Free Least of Evils by J.M. Gregson

‘This man isn’t a politician or a policeman, George.’
    â€˜Then who is it?’ French didn’t like the use of his first name, which always made him feel patronized. But he wasn’t going to object to it, with a lucrative commission in the offing. He forced a wan smile. ‘You’d better tell me who you want to disappear.’ He always put it like that. Even the blackened souls who employed him sometimes shied away from words like murder.
    â€˜Oliver Ketley.’
    The bombshell was dropped quietly. French did not flinch, still less whistle, as the name sounded in his ears. Nevertheless, both men knew that it was a bombshell. A few seconds passed before French said. ‘Ketley’s different. I’m not saying impossible, I’m saying difficult. An extra ten k difficult.’
    â€˜And why would that be?’
    â€˜More danger for me. More preparation. Ketley has his own muscle – men who aren’t just enforcers but personal bodyguards. It wouldn’t be easy to get near you with Geoff Day and his buddies around you.’
    Jack Burgess smiled again, ran a hand quickly through his rather untidy blond hair. What French said was true enough, but it was never mentioned. The comment from this cold, impersonal man he was about to employ was a reminder to him that even he was vulnerable, if someone should have the will and the resources to attack him. He said, ‘All right. I see the difficulty. Fifty k altogether, then; half in advance and half on delivery. When?’
    â€˜You must leave that to me. This will need a lot of planning. I’ll need full detail of his movements, but I can get that. Have you got a deadline for this?’
    â€˜No, but I don’t want it to drag on indefinitely.’
    Or until Ketley decides you’re too dangerous, and hires me or someone like me to dispose of you, thought French. The thought amused him, but he allowed no trace of that to appear on his cadaverous features. ‘It won’t do that, but I’ll need the right opportunity. You don’t want a failure.’
    â€˜And you want one even less.’ Burgess did allow himself a grim smile at that. Failure would mean death for the man sitting opposite him.
    â€˜Exactly. That’s why I can’t give you a deadline. There are no near-misses allowed in this game; the only two results are complete failure or complete success. I’ll need the opportunity and you can’t make that. But I’ll deliver, sooner rather than later. Hopefully within a month, but no promises.’
    â€˜Fair enough. You’ll have twenty-five k within the next few days.’
    â€˜In used notes.’
    â€˜That’s no problem. This place takes in as much as that, on a good night.’
    â€˜No further contact beyond that. The job will be done as soon as possible. Maybe days, more likely weeks.’
    Now, at the last possible moment, they rose and shook hands, sealing their grim bargain. Geoffrey Day could not have been far away, for he appeared immediately when Burgess summoned him. George French left as swiftly and unobtrusively as he had arrived.
    Jack Burgess sat very still in his office for a long time after he had gone. It was a big decision to take out Ketley. But once you had made the decision, it was good to have the money to employ the very best in the trade.

SIX
    L uke Gannon was a year older than Eddie Barton. Eddie realized in retrospect that that was why he seized on Luke’s offer. Gannon had been a year ahead of him at the comp. He’d seemed big and strong then, the leader of his gang. Eddie had held him in awe at school, and it was some hangover from those days which made him go along with the scheme.
    Luke wasn’t a close mate of Eddie’s, but he came over to him in the pub and asked how he was getting on with his recovery. They didn’t discuss how he’d got his injuries; from the effective local grapevine of the small-crime