[b]Depftord 8:00 AM[/b] Charlie sat in the waiting room of the import-export office that served as the Kane’s front. His left knee couldn’t stop shaking, a nervous tic that he was doing without really doing it. He was on his third cigarette since arriving twenty minutes ago. There was a thump, followed by some shouting from behind the office door. What sounded like a muffled scream came through. Charlie expelled smoke and coughed as the door swung open. “Come on inside,” said the heavyset bodyguard. “He’ll see you now.” Charlie stood up and walked through the door. The first thing he saw was the towel of blood on the floor. A man was kneeling in front of it, holding on to his left hand and openly weeping. A tall, thin man in a kimono stood in front of the weeping man, a samurai sword in his hand. “Gotta pay the toll, lad. You can go, but I get to keep the finger.” The bodyguard helped the man up and showed him out. The man in the kimono held up a severed little finger and inspected it in the office light. Charlie could feel bile rising up in his throat at the sight. “I served during the occupation of Japan,” he said, not bothering to look away from the finger as he spoke. “Weren’t many of us, Yanks mostly did the heavy lifting, but I was one of them. Japan is… a fascinating place. A wonderful people and an amazing culture. As you can probably tell, it’s a big inspiration to me.” Charlie noticed the office was decked out in all kinds of Japanese and Asian shit. Bamboo screens, katanas mounted on the wall, and there was painting of… what looked like a woman having sex with a squid. “The Yakuza are like the London mobs, but with an actual tradition and culture. Kingpins here come and go, their gangs turning to dust after they’re gone. But the Yazuka’s foundation is so strong, it has survived for over three hundred years. Do you know why?” “Why?” Charlie whispered. “Structure,” he said, holding the little finger up for Charlie to examine. “This is the price for failure there. It’s the price for failure that I use.” He suddenly looked at Charlie and actually took him in. “I’m Bill Kane, by the way. Who the fuck are you?” “I’m an associate of Red Turner’s.” “Oh! The ginger bloke we hired to nick those diamonds?” Kane tossed the severed finger over his shoulder and pointed the sword towards Charlie, a large smile on his face. “How’d it go, lad?” “Less... than ideal.” Kane’s smile disappeared from his face. Charlie was suddenly all too aware of the sword in his hands. “Explain. And be fucking quick about it.” ---- [b]Putney 8:10 AM[/b] Diamonds glittered and shimmered on the dingy mattress. Freddy had scattered the rocks across Deborah’s naked body in celebration of the score and they made love. That was four hours ago and the sexual desire that fueled that act had long ago faded. Now, Freddy found himself in his boxers, picking the stones up off the mattress while Debbie made tea on the flat’s lone hotplate. “When are we leaving for Belize?” “Soon,” Freddy lied. “You may find this shocking, but the people at Pan-Am don’t take diamonds as currency for plane tickets, love. I gotta offload some of the stones to get cash. I got a buyer lined up, but I’m not meeting him until tonight.” The part about the buyer was true. He knew a pawnbroker that operated a fencing business on the side. Even at fifty pence on the pound for the diamonds, Freddy would be able to get enough cash buy a plane ticket to wherever he wanted to go. Debbie just wouldn’t be going wherever that was. She was great in bed and as one of the bunnies at the Playboy Club, she could turn heads and make men drool. But she’d served her purpose. Freddy would have enough money to have an entire harem of Debbies if he so desired. “What time is this meeting?” She came back into the bedroom, wearing the button-up shirt that Freddy had been wearing earlier. The shirt was all she wore and Freddy noted that she wore it well. In Debbie’s hands were two cups of tea. She passed one to him while she cradled the other in her hands. “‘Round eight tonight.” Freddy sipped the tea. Add making a good cuppa to the things Debbie could do well. He eyed her over and liked what he saw. “We have loads of time to take it easy,” he said with a grin. “Whatever shall we do?” Debbie grinned and set the tea down beside the bed. She started to slowly unbutton Freddy’s shirt. He resisted the urge to sigh. He was going to miss her. ---- [b]Depftord[/b] “It’s quite the predicament.” Jimmy Kane leaned against the side of his cousin’s desk with his arms crossed. Bill sat behind the desk with his feet up. Both of them were staring straight ahead at Charlie. To look at Jimmy was to see an inverse image of Bill. Jimmy was short and squat, his dark hair thin and receding. He had the build of a rugby player past his prime. His mannerisms were also the exact opposite of Bill. Jimmy was soft-spoken and contemplative. Several times he would pause for long stretches of time before he spoke, as if he had to compose the next sentence and say it in his head before he dared to speak. “You see, Charlie, despite the illegal nature of some of our businesses, we treat arrangements like legal agreements. Turner entered into an agreement with us, and this unfortunate development constitutes a breach of that verbal contract.” “But the circumstances---” “Are not our bloody fault,” snapped Bill. “Isn’t our fault you chose a perfidious cunt to work with.” “Bill’s right,” said Jimmy. “This fellow who ripped you off was picked by you. One of your gang members double-crossing you does not change the fact that you’re still short the diamonds, Charlie.” “At least give us time to make this right,” Charlie pleaded. “I want that son of a bitch so bad that I can taste it. I’ll deliver you the diamonds and his head on a fucking platter.” Jimmy looked over at Bill. The two men exchanged silent looks before Jimmy turned back to Charlie. “Twenty-four hours.” “No,” Bill said with a smile. “Forty-eight. That’ll put it on Easter Sunday. It’s more poetic. Resurrection from death and all that.” “Very well,” said Jimmy. “I’ll show you out, Charlie.” Charlie stood on legs that were close to wobbling. He had to concentrate to not look weak in front of the Kanes. Bill nodded at him and smiled warmly as he walked out in Jimmy’s wake. Once the door was closed, Jimmy spun around. “You are very lucky that Bill has such a poor memory, Charlie.” “What’s that mean?” Charlie asked, even though he already knew what he was hinting at. “Roy McCone? He works for us. And you’re on his shitlist.” “Fuck,” Charlie said under his breath. “Fuck-fuck-fuck.” “Sounds about right. On top of these diamonds, you owe us fifteen grand, Charlie.” “Look, it wasn’t me who fucked up that package.” “Just like it wasn’t you who took off with the diamonds,” hissed Jimmy. “But once again, it falls to you. You want to be a fucking player, Charlie? Then step up and act like one. Someone steals your diamonds, you skin the bastard alive. Some stick-up man steals your coke, you stick a shotgun up their arse and pull the trigger. Do you know why Bill and I are where we are in life? Because Bill chops off people’s fingers when they fuck up. If you don’t want to be eight-finger Charlie, then I suggest you get to fucking work.” Charlie took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Mr. Kane.” “Good.” Jimmy placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “See that you do, kid. I like you, it’s the only reason I haven’t let Bill kill you yet.”