The Profession of Violence by John Pearson Page B

they can find it, somewhere to relax, talk freely, pick up the latest gossip and know they are safe. For them the billiard hall was ideal. It was not yet known to the police, and the twins could guarantee the thief what he needed – order. They would see that no one tried to pay off old scores and no one preyed on those who were in luck. Thieves could leave the tools of their trade on the premises; in an emergency the twins might even look after a thief’s takings for him.
    The twins had connections everywhere: fences and other villains, con men and prisoners freshly released from gaol. If there was trouble they knew what was going on. If the Law started getting difficult, rumour said they could fix it. They had the natural con man’s memory for faces and had begun inviting some of the choicer characters they had got to know in the West End and in the army.
    Before long the billiard hall was offering local criminals a genuine service. It was organized efficiently. There were lock-up cubicles under the seats for the thieves’ tools; stolen goods could be left round the back of the hall. If necessary the twins would arrange transport and worked an introductions bureau for criminals they knew. There might be a warehouseman they knew in Tottenham who had been getting in debt on the dogs and who wasn’t fussy what he did for a couple of hundred pounds. Before the evening ended the twins would have contacted willing thieves, found customers for the goods and come to an understanding that when the warehouse was burgled they would be in for their percentage.
    It would be an adequate percentage; Reggie always saw to that.
    These growing business activities were certain to be challenged sooner or later. The twins had no real power yet. Each section of the East End had its own established ‘guv’nors’. In serious criminal affairs the twins were interlopers, but for a while most of the serious local gangs seemed to ignore them. Three Poplar dockers who unofficially ‘ruled’ Poplar and Mile End finally decided to take them in hand. A challenge was sent out.
    Not that it looked much like a challenge, simply an invitation to the twins for a drink at a certain Mile End pub the following Sunday morning. But in the East End there are ways of sending an invitation so that it becomes common knowledge. By the time the twins heard, everyone who mattered knew as well.
    The twins’ reaction to the dockers’ challenge was unusual. All their friends at the hall knew about it and waited for the explosion; none came. Nobody liked to mention it. Nothing was said. By Saturday night the challenge had become the sole topic of conversation, out of earshot of the twins. At the billiard hall people were uneasy, suddenly remembering the dockers’ records as amateur boxers. They were brothers, a good three inches taller than the twins, and all of them fought as heavyweights. No one could be surprised at the twins appearing shy of meeting them, but it would be the end of their reputation. Not even they could hope to bluff their way out of an affair like this. But they seemed unconcerned and the evening ended with a cheerful rumpus in a pub at Stoke Newington.
    The following morning the billiard hall saw the largest Sunday morning turnout for years. Half the neighbourhood seemed to have arrived to see how Reggie and Ronnie were getting on. The twins seemed much as usual on a Sunday morning after a hard night’s drinking: Ronnie unshaven and rubbing his eyes, Reggie neatly dressed in slacks and sports shirt, fixing a new counter to the bar. Both raised their eyes at all the visitors, but said nothing.Reggie made tea. More of the regulars arrived. Conversation languished.
    It was 11.50 when Reggie put down his cup and Ronnie nodded to him and they strolled out through the door. They continued their leisurely stroll along the Mile End Road and were ten minutes late when they reached the pub. Apart from the