East End Trouble Read Online Free Page B

Occasionally a truck pulled out of one of the gates, but other than that it was pretty quiet, and that was why Dave Carter had picked one of the warehouses as his headquarters.
    Keith was heading to the warehouse now.
    He should have been over the moon. He was dropping off Dave’s money and picking up thirty quid as a nice little kickback for selling the black-market cigarettes. He had Dave’s money in his pocket, all rolled up and carefully counted.
    The trouble was Dave Carter had asked to see him. Usually, Keith handed the money over to one of Carter’s henchmen and arranged to pick up the cartons of cigarettes from them. He never dealt with Dave Carter in person, and now this summons out of the blue had him worried.
    People saw Dave Carter as an old-fashioned gangster, polite and courteous. He wasn’t known for violence like Martin Morton. Dave Carter was a businessman, and if you treated him with respect, he treated you the same way.
    All that might be true, but Keith had heard stories about people who had chanced their luck with Dave Carter and tried to take advantage of his gentlemanly nature. Those people were never heard of again. Unlike men who crossed Martin Morton, they weren’t tortured or murdered in a showy, grotesque way. They just simply disappeared.
    Keith pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow and the back of his neck. He wasn’t only worried about Dave Carter. The thought of Martin Morton finding out Keith was also working for his rival made him feel sick to the stomach.
    He shouldn’t have done it, but when the opportunity arose it seemed too good to pass up. All Keith had to do was go round selling the fags in different pubs around the East End. Black-market fags were incredibly popular because they were so much cheaper than getting them from the shops.
    There was something in the way Big Tim had looked at him last week that made Keith think that they were on to him. He wasn’t really doing anything wrong, at least, nothing that would hurt Martin Morton. But there was a deep rivalry between Carter and Morton.
    Martin Morton thought he owned the whole patch, but Dave Carter had other ideas, and it was the silly sods like Keith who got caught in the middle. He was just trying to earn an honest living. Well, maybe not honest, but it wasn’t as if he was hurting anyone.
    When Keith approached the entrance to Dave Carter’s warehouse, he pulled on the collar of his shirt. Perhaps he could tell Dave today that this was the last job he would do for him. If Dave was the gentleman everyone said he was, surely he wouldn’t mind finding someone else to do the job Keith had been carrying out for the past few weeks.
    But as he walked forward through the large steel gate that led to the truck loading bay, he had a horrible, sinking feeling that he wouldn’t get out of it that easily.
    As he approached the warehouse, Charlie Williams, a tall skinny man with a handsome face, stepped into view. He was clearly the lookout. He wore a suit that had seen better days but had on a smart waistcoat and gold pocket watch.
    Charlie nodded at him and then called over his shoulder. “It’s only Keith Parker.” He turned back and nodded at Keith. “How are you, mate? Keeping well?”
    Keith shrugged. “Not bad. Yourself?” He wasn’t really in the mood for conversation. He just wanted to get this over with.
    The metal rolling door clattered as someone in the warehouse pressed the button to raise it. The noise made Keith jump.
    Charlie smirked. “You look like you’re on tenterhooks, Keith. I hope you haven’t got a guilty conscience. Have you done something silly?”
    Keith blinked and looked up at Charlie. “Silly? I ain’t done nothing. I’m an honest man.”
    “I’m just messing you about, Keith. Don’t take things so seriously.”
    As Keith followed the man into the cavernous warehouse, he was glad of the cool and dusty air inside. It was baking outside today.
    Their footsteps