Darren Shan: Procession of the dead

The Italians, Irish, Cubans and Eastern Europeans were well represented, but none ruled. There was only one kingpin in this city, beyond the touch of all others, and that was The Cardinal. He controlled the center directly, the rest as he wished. He was the ultimate individual, proof that one man could do it alone, regardless of the help or hindrance of others.

Theo worked the southwest. It was where he'd grown up, along the streets his first boyhood gang- the Pacinos! -had patrolled. It was one of the quieter areas, not as much money to make as elsewhere. But there were bank managers and bored housewives with vices, lots of youngsters coming through with expensive habits. The police could be bought cheaply enough and the local councillors were eager to please. There were worse places to get an education.

Theo and I were together most of the time. He was preparing me for the day I'd be able to operate by myself. He figured another six months and I could start running the show for him, guided but with an increasing degree of autonomy. Until then I was his charge. He kept me under close watch, in his company most of any waking day, his literal right-hand man.

We were uncomfortable around each other at first. We'd gone, in the space of a day, from being strangers to partners. Like an arranged marriage. It was difficult spending so much time with a person you didn't know, thrust into a relationship where loyalty, honesty and trust were automatically required. But as the weeks rolled by, we got to know and genuinely like each other. After a month we didn't have to pretend to be friends-we were.

Theo was a strict mentor. He forbade involvement with women. Sex was fine, prostitutes and one-night stands were acceptable, but nothing more. He said it was too soon for romantic commitment. There was a time for love and a time for learning. This was the latter. A woman would distract me at this stage, take my mind off work and confuse my sense of purpose. I didn't agree but he was the boss andI'd made the decision to take his word as law, so I bit my tongue and followed his orders.

Anyway, I was so busy, I doubt I would have had time to chase the ladies. Love requires time and energy, neither of which I had much of following my laborious daily chores and lessons.

Our patch expanded while I was working for Theo. We took over a couple of old rundown areas and implemented plans to build them up and attract new businesses. We bought out retiring or weak bosses, recruited their forces, assumed responsibility for their debts, collected their dues. We moved into drugs, feeding the addictions of the city's dream-chasers. We got involved in a bit of gun-running and smuggled a few caches of arms into the city. Like Theo had said, it was a dirty business, and the better things got, the dirtier it became.

Though my role was primarily that of an observer, I couldn't help but get involved. You couldn't move in these circles without bruising your fists every now and again. Fights would break out unexpectedly and I'd have to stand my ground and deal with the situation. Addicts were the worst. Everything could be going fine, you had the merchandise and they had the money. You'd be talking, smiling, closing the deal, and they'd suddenly whip out a knife or a chain, and off it went.

I was able to handle myself. In my time with Theo, I never took a bad beating. I kept fit, ate sensibly, worked out at home every night. I had quick reflexes and a quicker eye. I took a few hard blows, but mostly to the stomach where they didn't mark me. My face was as pristine as the day I arrived, nose straight, ears unchewed. I'd get caught eventually-everybody did-but so far I'd gotten away lightly.

I hadn't killed anyone. I'd smashed many bones, clubbed a few heads, tossed a couple of souls from speeding cars. But Theo held me back from killing. He said he didn't want to throw too much at me too soon. It was one thing teaching a crazy crackhead a lesson he'd remember, another to pull a gun and end his learning forever. Killing was sometimes necessary, but should always be delegated where possible. He'd only killed two men personally in all his years. He said it was two too many.

"Deaths come back to haunt you," he often muttered. As worthy an epitaph as any.

The big fish was The Cardinal and everything we did (despite Theo's warning that first day) was designed to bait him. There was only so much we could do as an independent organization, only so far we could go on our own. If we were to grow and move in stellar circles, The Cardinal had to acknowledge us. Until that happened, until the call came to visit Party Central or attend dinner at Shankar's, we were trapped in the shoal marked small fry.

The call to greater things came on a Tuesday. It was nearly six months since I'd arrived. We'd toiled like slaves, building, plotting, planning for the future. We worked well together and brought out the best in each other. I'd rekindled Theo's desire to be successful, and he'd taught me what was possible and what wasn't, separating my wiser ideas from my foolish fancies. His experience and my hunger made us a potent combination.

We knew we were on the right track when Neil Wain contacted us. Wain wasn't one of The Cardinal's men, but he was a ganglord of some note. You had to be wary if you got on the wrong side of him. He had The Cardinal's seal of approval and in the city that was everything. Dealing with him brought us one step closer to Party Central. Wain was a test-we were being sounded out. If we proved ourselves competent, there'd be more to come. Wain was the door to a new world of upper-echelon corruption, politics and total control. The world of Cardinal crime.

He wanted us to handle a drug shipment. He'd arranged for it to be brought into the city but there was too much for him to distribute by himself. We were to take a third, pay the bulk up front and cut him in for a percentage of our profits. He was asking a lot but money wasn't the issue. We wouldn't make much out of the deal in the short run, but long term it could be our most profitable move ever.

We met him at an abandoned wharf warehouse, late Tuesday night. It had been a struggle getting the money together in so short a time-part of the test-but we cracked a few heads, called in favors and did it.

Theo was excited beyond words. His eyelids were blinking up and down so fast, you almost couldn't see them. His hands were twitching and I could hear his heart beating from ten feet away. "This is it, Capac," he told me, squeezing my arm. "I never thought it would come so soon. It's because of you. Don't deny it! We were going good until you came along, but you've made us go great."

"You're flattering me," I protested. "All I do is follow orders. I'm nothing special."

"Don't you believe it," he said. "Whatever we get tonight, wherever we go from here, it's down to you. This is your night. Enjoy it. Hell, relish it." He bit his lip to stop his eyes from watering. He hadn't been this emotional since our first encounter. "Come on. Let's go meet our destiny."

We left our limo-hired for the day because you simply had to have a limo if you wanted to be a real gangster-and walked into the abandoned warehouse with three of our men. Wain was waiting for us, standing patiently beside his own car, briefcase in hand, smile on face. Theo broke into a near-trot and strode ahead of us, arms outstretched, too thrilled to maintain a solemn, businesslike air. "Neil!" he boomed. "Neil, by Christ, it's great to see you! How long's it been since-"

Bullets tore his chest apart as if it were a paper bag. His arms flailed and his legs buckled. Blood sprayed in all directions. The gunfire continued, even though he was obviously dead. He was spun around like a whirling dervish. I saw his face and the bewildered expression he was to carry into the next world. Then a couple of bullets wiped it away, expression, face, everything.