When I was released from prison, I was determined that this time things would be different. I had been on the wrong side of the law since my teens, and been what the media would call a gangster, a villain, for most of my twenties. I was twenty eight when I was sent down, and here I was having just turned thirty. The crimes they actually managed to pin on me was minor compared to the tricks I had been up to. Not that I confessed to any of the horrific acts I’d committed. There was a code, you didn’t speak to the police. In America someone in my situation would please the Fifth Amendment, all we could do was simply state No comments to every question. 

Liam, an old friend who moved in the same shady circles as I did, picked me up from the prison gates. I tossed my bag in the boot, and climbed in the passenger seat. Liam shook my hand, grinning widely. 

‘It’s good to have you back, mate.’ He said.

I nodded, telling him it was good to be out. Liam told me I could stay in his spare room as long as I needed. I appreciated the support. He was doing me a massive favour. It would be one less thing to worry about, while I got back on my feet.

As we drove across the city, I explained how I had no intention of going back to prison, and that I wanted to go straight. I would be keeping my nose clean from now on. I wouldn’t, as many did in my position, be picking up where I left off. 

Liam gave me a smile, nice one, mate. I could tell he didn’t believe a word. I might as well have declared I was suddenly becoming vegan or training for the priesthood. I was determined to prove Liam and everyone wrong. 

Liam’s girlfriend Carla, handed me a cup of tea and insisted I was to make myself at home and could stay as long as I liked.  

I spent the afternoon catching up with my parents. They were delighted to have me back. My mother squeezed my hand tight, and asked if I was going to be a good lad from now on. I nodded, yeah, Ma, of course, feeling like I was twelve years old and had been caught bunking off school. My dad poured us both a measure of single-malt Irish whiskey, and raised a toast. 

That evening, Liam and I headed down to our local pub. The Golden Lion was a hang-out of all kinds of notorious characters. If you wanted a decent pint of beer, to buy some stolen or counterfeit goods, or arrange a killing, then the Lion was the place. It felt so strange to be going back. Maybe I should have steered clear of the place, with my new determination to turn over a new leaf, but I was staying with Liam and didn’t really have anywhere else to go. 

As we reached the double-doors, the Lion motif on the frosted class, Liam waved a hand, after you. I smiled and went in.

Welcome home! Everyone cheered, clapped and whopped. I looked around, surprised to see all the familiar faces grinning at me. I was hugged and patted on the back, as old friends, everyone a shady character, welcomed me home. 

As I tried to enjoy my first pint of draught lager as a free man, I was grilled by all my old friends and associates. One guy, Ricky, a real villain, a man I’d seen first-hand commit some atrocious acts, shook my hand and congratulated me on my escape. 

‘You’ll soon get back in the swing of things.’ Ricky said.

‘Nah, forget that. I’m cleaning my act up. I’m going straight. I’m not going back inside.’ I said.

‘Very funny, mate. At least you’ve not lost your sense of humour.’ He replied.

‘I’m not joking.’ I insisted.

‘Good luck with that.’ He said, before moving away into the crowd. 

I was sure they’d soon get the message. Yes, I was back on the street, after my stretch inside, but I wouldn’t be returning to the life of villainy they were all part of. Maybe when I had a bit of cash behind me, I could move away, start afresh somewhere else. 

Two days later, I was on the way back from the job centre, having applied for all kinds of jobs, walking down the high street, heading back to Liam’s place. A car pulled up to the kerb, the electric window sliding down. 

I turned to see Ricky leaning over from the driver’s seat. 

‘Phil wants to see you. Get in.’ Ricky said, it was an order, not a request.

Phil Archer was what the press would call a gangland boss, a criminal mastermind. In the Italian Mafia they had all these grand titles for their bosses, but around here, the top dog was simply known as the boss. 

‘Tell him thanks but no thanks.’ I said. 

I carried on walking.

An hour later Ricky found me in a café. I was munching on a cheese-burger and sipping a cup of tea when he took the seat facing me. He waved to the guy behind the counter for a cup of tea, before turning his attention to me.

‘Phil Archer wants a word with you’ Ricky said.

‘Tell him I’m done.’ I said. 

‘You’ll have to tell him yourself.’ Ricky insisted.

‘I don’t have to do anything. Those days are over.’ I replied. 

I went to stand up, but Ricky placed a hand on my arm, his grip firm. I snatched my hand away and leaned in close.

‘Touch me again, and break your hand. Just because I’m going straight, doesn’t mean I’m not capable. You would do well to remember who you are threatening.’ I growled.

Ricky raised his hands, telling me to chill out.

‘So, you want me to tell Phil that you wouldn’t co-operate?’ Ricky asked.

As I marched for the door, I called back.

