Human Conditioning (17 page)

“He’s a fucking scumbag. I
can’t wait to cut his face open!” Sid whispered. “Dirty cunt too; he’s into all
those hardcore pornos and that. Likes the kiddie stuff...”

“He’s a nonce?” Aiden was
shocked.

“Yeah... my mate Ashley was
telling me the other day.”

“Ashley?”

“Ashley Connor. He films sex
tapes... not the hardcore stuff like that nonce in there likes...”

“Pornos?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But
they’re short films...”

“Sex films, huh? Where’s he
based?”

“He lives on the Harrington estate
in Bethnal Green.”

“Yeah, I know it...”

“Right, shall we do this?” Sid
asked with determination and a killer’s glint in his blue eyes.

It took just one dual kick to break the door open and
both Sid and Aiden burst into the house to find Billy jacking up in his living
room with two other men and a young red-headed female. “What the fuck?” Billy
bellowed, as Sid and Aiden strolled into the middle of the room, not quite
realising who they were in his hazy condition.

Billy was dressed in a blue
suit, his thin blond hair was slicked in curtains and his brown eyes darted
from Sid to Aiden then back to the man he recognised: Sid Foster. The girl
started screaming as her eyes focused on the machete in Sid’s hand. Sid gave
her a back-hander hard across the cheek, knocking her unconscious. The two men with
her froze in their seats, gawping at the two large men in the middle of the
room.

“You’re next, you cunts!” Sid
bellowed, pointing the weapon at them.

Aiden hadn’t taken his eyes
off Billy. Holding his KA-BAR knife out in front of him, he listened rather
than watched in morbid fascination as both the men behind him began to whimper
at his uncle’s threat. He couldn’t believe it. Not even if someone had hold of
his tackle, threatening to chop it off, would he fucking cry! He’d lose the
plot and start fucking fighting. As Sid dealt with them, Aiden’s blazing blue
eyes narrowed.

“So you’re the cunt who keeps
screwing over me uncle?”

“Fuck you!” Billy spat.

“I’ve heard so much about you
lately, even your name pisses me off!” he went on. “It seems fitting that I
should get to end your existence tonight, don’t it?”

Billy went to move, but Aiden raised
his KA-BAR and stepped up to him. For a split second he was distracted by the
noise coming from behind him and he snapped, “Shut those fuckers up, will you, Sid...
their whining is doing my nut in!”

Billy made this his
opportunity to locate the handgun he had hidden under the cushion of his
armchair before Aiden returned his attention to him. Billy held the small gun
out in front of him, his arms shaking with fear and adrenaline. Aiden was
stunned by a flurry of panic then he heard the gunshot. He stumbled backwards
instinctively, but as he looked up, it was Billy who was slumped in his chair,
blood pouring from the side of his head.

“Well, that was close, wasn’t
it?”

Both Aiden and Sid froze and
stared wide-eyed at the tall, slender, coffee-skinned man standing in the
doorway to Billy Wyatt’s living room, holding a small shotgun in his right hand.
His accent was traditionally English, despite his ethnicity, and he was immaculate,
dressed in an expensive grey suit, a crisp white shirt and grey tie and black
winkle-picker shoes. He was well-shaven, his nose littered with brown freckles,
and his eyes were a deep caramel brown.

With the hand that wasn’t
holding his gun, he tugged a white cotton handkerchief from the breast pocket
of his suit jacket and took time to dab his forehead. Then, calmly placing the handkerchief
into his trouser pocket, he lifted his gun once more and directed it at Sid. Sid
raised his arms in defence immediately.

“Whoa, whoa! What you doing?” Aiden
cried, in panic mode.

The stranger ignored him. “I
assume you know who I am?” he asked Sid directly.

Sid nodded, tears pricking his
eyes. The man raised his eyebrows, urging Sid to confirm his identity. “K... Kamal
Kakar...?” Sid stuttered.

Aiden had already assumed, but
now that it had been confirmed, he felt the twist of anxiety in the pit of his
stomach.
Was this it? Was he to die so young?
It didn’t seem right. He
had always banked on being more than this, being a success!

Keeping his gun pointed
between Sid’s eyes, Kamal turned to Aiden, and answering his question from
before, he announced, “This is retribution, Aiden,” and he pulled the trigger.

