The blonde met up with Joey near one of the entrances to Borough Market. It was a damp morning but even so the place was vibrant with shouting, bustling people busy buying and selling, oblivious to the drizzle outside. They walked over to a corner behind a stall out of the eddy of customers searching for bargains. Joey was holding a small, black leather case.
“You got what I asked for?” the woman’s steady, blue eyes searched the red veined whites of Joey’s.
“Hey babe, ya got youse the King of Nines—”
“Cut out the babe,” her cold eyes bored into him and Joey felt an almost physical danger slice into him. He was twice her size and had done time for GBH, but he suddenly felt lamblike in the slaughterer’s presence; her eyes expressed an emptiness that Joey didn’t care to dwell on.
babe“Is
