Carnage

by Heather Atkinson

  “How will you get in?” said Rachel.

  “Back door,” replied Bruiser. “It’s all set.”

  “Excellent,” said Ryan. “In that case, I’d better get changed.”

  Ryan and Bruiser strolled through the rear door of the office block owned by Andrew Clayton. They’d entered what appeared to be a maintenance corridor, passing store cupboards and the boiler room. No one was around to challenge them.

  “You have a contact here who left the door open for you?” said Ryan.

  Bruiser nodded.

  Ryan didn’t bother asking any more questions. Trying to make conversation with Bruiser was pointless.

  They took the stairs up to the fourth floor. This level was a lot busier, people scurrying about clutching folders or with phones pressed to their ears. Two blondes who passed them by both smiled at Ryan, who politely looked away.

  “Should have brought someone ugly,” mumbled Bruiser when another passing woman eyed Ryan up and down.

  “The boiler suit was too long for Jez,” he smiled.

  They entered an empty room at the far end of the corridor, closing the door behind them. Decorating equipment was strewn across the bare floor, furniture draped with white sheets.

  “Had a water leak yesterday morning,” said Bruiser. “Funny that eh?”

  “Yes, very funny and convenient,” replied Ryan with a knowing smile. “I admit, I am impressed.”

  “Don’t be. Just look,” said Bruiser, producing two pairs of binoculars from the bag he carried and handing one to Ryan.

  The room they were in wasn’t directly across from Clayton’s office, it was off to one side, consequently they could only see half the room. They managed to catch a glimpse of Clayton pacing back and forth. He was talking but they couldn’t see to who.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a sniper rifle right now,” said Ryan. He caught the look on Bruiser’s face. “Yes, I know, that would be reckless. It would be far too easy to get caught, especially by everyone who’s seen us already.”

  Bruiser nodded once before returning his gaze to Clayton’s window.

  “Wait,” said Ryan. “I can see blond hair. Thank Christ Katia actually is here, I was afraid we’d have to go down south…”

  Ryan went rigid, frantically adjusting the zoom, praying he was mistaken. But no, the hag at the window with a fag hanging out of her mouth was not Katia. Slowly he lowered the binoculars, looking over at Bruiser, who sadly nodded.

  “The fucking bitch,” bellowed Ryan, snatching up a chair and hurling it at the wall. “I’ll kill the old fucking slag.”

  Bruiser grabbed him by both arms before he could pick up a table and throw that too. “Quiet.”

  The fury was threatening to descend on Ryan, the same fury that only Rachel could appease but she wasn’t here. He fought to keep it caged because if he failed he would tear the room apart.

  “Soon,” said Bruiser.

  Ryan’s body shuddered as he sucked in air in a desperate attempt to calm himself. Bruiser was telling him that soon his poisonous excuse for a mother would have to pay for what she’d done and if he didn’t get a grip he’d miss out on that because he’d be locked up in a prison cell.

  Ryan’s body relaxed just as the door was opened by an officious-looking man in a striped shirt.

  “What on earth is going on here?” demanded the man.

  Bruiser was forced to field the question, despite his dislike of speaking as Ryan was still too choked up with rage. “Sorry, tripped over,” he said, indicating the chair.

  “Well keep the noise down,” snapped the man. “People are trying to work.”

  When Ryan glared at him he beat a hasty retreat, slamming the door shut behind him, the gesture at odds with his words.

  Bruiser looked back at Ryan, who nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “Don’t look it.”

  “She was willing to let all of her children and grandchildren die in an explosion and she’s still plotting against us.” He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I should have killed her years ago but I was too weak.”

  Bruiser sighed and patted his shoulder. “I’ll look. You calm down.”

  Ryan thought that a wise idea. If he saw Estelle again he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from running over there, bursting into Clayton’s office and throttling her on the spot.

  “Luke,” said Bruiser, the binoculars raised to his face. “Hayden.” He paused, adjusting the focus. “Katia,” he ended triumphantly.

