The Devil

Also by Graham Johnson:

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Epub ISBN: 9781845968915

Version 1.0

  

Copyright © Graham Johnson, 2007

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by

MAINSTREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY

(EDINBURGH) LTD

7 Albany Street

Edinburgh EH1 3UG

ISBN 9781845961787

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any other means without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast

This book is a work of non-fiction. In some cases names of people, places, dates and the sequence or details of events have been changed to protect the privacy of others. The author has stated to the publishers that, except in such minor respects, the contents of this book are true.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First of all, a massive thank you to stephen French for telling his story, because, after all, this is
his
book. He gave up his time for hundreds of hours of interviews, and travelled up and down the country to ensure that this book could be written. Thank you to my copy-editor Emma Murray of Editing and Beyond for her eagle eye, suggestions and advice. Her efforts often went way beyond the call of duty. Also, thank you to Anna Hunt for proofreading and Rohan Tait for picture editing.

CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This book is based on a large number of interviews with the main subject, Stephen French. Other research materials included press cuttings, criminal records and interviews with witnesses, criminal or otherwise. However, the story is mostly reliant on Stephen's personal testimony.

I decided to write the book in the first person, using ‘I' instead of ‘he', so that the reader would get the story from Stephen's perspective and not mine. I decided to do this in an attempt to bring the reader closer to the action and to give a direct insight into what Stephen French did, thought and felt, with as little spin, analysis or journalistic input as possible.

There is a glossary at the back of the book if you're not familiar with some of the slang used.

Graham Johnson

August 2007

PREFACE

THEY CALLED ME THE DEVIL

You may think that my life is a doddle, what with the luxurious flats in Canary Wharf, the penthouse apartments in Liverpool city centre, £70,000 cars, Christmas in the Caribbean, and the five-star hotels in Las Vegas, New York, Florida and the Indian Ocean. Well, let me share with you a strand of the rope that gives me strength and makes me who I am. From my earliest memory to when I was 15 years old, I was bullied on a daily basis. During that period, I was stabbed with scissors, hit with a poker, lashed with curtain wire, scalded with hot water, and punched and kicked endlessly. Pain became my best friend. But then, when I was 16 years old, my balls dropped and I began to man up. I stopped the bullies with a well-aimed and even better propelled everyday house brick. Yeah! Leave me the fuck alone.

At 17, the bullies were back, this time with a concealed blade: a steak knife homing in like an Exocet missile for my throat in a deceptive and lightning attack. I was unarmed, lying down on my mother's couch, maxing out. A nanosecond somehow became an eon, and I managed to get my left arm between my throat and the grim reaper. The blade was violently plunged through my arm, midway between my left wrist and elbow. It pierced my skin, its serrated edge scraping across the bone and completely severing three tendons, pinging them like overstretched rubber bands. I was left with the use of my left index finger and my left thumb only, but I could still make a fist. I weighed around 175 lb, but I was on my feet. My throat was not cut, as had been my assailant's murderous intention.

In the melee that ensued, my bright-red blood sprayed my mum's front room, and I knew without being told that I was in a fight for my life. As I subdued my armed assailant with my bare hands, I knew instinctively that I would find myself in this situation many more times. And as my assailant passed into unconsciousness, I also knew – with a heightened, almost primal awareness – that I would always win and never lose a death match. That was the first attempt on my life, thirty years ago in 1977, and from that day to this there have been several more attempts to assassinate me – my enemies have tried to burn me, melt me with acid, shoot me or kill me in any way possible. This is my story . . . THEY CALLED ME THE DEVIL.

My name is Stephen Thomas French, and I grew up in Liverpool 8 during the 1960s and '70s, becoming a man in the 1980s. The narrative that follows could be superimposed onto the lives of any number of black males born of a mixed marriage in 1960s south Liverpool. When I first decided to help Graham Johnson write this book, I knew I had a good story inside me, but I also knew that I should take advantage of the life experiences of the people I've known throughout my life – including 25 years security experience and 30 years as a martial artist, man and boy – and the thousands upon thousands of individuals I've met during my pursuit of health, wealth and happiness.

The tile for the book is
The Devil.
There was much discussion about this between me and Graham Johnson. Initially, the working title was
Tall, Dark and Dangerous.
During the course of his research, Graham discovered that some of my enemies referred to me as the Devil. He became very interested in this and said that this must be the title of the book. I tried to compromise with him and suggested
They Call Me the Devil
as an alternative. I reneged after discussion with him, because I understand the commercial grab of the
The Devil
as a title, but I would like to go on record and say that I am a true and devout Christian and I believe in the Holy Trinity. I hate and loathe the Devil. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was to convince the world he did not exist. Where there is good there is bad, where there is ying there is yang, and this a belief that I hold very, very strongly. So, to my mum, wife, sister and daughter, the women that are really important to me, I apologise for the title of this book, but it's for reasons of sensationalism and commercialism, plain and simple, and has nothing to do with my faith. And if there are any objections of a divine nature, I assure you, Lord God in heaven, that the intentions behind this book are based on honour and integrity.

Stephen French

August 2007

PROLOGUE

The Tefal steam iron was red-hot as I pressed it hard onto the top of the man's back, just below his shoulder. He jolted violently, but the silver duct tape wrapped around his mouth muffled his screams. I gave him a squeeze of steam from the power jets, just for good measure. The acrid fumes of burning flesh whooshed around the basement room, carried by the plumes of vaporised water, tinged by the sulphur-like smell of charred hair. There were pools of piss, shit and blood already on the floor, so it didn't really matter. Yet the victim still refused to give up the location of his drugs or money. I temporarily removed his gag, and he blabbered that he didn't have the goods. When I put the gag back on, he begged for mercy using his hands and eyes.

The man taped to the chair in front of me was one of Britain's top drug dealers, worth between 30 and 40 million pounds. He had boasted about fearing no man and was responsible for the murder of many – mainly his enemies – during his underworld reign. Amongst his peers and rivals alike, he was feared like a death-camp commandant and revered like a dictator. No one had ever dared touch him. Me, personally – I couldn't give two hoots.