‘Tell him what you like.’ 

A few days later I was on the way to pick up a few bits from the supermarket, when a car mounted the pavement in front of me. There was nothing accidental about the manoeuvre, and the speed with which the car took the pavement right in my path suggested I was in trouble. It also hinted that, next time I could be under the wheels of the car. 

A heavy-set guy in a suit got out of the passenger side. He glared at me and opened the back door, gesturing for me to get in. I knew I had been pushing my luck so far. It was only a matter of time before Phil Archer dragged me in front of him. I could only avoid him for so long. 

I raised my hands in an exaggerated don’t shoot gesture and climbed in. The Jaguar swept off out into the traffic. Phil eyed me with interest from beside me in the backseat. He didn’t need to point out that the hoodlum in the front seat was armed, that went without saying. We were all professionals here. We all knew the deal. 

‘I’m hearing rumours that you’re joining the priesthood.’ Phil said, taking a long drag on his cigar. 

‘Hardly. I just want to keep out of bother, that’s all.’ I said, keeping my voice calm, reasonable.

‘Listen, if you want to keep safe then you’ll come back working for me.’ Phil said.

‘I’m not sure I appreciate your tone.’ I said.

‘You’re fresh out of prison, you’ve not turned forty yet, your parents are still healthy,’ he paused taking another drag on his cigar letting his threat hang in the air, ‘you’ve got everything going for you. Why not come back working for me?’

‘Are you threatening my family?’ I asked. 

‘Perish the thought, not at all. Your mum still do her big shop on Salford Precinct, doesn’t she? One of my boys gave her a lift home the other week. She was delighted you were getting out.’

If anyone not in our life had heard our conversation, if the talk was being recorded, then it would just seem an innocent comment, looking after the well-being of my parents. But we both knew what was being said. I got the message. 

I turned away, looking out the window at the city rolling by. The message was clear, the threat blatant. I sighed. I really didn’t have any option. 

‘Fine, I’ll do it.’ I sighed.

He nodded, it was the answer he was expecting. He was used to getting what he wanted. He waved for his driver to pull to the kerb. As I climbed out he said he’d be in touch. 

I arrived back at Liam’s house with my head spinning. I had wanted to get away from all this, to distance myself from these notorious characters and their criminal enterprises. I had stepped out of the prison gates determined to start a new life for myself. And yet, here I was, right back in the thick of it. What could I do? Phil had made threats against my parents. He knew exactly what buttons to press. 

The next morning, there was a knock at the front door. Liam and Carla exchanged confused glances. They were not expecting anyone. I jerked a thumb towards the street, telling them it would be for me. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. 

Ricky, and another hoodlum hovered on the doorstep. They greeted me warmly. I mumbled a ‘good morning’. They shook my hand and patted me on the back. I buttoned up my overcoat and followed them to the car.

And just like that, I was back. Like a former football player, lacing the boots back up one last time, the job came flooding back. This business, the life. The street. This was a tough world we lived in, but everyone knew the rules. There was a code, we all lived it. For example, when I got sent down, I did my time, I didn’t list the guys who had been on the job with me. I took it on the chin. I had played the game. And yet, when I wanted to leave the game, I found that was also against the rules. 

The murky world of gangland Manchester hadn’t changed while I’d been away, there was still the same rackets, the same bent coppers, the drugs, protection rackets, the illegal card games, counterfeit goods. We had our fingers in a lot of pies, and when it came to it, we had to get tough. 

If anyone crossed the line, or took a liberty, they were dealt with. Violence was our currency. I soon found my way back in with the firm. One pub landlord was refusing to have our juke box and gambling machines in his pubs. He had to be taken care of. I had to persuade him that it would be in his best interest to let Archer’s crew install their machines. The landlord would get a small percentage too, we were reasonable people after all. 

As the weeks turned in to months, the hopes of a clean start seemed like such a long time ago. Had I really been thinking it possible I could escape from this life? It wasn’t all bad, the money was good, and it was a pretty glamourous lifestyle. There was always champagne and cocktails and fine food, and my suits were all King Street’s finest, and tailor made. We lived like film stars. 

But, when you closed your eyes at night, you knew how you’d made your money. It was luxurious and there were villas in Tenerife but, especially now I’d had time away to think, I couldn’t help coming to the conclusion that maybe the blood on our hands didn’t wash off no matter how hard we scrubbed. 

One afternoon I was summoned to see Phil Archer at his club. He ran his empire from the PA Club. Everyone thought Phil Archer calling his club the PA, was beyond naff. Not that anyone voiced their opinions to Phil, of course. I could hear the music blaring out as I pulled into the car-park. How they could concentrate on business that racket blasting from the speakers was beyond me. 

