by KERRY BARNES
Checking their passports were in order, they followed Willie into the departure entrance. Willie marched ahead, looking for Staffie and Ricky. He didn’t bother with the long conveyor belt ride, wanting to be in front and not have to squeeze past people. Arty and Liam had to keep hurrying to catch up. Once they were by section C of the check-in counters, they spotted Ricky, and both rushed over to embrace their friend.
Ricky looked surprisingly well for someone who had been near to death after the horrendous beating he’d taken. He still looked a tad pale, but, other than that, his large, round, grey eyes were sparkling.
Liam hugged him. ‘So, are we gonna have a blast, kiddo?’
Ricky gave him a weary smile. ‘Good to see ya, Liam, but, I dunno. Dad sounded pretty serious. Do you know what’s going on?’
Not wanting to alarm Ricky, Liam shook his head. ‘Nah, only that we’re off to Spain with Poppy and Brooke.’
Ricky had met Poppy in the hospital, after she’d been mown down by her mother. He frowned. ‘Poppy and Brooke?’ He looked at Arty.
‘Yeah, mate. Brooke’s Poppy’s twin sister. It’s a long story, but, anyway, they’re coming with us.’
* * *
Staffie pulled Willie to one side, making sure they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t like this, Willie. I wish I’d never got involved.’
Willie ran his long, thin fingers through his hair. ‘Well, we are, buddy, so let’s just get on with it. ’Ave ya seen Lance yet?’
Staffie shook his head. ‘Nah, I ain’t, but I spoke with Terrence. He’s made all the arrangements. The kids can stay at one of his villas. He’ll have them picked up at the airport, and he’s got some serious tools if needs must.’
Willie grinned. ‘Nice one, ’cos if that Torvic turns up, they’ll have to fucking shoot the cunt. He’s like the man that never dies, and I don’t like it, Staff. I ain’t afraid to say it, but we’re in over our fucking heads. That bastard is on the loose, and so that means he has one hell of an advantage.’
Willie suddenly spotted Lance and the girls. Poppy was being helped along by her father. Not only was her leg still badly bruised, but she needed an arm to lean on. ‘Oh, shit me. Will they let her on the plane like that?’
Staffie sighed. ‘Oh Christ, that’s all we fucking well need.’
Willie hurried over and pulled Lance to one side while the lads wasted no time in fussing over the girls.
‘Lance, mate, they won’t let her on the plane without a doctor’s note.’
Lance grinned. ‘Well, my girls are one step ahead. Clever little things they are, they did a mock-up doctor’s note on the phone, an e-mail or something. Anyway, don’t worry, they’ll be on that plane.’
Once they were ready to go through passport control, Staffie handed Arty one of his bank cards. ‘Don’t rinse the fucker.’
Arty laughed. ‘Thanks, Pops, but ya know I will.’
Staffie looked his handsome son up and down. He was proud of his boy. He was a fearless lad with good looks, yet he had a heart of gold when it came down to it.
Willie was still on edge when he placed an arm around Liam’s shoulders. ‘Listen, my boy. Don’t talk to anyone. You make sure at all times the security alarms are switched on in Terrence’s villa, got me? If ya think anyone’s watching ya, you call Terrence right away. And ya know me number. You look after yaself and call me every fucking day.’
Liam didn’t like the look on his dad’s face. He knew that this was probably the first time in his life that his father was genuinely shitting himself.
‘Dad, don’t worry. I’ll be careful, I promise.’
‘Good lad, and listen, boy. I love ya, yeah?’
Liam frowned. He knew his father loved him, but he’d never heard his father actually say those words.
‘Hey, Dad, we’ll be fine, and I love ya too, ya silly ol’ git.’
Staffie was giving Arty strict instructions as to what to do if Torvic turned up. He described the man and then finished by saying, ‘Don’t fuck about, Arty. If the bastard turns up, kill him. We’ll sort out the mess afterwards.’
Arty raised his brows. ‘Fuck me, Dad! What? You want me to actually kill him?’
Staffie felt the tears in his eyes well up. ‘I’d never tell you to kill anyone, but for your sake and theirs, you won’t have a choice. The man is evil. I mean, really fucking evil.’
Arty stared into his father’s eyes and knew then that whoever they were running from had the power to take out the firm.
