Retribution

She looked into my eyes. "What happened? How did you find them? She paused for a second. "What did you do to them?" She wanted to know everything.

I put my hand on her cheek. "It will probably be on the evening news," I said. I didn't want to give her the gory detail of what happened. I kissed her on the cheek before I got into my awaiting taxi.

"Where to sir," the driver said.

"London, Victoria," I said.

There wasn't much movement in Central London. Streets which were full of life on an average day, on Christmas Day they were deserted. The taxi pulled up next to the National Express Station with plenty of time to spare till the coach left.

"What do I owe you?" I asked the driver.

"One-hundred, sir," he delayed saying the amount. He knew that his boss was overcharging customers because it was Christmas Day.

I opened the duffel bag, feeling inside the bag for my wallet. I pulled it out, with a small parcel I prepared earlier. I was supposed to drop it off, before coming to Victoria. I'll send it from Liverpool when the Post Office opens, But I wanted the person to get the gift today.

"What time do you finish tonight?" I asked the driver.

"Eleven," he said.

"I'll give you two-hundred. All you have to do is deliver a parcel when you finish work." I waved the small gift in front of him. "It's in Palmers Green. The address is written on the card," I said.

He was sceptical for a moment. "It might be eleven-thirty when I deliver it."

"Perfect." I handed the parcel over to him with two-hundred quid.

The alarm on my smartphone woke me up. It was eleven. I connected my smartphone to the National Express Wi-Fi. Then I quickly scrolled through the icons in search for the live TV app. ITV news was on.

*****

In North London, Palmers Green to be exact. Chris was at home alone, watching the late news. His mother went to her brothers for a couple of hours for Christmas Dinner. She begged Chris to go with her, but he wasn't feeling too good again.

The images of Bobby and Max appeared on the television screen. It made Chris sit up. It was like a slap across his face. Grabbing the remote control, he turned the volume up.

"Two of Brighton's underworld criminals were found dead today. One was found strangled, beneath The Brighton Pier. The other he was brutally beaten in his penthouse apartment." The reporter gave more details about the crime. Chris sat there with his mouth open.

"Fuckin' hell he fuckin killed them!" Chris shouted. The doorbell started ringing. "Come on mom, you forgot your fucking key again!" he screamed.

When he answered the door, it wasn't his mother. It was a man with a parcel in his hand. The man confirmed the name on the box with Chris before handing it over to him.

He sat on the sofa with the parcel in his lap. He started reading the card, before opening the gift.

'Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,' was printed on the top of the card.

The rest was handwritten.

'To Fuckin Chris.' Chris smiled at the comment.

'I want to thank you. I would have never found them without you. For my appreciation a small gift for you. I hope it is enough to start your new business. Tony.'

Chris ripped the wrapping paper of the parcel like a child opening a present on Christmas day. Eager to see what was inside. It was a Bose wireless speaker. He was confused.

"What the fuck!" he shouted.

The fancy box contained a black pouch inside. The word Bose was written on the front. With all his strength he threw the item across the room.

"Fuckin asshole!" he yelled.

He didn't hear a crashing sound when it hit the wall. That surprised him. Picking up the pouch, he opened the flap. There was no speaker inside, but there were four large stacks of fifty-pound notes.

"Fuckin hell Tony!" he screamed.

At that moment the front door opened. It was Chris's mother.

"How many times have I told you not to use that word, Chris!" his mother screamed.

The End.