I found him perched on a stool at the bar, smoking his cigar, watching the lads playing snooker on a row of tables. I approached and bid him good afternoon. He waved to the empty stool next to him. I took a seat. With a man like Archer, you didn’t simply sit down next to him like you were friends. The last guy to try that had needed seven stitches in his cheek. 

Phil leaned in, talking loudly, to be heard over the music. He explained in hushed tones how a guy called Billy Turner had been stealing from him. He was new to the life, and to the crew. He’d gotten greedy and had started skimming from the money he was collecting for Phil. That was a basic rule, you didn’t rob from the boss. When he had finished explaining, I asked the question.

‘What do you want me to do?’ 

‘There’s no coming back from this.’

I nodded. I got the message. I was to take out this guy. His crime was stealing from the boss, and in our world, that carried a death sentence. And I’d just been hired as the executioner. Archer needed someone he could trust. I’d done this kind of thing before. 

Two days later, I headed to the address of Billy’s small flat in a Salford tower-block. I knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. I tried again, banging on the door. 

‘Come on, Billy. I know you’re in there.’ I yelled. 

I just wanted to get this done. I wanted to take care of the nasty business and put it behind me. It wasn’t the side of the business I revelled in, unlike some, but I was prepared to do what had to be done. Maybe that’s why Phil had selected me for the job. 

A moment later, the door opened and a guy peered out. He looked terrified, pale, like he hadn’t slept in days.

‘Billy?’ I asked.

He nodded.

‘Tell him I’m sorry, okay?’ He said.

‘Let me in, Billy.’ 

‘What do you want from me?’ He asked.

‘A cup of tea would be a start. Let me in and we’ll have a natter and a brew.’ I said. 

Billy paused, thinking it over.

‘Come on, Bill. It’s freezing out here and I’m gasping.’

Billy nodded and opened the door wider.

When we were seated at his kitchen table with mugs of tea, and Billy was simply staring at me, I spoke. 

‘You know what you did.’ 

Billy simply nodded.

‘How did you think you’d get away with it? What did you think would happen when he found out?’ I asked.

‘I had no choice.’ He whispered.

‘That’s what they all say.’ I said.

‘Ruby, my little girl, she’s not well. There’s a long name for her condition, but she’s poorly.’

Billy placed his tea down. I was not expecting this. Billy’s gaze went to the photos of the little girl pinned to the fridge.

‘With the money I put aside-’ he started.

‘The money you stole from Archer.’  I corrected.

‘With that money, we arranged for Ruby to be treated privately. She’s doing much better. If not for that, she’d still be on a waiting list.’

I rubbed my jaw as I thought it all through. I couldn’t help thinking this was unprecedented. It wasn’t like Billy had been stealing out of greed, to fund his life-style, or to settle outstanding gambling debt. I knew the situation was unusual. 

But I also knew that Phil Archer wouldn’t have any excuses. If Mother Theresa had owed him five pounds, he’d have chased her down for it. If I’d have gone to Phil and explained about Billy’s situation, he would have insisted that he should have come to him for a loan, at a good rate of interest. Phil would have squeezed Billy for every penny of the cash, looming over him like a vulture. He would have ruined the lives of that poor family and Billy would have been in Phil’s pocket for the rest of his days. As it was, Billy had stolen from him, and therefore he had to go. 

‘I can try and pay him back, if he just gives me time.’ Billy said.

‘That’s not how it works, Bill. You know that. Liberties can’t be seen to be taken, regardless of the excuse.’ I said.

‘Excuse? My daughter nearly died.’ Billy said.

‘If Phil lets this slide, then the next scally who feels like fleecing him, will feel they’ve got the right. Whereas, if things are dealt with properly, then it sends a message. If word gets out someone who stole from him turned up dead, or took a fall off an eight-storey balcony, then order is restored.’

I did not add that Archer would probably enjoy the kudos of being the monster who whacked the father who stole from him to help his sick child. That would rank him as pretty sick and twisted. People would certainly think twice before crossing him in future. 

Billy stared at me with pleading eyes, tears streaming down his face. It would seem that Billy had saved his daughter’s life, but it was going cost him his own.

I reached into my overcoat. I placed my pistol down on the table in front of me. I placed the weapon down was as though it was business, a contract we had to go through.

‘You know what he wants me to do, what he has ordered me to do.’ I said.

Billy said nothing, trying to control the sobs wracking his body.

‘If you were to vanish, to disappear, that would work.’ I added.

Billy wiped his tears with a sleeve.

‘Is there anywhere you could go?’ I asked.

‘My brother lives in Edinburgh. He’s been saying for ages, I should move up there.’

‘Take your wife, and Ruby, and go tonight. Do you understand?’ I said.

