Somewhere, a wife and children were unaware that life as they knew it was over, that they would soon be caught up in a world of debt collectors and midnight visitors. A nightmare of such enormity that the reverberations would be felt for years. People were not aware that gambling debts did not, by law, have to be paid. They were a gentlemen's agreement, like a handshake. That was why the collection was usually guaranteed only with the help of violence and intimidation. The men who gambled away their lives were in fact putting themselves in a situation they could never escape from. The debts would be paid, it was as simple as that. The money was given with a smile and recouped with a baseball bat.
Trevor had seen it so many times and it depressed him that these men didn't have any self-control or any self-respect. At forty-eight years old he had been around the tables for over thirty years and he was still unscathed. There was not a scar on him and he had never been in a fight over cards or bets. Trevor was a gentleman and he knew his name was enough to get him into any game he wanted. He also knew that the younger men sought him out to play against him, hoping to get themselves a reputation as having beaten him. If that happened, and it was very rare, he shook their hands and gave them pointers and advice, making them friends for life. He had no problem with winners, it was a game of chance after all. Anyone could win and that's what made every night so exciting for him. As he sat nursing his ginger ale and waiting for the other players to arrive and get settled in, he was more than ready for the night's play.
'He is already causing fucking ructions and he's only been out of the hospital for a few days.'
Cain's voice was heavy with malice and Patrick listened quietly as he always did. He had found many years before that if you kept very quiet people filled in the silences themselves, offering more information than they had originally intended to give. It was a habit now and one he was glad he had cultivated.
'What has he done this time?'
While in hospital Dennis had attacked a doctor who was on his rounds and a porter who had not brought him the Scotch he had ordered. He had been as obnoxious as he always was and now he was out and about and determined to cause a ruckus. Dennis was making sure that people remembered just what he was capable of. Even though he was a laughing stock in some quarters, Brodie knew it would still be a brave man who had the nerve to laugh in his face.
'He has been round and collected rents that were already ours. It seems that Dave hasn't explained the new scheme of things to him and he still seems to think that he has some kind of fucking stranglehold over us lot. I have told my boys to go and request the money nicely If he tips them bollocks then they are to slice him and dice him as they see fit.'
Spider's voice was cold and brooked no argument. Well, he certainly wasn't going to get one from him. Dennis had been shouting his mouth off as usual; Patrick had been advised as to what Dennis had said about him, and it had not been what he would call complimentary. It was only a matter of time before someone shut him up permanently, so Patrick had decided to sit back and let someone else do any dirty work that was required. He knew that, in reality, Spider and Cain wanted his permission to out Dennis Williams and he was happy to oblige.
'Fair enough, what can I say? He is a cunt to himself.'
Spider and Cain relaxed at Brodie's answer, it was what they had been hoping to hear. They knew that Dave was still part of Brodie's firm and that was fair enough, unless it encroached on them of course.
Patrick sipped at his drink and when the atmosphere was warmer, he said jovially, 'Don't forget my boy's party. Bring the kids and everyone is welcome.'
'Fucking hell, Pat. Ten, don't the time go fast?'
Patrick nodded sagely. 'Wish I was ten again and knew what I know now, don't you?'
Spider laughed, his huge head going back on to his shoulders and reminding Patrick just how strong he was in all ways.
'When I was ten I had just started nicking fucking motors with me cousin Delroy. You remember him, Pat, he was shot in Kingston about three years ago. He finally went back to Jamaica and got wasted over a fucking bird.'
Spider shook his head in abject disbelief. 'A fucking bird. Only Del could die over a bit of pussy.'
He looked at Cain and said with pride and amusement in his voice, 'He could sniff out pussy like a fucking bloodhound and it was always sweet, at least that was what he said anyway.'
'He never got shot. He wore his cock out, Spider, and died of exhaustion. He got a hard-on looking at Fanny Craddock; he would trump anything. We used to have to hide our grannies if he was coming round.'
Cain and Spider were roaring with laughter, the earlier atmosphere was gone now, and they were all boys together once more.
Cain took a large gulp of his drink and, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said craftily, 'You can talk, Pat. What is this I hear about you and a certain flat-chested redhead? Love is it?'
Patrick Brodie paled in front of the two men's eyes and the shock on his face was almost comical.
Cain realised immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Spider was looking at him with undisguised anger and Patrick was, for the first time ever, lost for words. Cain had just made himself look like a gossiping old woman, had alerted Brodie to the fact that he was being talked about and his name was being coupled with this girl, whoever she was. Brodie was a family man and very protective of his wife and his children, everyone knew that.
Spider replenished their glasses while Patrick busied himself lighting a cigarette and gathering his thoughts.
Cain spread his arms out in supplication. 'I was only joking, Pat. I didn't mean to cause offence.'
Cain was remembering the stories he had heard about this man: the torture of people who tried to thwart him and the torture machinery he kept in a warehouse in Silvertown. Spider had said that he'd seen Patrick electrocute naked men, hard men, without blinking an eye. He'd heard them begging him as they smelt their own skin burning and he had watched as the current had marauded through their bodies and caused them to be thrown a foot in the air, their screams eventually muffled by the quick-setting cement Patrick had forced into their throats once he had heard enough to satisfy his curiosity. No one ever crossed him twice. That was why Dave was so terrified about Dennis and his loose-cannon status and this was why Cain wished he had kept his big mouth shut.
Patrick was an anomaly; he was quiet, he was devious and no one ever knew what he was thinking or what he would do next. He went to Mass with his children, he took Communion every week and he had never had a rep as a womaniser; womanisers always ended up shitting on their own doorsteps, that was a phrase Patrick Brodie had used over and over again. He was right as well, Cain and Spider knew that. In the end, womanisers destroyed their families, had to look for a new home, had to deal with the resentment from children and relatives, and ended up in the same position they had been in at the beginning. Another, younger, wife and kids the same age as their grandchildren, and when the novelty wore off they were always out on the prowl once more. Patrick Brodie had no time for those men and the devastation they wreaked because they had no family loyalty, no respect for their wives, the mothers of their children, or the children they had created with those wives.
The stories about him were whispered, all rumour and innuendo; no one could ever place him at the scene of any crime and no one ever would.
It was that simple.
Now Cain had opened his mouth and given Patrick Brodie something to think about; the girl was a liability and Cain had pointed that out to him.
'Relax, son, you just did me a favour. Is it big talk or just rumours at the moment? More to the point, who told you?'
Spider could hear the underlying threat in Patrick's voice and he wanted to launch his brother into outer space for his careless talk.