“Wait in here.”

Other than a long table with chairs on either side, the room was bare. We sat down next to each other, expect that Harry West would take a chair on the opposite side, but I started to worry. What if he defied expectation and sat down beside us so we all sat staring at the wall?

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Before Terry could answer, Harry West entered and stood glaring at us from the doorway. His nose looked like it had been squashed, then yanked, then squashed again. This was a face that had a story to tell, a story of fists. As he moved closer, I noted that like Terry (and as I used to), Harry had a terrible limp. He carried his leg like luggage. You know how some animals drag their anuses along the ground to mark it? Well, it seemed to me that Harry was onto the same trick, digging grooves in the dusty floor with that leg. Thankfully, he took a chair opposite, and when I got a front view of him, I realized that his was a terribly misshapen head, like an apple with a bite taken out of it.

“What can I do for you fellas?” he asked cheerily.

Terry took a long time to speak, but when he did he said, “Well, sir, me and my friends, we have this gang in town, and we’ve been doing a little breaking and entering, and some street fighting, although sometimes it’s in the bush, and uh…” He drifted off.

I said, “The gang are young. They’re inexperienced. They need guidance. They need to hear from someone who’s been in the game awhile. In a nutshell, they’re looking for a mentor.”

Harry sat for a while, thinking. He scratched his tattoo. It wouldn’t come off. He stood and walked to the window.

“Damned fog. Can’t see a thing. It’s a pretty shitty little town you got here, isn’t it? Still, I wouldn’t mind looking at it.”

Before we could say anything, Harry turned and smiled at us, revealing a mouth missing every second tooth.

“Anyone who says the young don’t have any initiative has his head up his own arse! You boys restore my faith! I’ve come across legions of up-and-comers over the decades, and none of them have ever asked me for advice. Not one. I never heard of anyone with the guts to say, ‘I want knowledge. Gimme some.’ No, those bastards out there, they’re loafers. They breeze through life taking orders. They know how to break a leg, sure! But you have to tell them which one. They know how to dig a grave too, but if you’re not standing over them, they’d dig it right in the middle of a city park, two blocks from the cop shop. Hell, they’d do it in broad daylight if you weren’t standing over them shouting, ‘Night, you idiots! Do it at night!’ They’re the worst kind of drones. And disloyal! Like you wouldn’t believe! How many of my former colleagues have visited me since I’ve been locked up in this miserable place? Not one! Not a letter! Not a word! And you should have seen them before they met me! They were stealing change out of the cups of beggars! I took them in, tried to show them the ropes. But they don’t want to know the ropes. They want to drink and gamble and lie all day with whores. An hour or two is enough, isn’t it? Hey, have you got guns?”

Terry shook his head. It looked like Harry was warming to his task; he’d had a lot bottled up. The stopper was out.

“Well, that there’s your first mission. Get guns! You need guns! You need lots of guns! And here’s your first lesson. Once you’ve got the guns, find hiding places all over town and stash them- in the back of pubs, up trees, down manholes, in mailboxes. Because if you’re embarking on a life of crime, you never know when your enemies are going to attack. You’re never going to be able to walk through life without glancing over your shoulder. Are you up for that? Your neck gets a lot of exercise, take it from me. Any place you go- the pub, the cinema, the bank, the dentist- as soon as you walk into a room, you better find a wall and stand with your back to it. Get ready. Be aware. Don’t let anyone get behind you, you hear me? Even when you’re getting a haircut: always make the barber do it from in front.”

Harry slammed his hands on the table and bore down on us.

“That’s the way of life for us boys. It would shake the foundations of common folk, but we have to be tough and prepared to live against the wall with our eyes blazing and our fingers twitching. After a while it becomes an unconscious act, you know. You develop a sixth sense. It’s true. Paranoia makes a man evolve. Bet they don’t teach you that in the classroom! Precognition, ESP, telepathy- we criminals have prophetic souls. We know what’s coming even before it happens. You have to. It’s a survival mechanism. Knives, bullets, fists, they come out of the woodwork. Everyone wants your name on a headstone, so on your toes, boys! It’s a cunt of a life! But there are rewards. You don’t want to be a regular Joe. You just have to look out a window and see. I’ll tell you what’s out there: a bunch of slaves in love with the freedom they think they have. But they’ve chained themselves to some job or another, or to a squad of rug rats. They’re prisoners too, only they don’t know it. And that’s what the criminal world is turning into. A routine! A grind! The whole ball of wax lacks spark! Imagination! Chaos! It’s sealed from the inside. It’s chained to the wheel. Nothing unexpected happens. That’s why, if you follow my advice, you’ll have an edge. They won’t be prepared for it. The smartest thing you can do is surprise them- that’s the ticket. Smarts, brawn, courage, bloodlust, greed: all fine, necessary characteristics. But imagination! That’s what the criminal world lacks! Just look at the staples: larceny, theft, breaking and entering, gambling, drugs, prostitution. You call that innovation?”

Terry and I looked at each other helplessly. There was nothing stopping this eruption of words.

“God, it’s good to see you two boys. You’ve really pumped me full of piss! And vinegar! And just when things were tasting so stale, you’ve given me hope! The organization is in ruins. No one wants new ideas. All they want is more of the same. They’re their own worst enemies. It’s their appetites- insatiable! That leads me to my next tip. Keep your appetites down and you’ll live to be a thousand. Accumulate what you need to be comfortable and then go enjoy life awhile. Blaze like a furnace, then hide your light from the world. Have the strength to smother your own flame. You understand? Retreat and attack! Retreat and attack! That’s the key! And keep your crew small, that’s another tip. Bigger your crew, the more chance one of them will double-cross you and leave you for dead in some shallow ditch. You know why? Because everyone wants to be on top! Everyone! Well, here’s your next lesson: don’t be on top. Be on the side! That’s right. You heard me correctly. Let the others chew through their days charging each other like bulls. You put your heads down and get on with it. There’s nothing, you gorgeous unlawful children, nothing I can tell you more important than what I’ve already said: avoid the treacherous ladder! That’s the best advice I can give you. I wish someone had said as much to me when I was your age. I wouldn’t be in here. If only I’d known it was the ladder that would get me in the end. That ladder has blades for rungs!”

I struggled to keep up. What was I doing talking to this madman when I should be in school?

“Look. Take it from me, don’t make a name for yourself, be as anonymous as possible. Everyone will tell you it’s all about reputation- that’s the trap! Everyone wants to be Capone or Netti or Squizzy Taylor. They want their names to echo through eternity, like Ned Kelly. Well, I’ll tell you, the only way to get your name echoing like that is to be massacred in a hail of bullets. Is that what you want? Of course not. Here’s a new one: are you ready for it? Don’t let the world know who’s boss. That will throw them! They’ll be eating their hearts out. Be a leaderless gang. Give the impression that you belong to a democratic cooperative of crime! That’ll spin their heads. They won’t know who to come gunning for. This is irrefutable advice, boys. Don’t be showy! Be a faceless entity! Hell, be a nonentity. You’ll show those clowns. Let them speculate, but don’t let them know. The paradox of the crime world is that you need a reputation to get things done, but having a reputation gets you killed. But if your reputation is mysterious, if you’re in a secret society, like the Templars…do you know who the Templars were? Of course you don’t. Well-”