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with a beer gut and Denis Healey eyebrows, he wasn’t exactly the answer to a maiden’s prayer, but what Billy had going for him was money and a sense of humour. He could laugh a woman into bed. He genuinely loved them – all shapes and sizes. He could find something complimentary to say to any woman he came across, even if it was only that she had nice eyes or a good set of teeth. He frequented Tiffany’s in Ilford every Thursday for Grab-A-Granny night, or if you were a female, Grab-A-Granddad.
    As he tripped out of his house in Manor Park, bathed, shaved and smelling of Old Spice, he was nonplussed to see young Lenny Scott on his doorstep.
    Lenny smiled graciously and said respectfully, ‘Sorry, Billy. Can I come in a sec, mate? I need to discuss a rob I heard about. Thought you might be interested, like.’
    Billy Mason was always up for a rob of any kind, and he liked this kid. Smiling, he said jovially, ‘’Course, son.’
    He held the front door open and followed the lad inside. Billy’s house was like him – old but well looked after, all Axminster carpets and Dralon furniture, smelling vaguely of beeswax polish and Flash liquid.
    Lenny went into the through lounge-diner with him; it was a typical Ilford house – practically on the pavement and no garden to speak of. High ceilings, though, and nice cornices, with the original fireplaces. Lenny approved of it.
    Billy was eager to get going – it was nearly half past ten, and all the birds would be turning up at Tiffany’s after the pub. It was free for women before ten thirty. He liked to get in early and stake his claim. Still, he was all smiles as he asked, ‘Is this the robbery at Lloyds Bank in the high street? Because I never shit on my own doorstep.’
    Lenny sighed heavily, and slipped an iron bar out of the sleeve of his raincoat.
    Seeing it, Billy shouted angrily, ‘You cheeky little fucker!’
    Billy Mason could have a row, no one would dispute that. But young Lenny Scott could have a better one. He concentrated on the man’s eyes and legs. When he left twenty minutes later, Billy Mason was barely functioning.
    Lenny stopped at a phone box and called an ambulance; he had left Billy’s front door ajar so they could gain entrance. He went to a mate’s and washed up there – burned his clothes and changed into a new set.
    He was home and in bed by twelve fifteen. He hugged his young wife to him, and she snuggled into him naturally as she slept contentedly in his arms.

Chapter Fifteen

    Jack Johnson was over the fucking moon. The fact that Lenny had done a perfect job was just the icing on the cake – carrying it out that same night was an even more pleasing surprise. Lenny Scott just did what he was told, no questions asked. Not yet twenty years old and he had the nerves of an old hand. From what Jack could gather, old Billy Boy was half-blind and would walk like he was on a fucking carousel for the rest of his life.
    That was the result he wanted. Never leave an enemy with the means to come back at you, but make them serve as a reminder to everyone just what your retribution would be if they decided to fuck you over. Billy Mason was a treacherous cunt. Jack had given him a serious earn but he had always suspected that Billy Mason would one day want more; he was a greedy ponce. Well, he would regret his covetous nature now. Jack took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, but it still rankled. He had trusted Billy once. He had given him a good lifestyle but that had not been enough for him: he still wanted the main chance.
    Lenny drove into the yard, satisfied. He was happy with his night’s work, and felt that he had done a good job. He had liked Billy Mason, but he had been given a task and he had done it to the best of his ability. He hoped that Jack was pleased with him, though he was suddenly filled with trepidation as he walked into his office. Maybe he’d gone too far. But he had been asked to teach the man a lesson and he had done