  “At least we don’t have to go down south,” said Ryan, raking his fingers through his hair. He felt twitchy, like ants were crawling all over his skin. He needed Rachel, only she could make the horror of what his mother was go away. “Let’s get back to the house.”

  Bruiser nodded once, to his infinite gratitude.

  Ryan rushed out of the room ahead of Bruiser, his heart thumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wanted to run back to his wife but that would draw attention to them and it was important they blended in.

  The journey back to the cottage was excruciating for Ryan in the confines of the car. He felt trapped and he wrung his hands, grinding the palms against one another, attempting to slow his breathing but it felt to be slipping out of his control.

  Sensing the growing tension in the car Bruiser put his foot down, deciding getting Ryan back to the house was more important than not breaking the speed limit.

  As they pulled up outside the house Ryan flung open the door and leapt out, planting his hands on the roof of the car and breathing in deeply.

  Rachel, alarmed by the state her husband was in rushed out onto the drive, followed by the rest of them.

  “Estelle’s with Clayton and Katia,” he gasped.

  “Oh my God,” said Rachel.

  The moment she touched his hand he whipped round and pulled her to him, clinging onto her for dear life.

  “You’re fucking kidding?” exploded Jez.

  “I wish I was.”

  “No more chances,” said Jez, grabbing his brother’s arm and whipping him round to face him. “She’s fucking gone.”

  “Agreed,” said Ryan.

  He took Rachel’s hand and pulled her into the house and upstairs. She didn’t need to ask what he was doing, she understood she was the only one who could bring him peace.

  Ryan pulled her into the bedroom they were sharing, slammed the door shut and pushed her up against it, tearing down her jeans while thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  “We’ll have to be quiet,” she said, gasping when he thrust into her.

  She gazed into his grey, feverish eyes, hating the pain she saw there. He buried his face in her neck, stifling his grunts, Rachel hanging on tight, running her hands through his hair and down his back, attempting to convey how loved he was.

  “Ryan,” she breathed before tensing around him.

  His palm slammed into the wall beside her head, every muscle tightening, growling in her ear before he relaxed.

  He carried her to the bed and lay her back on it, tenderly kissing her.

  “Are you okay?” she said, touching his face.

  “I feel better, thanks to you.” He kissed her fingers. “You always make the pain go away.”

  “That must have been a horrible shock for you, we didn’t even consider that she could have been behind it.”

  “What is it?” he said when she hesitated.

  “I thought I saw her at the hospital, not long after Jules and Mikey were admitted.”

  “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It was just a brief glimpse. I thought I’d imagined it because I was exhausted. I’m so sorry, I should have said something.”

  “It’s not your fault. We all thought she was in France. She must have contributed to getting those devices into Jules and Mikey’s rooms.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. She had no problem with killing us all, even the children. This time we have to make sure she’s gone.”

  �
�Absolutely. There’s no choice.” Rachel was surprised to realise she felt no anger, only great sadness. Ryan hadn’t wanted it to come to this but Estelle was giving them no option.

  The sound of yelling and shouting and things being thrown drifted up to them from below.

  “Sounds like Jez is venting his anger,” sighed Ryan, getting to his feet and fastening up his jeans. “I’d better get down there before he destroys the place completely.”

  Rachel adjusted her clothes and followed him downstairs, both of them leaping out of the way when a vase shot past them and smashed against the wall.

  “Careful,” said Ryan.

  “Careful?” Jez snarled back. “Are you fucking serious? That nasty, vicious slag nearly got us all killed and you’re telling me to be careful.”

  “You need to keep it together so we can discuss what we’re going to do.”

  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to go in there and slaughter the lot of them, especially that druggie, prozzy bitch. And on top of that, Mark here says he thought he saw her at the hospital and he didn’t say a fucking word.”

  “I thought I was mistaken,” replied Mark, perfectly calm.

