Spider had never liked the boy, though the other kids were lovely. He knew, as Patrick knew, that the boy had a screw loose somewhere. He was a weirdo and that was being nice about it. Cain, it seemed, had had the same defect, had suffered from the same selfishness, and it was this that was making it so hard for him now. Like Brodie he was of the opinion you cut out the cancer before it devoured you and yours but he had not wanted to do that to Cain. He had not been capable of harming him. He would have, eventually, he knew, but only when he had exhausted every other route first.

He knew his brother had met his death because of this man before him, if not by him, but he couldn't let that colour his thinking. Patrick had only done what he should have done in the first place. What he should have done without thinking about it, uncaring of the fact that Cain was his brother and his best friend. He had loved that boy as if he was his own child and that had been his downfall; he knew that now and he accepted his stupidity. He had let his brother's bad behaviour carry on without even attempting to curb it and now he was reaping what he had inadvertently sowed. It would never happen again, he was sure of that.

Now they were in a worse situation and it was all down to him. Cain was dead and gone but the world was still turning, the sun still rose and set and he still had a family to feed.

The Williams brothers were dead meat though, that much he could at least control. And he was going to make sure they were visited before the week was out. Spider believed in personal service and he was looking forward to taking them out one by one. But first he had to calm the waters with Brodie and ingratiate himself once more with the man who had given him everything he had in life and who had given it without a second's thought.

Spider had to salvage what he could from all this and he hoped that, at some point, that included his pride and the respect of this man who had given him more over the years than anyone else in the world.

Alan Palmer was a man who knew his own worth and, as the acknowledged front-runner in the world of the East End discotheque, he was more aware of what was happening in his nightclubs than anybody would have given him credit for. Alan was a big man, not heavy but solid, thick blond hair and icy-blue eyes; good-looking enough to warrant female interest with or without his loaded wallet. He had been dealing with Brodie for years; he knew that he would not be able to run his clubs without his express permission and he paid a fair price to guarantee that.

Alan Palmer had three brothers-in-law, all handy enough, all with decent credentials and all dependent on him for their livings. His brother had been murdered not too long ago by relatives of the young man sitting opposite him. He had Ricky Williams in his offices in Ilford offering him protection at a reduced rate and not one of his brothers-in-law were available to aim this ponce out the door, so it looked like he was going to have to sort it himself. For Alan, violence was a last resort, unlike his brother, who had seen it as a first resort. Now he was brown bread, so what did that tell you? Violence was also something to be used with the utmost discretion, especially in the entertainment business. This was something he had learned many moons ago and it had been an expensive, inconvenient and hard-taught lesson.

Alan smiled lazily, exposing his expensive teeth for the first time since Ricky had gatecrashed into his club.

'Are you on fucking drugs or what?'

His complete contempt for the man sitting opposite him was apparent in his every word and Ricky Williams was offended.

'Go on. Piss off home to your mother and don't ever strong it with me again.'

Ricky sat it out, staring at Alan with a quiet intensity. 'You should use your loaf, Alan. If we all band together, what the fuck is Brodie going to do, eh? I have half of south London on board and me and my brothers are going to take a piece of this place in the end. If you come on board with us now, you will be the fucking main man. The fucking number one.'

Alan started laughing. But the boy's words were tempting, as Ricky had known they would be. Alan Palmer was a force to be reckoned with and that was a certified fact. Over the years he had gathered people to him, as any decent employer did; the fact most of his workforce were out on licence didn't bother him at all. He had a few good scams on the go and he also had a burning ambition but he knew that while Brodie drew breath he would never be challenged by anyone on his turf. If you worked for anyone, you inadvertently worked for Brodie; that had been established many years before. Patrick had sewn up all the main money-spinners and people like him depended on Brodie's goodwill and largesse to carry out their business dealings smoothly. Brodie guaranteed licences and premises; without his say-so no one could work anything. It was a good arrangement in many ways because it meant that anyone could get a drinks licence or a gaming certificate; anything they needed really, no matter what their past form might be.

In other ways though, it was a bugbear; they had to keep on paying Brodie a hefty wedge for as long as they were trading. Spider had been one of the main protagonists where Palmer's brother's death had been concerned; if needs be he could still take umbrage at his brother's demise or he might choose to accept it gracefully. He would wait and see what the outcome of this kid's ideas were before he decided what his reaction was going to be. Like any astute businessman, Alan Palmer was always open to negotiation with anyone who had a good business plan and something to offer him.

He knew Kicky Williams was on his last legs in many respects and he also knew that, like the rest of his family, dead or alive, he had the intelligence of a drunken wombat. All that aside though, it didn't mean he wasn't capable of at least one act of derring-do.

'Are you trying to tell me that you are capable of taking out Patrick Brodie?' This was said with a mixture of laughter and seriousness that wasn't lost on Ricky. He was actually shocked at how quickly Alan Palmer had swallowed the bait.

'You know the position my family is in now, thanks to Brodie and that cunt Spider. If I could remove Brodie, would you be willing to settle with me and mine and let bygones be bygones?'

Alan knew that Patrick and Spider were probably going to wipe this man and his remaining brothers off the face of the earth; and so they should, the Williams brothers had been asking for it for a long time now. It was overdue, there was no doubt about that. But if, and it was a big if, this prat did the unthinkable then he would not be averse to taking over the reins so to speak.

He was well-respected and he was also in possession of a serious fortune; both of which would be mandatory if he was to step up a gear and take on the mantle of a serious firm. His pulse was quickening at the thought of it; he could take the whole place over with the minimum of fuss. There was no one to stop him and, after Brodie, he was the next best thing.

Old Jimmy Brick would soon see where his expertise would be best employed and he would make him an offer he wouldn't turn down. It would mean recruiting the rest of Brodie's workforce of course, but that would not be such a hardship. Patrick had always surrounded himself with the best and he had been champing at the bit for a long time.

'You're off your fucking tree, Ricky. If you say things like that to the wrong people you could find yourself in a lot of trouble. Patrick won't be impressed, I can tell you, and you ain't exactly flavour of the month with him, are you? Cain's death has fucked you lot once and for all. Patrick is one thing but Spider is a fucking handful and you think you could take them both out then?'