John tapped the wheel as Henry entered the car again. "How's it all going in there?"

"Branson's winning at cards and Sampson's practically red in the face." Henry nudged John. "Who's going to take care of him for you?"

"Not you or Tom. There are other jobs I need you two to do." John assembled his things, turning to Henry. "Find some way to get Sampson to the bathroom and then I want the two of you to start staking out Green's spots. Where they go when they're in town, where they're people are, and best ways to catch them in the act."

"When did we become the police?"

"We're getting ourselves some good credit with the police while ruining our competition." John winked at him. "Don't you want a little carte blanche in all this?"

"Why do I get this sick feeling that is Tom and I screw this up then we're not worrying about the police picking us up but about our corpses floating in a river somewhere."

"Please, don't be so gauche. We're not nineteen-thirties mafia." John got out of the car. "Text Tom and then make yourselves scarce."

"Got it." Henry pulled out his phone, climbing over the gearbox to take John's seat at the wheel.

John walked around the corner, following the lights toward a basement entrance. He held up his hands as the man at the door patted him down and then showed his ID to the woman there. The scanner in her hand beeped and she nodded her head for him to go inside.

A flickering light punctuated the dimness of the hall and John followed it past rooms with noises he could not identify and other noises he wished he could not. When he reached the end of the hall a woman in a pair of thigh-high leather boots and a leather corset, that extended clips to hold up her boots, tapped him on the shoulder with the handle of a leather whip. John turned to her and she winked at him.

"What kind of time are you here for?"

"Depends," John leaned on the wall, nodding toward her. "You wouldn't happen to know where the big money's rolling do you?"

"The tables or the girls on those tables?"

"I'm interested in the money on those tables."

She jerked her head, "Through there. But when it gets stale, like it always does, you'd have room six to yourself."

"Would I now?" John grinned at her, "Would you be waiting in there?"

"Not me." She winked at him. "There's someone who wanted to book it with you. Said it's for a friend of yours waiting at the tables."

"Really?" John turned over his shoulder, "And would this someone be male or female?"

"That'd be telling." She handed him a door key. "When he's ready for it."

"I'll tell him." He fingered the key, slipping it into his pocket. "And, if I can ask, what's your name?"

"Ethel. But here the men call me Mistress Parks."

"Nothing else?"

"Sometimes Mistress Pain or Sweet Relief but that's all I allow."

"Hm," John made a face, putting his hands into his pockets, "And how often does Terence Sampson use your… services?"

"He's only for the tables."

John grinned, "I thought you were against telling."

"I'm not telling." Ethel shrugged, "He's not a client of mine. This is a shared space where we all split rent. It's nothing to me to tell you he's an expert at those tables."

"Sounds like a friend of mine." John pointed over his shoulder back toward room six, "What about the person in room six?"

"They're not clients either but I was paid for my discretion in that and money, as we all know, is the highest of prizes."

"The ultimate god?"

"It's my god… except on Sundays."

"I'm sure your priest loves you."

Ethel grinned, "We have an arrangement all our own, if that answers your curiosity."

"Enough." John extended her his hand, "What if I offered you a new premises for your business, Mistress Parks?"

"What's it to me?"

"More room and better paying customers."

"The customers come all the same."

"Well, if you change your mind." John handed over a card, blank except for his number. "Call that and you could have a chance at something not quite a basement."

"It's been fine."

"For now, what about later?" He turned down the other hallway, calling back to her, "Think about it. You won't be disappointed."

John went to the first door she indicated and pushed into the room with a number of tables. He narrowed his eyes, noting the lighting blinding those at the tables to those who moved in the shadows. More to the point, hiding the security guards lining the walls.

Most of the people there wore suits in various stages of disarray. Some constantly pulled at their ties, loosening them from throats that glistened like their sweaty foreheads. Others pulled unconsciously at their cuffs, inadvertently polishing the links there or playing with the buttons as their eyes furiously darted over the contents of the table. The last group, those like Tom in the corner, only ever adjusted the suit to stretch their arms and lay winning hands on the tabletops.

