Henry Bowers Gang Novels & Stories

The doors were opened as people of all sorts and sizes exited the cars. They were all gangsters and thugs of East Province’s underworld society. The more senior mobsters, with some reaching their fifties and their younger counterparts, who were not much older than eighteen years old, were all gathered here. As far as one’s eye could see, the dense crowd of gangsters began walking toward Six Doors and surrounded the entire compound. Obviously, it was Hugh’s arrangement. This was what he was getting at when he borrowed the phone to make a call. Someone knocked on Tyr’s office door.

“Let’s recap things here. There’s quite a list we have to ascertain and discuss.” said Charles through the drone screen. “So, what should we do with Bowen and his gang?” asked Keith. “Can we really believe his words?” Most of the Phoenix Mafia were quite concerned over the legitimacy of Bowen’s words and intentions; but the Hill twins, Henry and Holly were calm and undisturbed. “Henry, Holly, you guys seem too calm. What’s on your mind?” Jim asked the twins.

Harvey York called Kayden Balmer and the others here as soon as possible. With Kayden’s order, the group of people from the Hatchet Gang called for an ambulance before carefully getting Mandy Zimmer inside. Harvey let out a sigh of relief when Mandy and the others were sent off. Kayden then walked beside Harvey before he tilted his head down. “I have information, Sir York. “The people who did this to Mandy is one of the Gang of Six, the Bharata Gang.

The paramedic was a part of the gang and Henry's nephew. He doesn't know much about his uncle, only that he wasn't alone. The same conclusion I came with earlier. "What is the gang name?" Dustin asked, breaking the silence. "Queens, they changed the name after Henry took over. He killed their old leader, then Henry's son poisoned him when his father changed a lot of rules that didn't meet their aspects," Karma is a bitch. And that was why they were following me. They were clearing their old unfinished business.

The man lay on the concrete floor, whimpering and broken. Turning away from the battered figure, Henry addressed his fellow gang members. Their faces, illuminated by the flickering fluorescent lights above, were stony and resolute. "So, our little rat got into the estate," Henry spat, venom dripping from his words. "And he's been diggin' up dirt on us, boys."

I screamed, yanking him into a crouch. We dove behind a nearby building, bullets whizzing past our heads. My heart raced as I peeked around the corner. "We're almost at the car," I whispered, my eyes locked on the vehicle. "You were right, Alex. It's not just one man and they do have guns." I nodded grimly."Is Henry some sort of gangster? He has men shooting up the neighbourhood in broad daylight. With all these neighbours, I'm sure one of them must have called the police by now."

And as a glowering sunset joined the sporadic fires to paint a hellish skyline, a steam tug left Lambeth hauling the barge downriver. Dirk Bogart tapped his shillelagh idly against his leg as he oversaw rival gang members—the Battersea Velvet Caps, the Wandsworth Scuttlers, some of his New Cut Boys and a contingent of Lambeth Lads: hooligans who, under normal circumstances would sooner trade blows than give the time of day—dump buckets of horses’ blood into the river in an effort to lure the dead into following them. And the floaters came.

Command had already erased 4-stroke's name. "We're going to post RMP's near the railroad crossing at Mill Pond Road," said my father. "Sixth and Seventh Ave's will have unmarked stationary units with chase cars nearby. We don't want any Shadow Posse crossing into LREC territory." Opening and choosing from the binder on the table, he placed several pictures on the whiteboard. They were of Shadow Posse enforcers and cleaners. They were old and faded. The photos had known many hands. "Gangs is saying T-Bone and Gremlin were the hitmen in the double homicide at E.C.G. We're pretty sure Little Jefe gave the order, but nobody's talking."

“And my men would get rid of yours before they even get to send a bullet my way.” It’s at this moment that the far clicks of guns being cocked ring in the corridor, and when Olivia looks to her right, Walter and Adam are standing behind Henry’s four men, a weapon in each hand, the end of the barrel pointing at the mobsters’ heads. “Have you ever seen a man die from a gun wound, Henry?” “Of course, I have,” Henry says. “By my hands.”

Chief Callaghan asked, holding the drawings out to me. I looked over the sketches for about the fifth time. They were amazingly detailed and realistic. It was as though the artist had reached into my memory and pulled the kidnappers’ image straight out of mind. “Yes, I’m certain,” I said. “These are the Hannigan Brothers and their cousin Ciaran Murphy. They’re well-known drug dealers. We’ve been trying to bust them for years but have never been able to get any solid evidence against them.” Andrew stood behind me and glared at the sketches.