NAUGHTY BUT NICE?: an éclair to die for - Chapter 3

He had used the deposit to buy the collection, then restored the gun and old cartridges, which he nick-named the twelve apostles. Kelly’s body was never found, and the client used that as an excuse not to pay the balance. Well, that’s what you got for dealing with scum he thought. But, he couldn’t be allowed to get away with it. That would be bad for business. If he wouldn’t pay one way then he would have to be made to pay another.
He understood scum. The client would be expecting him to lash out a knee jerk reaction. Lathom was made a sterner stuff he would take his time, wait, plan carefully then execute it. Revenge as they said was a dish best served cold.

It was New years eve, over six months since the original contract. The client who had been called Dee had taken to calling himself Mr Dee and together with his runt of a younger brother and the few young thugs who’d stayed with him after Kelly’s unexplained disappearance had taken over the town’s drugs and prostitution. He would think that Lathom had chickened out, wouldn’t risk a shoot out now he had all these guns to protect him. However even though he would never understand it, it was Lathom who had the upper hand. The client didn’t know him, had never met him,didn’t even know his name or face. More importantly Lathom had time, all the time in the world. The client wasn’t going anywhere. He was just killing time until Lathom chose to kill him.
Over the past few months he had visited the town many times watching and planning. Now, the plan was complete. It had to happen tonight. He needed this to warn potential clients that he was not someone to be trifled with.

Lathom had driven up late that afternoon, and in the post-christmas melee of the sales had bought all he needed. A fake fur hat, two large jacket potatoes and a few lengths of tinsel. Carrying the potatoes and the impending kill had made him hungry. So he had passed the next few hours having a leisurely but total indifferent meal.
By 11.30 he was on the road which had the club’s main entrance. For the past few months Lathom had come here every few weeks to watch his target and plan tonight. Every Saturday night, Mr Dee would arrive around mid-night in his large vulgar black limosine. He never drove, he was too important for that. He had a driver, and anyway he was probably too drunk by then. They would turn down the side road which swept around behind the club, then park in the alley-way by the rear door. They would then both go inside for about ten or fifteen minutes to check on the takings from the club, and the other more profitable businesses he ran from there. Then they would emmerge and the driver would open the rear off-side door and the big man would get in. The driver would then drive carefully between the wheelie-bins and the heavy glass re-cycling bins, since the alley was narrow and the car large, around in a loop re-joining the main road and avoiding the one-way system. It was a perfect place for an old style ambush, providing he could stop the car.

As it was new years eve the club was packed with drunked revellers, no-one would take any notice of him, they never did. He was wearing a large overcoat, his Russian style hat and had two pieces of tinsel casually wrapped around his neck. Inside his coat he had a chow mein special and silencer, while his outer pockets held the un-cooked jacket potatoes. Lathom was slumped against the large metal bin. He had made sure the brake on the wheel was locked as it didn’t move when he leant on it. He looked like any other drunk totally invisible to the revellers. The alley was empty as every one was in the club about to welcome in the new year.

It was getting late and the smell of fried onions wafting from the hot-dog stand on the main road made him hungrier. He looked at his watch and wondered if he had time to quickly get one. He decided against it and settled down against the bin, the rummbling of his stomach competing with the faint music wafting from the rear door of the club.

Earlier he had seen the younger brother and some of his thugs arrrive in a big black 4x4 with blacked out rear windows and personalised number plate, which made him think of a hearse. At first he thought it was the target as they both looked so similar, shaved heads, perma-tan, diamond ear-ring and a Hollywood-smile. However, this one was smaller, even uglier and if rumour was true even more stupid. They were like two rancid peas in a pod. However when he saw the brothers together all he could think of was Halloween pumpkins.
It was 11.45 the 4x4 and it’s occupants had long since left. Lathom had just stood up to stretch his legs, and had taken an empty bottle from the bin as an added prop when he saw head-lights sweeping across the back wall of the alley.

The car pulled into the alley. In the time since the 4x4 had left, Lathom had moved the wheelie bins further into the alley. This made the manoeuvring of the car more difficult and meant that the driver had to park with the near-side doors against the wall.
They both went inside. Lathom sprinted across the alley to the rear of the car, took a potato from each pocket and pushed them into the exhaust pipes. He then used the heel of his boot to knock them in, before running back to the bin and to take up his position.

Ten minutes later they returned. Lathom held the gun in his right hand behind his back. He was leaning on the bin, his left hand holding the top edge. Although he couldn’t see the door of the club clearly he knew it had opened as the silence was broken by loud music from inside.

They came further across the alley, he could see them over the top of the bin. The driver opened the rear door and his boss got in. Then shut the door and got in himself. He tried to start the car. Lathom kicked off the bin’s brake and pushed it. It rolled across the alley and struck the drivers door, He sprinted after it and locked the foot brake,trapping the drive inside.
Then stepped around the bin, the target was trying to get out of the car. He had just put one foot on the cobbles when Lathom shoulder charged the door. Catching him half in and half out, he lost his footing and was trapped, his free leg desperately flaying trying to find grip.
He opened his mouth to shout abuse, but a silencer pushed between the white teeth silenced him. His eyes opened wide with surprise as Lathom pulled the trigger. He stepped back and let go of the door,the body tumbled out onto the cobbles.

Without looking down Lathom walked briskly past the car back down the alley to the main road, dropping the gun into a bin as he passed. The street was full of revellers and as he joined the crowd heard a tannoy broadcasting the count-down to the new year. Ten….Nine….Eight it continued, but he was thinking of something else. Where could he get that hot-dog now.