Blood Feud

by Anna Smith

  ‘It was. Thing is, we had split about six months before she was diagnosed. Pressure of work. I was never there, and she was pissed off with that as she wanted to start a family. I was carried away with this job – detective in the drug squad building up contacts. I was so wrapped up. But anyway, we split up. Then she got told she had cancer, and I came back. It was a terrible time. She got no time at all. Eight months and that was it. Gone.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘So that’s when I just threw myself into the job big time. Guilt-ridden, heartbroken – all that shit that goes with knowing you didn’t try hard enough. That’s when I volunteered to go undercover. It got me away, far away from here. Somewhere I could disappear, be anonymous, not be involved in anything except work.’ He shrugged, drank his wine. ‘And here I am.’

  For a while they sat in silence, as she watched Vinny swirl the remains of his wine. Then he looked straight at her.

  ‘Kerry, I want to tell you something. I don’t know if you know this. But I need to say it.’

  She gave him a bewildered look, but said nothing.

  He took a breath. ‘Well. You know. All those years ago. When you went away to Spain . . . after your father died.’

  Kerry could feel her stomach knot a little.

  ‘Yes. Of course. My heart was broken.’ She wanted to say ‘leaving you’, but it would have sounded silly.

  ‘So was mine.’

  The words were like a little explosion and knocked Kerry off balance. She couldn’t find any response, so she sat watching him. Eventually she was moved to speak.

  ‘You didn’t call me, Vinny. Nothing. I called you so many times. Left you messages. But nothing.’ Kerry couldn’t believe she had just exposed herself like that in this situation.

  Vinny looked at her, then down at the table, his voice low.

  ‘I know. I know you did. I kept all those messages for years.’

  ‘But . . . But why? Why didn’t you answer?’

  He sat back and shook his head. ‘Christ! You don’t know, do you? You’ve never known, have you?’

  ‘Known what? What you talking about?’

  His lips tightened.

  ‘It was your Mickey. He got a hold of me in the pool hall the night you left. He told me if I ever got in touch with you again he would cut my throat and he would burn my ma and da’s house down.’

  ‘What? Mickey? Are you serious?’

  He nodded. ‘Oh, you bet I’m serious. I fancied myself as a bit of a player, that I could handle myself, but I knew what Mickey Casey was. I knew I couldn’t afford to take him on at any level. He told me that you were made for better things and you would never come back here, and if I was smart I’d find myself another girl and get over you. So I had to do what I was told. I wish I had been man enough to stand up to him, but I was only fifteen. It broke my heart every time you sent a message and I couldn’t answer.’

  ‘Christ almighty, Vinny! I can’t believe that. I can’t believe our Mickey would actually do that when he knew we were together. The bastard! If only I had known. But even my mum, she didn’t say anything.’

  Vinny shrugged. ‘She probably didn’t know. Mickey probably told her we broke up.’ He paused. ‘Honestly, Kerry, I was miserable. I really was. I didn’t want to make any trouble about it because I was worried you might get into trouble as well. So I just left it. But I was heartbroken.’

  Kerry shook her head. ‘That makes two of us, Vinny. I know we were young, and who knows, maybe it would only have lasted the summer, but I was crazy about you.’ She paused. ‘You know something? When you walked into my house that first day after all those years, I just about buckled when I saw you. I could never have believed just seeing you would make me feel like that, but it did. Ridiculous, isn’t it? After all these years, and all the life we have both lived, I still must have held a bit of a torch for Vinny Burns.’

  Vinny finished his drink.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Maybe I should have found a way to let you know, but the truth is I was shit scared of your Mickey, of what he would do.’

  ‘What a bastard he was. You know I never got on with him anyway.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But if I had known that during all those months I would have told him to back off.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have though. He wanted what’s best for you, and you know – you didn’t turn out too badly.’

  ‘I can hardly believe all this, Vinny. I’m so sorry it turned out that way too. Who knows what would have happened to us. Our lives could have been so different.’

  ‘Aye. Maybe I’d be working for the Caseys by now.’ He smiled.

  ‘Yeah. Instead of trying to jail us.’

