by KERRY BARNES
‘Now, I’ll remove my hand, and you’re gonna tell me everything you know about Barak, and if I’m satisfied, then I’ll press that emergency button. If not, I’ll plunge you again. Got it?’
With beads of sweat covering his brows and a sickening feeling as though he was underwater, Guy could only nod.
Trenton pulled his hand away. ‘Talk!’
The thick blood was covering his sweatshirt and pooling on the bed. Guy knew he didn’t have long.
‘Please, believe me. He really is dead. He was buried at Golders Green Jewish Cemetery … on Hoop Lane, two years ago … through old age.’
Trenton stared at the old man. He was obviously telling the truth. He then watched as the man took his last breath. He was dead. Trenton looked down at himself. Luckily, he didn’t have blood on him. He cleaned the knife in the sink, washed his hands, and crept away. The landing was quiet. As he clocked Gladding still chatting to Boomer, he slipped into the next cell. Wasp and Zane had gone over the top.
‘Lads, clean up and let’s go.’
Zane was covered in blood and Wasp was standing with his tool dripping in claret. Benjamin was on the floor with so many puncture wounds, it looked as if the Apaches had used him for target practice.
‘I hope you got what I wanted before ya killed him? What did he say?’
Wasp lisped through his toothless mouth. ‘His uncle’s dead … buried in London. He died a couple of years ago.’
As Zane ran the taps and cleaned himself, Wasp rifled through Benjamin’s locker, stealing all his chocolate bars.
‘No wonder the fucker was so fat. He must’ve spent all his canteen money on sweets. The dirty git stinks, so he ain’t been spending it on smellies. Cor, and I thought those Jews were kinda pure. Ya know, religious an’ all.’
‘Come on, lads, let’s go. The coast is clear. You, Zane, ditch ya sweatshirt. It’s covered in claret.’
As they left the cell, Trenton took one last glance at what looked like a beached whale. The man was one ugly bastard in life, and he didn’t look any better in death.
* * *
Mike took the call. ‘Any news, mate?’
Zara stood up and waited anxiously while Neil and Shamus remained seated. She tried to gauge Mike’s expression, but, as always, he was composed and just listened.
‘Okay, thanks, mate. I owe ya one. And I’ll have that five grand sent to your ol’ lady tonight. Cheers. Stay safe.’
Mike ended the call and sighed. ‘Well, they questioned Guy and Benjamin separately. Both said that Barak was dead. He died two years ago, and he’s buried in Golders Green Jewish Cemetery.’
Zara gritted her teeth. ‘They’re lying. Did your men use force? I mean, did—’
Mike interrupted, slightly annoyed. ‘Zara, of course they did. Jesus, they ain’t gonna have a nice chat over a cup of tea, are they?’ He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘They knifed ’em. In fact, both of ’em are now brown bread.’
Neil grinned. ‘Fecking good job as well.’ He turned to Zara. ‘Listen. You knew them better than us. Would they take information to the grave or would they sing like canaries?’
Zara nodded. ‘Yeah, they were weak men, especially Benjamin. He would grass anyone to save his own arse.’ She shuddered when she pictured him. It was that satisfied grin on the man’s face as her hand was severed from her wrist. She contemplated whether she would ever get over that moment.
It was Mike who recognized her troubled expression. He followed her eyes as she looked down at her prosthetic hand. In that second, he wanted to comfort her, but he wouldn’t because this was business and she had to be in charge.
‘Just to be sure, I want the cemetery checked out. Then, we’ll know. But right now, we have to assume they were telling the truth, which means that someone else broke Torvic and Tiffany out of the hangar, and I, for one, am baffled,’ said Zara.
Shamus slowly rocked back and forth on his chair; he was tired and worried. ‘That Torvic has someone who has the guts to take us on, and by letting that bastard loose, he, whoever he is, has just got himself heavily involved. Who would have the balls?’
Zara picked up her phone and dialled her cousin’s number, praying that he would answer. Yet, once again, it went over to answerphone. ‘They have got Josh. I can feel it. He would never ignore my calls, ever.’ She left the room, not wanting to show how upset she was.
