‘We’re on,’ Fat Tony said in his flat monotone Scouse accent. He came from Birkenhead, across the Mersey, and to the well trained ear, the accent was different.
Curtis’ pulse quickened. He had found out the identity of the man who murdered Shaun. Trent Casey, a member of the Hill Street Posse, had been the gunman on the back of the scooter that night. Curtis had now tracked him down. They were waiting for him to come out of the gym and go down the side road to get into his red BMW that was parked opposite.
Curtis could feel his adrenaline surge as he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out two balaclavas and a Glock handgun. He couldn’t wait to look at the man who had murdered his brother and then kill him. He wanted to see him scared. He wanted Trent Casey’s family to suffer like his family had.
Fat Tony nodded to indicate that Casey had turned the corner and was heading their way. Curtis felt his heart thumping noisily in his chest. He didn’t want to fuck this up.
Right let’s fucking do this!
They pulled the black balaclavas over their heads and got out of the car. Curtis ran his forefinger over the metal of the Glock’s trigger.
He glanced left. Casey was wandering down the street with his black gym bag. He was oblivious to the fact that he was about to be ambushed and die. He had headphones on and seemed lost it the music.
Right you fucker, I’m having you!
Fat Tony and Curtis jogged across the road and up onto the pavement right beside Casey. For a split second, he didn’t see them.
Then Casey looked up. His eyes widened suddenly.
‘Fuck!’ Casey yelled, as he dropped his bag and backed away. His put his arms up, fingers spaced out wide. ‘What you want? I got money. You want money? My car?’
CRACK!
Curtis felt the powerful recoil of the Glock as he fired a shot into Casey’s thigh. It left a bloody hole the size of a fifty pence piece and Casey dropped to the pavement.
Curtis got the waft of cordite in the air.
‘Trent Casey?’ Curtis asked, trying to get his breath. His hand was shaking a little as the adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream.
‘Who’s you? Don’t kill me, man. Please,’ Casey pleaded as he crawled backwards away from them and put his hands up again.
Curtis pulled up his balaclava for a moment. He wanted Casey to see his face.
‘You know who I am?’ Curtis growled, feeling all the power that went with holding the gun in his hand.
Casey’s eyes widened. ‘Yeah, I know you. Please ...’
‘You know why I’m here?’ Curtis snarled. He was starting to lose it.
Casey nodded, ‘Please don’t kill me, man’.
Curtis pulled his balaclava back over his face and marched aggressively towards Casey. The feeling of wanting to hurt and destroy him was completely overwhelming.
I want to fucking obliterate you!
‘We need to go,’ Fat Tony said.
‘Look at me! Look at me!’ Curtis screamed as Casey cowered and whimpered. ‘Now, I am going shoot you in the face so no one in your family can identify you. And you’ll have a closed casket at your funeral.’
Curtis looked at Casey. He was getting off on the terror in his face. Casey’s eyes welled with tears as his whole body shook uncontrollably.
‘I’ll see you in hell, you cunt,’ Curtis said.
CRACK! CRACK!
Curtis shot him between the eyes and then in the mouth. Blood spattered on his trainers but Curtis didn’t want to stop shooting.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. ‘We need to get out of here,’ Fat Tony yelled.
Running across the road, Curtis and Fat Tony jumped into the Range Rover and roared away down the side road. It would be a good while before the bizzies got there and by then they would be long gone.
Curtis looked at the specks of blood on his hand. It felt good to see Casey’s blood on him. It felt amazing to know that Casey had cried and shook as he died. He was high on the overwhelming feeling of revenge.
Curtis reached into the door, pulled out a half bottle of vodka and swigged a few inches. His hands were still shaking uncontrollably.
Ten minutes later, they entered Croxteth and the vodka had calmed Curtis’ nerves.
His phone buzzed. The caller ID said ‘Laura’. Curtis hadn’t heard from Laura in months. As far as he knew, she had moved back to North Wales.
Curtis knew there were only two reasons why Laura would be ringing him. Drugs or sex. He smiled to himself. Laura was fit, great in bed and shagging her this afternoon in exchange for some free drugs was exactly what he wanted to do. He would ring her back after he had showered and changed at his apartment.
‘Breathe’ by Blu Cantrell came onto the radio, which was playing quietly.
‘I love this song,’ Curtis said as he turned the volume up, the bass reverberating around the car. He was high on vodka and adrenaline.
As they turned into the middle of Croxteth, Curtis saw a display of brightly coloured flowers outside a small supermarket.
They look nice.
‘Pull over Tone, will you?’ Curtis said.
‘What for?’ Tone asked, his brow furrowed.
Curtis gestured to the flowers, ‘Wanna get me ma some flowers. You know. I’ll get two bunches and take some to Shaun’s grave. I can tell him that I’ve sorted it.’
‘What about your hands?’ Fat Tony said, pointing to the specks of blood.
‘Who’s gonna say anything against me around here? I’m the King of Croxteth,’ Curtis said with a smile. The surge of power that fizzed in his body was overwhelming.
Fat Tony nodded, pulled the car over, parked outside the shop and Curtis got out.
No one could touch him. He had avenged his brother’s death and now he was in charge.
CHAPTER 5
August 2003
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON and Nick had nearly finished his shift. He and Jonesy were driving through the middle of Llancastell in their police patrol car.
