Declan was annoyed, Michael could tell that much. He hated the Barbers with a vengeance. They had a history. Many years before, Declan had beaten Dicky Barber to the proverbial pulp. Dicky Barber had been the one to insist on the fisticuffs; he had confronted Declan outside a pub in Woolwich of all places. He had challenged Declan to a fight and, once provoked, Declan had been more than happy to oblige.
Jonny Barber had taken no action at the time. He had enough sense to know that Dicky Boy had brought all the grief on himself. He had sought out the fight, and he had lost. There was nothing to be done. The fight had been in public, and Dicky had been the instigator. Jonny chose his battles shrewdly and he’d had a feeling that, if it ever came down to it, the Costellos would not be easy to topple. They were a bigger firm in every way, and they were well liked. It was better to retreat on this occasion, and Jonny had made sure that Dicky Boy had done exactly that. This was something Patrick Costello had known within days.
‘Rob Barber has to be thirty-five if he’s a day! “Young Rob Barber”, my arse. He’s a cunt. Even Jonny don’t trust him, and he’s his own brother! What does that tell you?’ Declan’s voice was laced with anger and disgust.
Patrick poured them a large whisky each. He stood by the windows, looking down at the empty warehouse, picturing it in his mind as it might have been many years before, packed to the brim with casks of brandy, or bolts of different coloured silks. It would have been a hive of activity then, the whole place ringing with noise.
‘It’s a piss-take all right, Declan. But I think that this is a job for Superman.’ He turned back towards his brother and Michael. ‘You want him badly, Michael, I can tell.’
Michael smiled grimly.
‘He was after you, my son. You’re the one he wanted, and you know that. He was stronging it in your club. Now, thanks to Paulie O’Keefe and his good intentions, that ponce probably thinks that you haven’t got the bottle to face him. He thinks you’ve tried to swerve him.’
Michael stood up abruptly, and Patrick and Declan Costello were both suddenly reminded of how dangerous the lad could be if provoked. Michael’s biggest asset was his ability to control his temper. Not many people could do it so well. Patrick himself could, but Michael was the only other person he had ever encountered who was able to do it so absolutely. It was a rare gift, and it showed a strength of will that was as powerful as it was unique. In the world they inhabited, the capability for violence was the norm, but very few could channel that violence and use it like a deadly weapon.
Michael was genuinely furious now. Patrick wanted him to show his real feelings, knowing that he needed to vent his anger. This was personal. Rob Barber had come looking for him. He had invaded his personal space. Michael was the new kid on the block, and people like Rob saw that as an invitation, a chance to enhance their own reputation at the expense of someone else. Rob Barber would never have fought him one-to-one; Michael knew that his reputation as a fighter would have put paid to that. No, Rob Barber would need a knife or a gun, a posse of people around him. He was a coward.
‘I want him all right, Patrick, of course I fucking do! But I know enough to keep my private opinions to myself, and I have enough self-control to make sure that I don’t cause trouble for anyone else. If I had gone after him, you both know that I would have nigh on fucking killed him.’
Patrick Costello started laughing, and Declan, swallowing his drink in one gulp, joined in.
Michael Flynn stood there as the Costello brothers roared with laughter and, despite himself, he started to laugh as well.
Patrick wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve. ‘You are so like me, Michael. Always thinking of the big picture. You try and work out what might happen if you were to let your natural instincts run riot. I know exactly what it’s like.’ He was tapping a finger into his temple now, his face screwed up with seriousness. ‘I knew as a kid that I had too much anger inside me, that I had to learn how to contain it. As young as I was, I had the ability to kill someone when the anger took over. You are the only person I have ever met who has the same affliction, Michael. And, like me, you have learnt to control it.’
Michael recognised the truth of the man’s words. He could see Declan watching them both, fascinated as he listened to his brother explain himself as if it was the first time he had ever really understood him. The discomfort that Patrick’s words had created was evident.
Patrick sighed heavily, as though he was tired out from all the talking. ‘You can have Rob, Michael. Declan, you can finally finish off that ponce Dicky. And, as for Jonny Barber, I have wanted to take that ponce out for years. Now we have no other option. Rob has seen to that, the useless fucker.’
Michael smiled. His smile was so endearing. No one looking at it could ever have believed that it could hide so much hate and so much anger.
Patrick poured them each another drink and raised his glass in a toast. ‘We need to plan this well. Do it quickly and quietly.’