Page 56 of Arthur


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“Maybe, but we’re no closer to getting our hands on them. Everyone we speak to says they’re making lots of noise but they’re not showing themselves. It’s like they’re fucking ghosts.”

“Then let’s go and make more noise. I want them to come out of the woodwork, and I want to know who the fuck they work for. Get dressed.”

He groans. “It’s five-thirty.”

“Exactly. Let’s go hunting, it’s been a while.”

He goes to get ready, and when he returns, I’m already at the door waiting. “Why are you so keen?”

“The early bird catches the worm and all that.”

“No, it’s more than that,” he says. “You’ve got a fire in your eyes. I know you, Art, something’s bothering you.”

We head out to his car. “Meli was abused as a kid. By one of the MC, Ripper. He groomed her.”

“Ain’t he dead?”

“Yep, that’s the problem. I can’t fucking kill him, so I need to hurt someone else.”

He grins, unlocking the car. “Gotcha. Well, let’s go on a spree.”

We begin at one of the bars on E15’s streets. The landlord here let’s gang members use the bar for meetings as well as selling their gear, so it’s their well-known hangout. Albert uses a crowbar to break the lock on the back door, and we go through to the empty bar. The staff haven’t tidied up from the previous night, so I sweep my arm along the bar, knocking glasses and bottles to the ground. They smash and I take a seat at the bar, waiting for the landlord. He runs down the stairs a minute later, in his underwear and waving a baseball bat around, but Albert is already waiting for him behind the door, taking the bat from him and shoving him towards me.

“Good morning, Donnie. Sorry about that, I’m a clumsy fucker.”

“Jesus, Arthur, what’s going on?” he asks, looking around at the broken glass.

“I’m having a bad week, Donnie. A very bad week.”

He glances nervously at Albert before resting his hands on the bar in front of me, trying to look less nervous. “Okay, how can I help?”

I slap him hard on the shoulder, and he winces. “See, that’s the sort of words I need to hear right now. Someone willing to help.”

He swallows hard, nodding. “Of course . . . anything.”

“Where can I find the Palmer brothers?” He begins to step away, shaking his head, but I reach forward, grabbing him around the back of his neck and dragging him over the bar. I push my face close to his. “Now, now, Donnie, you said anything.”

“I can’t help yah, Arthur. I don’t have a clue where the fuck they are or who they’re working for.”

“You haven’t heard a thing working behind this bar when they’re all in here shouting their mouths off?” asks Albert. Donnie shakes his head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear it, they don’t talk to me about that crap. You know I hate being on this estate. If I could sell up, I would.”

“I’m not here to listen to your pity party for one,” I hiss, slamming his head onto the bar top. He tries to fight me off so he can get away, but Albert goes behind him, pulling his hands behind his back and zip-tying them together. “I want fucking answers.” He looks up, his nose bleeding and maybe his teeth. “Yah hear about my ma being robbed?” I ask, and he nods. “And then my missus?”

“Fuck, I didn’t know you had a missus, Art, sorry to hear that,” he mutters.

“No one knows about her, Donnie, which is why I find it fucking odd they knew exactly who she was and where she’d be.”

“Okay, look,” he takes a breath, “someone new is running the show. I don’t know who it is, they’re keeping quiet. I don’t think half the runners know who it is.”

“But the Palmer's will know?”

He nods. “More than likely. They take the orders and hand them down to the runners. They must know.”

“What happened to whoever was in charge before?” asks Albert.

“Rumours went out that he was killed a few weeks ago. He was getting too old for the drugs game, the kids were restless, all trying to take over themselves. There was a lot of inner wars going on, and now the streets are a warzone,” he says sadly.

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