Neil got up to follow, but Mike grabbed his arm. ‘Leave her, mate. She needs a moment.’
Neil had worked with Zara for five years while Mike was inside. They had a bond like a brother and sister connection, and he didn’t want Mike to think otherwise, so he stepped back. ‘Yeah, mate, you’re right.’
He paused. ‘Mike, I love Zara, but not how you might think, yer know. She’s like me sister, that’s all.’
Mike patted Neil’s shoulder. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me. I know you looked after my girl, and if there was anything between ya, it would ’ave happened when I was in the nick.’ He laughed.
Neil lowered his head. ‘Good. I’ve always wanted you to know that.’
‘Some things don’t need explaining,’ replied Mike.
It was so apparent to Neil why Zara was in love with Mike. He was firm and projected a persona that commanded attention. Just his gravelly voice and intimidating glare made anyone want to listen. Yet with Zara, there was a slight softness when he spoke, and his eyes were shining when he looked at her. Neil would have wanted Zara for himself, but he knew there was only one man she’d ever loved and that was Mike Regan.
Zara came back into the room. ‘I want to go to the hangar to see if there are any clues.’
Shamus shook his head. ‘I checked. It was as clean as a whistle.’
‘I’m sure you did, but I just want to go back. I know the hangar like the back of my hand. If anything is out of place, I’ll know.’
Mike shrugged. ‘It’s your call, babe.’
Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang. It was Bella. Quickly, she took the call and held her breath.
‘Zara, the hospital’s just called.’
With the blood draining from her face, she asked, ‘Is he hurt? Or …’
‘No, well, yeah, he is, but the stupid man didn’t eat after he took his insulin, and I guess working late or whatever … Anyway, he forgot, and so he went into a hypo and crashed the car. The doctor reckons he’ll be okay, but he’s got a few broken ribs, concussion, and no doubt the DVLA will take his licence away this time.’
Zara chuckled in relief. ‘Thank God.’
‘What do you mean, Zara? He’s in bloody hospital!’
‘Sorry, Bella. I just mean, thank God he’s alive.’
‘Well, yes, but, it’s still not a laughing matter.’
Brought to task, Zara cleared her throat. ‘No, sorry, it’s not, but listen. Don’t worry about him not being able to drive. I’ll organize a driver for you.’
‘Zara, please, I’m begging you. Don’t pull my Josh into your circle. I know what you’re about, but your cousin is … well, he’s a gentle man. I … we … just want a normal life.’
Zara fully understood. ‘Don’t worry, I promise I won’t pull him in again, rest assured. Now, listen. This is serious, Bella. I want you to take the kids and go on holiday, yeah? I’ll make sure Josh is okay.’
Zara sensed the hesitation in Bella’s voice.
‘You mean it, don’t you, Zara? This isn’t a request, is it?’
‘No, love, it’s not. Just go today. I’ll transfer money into your account, but just go now.’
Bella’s voice sounded sincere. ‘I will, but promise me you’ll make sure my husband’s safe?’
‘He’s my only remaining flesh and blood who I can call family, so you have my word.’
Chapter 4
Poppy and Brooke sat on either side of Liam on the plane, while Arty sat with Ricky. Arty didn’t want Ricky to feel like a gooseberry. ‘D’ya reckon you’re gonna be all right? I mean, there ain’t
no chance of your brain going funny again, is there? ’Cos ya did give us a right royal fucking shock.’
Ricky crossed his eyes and put on a funny face, making Arty laugh.
‘No, Art. They fixed me up. I’m as right as rain. I just can’t take another blow to the head for a while. I’ve got a plate behind my ear, and they sorted out all that water on me brain, so I’m ready for the sun.’
Arty stared at the last of Ricky’s yellow bruises and wondered how he could be so upbeat. He’d been in a chemical coma after the vicious beating. The doctors were reluctant to say he would survive, and yet, here he was, with his round girlie eyes and his prominent dimples, smiling back at him.
‘You’re a lot like your father, ya know that?’
Ricky beamed. ‘So everyone says, and if I am, then I’ll be proud of meself. I’m so glad I found me dad and you guys. It’s like I was never away all those years. I’ve still got a lot to learn, though.’
