Now.

The bodyguard pats me down, he’s looking for a gun, they always look for guns.

He makes me lift my arms and spread my legs, he takes his time running his hand up my thighs, looking up at me as he does it.

I wink at him.

He flushes and backs away.

“He’s clean’ he barks to his boss deepening his voice to cover his embarrassment.

He’s wrong, but he won’t have to worry about that for long.

I smile at his boss, he’s older now, he’s put on weight, but the cold blue stare is still there, his hair is still thick, although he’s obviously dyeing it and his thick accent is still there.

‘OK, you’ve got 5 minutes of my time, you said that you have information that I want, who the fuck are you and what is it?’

I can see him eyeing my suit, it’s expensive and hand made, so are the shoes.

I’m well dressed, well spoken and am not from his world at all.

But I was.

20 years ago.

I’m flat on the floor, the punches and kicks that I took have left me incapable of moving, all I can do is look as the enforcer kicks my dad in the face again and again.

He’s enjoying himself, he’s looking at me and talking while he delivers yet another kick that snaps bone and spays blood.

‘Brave little cunt aren’t you. Trying to protect THIS.’

Another kick.

‘He’s a degenerate gambler son, he’s the reason that you’ve got no furniture, why you’re hungry three days a week.’

A stamp to the ribs, more cracking sounds.

I try to crawl over but he pulls out a gun, it’s a big gun and he puts it to my dad’s head.

I can hear myself begging, incoherent sounds that come from somewhere outside me, while another part of me just watches.

As the enforcer looks to somebody deep in shadow.

The shadow nods and there’s a flash and a deafening crack as blood sprays the wall behind my dad’s head.

His body twitches and slumps as the enforcer turns the gun on me, his gloved hand tightening on the trigger.

A mumbled command from the shadows and the enforcer lowers the gun. He opens the cylinder and takes the unused shells.

He throws the gun at me and starts to walk out.

“The boss says to let you live, I wouldn’t have done, don’t ever let us see you again’

And they’re gone.

The police arrived a while later.

They found me draped across my dad, covered in his blood, four of my ribs are broken and my face is swollen to twice normal size.

Nobody was ever charged and the gun was never recovered.

It was classed as a gangland execution, a shit-on-shit crime and got exactly two days in the press before it disappeared.

I was 16 at the time, old enough to get a job and keep the flat, there was a bit of insurance that helped with most of the money issues.

And I vanished into the system.

Now

I smile at the old thug as he tries his best to stare me down.

He’s trying for full intimidation, his hands are behind his back and he’s puffing his chest out as he speaks, all of his weight is on his right leg, he’s trying to look as if he’s barely restrained and ready for action.

I speak, slowly and precisely, my acquired accent is completely different.

‘ I know where a gun that you used for a murder 20 years ago is and I know who has it. They say that they can tie you to the murder even though you wore gloves. Your fingerprint and DNA is on the shell that you left in it.’

I watch his eyes widen as he takes it in.

It’s the truth, I don’t even have to say my dad’s name.

He knows that he’s fucked up.

3 months ago

I’m a regular in the forge now, I make knives for a number of people, including chefs, divers and some special forces types.

It’s only a hobby, funded by the income from the properties that I’ve built up over the past 18 years, I’ve not had to actually work for a couple of years now.

I started early, a couple of hours before anybody else arrived and have got two pieces of steel in.

One piece is VG10 Carbon Steel

The other is a darker piece that is too soft to hold an edge, but it’ll make a great top layer for a knife, with the VG10 as the core.

I pull them from the forge and shape the darker piece into a longer shape that I then cut into two equal pieces and put one on either side of the VG10.

Then it’s back into the forge, I watch as the metal heats up until it glows yellow.

Now

The old thug breaks the silence first.

‘What the fuck? This is bullshit, I don’t know what you’re on about.’

Playing the role in case I’m wired, it’s just occurred to him that the bodyguard wasn’t checking for that.

‘DAVE’. He bellows, distracting the bodyguard as I..

Launch a heel-strike to the bridge of his nose, driving it into his brain as I simultaneously crush his larynx.

He starts to drop as I send a steel toe capped kick to the outside of the old thug’s knee, shattering it and dropping him to the floor, his hands are still behind him and his nose breaks as he falls onto his face.

Give him his due, he’s tough and he tries to get up instantly.

I break his left elbow.

3 months ago

I’ve hammered and shaped, forged and reforged the knife until I’m happy with the shape. I’ve quenched the blade to give it a final hardness and ground it to hold a razor sharp double edge.

It’s thin, flexible and deadly.

Now.

I turn the old thug onto his back, he’s cradling his shattered arm but he’s not giving me anything except hate.

I smile at him and retrieve his mobile phone from the desk behind him. I’ve made a little bet with myself, but first…

“I wasn’t lying, I know where the gun is, you really did leave your print on the shell and I had to work fast to hide it before the police came.’

His eyes widen.

My smile broadens.

‘Yes, you were right, your boss was wrong. I’ve been watching your career for a long time, but your boss is cleverer and nobody will ever speak his name. ‘

He grimaces.

‘Nor will I, you cunt, you’ll have to kill me.’

I take his phone and hold it to his face.

It opens up and shows me all his apps and his phonebook.

I’ve won my bet with myself.

And I reach behind me.

I take the blade and show him the dark beauty that I’ve created from his gun and some carbon steel.

‘Here’s your gun, isn’t it beautiful now? Say hi to my dad when you see him.’

I speed-dial ONE from his address book and as it answers.

I whisper.

‘See you soon’

And push the blade into the space between the old thug’s third and fourth ribs.