King Costa

By Peter D. Bull

Vinnie Miller is a successful drug importer on the Costa del Sol. He lures his son John into the firm, although he didn't want anything to do with the gang. Due to the hatred John has for Vinnie, he plans the takeover of the business with the help of a gang member. John tracks down his long lost brother, and between the three men, they con Vinnie into believing that a load of cannabis has been seized by the Spanish police. In a fit of anger, Vinnie kills two of his mules, but doesn't tell John what he's done. John perpetuates the illusion that the police are onto them. Vinnie disappears to his villa in Barbados. In a drink and drug binge, he beats up his new Barbadian girlfriend and leaves her scarred for life. With the help of Troy, a local man, John and his brother plan the horrific death of their father. Troy's friend is arrested for another murder and informs on Troy. Troy informs on the brothers, and the whole thing falls apart when arrests are made in Spain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9780244311100

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King Costa

KING COSTA

BY

Peter D. Bull

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2017 PETER D. BULL

Category: Mystery and Crime

eBook ISBN: 9780244311100

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Peter D. Bull (available through Lulu.com)

DISCLAIMER

This is the work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organisations, events or locales in this novel are either the product of the author´s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

John watched his father with a mixture of disbelief and fear of what he may do next.

Joe was tied to the arms of an old wooden chair. He’d been badly beaten around the face and upper body, he feared his wrist was broken; he’d also had his canines torn out of his bloodied gums by Vinnie Miller, a much - feared villain living and dealing in Southern Spain.

Despite Joe’s pleas of innocence, Vinnie kept going with his sadistic torture.

Vinnie he’s had enough. Said a panic-stricken Rick. He don’t know nuffin. If he knew anyfing I fink he’d tell ya. Come on boss let’s get outta here before the Guardia see the car outside and start sniffin around.

Yea!  I suppose. Responded the blood-spattered Vinnie. My mistake Joe. And then leaning over the almost unconscious victim of his uncontrolled violence, he whispered so that only he and Joe knew what was said.

I know what I know you fucking little shit, and if someone doesn’t pay me for my lost load within twenty-four hours I’ll fucking gut you.

With that he bit off the lobe of the ear that had just been whispered into and spat it into Joe’s lap.

Vinnie, John and Rick walked out into the warm afternoon sunshine from the disused, long ago vacated restaurant. It was a victim of the recession.

The place hadn’t been boarded up properly, so it had been easy to get into; it hadn’t yet been alarmed since the gypsies had got in and ripped out the old system along with all the copper wire that they could find.

John was relieved to be out into the fresh air, far enough away from Joe not to be able to smell the shit that permeated the air. Joe’s blood had formed a sticky puddle on the white marble floor that not too long ago glistened under the lights of the once successful cabaret venue.

At twenty-four years of age, this was the first time that John had witnessed first-hand what his father was capable of in the violence department. Vinnie had always delegated such jobs to lesser thugs in the past, but this time, the situation had called for the man himself to dish out the violence.

A lorry load of cannabis had been lost to the Spanish authorities. Vinnie had suspected that there was a grass within his team.

He had to send a message to those in and on the fringes of his organisation that he wouldn’t be fucked about with, and that anyone who tried it on, would pay the ultimate price, and see the dark side of the normally dapper business man that they hadn’t seen before.   

John was only too aware that he would be expected to carry on the business once his father had had enough of the constant pressure of staying one step ahead of Europe’s combined police forces.

Although not at all like his father in temperament, the reluctant heir apparent felt that he would have no real choice in the matter. Vinnie worried him. He was not a man to be crossed. He would be merciless to anyone that didn’t toe the line, and John felt that he was no exception to the rule, son or no son.

John had been given a first-class education by Vinnie, paid for with the rewards of his ill-gotten gains. He’d ended up on the team, not really having seen it coming in the early years. His father’s insistence from an early age that he went into accountancy and business studies should have triggered some kind of warning of what was to come. Vinnie wanted his business kept in house. He was deeply suspicious of strangers.

John had been a quick learner; he’d had the brains, but so far not the brawn or the violent streak to lead. He was only ever given menial jobs to do since he’d completely re vamped Vinnie’s finances a year earlier, which included off shore investments. He knew more about them than Vinnie did himself.

John took a deep breath of warm fresh air as they exited the building and held it in for twenty seconds or so in order to slow down his racing heartbeat. He felt sick and giddy at what he’d witnessed in there. He needed a stiff drink.

Vinnie and Rick, on the other hand, hadn’t given a shit. In fact if it hadn’t been for John begging his father for Joe to be untied, and for the rope to be removed from his bloodied, mutilated mouth, he could have been left there tied to that chair overnight, or maybe even longer.

