CHAPTER 20

iii

Harry Solomon sauntered into the dull lights of the warehouse under the misconception that he’d be finally meeting with the man they called Prince Igor. He wasn’t prepared to meet three men, one of whom was his one time rival, Reggie O’Dowd. Short, stocky, and with a vicious scar running from his right temple to his jawline, Harry was dressed in his usual plaid waistcoat and slacks, plain cotton undershirt, along with hobnailed boots. There was a gold watch and heavy chain hanging from the third button of his waistcoat, looping to the small left hand fob pocket. Reggie marvelled at how the cold chill of the night didn’t seem to bother Harry. He was still wearing the same bowler hat he’d had from before the War; it had seen better days. He completed his look with a large, sweeping, handlebar moustache that was meticulously waxed into a straight line—like the coaxed single whisker of a deadly cat.

His brother Alfie appeared more professional, wearing a dark green, three-quarter length, wool car coat over an olive green pin-stripe suit, with jet black shoes. He was carrying a long, thin walking stick, and Reggie wondered how no one had bothered to take it away from him. Did Shetty even search them? Fraternal twins, the brothers were exact opposites; the two halves of what one would call a whole, complimenting each other with their ruthless natures. Both were left handed, both of them meticulous when it came to making plans, and both in tune with one another as only twins can be. Reggie watched as Harry scanned the rafters and Alfie prepared to take the floor.

“It’s a fine fuckin’ night for some old injuries to be forgot about,” Reggie said, ignoring Alfie and calling out to Harry.

“You’re not here to talk on our behalf,” Chernetsov said quietly.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Reggie snapped.

“Forgot about?” Harry asked, and turned to look at his brother. “He wants me to forget about what he did to me?”

“This,” Reggie said, giving a mild shrug as he spoke, “is not my business, Harry. I’m just here to stand in place as a witness for the Sicilians.”

“What Sicilians?” Harry asked, looking at his brother.

“Doesn’t matter,” Reggie said. “Seems to me that people don’t trust you Solomons,” he added. “I can’t for the life of me imagine where that comes from,” he laughed, and looked up at Kazakoff standing next to him.

“Are you done?” the man asked.

“That’s no way for you to start a negotiation,” Harry quipped.

“We’ve already been through our negotiations,” Kazakoff said, holding out a large valise.

Harry looked at Reggie and Alfie stepped in front of him, saying something only his brother could hear, and Harry nodded, stepping back into the shadows and returning with an old sailor’s bag.

“It’s a simple transaction,” Alfie explained. “The Russian gets his money”—Harry tossed the bag into the middle of the circle—“we get the opium, and everybody goes home happy.”

“Do they, now?” Reggie asked.

“I’m sure we can all agree it’s our patriotic duty to do what we can for the poor Ruskies, seeing how the Reds’ve beaten them so soundly—a fair thrashing if what I’ve read is true. As for the guns, well, you stole them fair and square.”

“I know nothing about any guns,” Reggie was quick to say.

“The guns are not part of the deal,” Chernetsov said gently.

“Well, you got them from someone,” Harry pointed out.

“They’re not part of the deal. They’ll be loaded up and transported in their own good time.”

“And you have a ship, no doubt?” Alfie smiled.

“They’re not part of the deal.”

“So why are they here?” Harry asked.

“The negotiations have been concluded,” Kazakoff said.

“That they have, that they have,” Alfie smiled.

“Then we’ll take the money and leave,” Chernetsov asked.

“Just a moment. Not so fast,” Alfie said, holding his hands up as he stepped into the circle of light. “What kind of a business man would I be if I didn’t come prepared?” Alfie asked.

“Prepared for what?” Reggie asked.

“Well, I wasn’t prepared for the likes of you now then, was I?” Alfie laughed. “I know my brother certainly wasn’t. And that’s where the problem lays.”


“And what problem is that?” Kazakoff asked.

“Why, him, of course,” Alfie smiled, pointing at Reggie.

“What does he have to do with any of this? We don’t know him. He represents the Sicilians. He’s here to see that the transaction goes accordingly. It is going accordingly, I trust?”

“Why would you think any different?”

“Then if you’d be kind enough to part with what you have, we’ll give you the opium, and walked away satisfied.

“And if we don’t?” Harry asked.

“I don’t understand,” Chernetsov said, stepping forward. “We made a deal. We’ve held up our end of the deal. We brought you the opium. Once you pay for it, you’re free to leave—”

“Free to leave?” Alfie said, suddenly serious. “What exactly doe that mean? Free to leave? Ah, that's because Sabini’s Hammerboys are watching over you? Is that what you think?”

“You see, we were thinking we might just change the deal while we could,” Harry laughed.

“Change it?” Chernetsov asked.

“Yes. We keep the gold, take the opium, and give the guns back to the Brotherhood,” Alfie smiled. “Changing it for the good of us all, I’d say, wouldn’t you, Harry? You don’t want the Brotherhood after you; those boys, they never forgive, and they certainly don’t forget.”

Kazakoff pulled his gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Alfie.

“That would be a mistake,” he said

Before he even cocked the hammer, a shot rang out from the rafters above.

And then all Hell broke loose.

Reggie knocked a kerosene lamp off a crate with his shoulder. Catching it, he threw it at the Solomon brothers without hesitation. There was whoosh of flames sounding like a muffled echo; there was a quick bark of pistols and a scream as Harry was engulfed in flames and Alfie tried to muffle the flames with his jacket.

iv

Michael Dunnican crawled to his right, fading into the darkness where he hid himself behind a large crate, poking his rifle out into the shadows again. The small circle of light was an inferno of flames. He could see Alfie Solomon vainly fighting the flames as the other kerosene lamps exploded around them; the fuel began seeping into the surrounding crates, quick to form a wall of flames. There was another explosion as another one of the lanterns was thrown into the confusion—it hit a wall and exploded on impact, the flames swimming across the floor, engulfing the guns.

Michael scrambled across the crates, making his way to the window, climbing out and crossing the roof at a run. He didn’t even bother to stay in the shadows. He knew there’d be no threat. His team would’ve taken care of whatever guards had been set out. Anyone out there would be either with him, or with the Solomon’s. He knew if he made his way toward the ship he might be able to track the two figures. He thought he saw them, and set up briefly for a shot, but he lost them in the shadows. He cursed silently and made his way to the ladder he’d set up on the South side wall. Slinging his gun over his shoulder, he made his way down the ladder where he was met by Reggie O’Dowd, who slipped a knife into his side, turning it sharply and pulling it out, only to punch it into him twice more.

v

“The guns!” Chernetsov cried out.

“They’re done for, just like us if we don’t get out of here!” Reggie added, looking at a dark alley stretching between the warehouses. He was down on one knee, cleaning his knife on the dead man’s clothes, watching for anyone likely to come around the corner. It was only a matter of time before someone showed up, he knew, and the longer they stayed where they were, the more likely the chance they’d be discovered. He sheathed his knife in his boot and stood up.

The flames broke through the roof at that moment. A raging lick of flame free of its enclosure, a myriad of sparks as dense as the Milky Way, it spread across the tarred roof of the building, leaping and feeding itself—growing with an insatiable hunger—the flames now lighting the way ahead of them.

“I need those guns!” Chernetsov said. He was frantic. He was watching the flames as they grew, his shadow a giant caracature of itself splayed caross the walls of the surrounding buildings.

“I said they’re done for!”

“You fool! Do you know what you’ve done!”

“Saved your life?”

“If only it were that simple,” Chernetsov said, drawing his pistol.

He put the gun to the back of Reggie’s head and pulled the trigger.