Karen stood there, at a loss for words, because she didn’t understand what she had just heard.
She didn’t know much about gangs or groups. All she knew was that the area she was in was a bad area, the type of place you didn’t visit unless you had to. So she had no clue if the men in front of her were strong, or rough enough, or even organised. She had simply thought it might be enough to scare away some thieves.
Because that was still what she thought they were dealing with.
Thieves.
To Karen, crime was numbers on a report, broken glass, a stolen display. It wasn’t organised pressure that made CEOs refuse calls and vendors hesitate. That was why this felt wrong. It was quiet, clean, and controlled, like a hand squeezing the store’s throat without leaving fingerprints. And the fact these men knew it, meant she was already late.
Yet the words she was hearing made it sound as if the man in front of her knew the situation already, as if he had been expecting someone like her to walk in, and he had decided the answer before she had even finished speaking.
"Wait, but you don’t even know how much I’m willing to offer?" Karen said.
The man waved his hand, signalling that it was best for her to go.
"A dead person can’t do anything with their money," he replied. "There are people we don’t want to upset. Every gang in Notting Hill wouldn’t upset the person who targeted you. Although I am interested in knowing how you managed to upset them."
So her guess, and the feeling she had from the start, was right. She was being targeted. Even if she couldn’t solve the guard issue tonight, she might at least be able to find out who was behind it.
"Who is it?" Karen asked. "Tell me, who is targeting our department store, and how is it that you know about it?"
The man turned back around to enjoy his drink, making it clear he didn’t want to entertain her offer. He didn’t even look at her properly. He just took a slow sip, like she wasn’t worth his time.
"1 million," Karen said.
That made him pause.
"You don’t have to do anything," Karen added. "I understand that no amount of money will work to help me. But just tell me who it is, and that money is yours."
This finally interested him. He turned back around, eyes sharper now.
"Every street-level gang was told we shouldn’t accept a job if it came our way that had anything to do with a department store," he said. "We were informed beforehand."
Karen’s stomach tightened.
"There are those who might not have taken the warning seriously," he continued, "until they learned who made the order. It was a group called the Gilt Rats."
Behind Karen, Veronica shifted uneasily. The guards stepped closer as well, closing the space without thinking, as if they wanted to pull Karen away. The men around the bar also looked uncomfortable. It was almost like they didn’t like their boss saying the name out loud.
"Gilt Rats?" Karen repeated. "Why would they target me? I’ve never even heard of them before."
The man shrugged.
"That is not information we are told," he answered. "What’s important is that we listen to what they say. No one in the city will go up against the Gilt Rats."


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