John eyed the man next to Tom, smiling past the confusion on his face. He yanked at his collar while Tom took the ships on the table, pulling them toward him and counting them quickly into piles before turning over his shoulder to address the woman standing behind him. She tallied his chips, racking them in the case she held, and Tom pushed back from the table and buttoned his jacket.

"Been a pleasure gentlemen." As he moved his elbow, lowered ever-so-slightly, bumped the drink resting on the edge of the table, and splashed it all over the man next to him. Tom snatched a bunch of napkins and dabbed at the man but the man pushed him away. Tom raised his hands, "Sorry mate. Just trying to help since I was the one-"

"Get off me." The man hissed, grabbing at his coat and the few chips left to him. "Stay the bloody hell away from me."

John watched the man push his way into the men's and made his way in that direction. Before he reached the door he brushed against Tom and folded the key into his palm. "Room six."

Tom nodded and left the room, the woman holding all his won chips following him. John pushed into the men's room and waited a moment, spotting the man just around the corner brushing violently at his shirt with a wad of paper towels, and pulled the door firmly in place before snapping the mop handle resting in the bucket by the door. He thrust it through the pull and notched it into the doorframe. It would not hold forever but it would stave off intruders for the moment.

Rounding the wall, John leaned on the counter. The other man only flicked his eyes in John's direction before returning to the wet spot on his shirt. John cleared his throat to speak, "Rubbing at it, furiously or not, won't get that out. You need seltzer water, a bit of salt, and some lemon juice."

"Piss off." The man continued rubbing. "This is none of your affair."

"Sure it's not." John edged closer, "But you see, Mr. Sampson, I know you just lost your boss a lot of money and you need a way to get that back for him."

Sampson stopped moving, his focus on the sink bowl under him. "What do you know about my employer?"

"I had a meeting with him last week. The same meeting, in fact, where you former employers brains ended up splattered all over the breakfast counter. Very tragic and very disgusting." John tapped Sampson on the shoulder, forcing the man to look at him. "I'm sure you can relate to the trouble that'll cause for you. Or, has caused for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sampson tried to push past him but John pressed him back until he bounced off the back wall under the inset window. "If you know who I work for then you'll bugger off and pretend this never happened."

"Then you'd have to explain how you, a noted card shark, lost the money you were supposed to grow for him tonight. Tell me," John tapped his temple exaggeratedly, "How much were you supposed to get when you walked in here with ten grand that someone else took out as fifty?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm sure I should be insulted that you don't know me but I'll leave that alone since we're a smaller, bit more intelligent, unit than yours." John rested a hand near Sampson's neck. "I'm John Bates and I'm going to give you a very exclusive offer."

"John Bates? The enforcer for that pussy Robert Crawley."

John brought around his right hook, laying Sampson out on the floor and breaking his left cheekbone. Sampson cried out, placing a shaking hand over the injury as John crouched next to him. "Speak that way about Robert Crawley again and you'll find out exactly how I enforce for him. Understand?"

Sampson nodded, "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me about Green's money. Where it is, who's got it, who's giving it to him, who still owes him, who exactly he still owes, and how he plans to make more of it." John opened his arms to the clean but old bathroom. "Obviously growing it here isn't going to make him rich and what Alex Green needs right now is capital."

"He's got that."

"Not enough. Not to take London since his bruiser father's dead. And not enough of any other kind of capital to do anything but live off his dad's reputation." John snorted, "Don't tell me you're going to try throwing in with that lot."

"Alex is my friend." Sampson righted himself and John stood with him. With a spit of blood to the side Sampson sneered at John. "Not sure you realize that but Alex has you all tits over testicles on this. You're just running to even catch up."

"You wouldn't be here if that's the case." John grabbed Sampson but the back of the neck. "Now do you want the deal or not?"

"Screw you."

"You'll wish you hadn't said that." John pulled out his mobile with his other hand and dialed Anna. He held it up to his head and then clicked it to speakerphone. "Ms. Smith, I've got your next target. He's just dying to meet you."

