Retiring from the mob

I am beginning to get some inside information on the owner of The Smack Crack and Cocaine Emporium. It seems he has a little side business that involves relocating troublesome people. The word is anyone can disappear without trace, just an overnight trip to the Norfolk marshes or the fens, and problem solved, no body, no evidence, no crime, just another missing person statistic.
I delve a little deeper. The victim is lifted straight off the street and delivered "gift wrapped" to the man. Who armed with only plastic sheets and a cornishman, relocates the body to somewhere very quiet. This is all done in the dead of the night. The only time his white van ever moves.
The Police are not particularly concerned about a missing drug dealer, a wannabee drugs baron. They move about enough anyway. They upset people and do a runner. So if they're reported missing it's another problem gone from their patch. So they just do the paperwork and sit on it. Everyone is happy except perhaps the poor guy who is buried on the marsh.
I had a friend, a retired fixer for some London gang. He used to drive the van to the Romney marsh, where people who had transgressed the unwritten law were disposed of. He assured me they were all "bad uns" and not one of them a "civilian". In fact he was very proud to tell me that of the many places in "The smoke" "civilians" were safest in a mob ran bar. They had the least trouble. Safer than going to your usual East End boozer. My friend was a big fella, his hand shake could crush bones in your hand. He drank whisky like water. he boasted that back in the day money was never a problem. He had the smartest suits, the best shoes and everything tailor made. he wanted for nothing.  I enquired about his "retirement". He didn't retire. No one retires from the mob without permission and then they are still on call. My friend had to disappear into hiding. So now bothered by old age and arthritis he tends his garden growing his beloved Sweet Peas and orchids keeping a very low profile. Money is tight nowadays and the suits are all gone. But he's happy now except for the arthritis that makes him swear. If you didn't know his back story you would think you couldn't meet a nicer more gentle kind of guy. He now lives in east Anglia where it's very flat and from his house he can see people coming from miles away.  But I don't suppose he will ever be called back in for duty. Not at his age. Anyway his Sweet peas and orchids take up most of his time these days.