1911021494 by MICHAEL HAMBLING Page B

getting any younger. Ricky had started to form his own alliances and wouldn’t be easy to overthrow. Blossom had the uneasy feeling that, when it came to the crunch, Charlie would side with his nephew — and Blossom would end up floating face down out in the Channel somewhere. After all, he’d never been anything more than Charlie’s enforcer.
    He opened a porn magazine and began to flick idly through the pages. Maybe he’d screw one of the girls a bit later. The others were always telling him to take one, but he’d never gone through with it. He felt uneasy about the one who’d escaped. There had been no news on the local radio or in the press about her being found. Maybe she was dead, but somehow he doubted it. She could even be in the hands of the cops by now, although he and Ricky had done a good job of cleaning the old place up. They’d left nothing that could lead the cops to this new location, and even this one was temporary. Ricky had started talking about a complete change of plan, moving much further east where the Channel was narrower, the boat trip much shorter and access to London quicker. Blossom was unsure about it. He’d crossed swords with one of the big London gangs many years before, and it hadn’t been a nice experience. He’d escaped without injury, but some of his mates hadn’t been so lucky. Muscling in on that market could prove a step too far unless it was planned properly. He doubted whether Ricky would be bothered to do the necessary homework.
    He switched on the television to get the latest news before turning in for the night. There might be something about the missing girl. When the main headline was announced Blossom watched aghast. The partly decomposed bodies of two young women had been found buried on an abandoned farm near Poole Harbour. What? Blossom couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. What bodies? He didn’t know of any bodies. What the fuck had been going on when he was away from the place? He stormed up the stairs, crashed open the door to Ricky’s room, and switched the light on. A white-faced girl sat up, pulling the duvet up around her neck, her eyes wide with fear. Ricky opened his eyes and snarled at Blossom.
    ‘What the fuck are you doing, you stupid pillock?’
    ‘You’d better come down and see what’s on TV. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’
    Blossom turned on his heel and stalked back downstairs. He was standing in front of the screen, swallowing the last of his beer, when Ricky walked in. Blossom pointed at the screen, and the headline scrolling across the bottom. “Two women’s bodies found buried on farm near Poole Harbour.”
    ‘Jesus,’ Ricky said. ‘They’re lying, Blossom.’
    ‘What do you take me for, you stupid fucker? They wouldn’t lie over something this serious. I know that. You know that. Every Tom, Dick and fucking Harry knows that. If they say they found two bodies, then they found two bodies.’ He pointed his stubby thumb at Ricky. ‘And you put them there, didn’t you? When I was off looking after the business and didn’t have my eye on you. You psycho bastard. Charlie’ll be going mental.’
    Ricky looked Blossom in the eye.
    ‘Charlie knows. He was there. He and that crazy Romanian, Barbu. So you see, Blossom, it’s all three of us. And now you know. What are you going to do?’
    Blossom heard a noise. Barbu was standing in the doorway watching them, impassive.
    ‘Well, I know what we have to do, and I mean we . Get away from here, for a start. Do you think for one moment that the cops won’t be looking all along the shore for us? You just had to play the cool gangster when those two cops came calling, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just act innocent for once and not raise their hackles? I saw the way that blonde one looked at us once you’d started your spiel. She knew you had something to hide all right. They must have been back there pretty quick with sniffer dogs or something. They’ll have