They were laughing as they did this, which did nothing to allay the fears of Dennis Williams.

Chapter Twelve

Patrick was happy enough with the turn recent events had taken. Spider and Cain had been involved, as had a few of his other trusted personnel. It was a week since Dennis Williams had been given a serious talking-to and the general consensus was that he had asked for it and he had finally got it.

No one actually knew what that talking-to was supposed to be about, but speculation was rife, and that was exactly what Pat Brodie had counted on. People had a much better time when they were speculating and, eventually, a load of old cods would turn into public opinion; someone would get pissed and pretend they had been in on it all, knew the real SP, and that would be that.

If anyone had actually been told the extent of Dennis Williams's talking-to, it would have made more than a few so-called hard men wonder if they would be seeing their last meal in a sink or on the floor within minutes of the details being revealed.

So, speculation was rife and that was exactly what Brodie wanted.

As he sat in his office and waited for Dave Williams to come by, as requested, he hoped they could finally put this whole sorry business to bed. Patrick had learned one thing out of it all, that he had given Dave too much leeway over the years and that was a mistake he was not going to make twice in a lifetime.

Jimmy Brick was becoming one of the main players in his world and this was also being noted by the powers that be, and Jimmy was feeling the warmth of his new-found status. Birds in particular were lining up for his favours and he was still deciding which one he was going to honour with his cock.

Patrick made a point of knowing what his workforce were up to and now he knew all about Jimmy Brick and his lifestyle.

There were two contenders for the title of Jimmy Brick's bird. One was a small blonde with big tits and a bubbly personality; she loved the life, loved being in the spotlight and loved the attention Jimmy was showering on her. The other girl was quiet, mousy-haired but with a body that most women would pay a fortune to be in possession of. She was also a kind, generous individual who had a nice personality, a good vocabulary and was unfortunately in awe of villains. She was basically an also-ran even though she actually liked Jimmy. The former was going to win the competition; she was brash and she had made sure he would want her and all her body had to offer. She would regret it until the day she died.

The girl in question was unaware that once Jimmy had made his mind up, the relationship was going to be a lifetime membership, whether she wanted it or not. Like a Reader's Digest subscription, Jimmy was for life, but as yet, she was blissfully ignorant of that fact.

Jimmy was not a man to take himself or anyone else lightly and the few months that his chosen beau would enjoy, playing the devoted lover of the new main man, would soon seem like a high price to pay. The excitement of becoming Jimmy Brick's bird would eventually turn into years of misery, jealousy and heartache.

The fact that the girl suddenly wanted him, coinciding with his new-found status, would be offensive to Jimmy, even though he would happily use that power to get what he wanted. It was a recipe for disaster: not for Jimmy Brick, but for the girl in question. Trust would always be an issue, as would any kind of honesty, because she would learn to tell him only what he wanted to hear. His natural antagonism would ensure that no matter what happened, she would always be suspect because he would always know that it was only his reputation and his poke that kept her beside him. She would eventually fantasise about him being nicked so she could finally walk away from him.

Jimmy was a one-woman man though, like all his predecessors, and that was as rare in their world as a straight judge or an honest bank robber. Once he chose her, there would be no going back for either of them. He would own her, it was as simple as that, no matter what she felt about it. Jimmy Brick would keep her on side to show her fidelity, prove she wanted to be with him whatever. If she walked away at any time, he would be seen as an ice-cream, a loser. He would never let that happen to him. All he had was his dignity, and he would hang on to that with every ounce of his considerable strength. If a child arrived, it would only cement their relationship because no one in their right mind would ever dare to take her on board after that. Even a thirty-sentence passed eventually. But it would be a while before the life-sentence the girlfriend had inadvertently taken on would be seen as absolute.

Pat Brodie was aware of all this; he had dealt with Jimmy Bricks all his life and he knew how to handle them. He was a dangerous little fuck, and he would need constant monitoring at all times. That was also par for the course where looney tunes like him were concerned. They had a terrible habit of killing people for all the wrong reasons, mainly their wives or their birds, occasionally even a stranger who was stupid enough to front them up on a nice sunny afternoon.

That would always be Jimmy's Achilles heel: the destruction of a drunken punter in the pub or the loud-mouthed bastard in the restaurant who didn't realise what they were taking on. That would be his nicking if he wasn't careful; anger put so many people in clink, it was unbelievable.

The people Jimmy was paid to harm or remove from his orbit were a different ball game: there was no emotion then; no room for anger or resentment. It was just a job, no more and no less. Brodie understood this man's mindset and he also knew how to utilise it for his own gain. It was, as he always said, the nature of the beast, and they were beasts, all of them. They just didn't know how to classify themselves.

Jimmy was a young man who needed guidance, who needed someone to keep him on the straight and narrow. Brodie was going to be that person and he was going to take care of him, not only as an asset to his business but as someone he could mould, could make into a second-in-command.

Pat Brodie had to run a business and so he needed nutcases but this time, as an added bonus, he was involved with someone he liked and respected. The boy had potential and balls, the two main ingredients for their kind of life.

Jimmy had taken Dennis out with a deliberately long and completely unnecessary violence that had been tightly controlled but obviously hugely enjoyable to the man himself. Pat had been impressed and disgusted all at the same time. But this was exactly what was needed. From now on, Jimmy Brick would be a byword for hate and despair, pain and terror. His rep would stop trouble before it began because no one would want to tangle with a fuckhead like Jimmy. Those who did would then see the error of their ways quick smart. He was like a cancer, he would get you in the end. He was like a guarantee of calm because now he had started his reign of terror only a fucking lunatic would be stupid enough to take him on.

Patrick was in the market for a Jimmy Brick because Jimmy would earn his inflated wage by going down for him at some point. As long as no one could prove who ordered a beating or a murder, no one could ever knock on Pat's door, it was as simple as that. Jimmy was a good bloke but also his own personal fall guy if everything ever fell out of bed. Jimmy Brick was the new Dave Williams. Not that he would ever point that out, of course, he was too shrewd by half.

Smiling, Patrick poured himself a large brandy and, sipping it, he looked out of the grimy window at people going about their daily business in Soho.

He was pleased with himself, happy with his life and what it could bring him in the near future. He knew Jimmy had been a shrewd move on his part and he was happy to relax now and wait for him to bring in the money, the poke, the peace of mind. He had been the resident nutter for too long, it was time he took a back seat. He could relax and just make the odd appearance when it was deemed necessary. People had no idea of the war that was waged on a daily basis; of how keeping yourself on top took nearly all your time. Soho was a place where fortunes were made, and fortunes were lost on the turn of a card; or the chatter of a belligerent employee. Where people were expendable and life was of no real consequence.