It was incredibly clever, Livingstone had to admit. Although Goliath had killed two men on his property, the footage from the club’s doctored CCTV would refute that fact.
Livingstone slowly nodded his approval. ‘Impressive, bruv,’ he said.
‘Impressive enough to convince you to hire me, I hope?’ the giant said.
‘Before I answer that, tell me one thing. Why did you kill those men in front of me, a complete stranger? Surely the fewer witnesses the better?’
The giant chortled.’ Mr Livingstone, I have checked you out thoroughly. You are no stranger to death – in fact, the word is that you have personally killed at least three men.’
Livingstone had indeed killed three men, not that he was going to admit it. The first had tried to stab him because he was becoming too powerful; the second had sent the man who tried to stab him, and the third had shot Livingstone during a botched drugs robbery. No bodies had ever been found; the men had just disappeared. ‘Nothing was ever proved,’ he said.
Goliath beamed. “’Ha, of course not. You and I are kindred spirits. I felt it the moment we met. I have a good nose for people,’ he said, tapping it, ‘and I instinctively knew that I could trust you with my secret, unlike Tyrone downstairs.’
Goliath seemed to harbour an illusion that because they were both murderers, they had something in common. Maybe he was right, but there was one major difference: Livingstone had killed out of necessity, and had taken no joy from it, whereas the giant clearly liked to kill for fun, prolonging the experience whenever he could to maximise the gratification it gave him.
‘Besides,’ Goliath said with a malevolent grin, ‘men like us know how dangerous talking to the wrong people can be for our health.’
In other words, if Livingstone ratted Goliath out, he wouldn’t live long enough to testify. That was fine. Goliath knew it worked both ways.
‘So, you killed him because he might have talked, not because you didn’t like him?’ Livingstone said.
Goliath nodded. ‘Yes, that’s why I killed Tyrone. He had a big mouth, and he would have sold me out to the Feds the first time that he got himself into trouble. So, you see, despite my reputation for being a little crazy, which I am very happy to encourage, I can assure you that there is always method to my madness.’
‘I believe you,” Livingstone said,’ and he did.
‘Good,’ Goliath said with a contented sigh. ‘So, shall we finally get down to business? Tell me, how can I be of service to you?’
‘It’s very simple,’ Livingstone said, knocking back his drink and holding the glass out for a refill, ‘I want you to come down to London and start a war for me.’
