The Shadow Of Bobby English

By T Stone

Many years ago, a boy turned into a man, and then enacted a terrible revenge on those who shattered his family.
Now that man is looking at entering his later years, and his past has caught up with him.
The Shadow Of Bobby English is set today in a police interrogation room in London, and in 1970s Kent - where we discover the details of, and what leads to - a chain of violent deaths. It is a sometimes brutal story of family honour, abduction, coming of age - and a boy's love for a dog he saved from execution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T Stone
• Release date: Sep 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463157169

Book preview

The Shadow of Bobby English

By T Stone

© 2019 T Stone

All rights reserved

London.

‘So yeah, that was the first,’ I said, and sat back in my seat.

The detective just sat there for a bit, his forehead resting on his palm, elbow on the desk. He’d stopped making notes a good few minutes before.

‘Jesus Bobby…you were 18?’ he said, not looking at me.

I gazed up at the 2 microphones hanging from the ceiling.

‘Yeah. If it was ’78…and I’m pretty sure it was, then I was 18. Different times mate.’

‘But…’ he pulled himself up and addressed my face, ‘Normal kids are out chasing girls, discovering cider, maybe vandalising bus stops in those days. And you became a contract killer instead.’

‘I don’t think we ever signed any contracts.’

He stared at me.

‘Bobby. What the hell had happened to you…that you could do all that stuff, without turning a hair?’

I let out a long sigh.

‘Alright. I’ll give you that it’s a bit odd. And they stressed this was never going to be about business…it was never ‘Oh so-and-so is 3 months behind on payments…or someone just needs a fright to get off our patch.’ No. It was just the really bad ones.’

‘Bad?’ he enquired.

‘Yeah. The bad ones.’

‘How d’ya mean bad?’

I looked him in the eyes for a moment.

‘I presume you’ve done some research on me?’ I asked. ‘Forget all the years in America. What I mean is, do you know what happened in this country…when I was young?’

He left a few beats.

‘Your sister?’

It was my turn to rest my head on my hand. ‘Abby.’ I said.

He continued, ‘She disappeared, 1976. Yes we know about that…I’m sorry. It’s a tragedy.’

I let out a snort. Couldn’t help it.

‘Tragedy. That’s one word. It’s still an unsolved case to you, isn’t it? The official line is, ‘She’s a missing person,’ right?’

He hesitated. ‘Uh, yes. No trace has ever been found, no evidence…so…’

‘I know, I know. Nothing much you can do, eh? Condolences and all that….but ‘We can’t do anything more about Abby’.’

‘I’m…as I said Bobby, we’re all very sorry about your sister…but…’

I studied his features. The greys creeping in. Crows feet beginning to stretch out. He’ll be catching up with me soon.

I sniffed, then said, ‘Y’see, I do know what happened to Abby.’

‘But how? And why didn’t you come to us?’

‘It was a bit late by then. As soon as it was made clear to me…and they drip fed me the information, one bit of the puzzle at a time…but once I’d worked it all out, I volunteered for that first job, at the Grapes. Didn’t need asking twice.’

‘So what happened? And who are they?’

I tapped a finger on the desk.

‘Look. I was living a nice life in the Florida sun, pretty much retired. Then the FBI rock up one day, armed to the teeth. To bundle one old English guy into an armoured car, and put him on a plane home, handcuffed to an agent. All for a little swap deal.’

‘Bobby, we’ve gone over this.’

‘Tell me again. Indulge me.’

He slowly exhaled a lungful of air.

‘Ok. Years ago, Essex police found a shotgun, miles from anywhere, partially buried. Maybe the elements had slowly exposed it. A K9 unit on a training exercise sniffed it out. But the gun had been modified, shortened, which was odd. So it went into evidence, cold for ages. But then DNA testing got sophisticated.’

I ran my fingers through my hair. Less thick than it was. ‘Jeez, that’ll be the fight.’

‘What?’

I waved my hand. ‘I got into a fight at school. It went bad, and I got charged with actual bodily harm…to scare me a bit I think. They took fingerprints and a blood sample, which I wasn’t expecting. It got dropped when I explained to an older copper what happened. Think he pulled some strings. Carry on.’

‘Right. Well, some busy body copper’s been reading up on this new DNA thing, and tries to get a gold star. He gets the old gun tested. And bingo, you come up.’

‘What do I win, a teddy bear? Steak knives?’

He smiled. ‘We’ve wanted to speak to you for a few years, but kept getting…frustrated.’

It was my turn to smile. ‘That might be my friends in Florida.’

‘The American Crime Family, as you’ve insisted on calling them.’

‘And I will never refer to them as anything else. No names, no details. At least it’s an honest title.’

‘But you know that will mean…?’

‘A 60 year old man with arthritic fingers will waste away in a British prison, rather than ratting out his friends. Jesus, they’re more like family. I’d made it to second in command, for god’s sake, and I wasn’t even one of their own.’

‘…if that’s what you want.’

I gazed at him for a moment. ‘I’m telling you about what happened here. That’s all on me, that’s fine. But it was a lifetime ago. And some might argue nothing bad was done.’

He leans forward. ‘4 dead in 2 days Bobby. Regardless of dodgy justice, we can’t just sweep that away.’

I sniffed again. I’d forgotten how this country can make your bones feel cold.

‘Fine. I’ll get to the rest. But first tell me more about the guy who went the opposite way, back to the States.’

‘Well Bobby, Nuno Álvarez he’s called.’

I nodded. ‘I know the Álvarez gang. Bit reckless to be honest.’

‘Yeah. Apparently he hatched a plan to take over operations…Pacino-style. Dozens machine-gunned down in a few days. Didn’t work out though, plan back-fired, so to speak. So he fled here, tried to disappear.’

‘Right. What went wrong?’

‘After a few quiet years, his old habits started to get the better of him. Started being a bit naughty - armed robberies, balaclavas on. He was on our radar, and one of our guys goes to a law enforcement conference in the States. Gets talking to some guys from Florida. We knew you lived down there, and they wanted Álvarez back. But the proper extradition legal process is a nightmare you know? Especially when $2000 an hour lawyers