Tony Lambrianou - Inside the Firm. The Untold Story of the Krays Reign of Terror

R onnie, youre wanted.

Ronnie Kray turned round to face the screw, a principal officer, who had just walked in behind us. Only a minute earlier, we had been escorted out to the toilet from the cell at the Old Bailey where we were waiting to be called up for sentence.

He was in the prime of his life, Ronnie, a striking figure with his jet-black hair and usual immaculate dress: a blue suit, crisp white shirt, blue tie and black shoes. He took a drag on his fag, always a Player, threw it on the floor, stamped on it and said, Here I go, Tony. The first man ever to get a forty-year recommendation.

As I looked back, he was walking away, out of the toilet. His feet were clipping the floor as though he was marching. I went back to the cell and told the others, Theyve just taken Ron up. It was beginning.

If Reggie Kray was on edge, he was trying not to show it. He said, Sit down, Tony, Ill give you a massage. Its an old boxing trick. To have your neck and shoulders massaged helps to ease tension.

I remember Charlie Kray lighting a cigarette while my brother Chris stood quietly in thought and Ronnie Bender, the joker of the pack, just smiled. Even under pressure like this, he did his best to keep everyones spirits up.

I was thinking, Well, look, Im twenty-six, Im the youngest. If anyones going to survive, Im going to be the one. At least Ive got half a chance. I thought of my daughter, and wondered how old she would be when I got out. How old would my son be? Could my marriage survive? Would I ever see my father again in freedom?

In the back of my mind I kept hoping for the best, but I knew in my heart what we were up against. During the trial itself, in reply to questions from our QCs, the judge had frequently said, No doubt these men will be taken to a higher court where the matter can be dealt with. What he meant was, In my eyes youre already convicted, so the Court of Appeal can sort this out. I knew I was going down.

We heard Ronnie marching back and Ian Barries name being called out. Ian, a big, thick-set Scotsman with short, fair hair, punched his fist into his hand and walked out of the cell door as Ronnie walked in.

For a moment no one uttered a word. Then Reggie and Charlie said together: Well, what did you get?

Oh, only a thirty, Ronnie replied. Im glad all thats over. And he carried on smoking a fag as if nothing had happened. Ian Barrie came back as Reggies name was called. Ian leaned stiffly against a wall and closed his eyes: Twenty recommendation.

Back came Reggie, who seemed more concerned about his concurrent sentence than the main term. I thought, God almighty, hes got thirty years and hes worrying about the ten. By now I was a bit edgy because Chris had gone up and his sentence would probably indicate what I could expect.

When he returned, he said, Life and a fifteen rec. He added: Youre going to get a twenty here, Tony, watch it.

I said, Thanks thanks for that. With his words ringing in my ears, I was called into court and went up the stairs to the dock. It was like walking down a V-shaped funnel with a chair at the end, and eight screws on either side of it who absolutely dwarfed me. I was told to sit in the chair. There was dead silence.

I was trying to look around the court but at the same time appear inconspicuous. Its nothing to do with. me.

The room was crowded: it was like being in the middle of a circus. There were celebrities and high-ranking coppers and politicians galore. Nipper Read, John du Rose, Frank Cater and Harry Mooney, the officers in charge of the investigation leading to our arrests, were sitting in the well of the court beside the prosecuting counsel, listening to the judge but looking at me. Sir George Younger, the Assistant Chief Commissioner for Crime at Scotland Yard, was there too. Glancing to my right, I saw my brother Jimmy, my father, my wife and old Charlie Kray, the twins dad, leaning over. I saw Micky Duff, the boxing promoter, who smiled slightly, actors Charlton Heston and Richard Greene, and a lot of people who looked as though they were titled. On my left, the press area was jam-packed. I remember my eyes resting on John Pearson, who later wrote A Profession of Violence, the best-selling book about the Kray gang. A couple of people were drawing.

My QC, James Ross, jumped up and tried to urge the judge not to give me a recommendation because of the ages of my kids and my father. He said, This man has a wife and two children, one of whom was born on remand.