Billy Hassan, tall, tanned, olive skin, baby-faced, thick black hair, short, overneat with a severe part on the left side. A hairstyle popular with rugby league players and bogans. He was wearing dark blue chinos, a Country Road white-and-blue check shirt, brown loafers on his feet. Someone had told him he looked the part. When Hassan asked what they meant, the person said, ‘Like a gangster.’ He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the person. Arranged to have him bashed in Roslyn Street after he left Baron’s one night, where he had spent hours playing chess, snorting coke. He didn’t look like a gangster now, or so he thought, but he carried the menace. Not many had it, but Hassan did. In his line of work, it was essential.
Hassan was in the office of his Kings Cross strip club, The Razor Club, lo