  “I can understand that,” said Rachel. “I saw Estelle too but I thought I’d imagined it, I was so tired and we had just been blown up.”

  Mark gave her a grateful nod.

  “If either of you had said something we could have been prepared,” yelled Jez.

  “Do not take it out on them,” said Ryan. “We know who the culprits are so stop apportioning blame to the wrong people.”

  “What in the name of fuck does apportioning mean? Why can’t you talk properly?”

  Ryan sighed. “I mean let’s concentrate on how we’re going to attack. Katia and Hayden are with Clayton right now and we need to move before they run off back down south, which will make it much more difficult to attack.”

  Jez planted his hands on his hips, breathing in and out furiously, fighting to regain control. Eventually he nodded, the fierce puce his face had turned ebbing away.

  “Ready?” said Ryan.

  Jez nodded, eyes burning. “Too right I’m ready bruv. This has been a long time coming.”

  “How long will it take your men to get here?” Raven asked Dane.

  “About an hour.”

  “In the meantime we can patrol the grounds, make sure no one’s setting up another ambush.”

  “That’s going to take some patrolling with just the three of us.”

  “All we can do is our best.” Her gaze was drawn to a car rolling to a halt at the main door and a suited figure climbing out. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh he’s okay. He’s a copper, no doubt come to talk to Jules and Mikey about the attack on them.”

  “I hate coppers,” said Damon, glowering at the figure. “That one looks a proper sneaky bastard too.”

  “Don’t they all?” said Raven. “Well come on, we need to get this patrol started before more of Clayton’s men pop up out of the woodwork.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Jules jumped awake when the door to her room opened.

  “DCI Taylor,” she yawned. “What brings you here?”

  “I think you know why. You were shot at.”

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” she said with another yawn, glad she’d declined the painkillers. She needed to be sharp for this conversation.

  “I take it this was Clayton and Katia again?”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “They’re never going to give up.”

  “Don’t you worry about them, they won’t be bothering us for much longer.”

  “Have Ryan and Rachel gone to Liverpool?”

  “You know I can’t tell you anything about that.”

  “Perhaps you should? They could need back-up.”

  “From a copper? I don’t think so.”

  Taylor glanced at Mikey, who was asleep. “How is he?”

  “Fortunately strong as fuck.”

  “So he’s going to be okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Thank Christ for that. So, where are the rest of the clan?”

  She frowned. “Why do you keep asking?”

  “Because I expected to find your room full of visitors. You’re completely alone and that’s not good.”

  “We’re not alone, we have good people guarding us.”

  “Where?”

  “They’re checking the perimeter.”

  “You mean they’re outside?”

  She nodded.

  “Right.”

  “What’s up?” she said when he sighed.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “This,” he said, clamping a big hand down over her nose and mouth, knocking the call button for the nurse onto the floor.

  If Jules had been at full strength she would have been able to fight him off but her injury was causing her a lot of pain and she’d suffered some blood loss. She wrenched her head from side to side in an attempt to free herself but he maintained his firm grip. Raking her nails down his hand did nothing because they’d been bitten down to the quick. Her body began jumping as it fought for air.

  “I really am sorry,” he said. “You see, they’ve already paid me two hundred grand. I get another three hundred if I finish you both off. I don’t want to do this but I’m desperate.”

  Jules groped for the knife Raven had slipped beneath her pillow but she was unable to reach it. Instead she grabbed the mobile phone Dane given her off the bedside cabinet and banged it against the metal bed frame in the hope of attracting someone’s attention. Taylor merely knocked it from her grip with his free hand.

  “Don’t struggle,” he said, pleading in his eyes. “It’ll be easier.”

  With the last of her strength she glared at him, her movements growing more lethargic.

  A bang disturbed Mikey and he jumped awake, appalled to see a man who looked remarkably like DCI Taylor smothering his wife. He rolled onto his side, biting his lip against the pain, reaching for the call button beside his bed.