  Vinny shook his head, and waved the waiter over for the bill.

  ‘Anyway, enough of the maudlin stuff. What do you want to do now? You fancy going for a drink or something?’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m enjoying this. I don’t want it to end right now.’

  Kerry didn’t want it to end either. For the first time in months, she felt like a normal woman, enjoying the company out on a date and wondering how the night would end. And now this. At last she knew that Vinny Burns hadn’t abandoned her all those years ago. Not that it was going to mean that much now – they’d come so far. But it put an entirely different complexion on the night.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, ‘but I have to be careful where I go. I don’t want to end up in some bar where somebody might point me out as Mickey Casey’s sister.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I know a place with some music. Good for a last drink.’

  *

  The basement bar was noisy, and the live blues band was banging out their version of the Van Morrison song ‘Hymns to the Silence’. Kerry and Vinny squeezed through the crowd at the bar. A boozed-up stag do of eight or nine guys had bumped into a drunken hen party, and were getting to know each other on the dance floor as the music slowed. It all felt a little too surreal for Kerry, more used to quiet nights or dinners in Soho or the Costa del Sol, but she was here now, and she was feeling a little euphoric with the information Vinny had just imparted to her.

  ‘You look a bit nonplussed there, Kerry.’ She felt Vinny’s arm go around her waist for a second. ‘Relax. You fancy a couple of fast shots?’

  ‘Sure.’ She shrugged. ‘Why not? No point in being sober in a place like this. I think I’m still in shock from what you’ve told me about Mickey all those years ago. I wish I’d had a chance to punch him on the mouth for that before he died.’

  Vinny pulled her a little closer to him.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. We’re here now.’

  ‘Yeah. We are.’

  The barman slid the tequila shots across to them and they downed them in one, Kerry feeling it burn all the way to her gut.

  ‘One more?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Kerry hesitated.

  ‘Oh, come on. We’re out now. One for the road.’

  They downed another, laughing as one of the stag party boys fell off his chair.

  ‘Let’s dance,’ Vinny said. ‘I haven’t danced with you since I was fifteen.’

  Before she could answer, she was allowing herself to be led to the dance floor where a few of the stags and hens were already swallowing each other’s faces, bumping into other dancers. Vinny’s arms went around her and he pulled her close, and she could feel the muscles of his chest and his hand gently on her back. They shuffled along the floor and she could feel him holding her a little tighter. He eased back a little and looked at her, pushing her hair back from her face. Then he kissed her, softly at first, and then harder, and she responded, allowing herself to be swept away in the moment.

  They didn’t speak as they left the dance floor, then Vinny turned to her.

  ‘Let’s go. I think we’ve seen it all here.’

  He slipped her coat over her shoulders and they walked out into the night, the cold air after the warmth of the bar making her feel high and excited. Outside, he took her in his arms again and kis
sed her, his tongue probing. She kissed him back, knowing this was all kinds of wrong, but she didn’t want it to stop.

  ‘My house is two minutes from here. Up there.’ He pointed to the new block of flats visible across the way. ‘Come on back with me, Kerry.’

  They crossed the road and up the steps to the secured entrance and in the door. Inside the hall, in the darkness, he pushed her against the wall. She could feel him hard against her, and she wanted him more than she ever imagined.

  ‘Kerry,’ he whispered, his breath quickening. ‘I want you so much. I’ve always loved you.’

  ‘Christ, Vinny!’ she said, her voice weak. ‘Don’t say that. This is all wrong.’

  ‘Forget all that.’

  He eased his hand up her thigh, caressing between her legs, until she could hear herself moan, and then there was nothing Kerry Casey wanted more than to be like this with Vinny Burns, after all these years.