Arty guessed what he was on about. ‘Ricky, you just take your time and let me and Liam take the lead. Any grief, and you get behind us, yeah? Because, right now, something’s going on. I’ve never heard me ol’ man so shit-scared for me. Neither has Liam for that matter. His dad’s face was so serious. The situation is tense but it’s nothing me and Liam can’t handle.’
Ricky nodded and looked across at Liam. Chuckling away, he said, ‘He’s in his element, ain’t he?’
Arty laughed along. ‘Like a pig in shit. That Poppy really likes him, ya know. I think she’s a bit of a geek, and they say opposites attract.’
Ricky thought about Zara and his father. ‘Yeah, that’s supposed to be the way, but I worry that Zara and me dad are too alike.’
‘You really like Zara, don’t ya?’
Ricky blushed. ‘Yeah, I do. She’s ace, ya know.’ He held up his wrist. ‘She gave me this gold bracelet with BRAVE engraved on it … I wish she’d been my mum, instead of Jackie.’
Arty noticed a sadness creeping over Ricky’s face. ‘Was she really as wicked as they said she was?’
With a deep breath, Ricky replied, ‘The truth is, Arty, me ol’ man only knows part of it. If he knew the full extent of what she put me through, he would kill her. Not that her death would be on me conscience, but the risk of me dad going back to prison would. I fucking hate her.’
Arty didn’t press for details. He could tell that whatever it was that Ricky had endured it had been cruel at the very least, and the expression on Ricky’s face suddenly changed from a soft, sweet, schoolboy look to one of Mike Regan’s in a rage. Those piercing pearl-grey eyes dulled, and his brows knitted together.
‘Well, let’s try and treat this as a bit of a break. We’ll soak up the rays, have a dip in the pool, and shop.’
Ricky laughed. ‘Shopping? What are ya? A girl?’
Arty screwed his nose up. ‘And so, Ricky, me ol’ son, are you gonna wash out ya smalls every day, then?’
Ricky rolled his eyes. ‘Point taken, mate.’
As the plane changed its course, the boys knew that they were not far away from their destination. Arty glanced over at his friend and realized what the problem was. Ricky was worried about the impending descent and the effect this would have on his ears. Ricky had discussed this with Arty on the flight, telling him that as they descended there would be a corresponding change in air pressure that would send sharp pains around his tender scars where the doctors had operated on his brain to stop the bleeds.
By one o’clock in the afternoon, the aircraft began its descent. Arty panicked as he watched the agony on Ricky’s face. He pulled him close and covered his friend’s hands with his own, trying to help with the pain. Ricky was sweating profusely, and Arty was attempting to comfort him.
‘Suck on these sweets.’ He handed Ricky a few sherbet lemons. ‘See, I said we’d take care of you. Fuck me, I should ’ave been a nurse.’
Wasting no time, Ricky began sucking on the sweets until he felt his ears pop and the pressure begin to release. The colour then came back to his cheeks. ‘Christ, I thought for a minute I was going to have another haemorrhage.’
‘Don’t say that. Jesus, you had me sweating for a minute.’
As the plane landed, Arty looked for his passport and phone in among the safety leaflets and magazines stuffed in the pouch of the seat in front of him. Then his attention was diverted to two men roughly the same age as himself, who were making disparaging remarks regarding Liam and the two girls. At first, he thought he had misheard, until one of the cheeky bastards laughed.
‘Cor, I bet he thought all his Christmases had come at once, sitting between two lookers.’
The other young man, now in on the joke, replied, ‘No, mate. I bet the girls thought all their Halloweens had come at once.’
Arty looked over at Liam who must have just caught the end of their joke. Instead of looking ready for a punch-up, he actually appeared hurt. Clocking Liam’s gutted expression instantly had Arty gunning for the opinionated bastards. He watched the passengers all shuffling, ready to get their bags together, and then he noticed Ricky’s bottle of water still in the pouch. He smiled to himself, retrieved the full bottle, and unscrewed the lid. As the two men fiddled with the overhead lockers, Arty tapped one on the shoulder. ‘Is that my bag, mate?’ he asked. As the guy turned to face him, he stared him straight in the eyes and poured the contents of the bottle down the front of his trousers. Arty stepped back. With a voice a little louder than necessary, he said, ‘Er, mate, you should’ve used the toilets. A bit too old to piss yaself, ain’t ya?’
