Murdered by the Mob

Murdered by the Mob Sean Campbell Partners in Crime Murdered by the Mob First published in Great Britain by Partners in Crime 2023. Cover design by www.nickcastledesign.com © Sean Campbell 2023 The moral rights of Sean Campbell to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission. All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Contents Prologue: Dead Loyal1. Predictability Kills2. Missing, Presumed Dead3. Dead Easy4. Triage5. Ignoring Him6. Coming Up Blank7. Footprints8. Disappointment9. Canvassing Balham10. The Phone11. Outside the Box12. Underfunded13. Watch This14. Without a Trace15. Old Friends16. The Itch17. The Honeytrap18. Lost19. Trust but Verify20. The Waiting Game21. Nibbles22. Stakeout23. The Leftover Club24. Eye in the Sky25. Body Found26. The 27 Club27. Breadcrumbs28. Another Ghost29. Footsteps30. The Bone Doctor31. The Rhino32. The Bug Lady33. Incognito34. No Man’s Land35. Paying for Protection36. Facial Reconstruction37. Crossing Borders38. Memories of Murder39. Tag, You’re It!40. An Old Face41. The Long Way Around42. Echoes of the Past43. The Farm44. Guerrilla Gang Warfare45. Back to Blighty46. The Met’s Finest47. The Church of St Peter48. Another Day, Another Death49. Rest in Peace50. Waxy51. White City52. Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness53. The Old Stomping Grounds54. Musings55. Persistence56. Burn, Baby, Burn57. Delivery with a Difference58. Cameras and Cadavers59. Wheeler Dealers60. False Alarms61. The Middle (Wo)Man62. Juxtaposed Controls63. A Knock at the Door64. Discrepancies65. Interrogation66. Not on Record67. The Cat with Nine Lives68. The Zebra Strikes Back69. Hawaladar70. The Ancient Catfish71. Members Only72. Little Birds73. The Red Square74. Sister Act75. The Foundation76. Schrödinger’s Case File77. The Seven Ps78. Late to the Party79. Odds and Ends80. Following in Their Footsteps81. Special Delivery82. The Long Shadow83. Cash is King84. Chechnya85. The Loyalty Test86. Chasing the Ghost87. The Final Victim88. The Chase89. The Life of the Party90. Guilty ConscienceAlso by Sean Campbell Prologue: Dead Loyal In his usual broken English, Tank had explained Russian roulette. He was older than me and knew what it meant. One gun, one bullet in the chamber. Spin and shoot. ‘It fine,’ he’d said earlier, ‘she probably live, tak.’ But this wasn’t Russian roulette. This was Tiny’s version. He called it Ukrainian roulette and said it was a game to test if I was loyal or not. To know I’d put them before blood. Tiny handed me the gun. ‘This is a Rossi 32,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hold it nice and tight ’cause it’ll give off a hell of a kick when you fire it. It’s no Smith & Wesson… but that won’t make anyone any less dead. Now, you know what to do…’ He looked at me expectantly. Ukrainian roulette was the same as Russian roulette except for one thing. It wasn’t my head I had to point the gun at. It was my mum’s. Around me, the boys jeered from the shadows. They’d been here before. Everyone had to do it. I looked for Tank, but he wouldn’t look back at me. His head was in his hands. The other boys lined up around the warehouse, blocking every exit. I couldn’t see everyone in the dark, but in the front row Tiny stood between his big brothers Nico and Pavel, all three of them grinning. Only Mum and I were lit up by a big lamp overhead. Mum stared up 1Predictability Kills Twenty-five years later… His routine was so predictable. Walk the dog, buy a coffee, and head home for a late breakfast. We looped around the cul-de-sac and parked up outside his house with the rear doors of the van as close to the front door as we could get. ‘This is it, Tank,’ I said. ‘House number forty-three.’ From the road, we couldn’t see the front door as a hedge blocked our view, but the GPS never lies. Tank got out of the van just before I did, leading the way through the gate and up to the front door. A tall, dark-haired man answered. He looked down at us, his forehead creasing up. Had he recognised me? It had been well over a decade and we’d only met in passing. Besides, I didn’t look anything like I used to. If he somehow did recognise me, we’d have to change our plan and rush the job. ‘Parcel for Zholnovych,’ I said. A neutral, London accent. One I’d spent the last few years perfecting. With a bit of luck that, plus the courier uniforms and clipboard, would throw him off. He looked confused, glancing from Tank to me and back again. My heart began to race. Finally, he gave a little shrug. ‘No order anything,’ he said grumpily. ‘Must be a gift then,’ I said, holding out my clipboard officiously. ‘See, GIFT ORDER for ZHOLNOVYCH. Deliver to LOUNGE.’ He held out his hand for the clipboard,