Procession of the Dead Read Free

business—that’s grown nicely. I’m talking about family. Family’s what really matters. I’ve been alone since Melissa. My brothers never followed me into the business. They went to college, got proper jobs, real lives. We were never close. My sisters… they write me now and again.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m a lonely old man. Nobody to live with, nobody to live for.” He leaned forward, patted my knee and smiled. “Until now.
    “What do you drink?” he asked, getting up. “Tea, coffee, wine?”
    “A beer if it’s going.”
    “Always!” He laughed and fetched a couple of bottles from the fridge. I gulped most of mine with one thirsty swig and sighed happily. It seemed an eternity since my last one. Theo went slower on his, making it last.
    “How old are you, Capac?” he asked shortly after I’d started my second bottle. “Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”
    “Thereabouts.”
    “A good age. Not too old to teach, nor young enough to be a nuisance. One of the reasons I chose you. Not the only one—I wasn’t about to pick my successor solely on account of his age!—but a factor.
    “It’s a hard business,” he said seriously. “I don’t know what your expectations are, but it’s not glamorous. The higher you rise, the glossier it gets. But we’re at the lower end. Most of our money comes from protection. We threaten people—small shop owners and businessmen—and collect cash in return for not busting up their premises. If they don’t pay, we have to make an example of them. It’s about violence. Whatever else we profess to be, at the core we’re violent people.
    “But although we’re an illegal business, we are a business. We account to the taxman like everybody else, so we have to keep books they can find no fault with. Neglect the paperwork and they’ll be on us like jackals.
    “There are employees to take care of. We’ve got expenses, overheads and legal fronts to maintain. It’s a hell of a lot harder than running a legitimate business. The bigger teams can afford sharp lawyers to handle that for them, but not us—we have to do it ourselves, be everything, hood, lawyer, businessman, clerk. The profits can be high but only if you run things right, if you don’t screw up and leave yourself open to attacks from the law or your opponents. Or The Cardinal.” He stopped, cocked a finger at me and said, “Never fuck with The Cardinal, Capac.
Never
. Don’t muscle in on his territory, don’t challenge even his lowest lackey. If one of his men asks to be cut in on a deal you spent months setting up and perfecting, you agree like a shot, even if it means taking a loss. The Cardinal runs everything and owns everybody. A lot of young men get a bit of power, some money and start thinking, ‘That Cardinal ain’t so tough—we can take him.’
    “Those young men die. I’ll say it again, so there’s no confusion—don’t fuck with The Cardinal. Steer clear of his crew as much as you can. If your paths cross, show them all due respect. Because if The Cardinal ever gets on your back, he’ll ride you into an early grave. No surer thing.”
    “Have you had any dealings with him lately?” I asked.
    He hesitated and glanced away. “No,” he said. “We had a word a few months back through a third—hell, a fourth or a fifth—party. But no direct contact. I’m not big enough to be of interest to him.”
    He was lying. I didn’t know why, but I made a note to pry a bit deeper later. I had a lot of respect for my Uncle Theo, and knew I was going to learn a lot from him, but I had my sights set on higher targets. I most certainly did intend to fuck with The Cardinal’s boys if I ever got the chance, regardless of Theo’s warning. The Cardinal was the only route to real power here. If you didn’t take a risk and get involved with him, you’d be running penny-ante protection rackets forever. Theo swirled the beer in his bottle, staring into its golden depths, and promptly changed the