Gregor Kolinsky drummed his fingers on his desk; it was a nervous habit that drove his wife spare. He claimed it helped him think, truth was he thought it looked cool and intimidating.
He opened the file again and looked at the glossy twelve by fifteen photographs. With the mop of scruffy hair and uncomfortable demeanour they could be of any teenager out there. But they weren't, these pictures were of a lad whose reputation preceded him.
Kolinsky stuck out his bottom lip and sucked on his teeth, how did he get himself in these stupid predicaments? All he wanted to do was lean on the quack at the nut house, make sure Jay stayed put and ask about his darling Tilly. Now he has to return a favour he never meant to ask for in a fashion he isn't comfortable with.
He understood being turned into a Penguin for a few hours must have been be annoying, but killing the kid is a little over the top. Besides how do you even kill a wizard?
Rummaging around in his desk drawers he eventually found his gun; a clunky revolver bought more for show than anything else. He wasn't even sure if he had any bullets for it. Gregor was a firm believer in looking the part and first impressions counted for a lot in his world. He found that once you had pointed a gun at someone they tended to do what they were told and asked very few questions.
He scratched lazily at his temple with the barrel of the gun, something else he had picked up from the movies. Hollywood had a lot to answer for he thought when he caught wind of what he was doing. Impressing and intimidating folks with his bullshit was part of his day job but more and more of late he caught himself still playing the Russian crime lord when he was alone.
He looked at the pictures again and a cold shiver ran down his spine. With a sigh he closed the file, tossed the gun back in the drawer and mentally ran through all the scum bags he knew. After drawing up a short list of potential assassins he settled on the most ruthless mother fucker on god's green earth and pulled out his mobile.
Just as he thought the call was going to go to voicemail a drawling voice with a broad welsh accent said "Alright butt?"
Gregor dropped straight back into the valleys. "Alright spa? Its Greg isn't it? I need to ask a favour I do, there's this boy you see . . ."