Chapter 1.
'The Kentuckian' was located in a side street off the Mile End Road in Tower Hamlets, London.
No-one knew where the name came from, except that the owner, Paulie 'Thumbscrews' Jordan, a close associate of Ronnie Kray, was a devoted fan of Burt Lancaster, and it was assumed he named the pub after the 1955 film of the same name, which featured the Hollywood star in the lead role.
Paulie bought two Victorian semi's in the mid sixties, knocked them into one, then turned them into a pub and ever since it opened for business, only those in the underworld have been allowed access.
Its bar is positioned between the saloon and the lounge (if one could call it a lounge) and it's often filled with thieves, pimps and killers, all hunched over tables and planning their next burglary, kidnapping, heist or murder within its dingy walls.
On this particular cold, snow covered evening in early January 1988, four men were huddled round a table, their almost empty pints of beer languishing on the sticky top, together with two nearly full ashtrays.
"Get annuvver round in Davey, there's a good lad." said Jason, the gang leader, a six footer with a bald head, hands the size of hams and a belly to match.
"'Ere Paulie!" shouted Davey, a skinny, acned, nineteen year old, blowing warm air from his mouth into cupped hands. "Nuvver four beers mate. 'An light a bleedin' fire, will ya! We ain't Eskimo's!"
"Alright alright!" replied Paulie, pulling the four beers into fresh glasses. "Keep yer knickers on!"
"Good shout, my son." said Jason, dragging on his cigarette. "I'm freezin' me nuts off 'ere!"
Paulie brought the drinks over on a tray, collected the empties and, having deposited them on the bar, shuffled over to the open fire already made up of paper, logs and coal. They took hold immediately he set a match to them, warmth beginning to flood the small room as the flames, crackling and spitting, roared up the chimney.
"Now, listen up." said Jason. "Our old guvnor 'as been banged up for six months now an' I hear he's right pissed off. That scum Spikin's wasted his missus an' put 'im away."
"Yeah, I'd be pissed off an' all." said Nev, a thirty year old negro with eyes as black as coal.
"Me too." said Chang, a twenty-five year old of Korean and English mixed parentage, a black belt in Taekwondo, a ruthless killer and a man of few words.
"So what's your plan, Jase?" asked Davey, slugging back his beer.
"I'm gettin' a visitin' order for the Scrubs." Jason replied. "An' I'll 'ave a word. Then we'll meet back 'ere."
Lieutenant James Dempsey and Sergeant (Lady) Harriet Makepeace, now an engaged couple, had spent a wonderful Christmas holiday at a magnificent chalet nestling in the Parsenne mountains, overlooking Klosters in Switzerland and owned by her father, Lord 'Freddy' Winfield. His step sister, Alice has also joined them and it had been the perfect tonic for Harry to regain her full health.
She'd been caught up in a near fatal explosion whilst on the previous case and ingested thick smoke, damaging her lungs and airways.
The clean, crisp mountain air had worked it's magic and she had made a full recovery, notwithstanding having Dempsey beside her once more. Whilst lying helpless in hospital she'd been worried for him, knowing he was in the thick of it and shooting it out with killers in Paris, but confident he'd return to her safe and sound, their unique telepathy in touch with each other.
They looked tanned, fit and healthy as they strode into Romano's, a chic Italian restaurant in the heart of Knightsbridge and one of their favourites, to meet Rupert and Arabella Barrington-Smythe, newly wedded, he an independently wealthy thirty-two year old, she the daughter of Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley. Like Harry she was titled and as Lady Arabella, had been kidnapped four weeks before her wedding to Rupert, Dempsey and Harry having found and rescued her.
This evening's meal was their treat and a thank you.
"Golly, you two look fantastic!" said Arabella, as they took their seats. "Just about every head has turned to watch as you walked in here."
"Thank you Arabella." said Harry, conscious of the many eyes upon them. "But you two look pretty stunning too. How was Mauritius?"
"Breathtaking." replied Rupert, as a young Italian waiter materialised at their table, taking a bottle of Krug champagne from the silver bucket beside Rupert and pouring it into the two empty flutes in front of Dempsey and Harry.
"Thank you." said Rupert as the waiter nodded and slipped away, then continuing with his answer. "Yes, utterly fabulous."
"An' you still managed to get a tan on ya honeymoon." chuckled Dempsey, taking a sip of his wine.
"Forgive him." said Harry. "He has a one track mind. I shall have to deal with him later."
"How was the skiing?" asked Arabella, grinning at the repartee between her two friends. "Klosters wasn't it?"
"Yes. Perfect." replied Harry. "We skied just about every day apart from a couple when it snowed heavily. I have to say I was impressed with James. He'd never skied on snow, only water, but he was soon joining me on the black runs."
"I had to learn goddam fast." said Dempsey, glancing at her. "There were too many pro's out there followin' you around!"
"As if I'd be interested in them, darling." she replied, winking at the other two. "Although I do recall a rather nubile and very pretty Italian lady who always seemed to be close to you. Even at apres-ski, when you were getting us all drinks, she'd be beside you at the bar!"
"You mean Sophia?" answered Dempsey, feigning surprise.
"Yes Sophia." replied Harry, raising her eyebrows at him. "Her husband was none too pleased, I noticed."
"She was married?" answered Dempsey, pretending ignorance.
"She was." confirmed Harry, although not divulging to the other two that it had been a standing joke between them the entire holiday, Aunt Alice at one point becoming very flushed at the thought that some woman was trying to steal her favourite part surrogate relative away from her beloved niece.
"And when are you two going to tie the knot?" asked Rupert, throwing a sudden curved ball into the conversation.
"No idea." answered Dempsey, quickly. "Maybe one day, we'll just go for it."
"Will we?" replied Harry, intrigued since they'd hadn't broached the subject for months and then only fleetingly. She'd hoped they could have talked about in on holiday but the subject never came up.
"Yeah, we could be on a beach some place an' - do it." said Dempsey. "Then throw a big pardy back home."
"Could we?" repeated Harry, a little taken aback since this suggestion was a first.
"That would be sooo romantic and beautiful." remarked Arabella. "And soo you two."
"It would be, wouldn't it." murmured Harry, lost in her thoughts.
"Seems you've got it all worked out, James." said Rupert, then caught the warning look in Dempsey's eye.
Arabella was about to blurt something out, but Rupert nudged her. The subject needed changing.
"Here's to you two." he said, raising his glass. "Thank you for all you did for Bella and Jonas."
"Don' mention it." said Dempsey, raising his. "All in a day's work."
"And how did you enjoy being involved Harriet?" asked Rupert.
"Erm - yes, well, interesting." she replied guardedly, conscious that none of her friends were aware she was a sergeant in the police force and Dempsey's official partner to boot. "Quite exhilarating all this crime busting business."
At the SI-10 offices, Chief Superintendent Gordon Spikings, Dempsey and Harry's irascible superior, was finishing up for the day. Heading a team of ten, hand picked detectives, all experienced in under cover work, his department had been operational for four years and brought many a dangerous criminal to book.
One or two had neither forgiven nor forgotten him.