
It’s not every day that a close relative describes how they were once the subject of a $10,000 hit job. But this shady chapter of my family’s history came to light over the weekend during a long-distance telephone conversation about Thomas Cashman, who was yesterday handed a life sentence for the murder of nine-year-old Olivia Pratt-Korbel.
While my relative’s case involved an international business deal gone wrong, and bizarrely the middleman who brokered the hit became the gunman’s new target after his client reneged on a $2,000 payment, the reality of the average contract killing is very different. More often that not, it takes the form of a free-for-all in which innocent people die and morally repugnant paymasters get away with murder. As Olivia’s death in Dovecot, Liverpool, last August made clear, the world occupied by hitmen is underscored by nihilistic chaos.
Cashman, himself the 34-year-old father of two young children, had reportedly been offered £100,000 by his underworld bosses to kill Joseph Nee, a rival villain who Cashman’s associates claimed had stolen a sizeable drugs stash. During the botched hit, Nee, chased by Cashman, barged through the Korbels’ front door just as Olivia’s mother opened it to investigate the commotion outside. As Cashman continued to fire indiscriminately, a bullet hit Olivia in the chest. According to the front page of yesterday’s Sun, “gangland figures” have placed a £250,000 bounty on Cashman’s head — not as payback for murdering an innocent child, but to prevent him from revealing their identities in a feeble attempt to reduce his sentence.
Whether it’s an East End thing, a tabloid hack thing, or simply a morbid fascination with organised crime, I’ve never been too far away from the shadowy world of the contract killer. As a kid in the Seventies, when my family lived in New York, my mother worked for an Italian family who had a “connection” to those responsible for “whacking” mob boss Carmine “Cigar” Galante. More recently, I interviewed an ex-soldier who used to do some “work” for a notorious North London crime family before the nightmares became too much and he packed it all in. The activity of his bosses had been an obsession of the late crime writer and reformed gangster, John McVicar. John told me that he’d been warned by one of “the family’s” consiglieres to watch his back after their name kept cropping up in the column he wrote for Punch magazine. Not long after, said consigliere wound up getting whacked by a hitman on a motorcycle.
Such murders are, in criminal terms, at the Premier League-level of contract killings. Many of these hits go unsolved because the bike-riding masked assassins know what they’re doing, thanks to training, practice and experience. But such characters are few and far between. More often than not, lower-league criminals recruit hitmen from among the even lower-league “mandem” or assorted gangs that crop up all over poverty-stricken Britain. This recruiting ground has a constant supply of young, desperate, violent and, importantly, cheap contract killers.
Today, they are only getting younger and more desperate. Right now, a 15-year-old named Santre Gayle, jailed in 2011, is believed to be Britain’s youngest contract killer. He’s certainly the youngest that we know of. But several organised crime sources have told me — all with the same sick, macabre pride — that they have groomed 12, 13 and 14-year-olds to do their dirty work for next-to-nothing. When I mentioned to one that Gayle was paid a measly £200 to shoot dead a woman on her doorstep, apparently as a revenge attack sanctioned by an ex-partner with connections to London’s Turkish underworld, he joked that he “got over the odds”.
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