Paul Grzegorzek - Closer Than Blood

He nodded, still looking at the floor, and left, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, I rolled back the stinking carpet in the far corner and after perhaps thirty seconds of listening we were rewarded with the sound of approaching voices from below.

“… my fucking house and starts asking questions about you.” Eddie’s voice was loud enough to hear clearly, but when Simmonds responded, I had to strain to catch the words.

“What did he ask?”

“He wanted to know how you got in touch with that Jake bloke.”

There was a pause. “And what did you tell him?”

“That I didn’t know you.”

“And what happened then?”

“I threw the cunt out!”

“You threw him out?”

“Well, yeah. I told him to fuck off and he did.”

“Did he mention that Jake is his brother?”

“His brother ? He didn’t say nothing about that.”

“Probably would have done if you’d given him the chance. Anyway, it’s a good job we didn’t buy off him in the end. Word is he stole that coke from the Russians and they want it back, along with his head.”

“Russians?”

“Yeah, a gang of them from London. They’ve put feelers out for Jake, want him dead or alive as long as they get their bag back. Fifty grand, they’re offering, so you tell your brothers that the one who finds him gets a cut. Any idea where he might be hiding?”

“No,” Eddie replied, his voice filled with greed, “but I can think of fifty thousand reasons to find out.”

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