Days of Peace PART 3

There is nothing like a bad hangover, your mouths all dry and you can actually feel the bones sticking out of the roof of your mouth, your head feels like a bag of rotten potatoes and your breath smells like it too. I can’t remember anything about the night before but by the lightness in my pocket and my head I’d obviously had a big one. I’m awoken at about 11 am by a slam at my front door.
“What the fuck’s going on inside that head of yours” Bulldozer says as he smacks me in the jaw.
I suddenly realise I have no idea what’s going, “Well, sort it out” he yells as he walks out of my flat and in to the street.
Alright, what I said before, I might have to rephrase it, maybe I am an addict but I can afford it so what if it disrupts business. Fuck Business.
Apparently Harry’s not exactly happy with The Bulldozer and I, we broke the rule, and we have been taking advantage of the truck loads of Charlie that’s been coming our way, but that’s not exactly why Harry wants us dead. As I’d mentioned earlier Harry cannot stand disrespect, and from the wake up I got this morning The Bulldozer and I are not humble employees.
Over the last couple of months before this The Bulldozer and I had been asked to shake down the young crack dealers from the East End who we’d been told were making a lot of cash, our job was to tell them that they were creeping into our market which wasn’t true and the only way to make good was to kick up to us.
The Bulldozer was not a racist unlike a lot of people in our circle. He understood that there was a lot of money to be made to be made out of mans need to get high of as little money as possible and he believed that there was no better way to make some quick cash than out of the Black ghetto’s in the East end especially Brixton where the Yardies did their deals from.
Many people had tried to break in to that market and a lot of them failed, ending up with a bullet in the head or beaten half to death. See their trouble was that they tried to take complete control; we understood that if you were ever going to see a penny you had to finance, see George Meare, was dead by this stage he got whacked in a war over the crack cocaine market in London about two years previous. The Bulldozer quickly made friends with the new man in town, Danny “Stomper” Smyth; he got that nickname while he was in prison over a rape conviction. Apparently a football hooligan decided that Stomper’s number was up and tried to stick a butcher’s hook in his spine while he was taking a shower. Needless to say Danny stomped his head in to the tiles of the showers with his bear feet, he died instantly. The Bulldozer had come into contact with him when we used to shake down young crack dealers from Whitechapel and Essex.
Stomper wasn’t exactly happy to see us; I was responsible for half of his soldiers having scars on their cheeks, The Bulldozer and I had taken a fair share of cash from some of his top earners, which meant less cash for him and his lifestyle.
Stomper came out of prison with a desire to make some quick cash, but George wasn’t having any of it he said that the Stomper had to prove himself and that just being out of the penitentiary for rape wasn’t enough to put him on the street again, see George had two teenage daughters of his own and would punish anyone who tried anything like rape. Stomper had been a major figure in the east end before he got out, he reportedly ran a whorehouse in a Brixton tenement house and was always accused of belting anyone even his own girls who tried to short change him.
The way things went with the Yardies was that who ever had the most drugs and money ruled, as long as who ever it was of jamiacan decent they were in the running for the top job. Stomper’s parents were both from Jamaica but George was apparently three quarters, it didn’t seem to mind most, but Stomper was in prison and to him there no question that he wasn’t the rightful man for the job.
So when he came out he basically waged a war on George, by the end half of each side were dead, with Stomper being seated on the throne he had waited along time for the position having done his time patiently over a number of offences but mainly for rape he kept his mouth shut and came out seven years later.
The Bulldozer was quick to pay tribute to the new boss, who ever he might have been. So we both went to pay our respect to Stomper, but The Bulldozer had something else in mind. The Bulldozer came straight out and asked Stomper if there was anything he wanted us to do for him.
We went to a club in the East End which was a well known hang out for Stomper’s crew, “Yeah how ya goin’ mate?” Billy asked a bloke sitting down on a stool.
The bloke got up and returned a few seconds and ushered us in to Stomper’s VIP lounge. “What the fuck you doin’ here?” Stomper asked Billy.
“Congrats, on the top job mate” Billy said “just here to pay my respect”
Stomper nodded, seemingly appreciating the respect that came with his new job, “whose this?” He asked pointing to me.
Billy had told me earlier not to talk, so Billy told him, of course not knowing that I had belted several of Stomper’s top boys “What Tiny Tim?” he asked.
Stomper looked at the guys sitting on the table with him; I was sensing that we were in for some trouble. One of the very big guys stood up, but Stomper lowered his hand and the bloke sat right back down.
“Nice to meet ya” The Stomper said as he put out his hand. I shook it of course, but I was aware of my place and didn’t say much more.
“Listen” Billy said “If there’s anything we can do for you give us a twinkle will ya”
Billy stood up and Stomper nodded his acceptance of Billy’s job offer. We were in business with the Yardies, which almost sealed Bill’s fate with Harry.
Harry had became really close to George Meare, see they were both family men who cherished loyalty and respect above all else and when George got killed Harry was distraught. He was even going to go as far as to kill Stomper himself but was strongly advised against it. Harry’s youngest son, Johnny who was a bit of a flamboyant insurance scam artist and a yuppie with big ideas on how to make his fathers illegitimate businesses flourish, and George’s eldest daughter were married by this stage. So the two gang bosses were like family.
While the Stomper was in prison he became quite close to a couple of Italian guys who were connected to the London Mob. Harry had booted the Mafia out of his turf in the sixties but they managed to open up shop in places like Millwall, Deptford Park and Southwark just outside of town. Their firm had it in for us for years, but Harry had built a criminal empire in London meaning that it was almost impossible to strike at him.
The Stomper devised a plan to take over the Yardies and have the Italians back him up, but he needed to get out first. He spent the next two and a half years being a model prisoner, keeping out of trouble and sitting working on his strike plan.
Stompers plan was to kill George and Harry’s son execution style in their homes; of course he didn’t expect that George’s daughter would fight back, unfortunately resulting in her death as well.
Stomper was honoured that we came up to see him personally, but understood that our boss would not have been too happy if we were seen fraternising with his number one enemy. Harry didn’t understand that who ever had the guns and the money ruled the East end, and was too naïve to get his head around the fact that Stomper could wipe out his entire firm.
Harry still needed The Bulldozer for his connections, so when he learnt about our little arrangement with Stomper there was nothing he could do about it. As you could imagine this put a huge dint in Harry’s massive ego.
There was a time when I served Harry loyally and unquestionably when Harry took over from his old man he built a whole new firm with only Calming still left from the old one, he put Blacky and Tomatoes in the top positions because Harry Snr had promoted them to inducted members of the firm and according to the rules it wouldn’t have been right to seat them if they weren’t and left The Bulldozer as a manager of sorts.

Journal Comments

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