"Did he reject the offer?"

"Seems to hold some kind of loyalty to Alex Green." John shrugged at Sampson, the man's confusion furrowing his brow and twitching his bruising face. "I think he believes his friend might help him out of this jamb."

"Then we'll cure him of that." Anna's voice changed, "Mr. Sampson I'm sure you don't remember me but I was there the night you helped kill Gregory Smith."

Sampson shook his head until John held him steady. "I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Of course not. You waited to the side, like you always do, because you're a coward." Anna's voice hardened. "You were the one who dragged me from the closet and then took your turn."

John thought his hand trembled a moment but realized the vibration was Sampson quivering in his grip. He raised an eyebrow at Sampson and then wrinkled his nose. He groaned and stepped back, "Have some dignity man. That's disgusting."

"I didn't… I couldn't… I -"

"The point is, Mr. Sampson," John adjusted the phone as Anna's voice continued through the phone. "You've already rejected your chance and now you'll meet the Reaper."

The line clicked off and John stowed his phone before dragging Sampson by his collar. He fought and clawed to escape and for a moment he escaped but his run for the window ended as John grabbed his trousers and yanked him back to the ground. When he righted Sampson the man sobbed and gripped at John.

"Don't, please don't! I'll do anything for you not to give me to her. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"It's too late for that since, as I recall, you told me to 'bugger off' about it." John hauled Sampson to the door and moved the mop handle away. "Now it's time to pay the piper… or is it greet the Reaper. I can't remember."

"Don't do this."

"It's already done, Mr. Sampson."

"You don't understand." Sampson pushed against the wall, "Do you even know why she's called the 'Reaper'? Why everyone hires the woman who snipes from a distance and leave no witnesses? Why people rely on someone who holds no allegiances to anyone?"

"No and I don't care."

"It's because she shot men in her own unit." Sampson cried out and John pulled the door shut again. "She shot men in her own unit."

"What kind of men?"

"Does it matter?" Sampson struggled, "She'll shoot you for the right price."

"I'm aware of that." John pushed the door open, "And I've already made peace with the God I believe in so I suggest you do the same."

No one stopped them, with John's hand clamped over Sampson's mouth, and he made it back into the hallway where Ethel kept sentinel. She winked and held up six fingers and John nodded at her. He risked a hand from Sampson's mouth and pulled one of the chips from the man's pocket.

"For your help."

"Thank you." She held up the chip, "I'll have a drink on you if you like."

"Only in the metaphoric sense. I'm afraid all other drinks of me are for someone else."

"Shame. I couldn't wasted some time with you."

"And in another life, Ms. Parks I might feel the same." John pushed Sampson toward room six. "Move."

The door opened and John saw Anna waiting inside the room. He threw Sampson inside and joined them for Anna to close the door. With it's snap Sampson fell to a sobbing mess.

Anna sniffed and scrunched her nose, "What's that smell?"

"Afraid our man here wet himself when he heard you'd be coming for him."

"Then he should've thought twice about helping Alex Green." Anna flipped the switch and nodded to the ties in the room. "In other circumstances I think I'd like to use these on you but, for now, I think they'll hold him in place."

John lifted Sampson and tied his wrists to the restraints, tightening them in place to bring Sampson's arms above his head and lift him until his toes barely touched the floor. Anna handed over a phone and John frowned at it. She shrugged.

"Your friend, the Irish one, left it. Said he needs it to pair with Sampson's phone and finish getting at the money."

"Are you really so stupid that you leave vital information on your phone Sampson?" John dug into the man's pocket, spilling the receipts and papers tucked in with the phone before holding it to Sampson's finger for the print to unlock it. "No wonder you haven't broken London yet."

"You won't get anything."

"Oh but you don't know our tech man." John fiddled with the buttons on the phone and then set them to the side as they started their program. "He's very good. Like those television montage hackers good."

"Focus, please, Mr. Bates." Anna turned to the tools in the room and held up a whip. "This is inventive."

"It's BDSM," John winked and leaned back against the wall. "Sometime you should try it."