Sid flew backwards and his body
slumped against the couch. The two other men present, and now the girl, were
groaning. Sid had cut the men up bad, while the girl was merely in a daze, but
another three shots from Kamal’s gun finished all of them off too, for good.

Aiden, the only one left
standing, stared at Kamal, panic-stricken. But, as ever, overwhelmed by the
instinct to fight to the death, he took two long strides towards Kamal and lifted
both KA-BAR and hammer into the air. His uncle was dead not five metres away
from him and Kamal had a gun pointed at his forehead. Aiden’s mind was a whirl
of emotion, his heart beating hard against his chest. “Fucking come on, then?”
he bellowed, spittle bubbling between his lips.

“Drop the weapons, Aiden. We
need to talk,” Kamal announced calmly, and gestured to the front door with a
flick of his head. Aiden stared at him in bewilderment. “You’re perfectly safe.
We can use you,” he added. Aiden frowned, but didn’t move for a long moment as
he attempted to register what the hell was going on. “Aiden, come.”

Kamal lowered his gun and,
slowly, Aiden lowered his arms, yet his trembling fingers refused to release
their grip on his weapons of choice. Kamal turned on his heels and headed for
the front door. Aiden took a deep breath. He had to go with this. If he didn’t,
he would be dead too and he passionately believed that that was not his fate. Taking
one quick glance at his uncle’s body, he followed Kamal out of the house and
headed towards a silver Mercedes parked out front.

“Lose the knife and hammer,
Aiden,” Kamal instructed as another suited man appeared at his side and opened
the rear door of the car. “And the knuckle dusters...”

“How can I trust you won’t
blow me brains out when I get in?” Aiden asked.

“If I wanted you dead, Aiden,
your body would be lying next to your scumbag of an uncle, and I happen to love
this car. I am not interested in having bits of your brain splattered all over
the leather interior...”

Aiden hesitated then finally handed
Kamal his weapons and lowered himself into the back seat. The door was closed
on him and Kamal appeared around the other side of the car and slipped in
beside him, the other man getting into the driver’s side and dropping the KA-BAR,
knuckle dusters and hammer that Kamal had given him on the front passenger seat.
“Home, Spencer,” Kamal instructed.

Spencer turned the car around
in the road and headed towards Mile End.

It was silent in the car as
they crossed Victoria Park Road. Aiden glanced down the street to the location
of Lily Summers’ family home. Even now, his stomach lurched at the thought of
her. He’d never been in Lily’s house but he’d walked her home on a few
occasions. He’d heard she was at college now...

As they moved further south,
through and out the other side of Mile End, Aiden began to lose his bearings.
He hadn’t been this far south before. Not by car, anyway. It took approximately
fifteen minutes before they arrived at Kamal’s home, which was located at Limehouse,
looking out onto the north bank of the Thames. Aiden was led to the lift by
Kamal, Spencer having been instructed to park the Mercedes. Kamal hit the
button for level six and they rose in silence. When the lift arrived at the
required level, Kamal led Aiden to the only apartment belonging to that floor, unlocked
the door and gestured for him to go inside. Aiden did as instructed and found
himself inside a large, open-plan lounge with a kitchenette set off to the
right. 

“This is modern,” he muttered
as Kamal followed him in.

“It’s what money can buy,
Aiden. These are brand new. They’ll be starting on Canary Wharf next.”

Aiden nodded, walking slowly
around the room, taking in all its glory. Two white sofas accompanied by a
matching armchair stood in the middle of the lounge area with a large glass
coffee table in between. The armchair had a matching small glass table beside
it. The left wall, adjacent to the kitchenette, was covered in bookshelves.

He stepped over to the large
window opposite the front door, which stretched across a majority of the living
space. There was a balcony beyond and he could see the faint glimmer of a star-lit
Thames in the distance.

“Drink?” Kamal offered from
the kitchen.

“Yeah, something strong,”
Aiden replied. Kamal smiled to himself and poured a glass of neat vodka over
ice for his guest. “You know, it wasn’t Sid’s fault... what happened...” Aiden
added as he continued to assess his surroundings.

“If you don’t mind me saying,
I don’t think you know the whole story, Aiden,” Kamal replied, screwing the top
back onto the vodka bottle and placing it back in the cupboard.

