Page 11 of Taunting Tarran
‘Boss, I’ve seen him crawl into a Mini Cooper like it’s an Olympic sport – surprised us all. Trust me!’
I groan. As I turn, Sal grabs my arm gently. ‘One more thing, boss. A few club members owe us money. Perhaps a little face-to-face reminder will clear up any misunderstandings about clearing their debt?’
‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands.’
Sal is a seasonedconsigliere; a distinguished man in his fifties, who serves me well as an advisor, as well as quietly and efficiently resolving disputes among family members.
I’ve known him the majority of my life, and despite his efficiency, he has a deep sense of honour. He was my father’s confidant, guiding our family through countless challenges and conflicts. His discretion in handling sensitive matters has earned himmy utmost trust.
‘There’s another thing,’ he continues as he stands and nods his head towards a quiet corner of the room. ‘I know everything is all up in the air but…’
‘But?’
‘It’s the Albanians.’
I rub my jaw. The Albanians have always been a thorn in our side. One minute they’re allies, the next they’re sending pictures of their dealings. Some messages were sent to friends to brag, other times to their enemies. Images and videos taken on encrypted and highly specialised mobile phones they thought were secure, never thinking the phones’ encryption could be broken, but it was. And their dealings and organisation connects right up into law enforcement and high-ranking officials. I didn’t need that kind of attention.
‘What have they done now?’ I ask, dreading the answer. I never agreed to my father’s involvement with the Albanians, and therefore never really knew what was going on. After hearing European authorities decrypted the images, they shared the contents of the secret messages with the Albanian authorities. Those clearly not associated with the organisation determined one of the operators was a well-know suspect by the name of Dardan Hoti – who is the leader of a group called the Hoti clan. It’s mainly built up by local vandals, hooligans, street-level muscle enforcers, and they’re at war with another clan. The two groups are setting off car bombs, hitmen, you name it, and this leads to bodies.Tens of bodies.
Sal shakes his head. ‘My inside source in the police tells methe police have just found and raided Hoti’s slaughterhouse, right here in London. Three crew witnesses are giving their statements. Authorities have evidence that Hoti believed his right-hand-man deceived him. They reckon the guy set Dardan up, so the crew decided to share the photos of what they did to him. I’m telling you, this guy is sick.’
‘I’m failing to see the relevance here…’
‘I’m getting there, boss. CCTV captured the guy…victim, arriving at the property, lured by false promises no doubt. Then the crew hog tied him, carved traitor into his back before he was decapitated and chopped up. Witnesses state he was fed into an industrial meat grinder, the mince was then bagged and dumped into the Thames.’
‘So he’s fish food? And your point?’
‘The Hoti clan is pissed. Pissed at us! Their shipment is due to arrive and Carlos isn’t giving them an answer.’
‘Carlos? What is that old coot still doing around?’
‘He won’t retire, but I spoke to him, and he said your father did the deal with the Albanians, and due to their previous misunderstanding, he is now refusing to take shipment. I have reviewed the contract, and it’s legit. If we don’t accept the shipment, they’ll dispose of the cargo, and they’ll still want paying. And our buyers will be pissed too.’
‘Fuck!’
‘I know! My source sent me across some intel about the last group that crossed them. Fucking meat grinder. We reckon Dardan evaded arrest because he’s en route with the cargo toguarantee payment.’
By Sal’s reaction, it was evident that despite Sal’s close relationship with my father, he hadn’t shared all of the family’s secrets, but if I was going to win this battle, I needed someone on side.
‘A meat grinder, hey?’ I growl. ‘I think you and I need to have a little chat, and you’ll need to pack your toothbrush ‘cause you’re booking us both a flight.’
Sal struggles to catch his breath as he places his right hand over his heart to calm his nerves. His hands are trembling.
‘Hey, Sal, get a grip!’
‘I’m sorry, boss. I’ve always been the guy in the shadows, away from the blood and chaos. Now it feels like I’m being thrust into a battlefield. This isn’t about managing logistics or dealing with finances, you’re asking me to step into the line of fire. And what about George?’
I look at Sal as he composes himself. I’m not familiar with this kind of fear. The mafia’s operations have always been brutal, and not a week would go by where I wasn’t in the thick of an operation knowing I might lose my sanity, or worse, my life. Sal walks to the room’s far corner, seizing George by the cheeks. The boxer dog grumbles, his tongue lolling out in a half-hearted attempt to lick Sal’s face.
‘I thought I said no bloody animals in the club?’
‘Yeah, boss, I thought you meant clients…. George is dead quiet.’
‘Keep it that way,’ I place myhands on his shoulders. ‘And make sure he doesn’t dribble on the carpet! With regards to throwing you in the fire…I am, Sal. That’s exactly what I’m asking of you, and where we’re going will test you in ways you can’t imagine. But I’ve always admired your brains that have kept this family together. Trust yourself, and your instincts. Just don’t lose your shit.
‘As for the rest of you, gentlemen, have a good evening.’
CHAPTER 5