"I might." Anna snapped the whip and watched Sampson shudder. "But, for now, I think I need to focus on something else."

"I don't know anything."

"Oh," Anna tipped Sampson's chin up with the handle of the whip. "I don't think you understand how this works. I'm not here for information. I'm here to take my revenge on you."

"I didn't do anything."

"The rape kit that gave me your DNA says differently." Anna walked around his back, running the whip down his back. "I'm here to make the universe even, Mr. Sampson."

"What about him?" Sampson nodded at John, "What's he here for?"

"My end of the bargain."

"Is your end knowing that you've got a mole?" Sampson's voice gathered strength as John stood straighter. "That's right, we've got someone into your little group."

"Green's got nobody that stupid."

"Then you're the ones who're stupid. Don't you think someone would've turned on you when they knew you were killing your own?"

"If you're talking about Barrow-"

"He wasn't ours. He was just the one buggering Crowbrough in hotels. I'm talking about the person trying to recruit Barrow to leave the Albanians and snitch to us."

John narrowed his eyes, "And who would be that stupid?"

"Who do you think?" Sampson sneered, "Who cared enough about Barrow to seek revenge? Who knows that your ex-wife works for us?"

"O'Brien," John pulled out his phone, "He's all yours."

"Wait!" Sampson screamed as John went for the door. "The Albanians were working with us too. We had Barrow's other boyfriend."

John stopped, "You're telling me that Barrow worked for you? That he pretended to work for the Albanians, recruited their second-in-command to work for you, and got O'Brien to flip on us… for what? Crowbrough's good graces?"

"For what Green promised him."

"And what was that?"

"He promised him enforcer status."

John's eyes met Anna's, "I need to make a call."

"I think you do." She nodded at Sampson, "I'll finish this myself and call you later."

Without a word John took the cloned phone, smashing the other after he tossed the chip in a cup of water, and left the soundproofed room. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialed Robert as he hurried into the street. With a raised hand he caught a cab and tossed money with his hurried directions to get the driver moving as quickly as possible.

Finally the phone on the other end clicked. "Robert, we've got a problem."

"Let me guess, your plan didn't work and now we're all screwed?"

"It worked and we got him but he told me something we need to handle now before it gets out."

"What are you talking about?"

"O'Brien. She's been working behind our backs."

"Say nothing else until you get here." The line clicked and John waited, tapping his fingers on the windowsill of the cab to dispel his energy.

When he reached the pub he saw Henry and Tom already waiting. The three entered, going up to Robert's office where he sat, looking a bit like he rushed through his closet for whatever came to hand fastest, and motioned them to their seats. With a finger to John he nodded.

"What'd he tell you?"

"Sampson told me that Barrow was working for them."

"We knew he was screwing Crowbrough but I thought it was like a 'don't ask, don't tell' thing." Henry snorted, "I guess there was a lot more asking and telling there."

"Sampson said Barrow recruited O'Brien and Andrea."

"The Albanian?" Tom blew out, "That's dangerous."

"I guess we need to have a detailed breakdown of the sexual activities of our members if Barrow could bury it where he wanted and make a mess of it all." Robert sighed, resting his forehead in his cupped hands a moment before facing the trio again. "Did he say anything else?"

"I've got his phone." John pulled it from his pocket and tossed it to Henry. "That's the clone. I smashed the other one and drown the SIM so we should be fine."

"And Sampson?"

"He's in good hands."

Robert narrowed his eyes, "They wouldn't happen to be female hands would they?"

"Technically they're leather restraints but soon he won't need his hands anyway."

"If another body ends up on the Greens' doorstep-"

"That's not important." John interrupted Robert, "What matters is that O'Brien wanted to make war on the Albanians to cover her tracks. She wanted us focused on the outlier, the red herring, so we wouldn't see how she was setting us up to tumble from the inside out."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Robert waited, "Hire your Reaper to snipe her like you did with Barrow?"

"No, this is public." John lifted a hand, "And we backtrack it too. We explain what we know and reveal Barrow's death as the result of his betrayal."