Billy nodded.

‘And Phil will understand that? He will be okay with it?’ Billy asked.

‘Leave him to me. I’ll take care of it with him.’

I found Archer holding court in noise of the club. He was almost shouting to be heard over the music. When he saw me, he dismissed his lackeys and as they went to play on the snooker tables, he pulled me to one side. 

‘Did you take care of it?’ He asked.

‘Can we talk in your office? I can’t hear myself think, and I don’t want to discuss it out here.’ I said. 

‘How’s that?’ 

‘Billy’s got a sick kid. It’s a delicate situation.’ I said.

‘Come through to the office, and I’ll explain how we handle delicate situations.’ Phil growled. 

The annoyance and anger in Phil’s voice told me I’d made the right decision in sending Billy away. There would be no compassion, no leniency with a man like this. I wondered quite when he had gone from mobster to monster. Did everyone make that transition if they were in the life for too long? 

As Phil was closing his office door, blocking out a lot of the din from the club, I jammed my pistol hard into his ribs. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He asked.

He eyed me with frustration and curiosity rather than fear and outrage. Phil Archer was that powerful in the Manchester underworld, that even having a gun pulled on him by a known killer was more of a nuisance than anything.

I stepped back from Archer and levelled my pistol at him at arm’s length. 

‘Billy is leaving, and you’re going to let him go.’ I said.

‘Absolutely not. No way. This life is all about perception. I can’t be seen to have someone steal from me. No excuses.’ Phil said.

‘I am not asking you, Phil. It’s done.’ I said.

Phil stared at me, fury burning in his eyes. People clearly didn’t speak to him that way.

‘And now you’re going to open that safe.’ I said.

‘Have you lost your mind?’ Phil said. ‘I don’t know what they did to you in prison, but you must be crazy-’ 

I stepped and slammed the butt of my pistol into the side of his head. He reeled, blood trickling from his ear. He stared shock. I jerked my pistol towards the safe. The look on my face must have told him how deadly serious I was. 

As Phil was opening the safe he growled at me.

‘You will never get away with this.’

‘You should have let me walk away. I never wanted to be back here. I was done with that life.’ I said. 

‘I say when you’re done.’ Phil said, opening the safe door. The dim lamp glow spilled over the stacks of cash inside.

‘That’s where you are wrong.’ I said. ‘I’m telling you, I’m done. And so are you.’

I pulled the trigger, putting four shots into his chest. With a look of disbelief on his face, he slumped to the floor, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. I quickly set about stacking the cash into a sports bag. I zipped up the bag and left. I walked quickly out of the club, but I didn’t run. I bid the barman, and the lads good evening, and stepped out into the night.

Nobody from Archer’s crew would be out for blood. Nobody would come after me. The gang boss had prided himself on his reign of fear, of being a tyrant, and as such, even those closest to him despised him. Nobody would come looking for revenge. 

Ricky and the others would be vying for the top spot rather than investigating his murder. And the money I had stolen was from the fallen Archer empire. And of course, the killer of a gang boss was also not to be messed with. A lot of the Archer crew were bullies and cowards, so they wouldn’t go looking for the killer, who could clearly take care of themselves. 

Archer’s firm was a crew, a business, and now the business was about to be taken over. There would be more blood spilled before the battle for leadership was over, I was sure of that much. I was certain they would be busily fighting for top dog and I could just slip away.

I found Billy and his wife, and Ruby at the bus terminus, waiting to board the late night bus for Edinburgh. While Billy and his wife looked worried sick, their daughter was half-asleep and would no doubt be snoring before the bus left the station. I marched down the station concourse quickly towards them.

‘What is it? What’s wrong? We’re going like you said.’ Billy insisted.

I handed him the sports-bag full of cash.

‘What is this?’ His wife asked.

‘Call it a going-away present.’ I said.

As I drove away I told myself this would be the last time, the last time I did anything like this. The last time. The end of Phil Archer, meant my new beginning. I was wiping the slate clean.

A week later, I was in another city, where my name meant nothing to people, where it didn’t speak of crime and robbery and violence. 

When the receptionist called my name, I raised my hand politely, as though I was a little kid in class. If I did well in this interview then I really could start afresh. A dull boring office job. The nine-to-five job I’d been resisting all these years. And right now, I wanted nothing more. 

I was shown into the boardroom. A man in a suit the same dark shade as my own shook my hand warmly, inviting me to take a seat. 

‘Just a few routine questions.’ The guy smiled, looking up from his clipboard.

‘Shoot.’ I said, smiling back at him.

I answered all the questions as well as I could. Then came one last question. 

‘Do you have a criminal record? Ever been in trouble with the police?’

‘No,’ I smiled, ‘not at all.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom