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the mistake all powerful men make; he hadn't been on the actual street for years. He was told only what he wanted to hear and he couldn't cap anyone himself, relying on heavies to do his dirty work. He was an embarrassment to all and sundry.
    Pat knew the man was waiting to see whether he could keep up this dangerous façade, and if he could, he knew he would have a partner, if not in crime, then at least at the local drinking establishments. He had been willing to use Billy even though he knew the man and his cronies were putting up pound notes to bring about his demise. None of them had liked Barry as such, but none of them wanted to be Barry.
    He understood that, except if he had been in Billy's shoes he would have been dead by now.
     
     
    'You jammy little mare!'
    Constance White looked at the young girl packing cigarettes expertly into boxes beside her, and her grin was friendly and amiable. 'Fuck me, girl, you got Pat Brodie! Most of his amours end up calling him Glenn Miller and that's because he normally goes on the missing list.'
    Everyone laughed, and Lily went bright red with embarrassment.
    At twenty, Constance was already married and had two children; her husband was a no-neck with acne scars and the conversation of an African elephant. So she envied this little piece even as she admired her. Many women had tried to snag Brodie, herself included, but he had slipped away like an oily chain. Good-looking girl though, and men like Brodie liked the innocent look, in a wife anyway. Like all men he wanted to be sure that any children carrying his name were actually his. No cuckoos in the nest for him. He was thirty if he was a day and she was fifteen; he must think all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once.
    But it was the change in Lily that amazed Constance. The girl had grown into herself overnight, had started walking tall, she spoke before she was spoken to and she had the flushed cheeks of a girl ripe for the marriage bed.
    Connie, as she was called, knew that this child, and she was a child for all her mature looks, was not going to be one of Brodie's usual shack-ups. He wanted this one to breed with, and she had a feeling Lily would amaze them all.
    Lily smiled happily; thanks to Pat she was set for life, and this factory and all it entailed would be a thing of the past soon. As soon as she hit sixteen she was gone.
    Thunderclap Newman came on the radio and she sang along with her workmates; there definitely was something in the air.
    Patrick affected her in so many ways, and as she packed her cigarettes she dreamt of his body touching hers, and longed for the kisses she was sure to get once the night drew in and they were alone in his car.
     
     
    Billy Spot was standing outside his nightclub in Soho with his girlfriend on his arm. A redhead called Velma, she had all his usual prerequisites; big tits, nice teeth and long skinny legs. Billy was wearing his customary attire: black Crombie overcoat, pin-stripe suit and an expensive cigar.
    He was amazed to see his girlfriend start walking quickly away from him, extricating herself from his flabby arms even as he saw with his peripheral vision young Patrick Brodie pull a gun from underneath his coat. He was a dead man and he knew it.
    He hit the floor with the minimum of fuss and Patrick was gone before anyone thought of calling in the law to make things look above board, look normal. The gun was dispatched into the Thames, and Billy's associates were aware of his demise within hours. It made no odds to them; he was a nice bloke but as they all remarked in private, business was business.
    It was out with the old and in with the new. Pat had decided, on the spur of the moment, to erase the older man and open up the streets properly. Spot had cunted him to a close associate, and that was something he was not about to allow. He was not going to ponce around any more, he had Lil, and he wanted it all.
    Pat bought the rest of the London consortium out with