BABY JOGGER WITH CAR SEAT

"Are you there sir? "

The voice on the end of the cell phone waited for a reply, a tinge of impatience in the darkly excited monotone as the helpless victim, blodied and bowed, awaited his fate and the inevitable answer to the question posed. David paused and contemplated the situation for a few moments longer, a tiny tug boat passing by on the gentle waves by the bridge, the lapping water pooling across the tiny stretch of beach towards the array of rusting metal anchors that moored the barges in place.

“ Do we have a green light on this one Mr Roberts? “ There was an air of nervousness in the voice, knowing full well that his boss was not a man to interrupt when talking or thinking, or to pressure in any way for fear of chastisement, or something far worse.

David sighed, eyes wandering far and wide out across the River Thames towards the appealing structure of the Millenium bridge, an army of tourists marching across in both directions like ants on the horizon. Just for a moment the cell phone slipped from his ear as his eyes glazed, razor sharp mind furtively recalling the days of his childhood when he played on the open banks of the Thames before the walls appeared and the nouveau rich brigade set up camp in the area. His father, the bare knuckle street fighter with hands like bunches of bananas and a nose broken so many times and in so many places, it barely knew which way to point any longer. The London scene of the sixties as gangland violence spiralled out of all control, and his ascent to power after his father was beaten to death by a mob on the doorstep of the very nightclub that he built with his own fight money from nothing. Shuffling somewhat uneasily, placing his weight onto his right hip, and the cell phone back up to his ear, he spoke slowly with the deep and gentle voice that had won the hearts and lust of many a willing vixen in his time, and sentenced many a hoodlum to slow and painful death. The expectant voice at the end of the Sony Ericsson now had a tangible air of urgency to it, the faint sounds of whimpering eminating from the bound and broken limbs and gaffa taped mouth of the injured man.

“ Tell him thank you for everything he taught me over the years. Tell him that I've know about his betrayal all along. Tell him that there are rules that must be adhered to in this game. Oh and tell him that I never forgave him for knicking Angela from me, that was a low blow. Make him suffer, Mickey, I mean really suffer and then fucking Kill him “

David closed down the cell phone with a well practised clamping of thumb and forefinger on his right hand, placing the shiny blue metal form into the warm confines of his overcoat pocket and letting out a little more slack on Alfie's lead so as to afford the little furry fellow the opportunity to investigate the sandy shoreline in greater detail. Curiously, he watched the delight on his little dog's face, eyes rolling, muscles flexing, nose twitching as every new scent entered his tiny nostrils, life a big adventure as they walked amidst the sand and pebbles. An overcast morning, rain heavy in the air as the storm clouds blew in with speed and ominous intent, one man and his dog enjoying the simple pleasures of some peace and harmony on the South Bank as the myriad of foreign tongues mingled and mixed into a delicious cocktail of cosmopolitan tone. Little did anyone who passed by the quiet pair know of the significance of that last phone call. Nor the stature and position of the diminutive man in the ill fitting, though henously expensive tweed coat who had the power to extinguish life at any given moment like the snuffing of a candle, for anyone foolish enough to cross his path or raise his East End hackles.

Alfie raised his head towards the sky, nose going ten to the dozen as the heady aroma of the waterfront cafes and European food outlets vied for dominance on the air. It was breakfast time for man and dog, time to wind their way back along the pathway to David's exclusive penthouse with the commanding view over the beautiful old river. At the top of the steps stood two burly minders, body's seemingly crafted from solid granite, muscular and purposeful, a stance that suggested they were ready for any eventuality. David hated the tiresome necessity of these overgrown buffoons with him wherever he went, though he understood the implications of travelling alone and the price on his own head by the other gangland bosses who would relish the opportunity of seizing his crown and ruling over his patch.

A man small in stature though tenacious of character, David bucked the trend for the designer clothes and passion red Ferrari's that dogged those of his kind, opting instead for the softly spoken, quiet demeanour of a man with seemingly the world at his feet. Gazing up and nodding to one of the minders, he planted a foot onto the cement steps leading up from the beach, gently pulling on Alfie's leash as encouragement for the little