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The moon is full, setting an ominous mood for what’s ahead.
I was right. My dad is now best friends with Patrick Duffy because he wants access to his real estate, or more accurately, he wants to use abandoned buildings around town as his personal dumping grounds. I know this because I’m standing in an aul’ building which will soon be torn down to make way for trendy waterfront apartments.
But for now, it’ll serve as the place Nolen Ryan takes his last breath.
With the River Lagan at my disposal, getting rid of Nolen’s body won’t be a problem. My dad said he’ll have reinforcements waiting for me, which means, once I’m done, they’ll take care of the body.
Nolen made the wrong choice, and now, it’s time he paid his dues.
He’ll be here any minute in the belief we’re picking up a shipment of 200 kilograms of cocaine. The van he drives has been modified to conceal the drugs. Large metal drawers hidden underneath a false floor is how we transport our goods.
My dad has thought of everything, which is why he’s been able to get away with the shite that he does. Mr. Walsh and Mr. Davies are his business partners, but my dad is the kingpin. Mr. Walsh takes care of the money side of things, making smart business moves so the authorities are not alerted to the money laundering our families are involved in. While Mr. Davies takes care of the business side, as dealing drugs in a modern world isn’t what it used to be.
A three-tier hierarchy is what the drug business involves these days.
The lower tier consists of highly disadvantaged youths spreading fear on behalf of the Kellys. Cian and Rory oversee the dealings, ensuring no one steps out of line. They also run the “hotlines” where people can order drugs.
The second tier involves people who engage in high-risk, low-reward activities. They are the muscle. They can also be the dealers. They inflict beatings and serious intimidation of behalf of the top tier players—my dad, Mr. Davies, and Mr. Walsh.
The second tier is where I belong, but as I bear the Kelly name, I oversee who does what. Nolen works for me, which is why I have to deal with him accordingly.
Cian, Rory, and I do all the legwork while our fathers deal with where the shipments come from and who buys them. We have a large network of drug dealers and drivers, all of whom are discreet and trusted, except for Nolen.
The top tier is, of course, where my dad sits.
The lower tier is most important to our business, which is why my dad and Mr. Davies choose with care. Most of the time, Mr. Davies recruits the lads who owe money for drugs they can’t pay for. He offers them an opportunity to pay off their debt by doing petty crimes.
But that soon leads them down the rabbit hole.
My father prides himself on the fact he and his two friends have recruited boys and young men to carry out violence and intimidation to collect drug debts from users. He thinks they’re rather brilliant for governing an operation such as this.
I understand no one is holding a gun to these lads’ heads, or even to the users who are desperate to shoot up and get high, but the exploitation of the weak makes me sick.
I’m not putting myself on a pedestal, as I, too, engage in violence and intimidation on behalf of Connor Kelly, but I don’t target kids who made a stupid choice—I deal with the big fish. Like big-shot men who think they can steal from the Kellys and undercut us.
Drugs will be dealt, that’s the reality of the world, but I’d rather it be us than some other cockhead whose moral compass is so banjaxed, they’d sell to anyone and everyone. Cian and Rory’s “hotline” catalogues every buyer, and if they’re going too hard, Cian won’t sell to them.
They can get their product elsewhere.
Our dads aren’t aware of this little clause in the contract, which is why Rory, the technology king, has many online accounts set up so that we always have a stream of business coming through every avenue. If a disgruntled buyer decided to tell his mates that we refused service, then the odds are, they wouldn’t go through that vein again.
But having multiple accounts means more people will tell their friends that channel A, B, C dealt them some grade A product, and word will spread. Most of the time, the knobs don’t even know they’re dealing with the same people.
And the user we refuse to deal with—only looking out for their well-being—they can either wait, or they can seek out shite product elsewhere. We’ve come to learn that they wait, because not only is our product good, it’s also cost effective.
In this case, this most definitely is two wrongs don’t make a right, but Rory swears this method has saved lives. For instance, a cub—just fifteen years old—was hooked on heroin. He wanted Rory to deal him more gear only a few hours after his last hit.
Rory refused, knowing the cub would likely OD, and instead sold him some cannabis to tide him over until his next fix. He’s still alive, and as fucked as that is, Rory knows monitoring the distribution, especially to kids, is the lesser of two evils.
Our lives are fucked up, but this is all we know.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I need to focus on what I’m about to do. I don’t want to think about taking Nolen’s life. I plan on delivering justice swiftly.
Most would let him off with a warning, but that doesn’t exist in our world. If you’re not with us, you’re against us, and that means the difference between life and death. Nolen could be a traitor, an inside man for the Doyles.
We can’t take any risks.
He knew the consequences working for the Kellys. No one is to blame for his choices but him alone.