  “Oh no you don’t,” said Taylor, releasing Jules, racing across the room, snatching it from him and hurling it against a wall.

  Mikey’s gaze was on Jules, willing her to move but she was still and limp. “Jules,” he moaned, reaching out to her.

  Panicking, Taylor snatched the pillow out from under him and pressed it down on his face, knocking him back onto the bed.

  “I’m so sorry,” whispered Taylor, a tear escaping the corner of his eye. He’d never killed anyone before, he wasn’t doing this because he enjoyed it but he had no choice. If he didn’t get that cash his life was over. He couldn’t rely on the Maguires paying him. They were losing this war and he’d be left with nothing.

  Jules sat bolt upright, dragging in a ragged breath, chest and face aching. Her vision swimming, it took her a moment to realise that Taylor was holding a pillow over Mikey’s face, whose limbs were frantically twitching.

  Snatching up the knife from under the pillow she slid out of bed onto unsteady legs. She didn’t dare throw the knife, she was so disorientated and wobbly there was a good chance she’d hit Mikey instead.

  Keeping a tight grip on the weapon she charged at Taylor who sensed her coming up behind him. He pulled the pillow off Mikey’s face and swung it, the blade embedding itself in the pillow, enabling him to wrench the knife off her.

  “Leave him alone you fucking cockroach,” she said, standing on shaky legs, glancing at Mikey, whose eyes slowly rolled open. It broke her heart how much he’d suffered the past few days.

  “You have to die,” said Taylor, breathing hard, yanking the knife out of the pillow and brandishing it. “If you don’t I’m finished.”

  “Good,” she retorted. “You’re a fucking dick and the world needs a few less of those.”

  She leapt backwards when he lashed out with the blade in a wide arc. Mikey’s eyes slipped to the call button lying on the floor
. As neither of them were in any fit state to tackle Taylor, she had to distract him long enough for Mikey to push that button.

  She circled back towards her bed at the other side of the room, gaze never leaving the weapon in Taylor’s hand.

  “I wanted to make this quick,” said Taylor.

  “Oh how kind,” she retorted, not daring to glance Mikey’s way in case it drew Taylor’s attention to him. Mikey had managed to get himself up to a sitting position and was sliding his legs towards the floor. Jules feared he would fall as he hadn’t walked in days.

  “Now it’s going to be messy and painful,” added Taylor.

  She had to own that he did look sad about that fact. “For you it will be.”

  Recalling Mikey he whipped round, panicking even more when he saw him out of bed and reaching for the call button.

  “No,” he cried, rushing forward and kicking it out of reach.

  Fear overtook Taylor. This was going so wrong. He had intended to come in here, smother them both nice and quietly then raise the alarm. No one would have blamed him, he would have opened the window and claimed someone must have snuck in and killed them. After all the attacks on them it wouldn’t have been unexpected. Now he was going to have to stab them both to death. But he could still pull it off. He had to.

  Mikey had crumpled into an exhausted heap on the floor and Taylor drew back his arm, ready to bring the blade down on his bare back.

  With a war cry Jules hurled herself at him, leaping onto his back and grabbing his right arm, pulling the knife away from her husband.

  Taylor spun wildly, attempting to throw her off but she wrapped her other arm around his neck and squeezed. She was unable to apply as much pressure as she usually would but she was able to elicit a gratifying choking sound.

  “Not nice, is it?” she hissed in his ear.

  He flung himself back against the wall, Jules gasping with pain but managing to cling on. With an angry growl he threw himself back a second time. Jules lost her grip and slid off him to the floor.

  Breathing hard, jaw gritted and eyes wild he rounded on her with the knife, staggering backwards with surprise when something was thrown around his neck.

  When her swimming vision cleared Jules was amazed to see Mikey on his feet, the plastic cord of the oxygen mask wrapped around Taylor’s neck. Sweat poured down his face as he pulled harder, Taylor dropping to his knees, the fingers of one hand scrabbling at the plastic around his throat while the other wildly waved the knife about.