  *

  Joe Molloy had watched them going into the flat from his car across the street. He’d done a good job tonight, and he’d be well paid by Frankie Martin. He’d got a picture through his long lens of Kerry Casey going into a restaurant then coming out with this guy, and then going to the basement bar. He got a bit of a shock, though, when he saw who the guy was. He’d done business with Vinny Burns before, but he knew it wouldn’t be good for his health telling Frankie about that area of his life. Joe didn’t see himself as a police informer, he just knew that you had to make a few quid wherever you could. He’d no idea why Frankie was asking him to spy on Kerry. It wasn’t his job to ask questions. He did the job, supplied the information, and got paid. He looked at the clock on his dashboard. He’d wait till tomorrow to phone Frankie Martin. Right now, he deserved a drink to celebrate a job well done.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cal and Tahir watched from across the street as Tam Dolan went into the café. They’d been clocking his movements for two weeks running now, and at this time of the night he always left his office and went to the café to eat. Cal had looked at this grubby, pot-bellied figure with growing disgust each day. He hadn’t ever clapped eyes on him before, except from a distance, that morning when he’d looked out of the window of his bedroom and saw him going back to his car after he’d raped his mother in the hallway. The image was burned in his mind, even though he hadn’t witnessed the rape. He’d heard it – the muffled despair of his mum, the grunting and pushing as Dolan shoved her against the wall. He’d never forgiven himself for not going out there and sticking a knife in him. When he’d told big Jack the story that day they’d been in the café after the fight with the posh boys, he could see the disgust in the big man’s face. Cal had said he wanted revenge, but Jack had told him all in good time. But now Cal didn’t want to wait. Since Tahir had told him that it was Dolan he was paying to smuggle his brother and his family over from Europe, Cal had decided that there was more than one way to skin a cat. He’d do what Jack said, and bide his time to do to Dolan what he’d pictured himself doing night after sleepless night. But right now, there was a chance to rob the bastard blind. So he and Tahir had come up with a plan. They couldn’t believe that he didn’t have protection all the time. He did have a couple of heavies going in and out most of the day from his portakabin behind the garage workshop, where Dolan dealt with ringed cars that had been stolen and had to be moved on, but at this time of the early evening, his minders seemed to clock off. Cal and Tahir presumed Dolan must have a safe in the office, where he kept the money. So it was a question of getting him to open it.

  ‘I’m nervous, Cal,’ Tahir said, hands stuffed in his pockets, jacket pulled up against the biting wind.

  Cal looked at his lean, pale face. He should feel nervous himself, he thought, but he didn’t. The feeling he had was one of power. At last he was going to start hitting back, and this was only the beginning. Cal put his hand inside his padded bomber jacket and felt the cold steel of the wheel key he’d taken from work earlier.

  ‘Don’t be nervous, Tahir. You’ve seen what he looks like. He’s a shitbag. A weak bastard. We can take him, no problem, when he’s on his own. Just stay calm.’

  Tahir nodded. ‘Okay. I’m trying.’

  ‘We’ll rob the bastard the way he robs every other person who comes to him for money.’ Cal’s mouth was tight. ‘He’s had it his own way for too long.’ He nudged Tahir. ‘And you’ll get back the money you paid him. So we win all round.’ Cal stepped into the doorway. ‘Quick, in here. He’s coming.’

  They watched from a doorway further along the street as Dolan came out of the café, lit up a cigarette and crossed the road, the same routine as every night as he headed towards the garage and the portakabin.

  ‘Come on! Let’s go!’

  They went behind the shop so that they couldn’t be seen but would be able to jump out on Dolan as he opened the door to the cabin. They’d run through the drill and planned it over the past few days.

  It was getting dark now, as Cal and Tahir pulled ski masks over their faces. Apart from Dolan’s jeep, the backyard of the garage was littered with old cars and wrecks, and it looked like part of a breaker’s yard. Most of the time they’d seen only one or two people working in it.

  Dolan went up the portakabin’s wooden stairs and put the key in to open the door. Cal was on him, sticking the wheel key in his back, hoping he’d think it was a gun.

  ‘Open the fucking door and shut your mouth,’ Cal spat, hoping his voice was deep and commanding enough.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ Dolan stood rigid, turned his head slightly.

  ‘Open the fucking door and get in.’

  To Cal’s surprise, Tahir whacked Dolan on the back of the legs with his iron bar. He glanced at him and saw the anger in Tahir’s eyes, as Dolan let out an agonised grunt.