‘Dad, are you gonna be all right?’
Staffie laughed. ‘Son, I’m always all right. I might be reaching me sell-by date but I ain’t there yet.’
Poppy and Brooke hugged their father. ‘It’s so sad that we have only just met you and now we’re going away,’ said Brooke, teary-eyed.
Lance kissed her cheek. ‘It’s not forever, babe, and take this,’ he said, as he pulled a fat wad of notes from his inside jacket pocket.
Poppy’s eyes widened. She had never seen so much money. ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly. That’s so much.’
Lance then kissed Poppy’s cheek, which made her blush. ‘Poppy, spend it on what you like, but just make sure you two stay together and with the lads. Never go off on your own.’
Both girls nodded, each wanting to know more, but they knew that this was not the right time or place.
* * *
As the youngsters said their final goodbyes, the man in the dark hoodie watched from a distance and made a call. He turned his face away so that Willie couldn’t see him. He whispered down the phone, ‘The flight leaves in one hour.’ He reeled off the flight number and then ended the call. He took one last look to make sure they were definitely going to check in, and then, as he watched Arty hand over his passport, he scurried away. His job was done.
Chapter 3
Neil and Shamus left Zara alone in the office with Mike while they made coffee in the kitchen. It still fascinated Shamus as to how Zara could bear to be in this house. Putting aside the fact that it was her childhood home, it still became her prison for five years. His eyes shot to the floor on the far right, and he wondered if that was the actual entrance to the room downstairs where her brother held her captive. Just as Neil poured the last cup, Shamus had a thought.
Without helping Neil, he went back to the office. ‘Zara, your brother. Wouldn’t he know about Barak?’
Zara looked up and frowned. ‘Ismail is a sap. He would know fuck all. Barak wouldn’t trust him with any sort of significant information. I spent five years listening to him being ridiculed by Guy and his son Benjamin. Nah, he wouldn’t know a thing.’ She stared at Shamus, her mind going over something.
‘What, Zara, what are yer thinking?’ asked Shamus.
She turned to Mike. ‘Guy and Benjamin are inside. They won’t let me visit them, that’s a dead cert. But there are other ways to get blood out of a stone.’
Mike grinned devilishly. ‘Yeah, some of me oldest pals in Brixton Prison specialize in that. I’ll make a call to Boomer.’
Zara looked back at Shamus and winked. ‘One way or another, I’ll need to find out what they’re up to.’
Mike scrolled down his phone, looking for Boomer’s number. The man was inside for a multitude of crimes and wasn’t getting out anytime soon. He’d been inside for years and had everything he needed, including his own phone.
‘Boomer, it’s me, Mikey Regan. How ya doing, mate?’
The deep, gruff voice replied, ‘Not as good as you, ya lucky fucker, getting out on parole.’ He laughed. ‘Really, mate, I’m as sweet as a nut, and you?’
Mike’s face lit up. He liked Boomer. The nickname was given to him because when he re-enacted a fight, along with the air punches, he would also make the sounds. The loudest and most common one was ‘Boom!’
‘I need a favour, mate.’
‘Well, spit it out, Mikey boy. I’m a very busy man, as ya know.’
Mike laughed. ‘Guy Segal, the old Jew, and his son Benjamin.
I need some information out of those bastards. I wanna know if Guy’s brother Barak Segal is alive or dead, and what his plans are. I also need to know if the man is in the country.’
‘Right, mate, I think I know who you mean, but tell me more.’
Mike went over the past, making sure that Boomer knew everything, including the circumstances leading to Benjamin Segal cutting off Zara’s hand and how he and Guy had kept her a prisoner for five years.
‘So, are ya up for it, Boomer?’
‘For sure. No worries, lad. I’ll have that info for ya. Call me in a couple of hours. I don’t wanna waste me minutes. Oh, and do us a favour, will ya? Me ol’ girl needs some dosh. Could ya whack her over a couple of hundred?’
‘I’ll pop over five grand. How’s that suit, bud?’
The thick, gruff voice seemed to soften, and Mike detected an emotional tone. ‘Aah, Mikey, you are a real gent, ya know that? Call me later and give my regards to ya father. The man saw me missus all right for me. He’s a good ’un is ol’ Arthur.’
