all, it had been perfect PR.

Taking their due was one thing, and they knew that, keeping it though, was another story entirely. Now the word was out that they had a finger in all the main pies, life was easier than ever.

Grasses had to be dealt with severely because they did not just affect people's livelihoods, they could also be the reason why men were separated from their families for years. Children lost their fathers, wives lost their husbands, mothers lost their sons. It was the ultimate piss-take, the ultimate tuck-up.

Consequently, a clear message had to be sent out; the culprit had to bear the scars of their treachery for everyone to see. It was unacceptable behaviour, all the more heinous because they were people that had been trusted, had been allowed access to the world of the very people they had betrayed. In short, they had to be trounced publicly and with the maximum of pain and humiliation, so anyone else harbouring thoughts of the big time would take a step back and have a serious rethink of their situation.

Denny now bore the mark of the grass, otherwise known as the permanent grin. It was a throwback from the fifties, but even twenty years later it still did its job. His mouth had been opened from ear to ear with a boxcutter's knife. Every time Denny looked in the mirror he would be reminded of what he had done.

The scars would also guarantee that he would be shunned by anyone in the life, no matter how far he tried to roam. He was a pariah, an outcast, but more importantly he was a fool to himself. Even his brothers had turned their back on him, as would his sons eventually.

Pat was still riding the crest of his own wave. The Williams brothers were his partners and they were all earning serious wedge. They had plenty of people working the pavements for them and plenty of time now for leisure pursuits, and as the owners of massage parlours, gambling dens and hostess clubs, their leisure time and their business meetings tended to be held in these places.

Pat, though, made a point of going home, unlike the Williamses who felt they had their own personal playgrounds. It was hard for any man to live their kind of lives and still want to go home to the little woman. The wife was respected, loved even, but her main attraction was that she would not put herself about. The men, however, did not see that as any kind of barrier to enjoying themselves. It was the nature of their very lifestyles; spare, or strange as it was often referred to, was everywhere they turned. Even for the men who were not exactly the answer to a maiden's prayer.

Girls lined up to be with them and the men chose to believe that it was because of their handsome faces and sparkling personalities. They forgot that these were women who were already predisposed to sleeping with any man for financial gain. That these were women who were better actresses in the kip than the cream of the Hollywood divas. These were women and girls who saw sleeping with one man, whoever he might be, as a better deal than chancing their arm every night with whoever wandered into their very limited orbit. With a Face, a criminal, they at least had some respect, and they also had regular money and a proper in, say if a new club opened and a head girl might be needed. They were someone already in the foreground, they knew the ropes, were trustworthy and above all, would keep any secrets that might emerge. They would also swallow if one of the newer, fresher, younger girls caught their man's eye. They had what they wanted, why would they care?

They were perfect mistresses, their whole lifestyle stopped them ever getting above their station, and it also guaranteed an affection and loyalty that would last them for years. The wives, however, had something these women would never have; they had their husbands' respect and because of that they were safe even if they put on weight, lost interest in sex or became a religious fanatic. The legal always had the edge, and a sensible legal used that to her advantage, turned a blind eye to her husband's sexual gymnastics and enjoyed the fruits of her husband's endeavours. It was nothing personal, it was just an occupational hazard.