  ‘Fuck! You cunts! What the fuck is this? Whoever you are, you know you’re dead men as of now.’

  Cal said nothing but grabbed the back of Dolan’s head and battered it three times as hard as he could on the door. The sound of flesh hitting wood excited and scared him at the same time.

  ‘You’ll be a dead man if you don’t get in there this fucking minute.’

  ‘Right! Right! Just fucking get a grip, lads!’ Dolan, suddenly jittery, pulled open the door and Cal and Tahir bundled him in.

  Tahir locked the door behind them. Inside, it smelt of smoke and the stale, stuffy remaining heat of a gas cylinder fire in the corner. Cal glanced around the room at the desk messed up with papers, and the grotty steel three-drawer filing cabinet. He saw the safe in the corner. He pushed Dolan towards the desk.

  ‘The safe! Open it! Now!’

  Dolan put his hands up. ‘Aw, wait a minute, lads! Listen! Just hold on! What is it you want? A few quid for smack? Look, I’ll sort you out here, no problem. And I promise you. This little stunt will be forgotten about. I know how you boys get when you’re desperate, and well done for having the balls. But listen, boys. This isn’t happening. I’ll give you a few quid and off you go.’

  Suddenly Cal pulled out the wheel key and hit him in the face. Dolan stumbled back, his legs buckling. Cal hit him on the back and on his legs and he fell to the floor. Then Tahir stood on his ankle and whacked him again as he screamed out.

  ‘You open the safe now, or you die right here. Your choice. This is fucking easy for me,’ Cal said, surprised at his own coldness and strength.

  He looked down at Dolan on the floor, blood oozing out of the side of his eye, his cheek beginning to swell. Cal fought to control himself, because all he could see in this fat bastard lying here was him heaving and pushing his mum around, and he wanted to keep beating his face until it was unrecognisable. But that wasn’t why he was here. He took a breath. Then he raised the wheel key above his head.

  ‘Wait! Stop, for fuck’s sake! I’ll open the safe, for Christ’s sake! It’s only fucking money!’

  Dolan struggled onto all fours and fumbled in his jacket pocket for his keys. Tahir stepped in and held
his arm, then dipped into Dolan’s pocket and brought out his mobile phone. Tahir put it on the desk and smashed it with his iron bar. They watched as Dolan, his hands trembling, groaned in pain as he tried to put the key into the safe.

  ‘Hurry up, you fat prick.’

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can, man. Fuck!’

  The safe door clicked and Dolan pulled the heavy iron door open. The boys’ eyes widened as they saw piles of money in bundles, some tied in rubber bands, and also canvas bank bags. Tahir looked at Cal in disbelief. Cal kicked Dolan out of the way and he stayed lying on the floor while Tahir knelt down and pulled out the wads of cash. They hadn’t even brought bags with them but there were two money bags at the side of the safe that had cash already in them. Tahir stuffed the cash from the safe into each bag until it was full. Cal looked around the room for anything else to put the rest of the money in. He spotted a holdall at the side of the desk, and brought it over to be filled. He had no idea how much was there – he had only ever seen things like this in the movies – but this was the most money he had ever seen in his life. Once they’d filled the bag, Cal looked down at the blood on Dolan’s face, and something in him wanted to tell the bastard who he was and why he was doing this, but he knew that was stupid. Let him think he was robbed by thugs. He had the urge to finish him off – that’s what he deserved for all the shit he’d dished out to people over the years. But that was for another day. He looked at Tahir and nodded towards the door. But Cal couldn’t resist one last hit. He smacked the bar across Dolan’s ribs and thought he heard a crack. Then he sank his boot in between Dolan’s legs, making him curl up in agony.

  ‘You’re a fucking robbing bastard, Dolan. You rob from poor people. I should fucking kill you right now.’

  ‘No. Please,’ Dolan struggled to speak. ‘You’ve got this all wrong. I help people. I get them out of a hole when nobody else will help them.’

  ‘That’ll be fucking right. Robbing bastard.’ He bent over a little. ‘This isn’t over yet, prick. You better keep looking over your fucking shoulder for the rest of your life.’ Cal lifted the wheel key again.