‘Cheers, Boomer. I’ll bell ya later. Watch yaself.’
* * *
Trenton Smith leaned against the metal doorframe, rolling his last lot of tobacco. ‘All right, Boomer? Any chance of a baccy loan? I’m clean out, mate,’ he asked, as he peered into Boomer’s cell.
Boomer grinned and nodded. Trenton knew then that there was something evil on the man’s mind. He straightened up, and for a second, he wished he hadn’t asked. Boomer was a man in his sixties but had more standing in prison than anyone else. He ran the wing, had the screws eating out of his hand, and was the only man who could sleep without his door wedged tight. Any drugs – even tobacco or hooch – going around the prison were generally dealt with through Boomer. Anyone looking at the two of them would never have thought that little Boomer was more reckless and tougher than Trenton. However, as much as Trenton was a tall, muscular man, with quick movements, no one was as fast as Boomer.
‘Go on, Boomer, let’s ’ave it, then. What ya got on ya mind?’
Boomer stood up and beckoned Trenton in. ‘Close the door.’
As Trenton did as he was told, Boomer offered him a seat on the bunk.
‘There are two geezers in here, Benjamin Segal and his ol’ man Guy Segal. Two Jewish men. I need information from them. They may squeal like pigs, or they may need a little coaxing.’
Trenton nodded. ‘I know who you mean. That Benjamin is the fat, ugly ginger fella that follows his ol’ man around like a lost lamb.’
‘Yeah, that’s him. So, are you up for getting me what I want?’ asked Boomer, with a raised eyebrow.
Trenton took a deep breath. ‘Got any puff to go with that baccy?’
‘Crafty fucker, you. Yeah, go on, then.’ Boomer laughed as he pulled two pouches from under his mattress. ‘Take them. And listen. Those Segals are cruel bastards. They cut off the hand of Mikey Regan’s bird and kept her captive for five years.’
Trenton’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘You’re joking, ain’t ya?’
Boomer dramatically shook his head. ‘Nope. So listen. This mission is for Mike Regan. He wants a few answers out of those two, and if it means getting nasty, and you feel the need to put the pressure on them, you’ll ’ave Mikey’s blessing. They’re gonna end up dead anyway.’
Trenton moved his long fringe away from his eyes, and then he rubbed his beard. ‘The Hells Angels’ way it is, then.’
‘Good lad. Now then, after exercise, I’ll give you instructions, and you’ll need to memorize the questions because that’s the most important bit. We want answers before they end up in the prison mortuary.’
Trenton smirked, showing his black teeth. ‘I’m surprised they made it to prison, with Mike Regan gunning for them.’
‘Don’t you worry about that. His bird wanted them locked up. Ya know, so they could have a taste of what she went through, but now she and Mikey want them done away with.’
* * *
Guy and Benjamin had a cell next door to each other. They’d managed to pay a screw to organize it, yet they couldn’t afford the amount it would cost for protection. Both were quiet and had tried to keep themselves to themselves. Outside prison, they had power through their wealth and influence, mainly in the Jewish community, but inside Brixton Prison they were sitting ducks.
Every day they worried that the Regans, or Zara Ezra, for that matter, had paid someone off to do away with them. In fact, Guy strongly believed his days were numbered and it led to him coming out in a permanent rash. Benjamin, as big as he was, was really just a fat pussy. He only had clout on the outside because he had men behind him. Those same men ran a mile to avoid the looming trouble when he and his father got nicked. They were all well aware of the Regans’ and Zara Ezra’s reputations and were shit-scared of any repercussions.
After exercise was over, Trenton and his two sidekicks, brothers Wasp and Zane King, met up on the landing. Each brother had a glass shard tightly bound to a stick.
‘Tooled up?’ asked Trenton.
Wasp, a small, chubby, bearded man, with only one tooth in his head, nodded and looked down at his hand. ‘Yep, I ain’t used this in a while, but she’s still as sharp as the day I made her.’
Trenton then looked at Zane. ‘And you?’
Zane didn’t answer. He just nodded and chewed on his gum.
As they made their way along the landing, a senior officer gave them the once-over. He didn’t like to see the three characters together. They were devious, and, worse, dangerous. Yet, as he was spying Trenton, Boomer was clocking him, and he instantly called out, ‘Oi, Gov, can I have a word?’
