Crooks - A London Gangsters Tale | COMPLETED

Chapter Ten

Mikhail was pleasantly surprised by the speed at which things were progressing. He contemplated the situation over his morning coffee. Not only had Wayne Carter proved himself an able (and decidedly useful) ally, but he had also managed to recruit Rob Linley, who was evidently one of David's 'chosen few.'

The coffee was strong and black; thick enough to chew. Mikhail savoured it as he decided what to do next. Really, the answer was obvious. Targeting Silvertown was the right call. Perhaps naively, Mikhail had previously assumed that David's weakness would be his son. But that was evidently not the case. No, David's real weakness lay in his almost pathological need to see the Silvertown development through to its bitter conclusion.

In a way, Mikhail could empathise with that. It was yet another area of concordance between the two men's personalities. And if the roles were reversed, Mikhail knew all too well that David Carter would exploit every opportunity to its fullest extent. What choice did Mikhail have but to do likewise?

It had been wise to send Yuri. Yuri had a kind of unspoken authority about him. People were reluctant to fuck with him, whereas Stanislaw seemed to give off an air of recklessness. And recklessness was weakness, as far as Mikhail was concerned. Yuri was remorseless and uncompromising. A perfect enforcer. Mikhail could not really say why his two sons had turned out so differently. They had received more or less identical upbringings. But all along, Yuri had been the one to whom Mikhail could entrust the most important tasks. Yuri was the one who would take over when he, Mikhail, was dead.

With another sip of coffee Mikhail washed away these thoughts of mortality. It did no one any good to ruminate on such matters; it only made him morbid. And his task was not yet finished. There was more work to be done.

*

The Mercedes was making a slow circuit round Battersea Park. Yuri sat upright in the back seat, his gaze fixed dead ahead as he spoke. "Thank you for meeting me," he said politely.

Rob Linley, seated beside him, just nodded.

This was the way they did things now. Rob Linley was determined not to make waves. He wanted the whole thing to remain hush-hush, and so he behaved with the utmost discretion. Whenever he received word from the Popovs, he simply dropped whatever he was doing and did as they asked. He had now met with Yuri three times, and each time in the back of the slick black Mercedes on an aimless course around London. While the chauffeur drove, the two men in the back seat simply talked.

Rob felt safe as long as the tinted windows shielded him from the outside world. He was fine just as long as no one saw him. If even the tiniest hint of a rumour reached David Carter's ears, there would be hell to pay.

To begin with, Yuri had done most of the talking. It was bizarre; he so seldom spoke in his day-to-day life, or whenever he appeared beside his father, that Rob had wondered whether the man was, in fact, mute. But that was definitely not the case. He was just a man who only spoke when he had something to say.

And now he was talking about Silvertown.

"It must mean a great deal to your boss." He spoke softly, without much of an accent. The benefits of an English private school education.

"It's not just the money," said Rob. "It's the... what's the word? The prestige. He wants to make his mark."

"Don't we all," was Yuri's riposte. Then, startlingly, he turned his head and stared at Rob. "Alright, we have exchanged pleasantries long enough. You have shown that you're willing to help us; that's good. But now the time has come to get things moving. What do you have for us?"

This was exactly what Rob had been dreading ever since he had received that first message from the Popovs. He had been hoping he might be able to string them along for a little while with vague promises of information, before fobbing them off with something altogether innocuous. Evidently that was not going to be the case.