The young man glared and then looked down at his light-coloured chinos. Sure enough, it did look like he’d wet himself. Then he spotted the bottle in Arty’s hand. ‘Why, you fucking shit!’
Ricky and Liam were now laughing very loudly, and they were joined by Poppy and Brooke. The furious man looked across at the group and decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.
Poppy leaned into Liam, feeling sorry for him, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Will you help me up, Liam?’ she asked, in her sweetest voice.
Liam looked over at the angry man and grinned. ‘’Course I will, my babe.’ Then he returned the kiss. Inside, he was elated. His pretty bird had gone out of her way to make a public show of affection for him and he felt a million dollars. Not many women would have done that: most would have edged away.
Brooke, however, was impressed with how Arty had managed the situation, and a sense of excitement ran through her. She wasn’t used to men who could handle themselves. All the boys that she’d dated in the past were proper geeks and would run away from any confrontation.
As Liam helped Poppy, and Arty did likewise with Ricky, they made their way through the terminal. Once they were outside, Liam spotted Terrence.
Terrence, a tall man, dressed in beige linen trousers and a white casual shirt, was leaning against a Bentley stretch limo. He looked fit and well, with a tan that set off his white hair and blue eyes. In his late sixties now, Terrence had once worked for Arthur Regan, Mike and Eric’s father. He was only a kid back then but soon got in with the firm and joined them on two heists that made him a mint. They called him Terrence The Skid because he could handle any vehicle and was their top getaway driver. He was fearless behind the wheel of a car and could easily outrun the police, having done it many a time. He wisely invested his money in property and prudently made friends with the local Spanish mayor. Now with two restaurants and a nightclub to his name, Terrence was going straight, except for the fact that he took a significant cut in any drugs that were sold on his premises.
As soon as he saw Arty and Liam, he pushed himself away from the car and walked over with his arms outstretched to hug the boys. Arty was first to embrace the man, followed by Liam, and then Terrence turned to look at Ricky. Arty knew that once Terrence clapped eyes on him, he would get emotional.
Ricky grinned as his vague memories of Terrence came flooding back like a film. Visions of Terrence teaching him to dive, when he was six yea
rs old, flashed through his mind.
‘Fuck me, ’ave I missed you. Come ’ere and give ya Uncle Skid a hug.’
Ricky fell into his arms and allowed the man to hold him for more than the customary two seconds for a greeting embrace.
Arty and Liam smiled at each other as they both noticed the tears welling up.
‘Look at ya! I would’ve recognized you anywhere. You’re like ya grandfarver was back in the day. It’s good to have you back, my boy.’
Ricky’s cheeks glowed. ‘And it’s good to see you too, Uncle Skid.’
‘Terrence, I need to get some clobber, mate. We didn’t have time to pack,’ said Arty, itching to get some new clothes.
‘Arty, just get in the motor, will ya? We can’t hang about, fella. I’ve been given strict instructions to get you to a safe villa. It’s me new drum that not a single soul knows about, including me missus.’
Poppy and Brooke were now smiling. They both knew that this was another world. Of course, they’d watched the gorgeous tough guy Vinnie Jones in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels – but that was pure theatre! The way this man and Ricky’s dad and his friends spoke and acted, though, with their flash cars and their serious demeanour and urgency, was altogether a different ballgame. And it was cool.
The excitement of seeing Ricky again had caused Terrence to take his eye off the ball. He didn’t notice the unsuspecting tatty car following them. Even as he weaved about along the winding roads into the mountains, he still didn’t see the red Ford Focus that allowed other cars to get in front.
The Ford Focus followed the Bentley for about fifteen miles and still showed no signs of catching it before the limo shot up a private drive. The driver slowed down and glanced across to the right to see a gated entrance and the gates closing automatically. Retrieving a phone from the passenger seat, he took a snapshot before driving away.