John now realised that Vinnie had insisted on him going with him on that day in order to unwittingly lure Joe into the car.

As a friend of his, Joe wouldn’t suspect anything untoward if John was there.

Once in the car with Rick driving, Vinnie had control over Joe. With a gun held to his head, Joe was taken by surprise.

John was told to keep his mouth shut when he told his father that he was being out of order for roughing up Joe.

I didn’t know this was going to happen Joe. He’d insisted.

I told you to shut your mouth or you’ll get some of what he’s got coming. Vinnie ranted to his son from the back seat.

Some cunt’s responsible for me losing a load, and this little shit’s the newest one on the team. He added with venom.

I’ve never fucking trusted him, and I’ve not forgotten it was you that brought him on board without asking me in the first place. Vinnie added. I’ve never lost a load before, then all of a sudden HE appears thanks to you, and we lose one.

There was fuck all for him to do that you couldn’t have done, but you had to open your fucking big mouth didn’t you? So now I’m over fifty grand down, probably because of this little cunt.

They’d driven straight back to Vinnie’s lavishly furnished villa in order for Vinnie to get out of his bloodied suit.

Look. Vinnie said to Rick. That little shit ruined a two grand fucking suit. Get it cleaned.

Better still. He added. Burn it, I can’t risk the cleaners seeing all that claret.

Rick took the suit and disappeared into the grounds towards the gardener’s incinerator.

John wearily walked to the luxurious bedroom that he’d kept on after dropping out of university early. He threw himself onto the black silk covered bed, and re lived the horror that his father had inflicted on the twenty-six-year-old Joe.

Only the day before, John and Joe had been out drinking in Marbella. He was the only friend that John had on the Costa del Sol.

Being a good looking, well-groomed young man, John had never had any problems at all with women.

His type of women tended to go with, anyone that could give them a good time. Show them a bulging wallet, and King Kong could get laid by any one of the beautiful Russian or Lithuanian tarts.

When it came to men however, John found it hard to strike up friendships.

Once they were made aware that his father was Vinnie Miller, one of the biggest drug dealers on the coast, and a man well known for his sadistic tendencies, they backed off.

His reputation went before him.

John’s lack of male friends didn’t matter so much now; he had his new pal Joe.

Vinnie himself, although pushing sixty years of age was also an attractive, smart man. He kept himself in shape at his in-house gym and was picky about what he ate.

Not a big drinker himself, he actively discouraged drinking within his organisation.

Rick and Benny both knew that if they were due to be working, and were found to have been drinking, they would run the risk of being slapped around. There was no real friendship there on Vinnie’s side, it was just business.

Although the boys were big lumps themselves, they lacked the pure cruelty that Vinnie took pleasure in inflicting on others. They’d watched him set about one of his dealers with a baseball bat adorned with nails, just because he’d owed Vinnie three grand that was a day overdue.

They also knew that if either one of them were ever picked up by the Guardia, they would be looked after by a trusted lawyer, who would do his best to get bail immediately due to the contacts that Vinnie had nurtured over the years within the Guardia Civil.

There were also one or two judges who had enjoyed some expensive holidays at Vinnie’s villa in Barbados, accompanied by various hookers from Puerto Banus’s top brothel, which of course Vinnie owned but rented out.

It was also understood by both men, that if either one of them grassed, or even worse, had turned QE having been arrested by the British authorities, they would be done away with. No promises of ID changes by the Spanish, or British police forces, could hope to protect them. The level of contacts that had been secured over the last decade would see to that. Vinnie felt as safe as houses. He ruled by fear. He considered himself to be untouchable.

Get Weaver on the blower. The mobile’s in my room. The blue one.  Vinnie bellowed.

OK Vinnie. Rick snivelled. What shall I say?"

You say nothing you silly scouse cunt. Just give me the phone and fuck off for an hour. Go and put the car through the wash. Do something useful for a change. Vinnie snarled.

OK boss. Rick said taking no apparent offence at the insult.

He’s on the phone Vinnie. Rick said meekly.

Give it here and fuck off. One hour do you hear me? Vinnie said.

Yes Vinnie I’ll be back in one hour. Rick almost whispered to himself.

Weaver, we’ve lost the load. Vinnie said.

What? Weaver replied.

You fucking deaf? We’ve lost it. Someone at your end was piggybacking our load. It’s been on the telly over here. They found ten kilos of coke on it. Now find out who fucked me over and get back to me pronto, I’ve lost well over fifty grands’ worth of weed. Was it all packed and shrink wrapped as usual? Vinnie asked.

Yes Vinnie of course it was. Weaver replied.

"Well it’s always got through before ain’t it? Now someone at your end has put coke on the load that came up on the X ray gear. You