“Oh, yeah?”

“We’ve been monitoring your
uncle for months...”

“We?”

Kamal didn’t answer. He went
on, “He’s been screwing with our plans over several jobs of late. The diamonds
were the last straw...”

“That was Billy Wyatt,” Aiden
retorted.

Kamal walked around the
breakfast bar and back into the lounge. He handed Aiden the glass and gestured
for him to sit on the sofa. “You know only half the story. But I’m not going to
waste our time giving you all the details, Aiden, because I think you know that
your uncle was a slippery fucker.” Aiden didn’t answer and Kamal took his
silence as his agreement and went on to say, “We think you can work for us...”

“There’s that
we
again...
you appear out of nowhere and start running the show and you expect me to
believe that you work alone with just those two brothers I keep hearing about?”

Kamal leant forward, resting
his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. Aiden noticed he wore
a single golden band on the finger next to his pinkie but on his right hand. Staring
directly at Aiden with animated caramel eyes, he said, “You are lucky to be
alive tonight. I’d suggest you keep your theories to yourself and listen to
what I’ve got to offer you...”

Relaxing back on the couch,
Aiden replied, “Go on, then... what is it, exactly, that you think I can do for
you?”

“You’ve got a killer instinct,
Aiden. You need better experience, but tonight convinced me further that you’ve
got what it takes to become a
real
enforcer... not just some hard-man
debt collector. I had just killed your uncle, I had a gun pointed at your head,
and you still opted to fight me.” Kamal opened out his arms and added, “I’m
impressed...”

“You’re lucky I didn’t cut
your throat,” Aiden retorted fervently.

Kamal smirked. “There’s a huge
difference between wanting to cut someone’s throat and actually doing it...”

“So, what’s the offer?” Aiden
intervened.

“You come and work for us, and
we’ll pay you £3K a month plus a percentage on whatever you make from the job
in hand. The more you impress, the bigger the job and the more money you earn.
It’s as simple as that.”

 “And what about my other
businesses, my current plans?”

Kamal relaxed back in his
chair and picked at the material on the knee of his trousers. “As long as they
don’t interfere with anything you do for us, you’re free to do whatever you
wish, within reason, of course. We expect our associates to be loyal to our
firm. We do not tolerate mixers. You will not associate with any other firm in
or outside of London. Understand?”

“And if I refuse your offer?”

Kamal inhaled a deep breath
and exhaled loudly. He stared Aiden directly in the eye and replied, “If you
refuse, Aiden, you don’t get to leave this room.”

Aiden, for the first time,
raised his glass to his lips and he drained its contents in one. He placed it
down on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “Looks like I don’t really have
a choice then, doesn’t it?”

Kamal subsequently stood. “No,
Aiden, you don’t. But you will be paid handsomely for your inconvenience.” Kamal
held out his hand and Aiden shook it. “I’ll see that Spencer gets you back to
Hackney. Good doing business with you, Aiden. And you might not believe me to
be genuine, but I
am
sorry about your uncle. You’ll learn in time that
it’s just business, nothing personal.”

Roy was on the phone when Gina walked into the flat. He
looked perplexed and she dreaded to hear about what it was he’d got himself
into this time. When Roy found her in the kitchen a few minutes later, he announced
abruptly, “You’re gonna have to get a job.”

Gina turned and stared at him
in bemusement. “I have a job... I got one the other week. You don’t listen to
me, do you?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to
get
another
job,” he retorted snidely.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes
narrow and accusing. “What you done now?”

Roy ran a hand through his
slicked hair. “Billy Wyatt’s dead... he was found a few days ago. Shot to the
head. A bit of a massacre, apparently.”

“So? Everyone said he was a nonce
anyway... I’m sure he deserved all he got.”

“You’re a heartless cow, Gina,
just like your mother!”

Gina instinctively knew there
was a reason for her father’s concern over Billy, a man he’d slated many times
in the past, but she couldn’t bear to know what kind of association he’d had
with him. She’d heard enough about Billy Wyatt to know that whatever
relationship he and her father had, it would have had something to do with
making money. And the perplexed look on her father’s face convinced her that
Billy had died owing him some, if not all, of it!