Senior Officer Gladding recognized the deep growl coming out of Boomer’s mouth and spun around. He liked the wing to run smoothly. Any hiccups from Boomer, and the inmates would all be on lockdown, and then the nightmares would begin. ‘All right, Kitson?’
Boomer leaned against the wall and waited for Gladding to approach; he wanted him distracted.
‘I’ve got this bit o’ skirt coming up on a visit. Any chance you could organize a family visit? Ya know, in one of those private family rooms?’
Gladding sighed and felt a little uncomfortable. He hated saying no to Kitson, but the lifers were only allowed one family visit per year, and he’d already had his quota. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise, ’cos you’ve already had yours this year, and we don’t want to draw attention. The number one governor is clamping down on special treatments and keeping a close eye.’
Boomer quickly peered over the officer’s shoulder to see Trenton slip into Guy Segal’s cell and Wasp and Zane slide into Benjamin’s.
‘Fuck me, I thought that would be easy, a man of your power and status.’ He gave his twisted grin and watched as the officer squirmed. ‘Aw, all right, mate. Look, don’t worry. I tell ya what. Can ya get me some of that hair gel, so that I can at least look the part when she turns up?’
At last, Gladding relaxed his shoulders. ‘Yeah, sure, I can get some for you.’
He was about to walk away when Boomer stopped him. ‘So, how’s your son getting on with the new football team?’ he asked, knowing that once Gladding started boasting about his son, he would talk forever. The question worked, and Gladding pushed back his shoulders with pride and gave Boomer a rundown on how brilliant his son was at scoring two goals for the new team. Inside, Boomer was laughing because Gladding’s son was only eight years old and anyone listening would assume he was playing against Manchester United.
* * *
As Trenton entered the old man’s cell, he quickly closed the door, causing Guy to jump and turn around. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ His voice sounded firm, yet it didn’t suit his Wee Willie Winkie appearance.
Trenton held up his bare hands. ‘Just a word, mate.’
Guy’s thinning hair and long white beard were kept well groomed, and Trenton noticed that on closer inspection, the man was quite solidly built with a look that was pretty much daring.
>
‘And what word would that be?’ asked Guy, bitterly.
‘Cor, you’re cocky for an ol’ dead man walking, ain’t ya?’
Guy’s jaw shot forward in a temper. ‘Just ask your fucking questions and leave me in peace.’
Trenton stepped forward. ‘Barak, your brother. What’s he up to?’
Guy’s frown deepened as he twisted his head. ‘Barak’s dead!’
‘Fucking liar, he’s in Poland. Now, I was polite, and I asked you nicely, but now, I won’t be so polite, so what the fuck is Barak up to?’
Guy’s face dramatically paled, and his eyes widened. ‘I am telling you the truth. He’s dead. I went to his fucking funeral.’
‘Mikey Regan says you’re one evil cunt. And your son’s no better. He had his bird’s hand chopped off. You’re a right slimy bastard, so I don’t believe ya, and no one cares what happens to you either fucking way!’ Suddenly, he pulled his tool from his back pocket and held it up. At the same time, he showed his heavily stained teeth and chuckled. ‘Now then, I think I’ll let me blade ask the fucking questions.’
Guy backed away, his body trembling. ‘I promise you, he’s dead. I swear I was there when they lowered him into the grave. Please …’
Trenton was fast, and in one fluid movement, he slashed his jagged knife across Guy’s face. Guy clutched the loose flaps of skin and was about to scream when Trenton grabbed him and threw him on the bed, plunging the weapon into his stomach. With his hand over Guy’s mouth, he glared into his eyes. ‘Now, you, ya ’orrible prick, will tell me where this brother of yours is and what he’s up to, or you, pal, will fucking bleed to death.’
Guy could feel the dull pain and knew he was in trouble. Without any help, it was true he would bleed out. He stared back, trying to think of what to say, but the fear of death was consuming him. He just couldn’t put his thoughts into any logical order. Then he heard the muffled screams from next door. His son. They had got his son. His eyes filled with tears. It was over. He knew one day the Regans would have him and his son killed, but he didn’t think it would have anything to do with his brother.