"You're asking us to lie to our friends about why we killed Barrow?" Tom whistled, "Don't we owe them better than that?"

"We did kill Barrow because he was a traitor. And we'll get rid of O'Brien for the same reason." John stood to face the three other men in the room. "Look, I'm not asking that we lie about what we knew and when we knew it. Everyone needs to know we're taking our war to the Greens. But now we've got the advantage because we've got the Albanians on our side."

"After we blamed them for Barrow's death I don't see them jumping to join."

John turned to Henry, "They will because they've been buggered too. It's the only way to avoid the awkward revelation that we've all had moles and not even noticed."

Robert took a deep breath and lifted the phone on his desk from the cradle. He dialed a number and hit the button for speakerphone before setting the earpiece on the desk. The tinny ring of the phone echoed in the quiet room and John noticed how Henry jumped slightly, absorbed as he was in the information from the cloned phone, when someone answered.

"Ms. Bunting, it's Robert Crawley."

"It's a bit late for a social call and given your dedication to your wife I'll assume you're not giving me a booty call."

"It's a business call, Ms. Bunting."

"I thought we resolved our business a few weeks ago."

"We resolved that business a few weeks ago but I'm afraid something's come to bite us in the ass and we wanted to give you the heads up about it."

John sucked the inside of his cheek as the woman responded. "And what's come up Mr. Crawley?"

"I'd first need to ask if you're alone." Robert waited, "It's nothing inappropriate but you'll want to take care who on your end knows what we're about to tell you."

"I'm alone, Mr. Crawley. Are you?"

"I've got John Bates here with Tom Branson and Henry Talbot."

"The gang's all there then." She laughed on her end, "Puts me at a bit of a disadvantage doesn't it?"

"It's more that we were discussing how this affects our group and we're all interested in how it might affect yours."

"I'm all ears then."

"Did you know that Andrea's working for the Greens?" Dead air filled the phone and John rubbed the back of his head with a nervous hand. "Ms. Bunting?"

"I'm here."

"Did you-"

"I heard you." She swallowed, "Would this have anything to do with Andrea's interest in your dead man?"

"We think that's how he was turned."

"Then your dead man's to blame?"

"To blame for a mole in our own organization as well."

"Is this your way of telling me we're all about to clean house?" Ms. Bunting clicked her tongue against her teeth. "That's not an exciting prospect given the escalation recently is bringing the Met out in force."

"We're no more excited about it than you, perhaps less so given how close we've been to some pretty awkward incidents lately but it's got to be done." Robert looked up at John, "We're proposing an alliance to take down Green."

"And do what?"

Robert turned to John and waved at the phone. John stepped forward and cleared his throat, "Give you his Yorkshire business, minus his union racket."

"That was his business."

"And it's old. They're wiser now and you'll be left with nothing, like Alex Green is right now."

"We all knew the little pussy couldn't handle his father's business in the first place."

"Then you take his Yorkshire business."

"And what?" Ms. Bunting laughed, "Leave you with my work here in London."

"It's not that crazy." John shrugged, resting his arms on the desk. "We know the Met's been after you to get you out of here and that way you retire to the country."

"Are you making deals for the Downton group now Mr. Bates?"

"I am in this. It's my operation and I want to take Green down if we've got to tear his organization apart limb by limb."

"Starting with their moles."

"Exactly." John waited, "In a matter of professional curiosity, what'll you do with your mole?"

"I'll take care of it."

"I trust you will." John pushed off the desk, "Good luck in that Ms. Bunting and let us know if you want your slice of the pie."

"Mr. Bates," Her voice stopped him, "We want it. You end Green, we'll take his Yorkshire business, you take his London and pick up what we leave with an annual ten percent to us. Agreed?"

"You've got yourself a deal Ms. Bunting. Have a good night."

"It's morning, Mr. Bates."

"Then good morning." John hung up the phone and grinned at Robert. "Not all bad, all things considered."

"Get me Sarah O'Brien and we'll talk about this then."

"Got it." John turned to Tom and Henry, "Ready to go hunting?"