by KERRY BARNES
Sitting behind the desk, Zara looked at the men in front of her. They were all tired, and as much as she wanted to reel off a plan, in her mind, she had nothing that would ease their concerns or even get them motivated.
Mike’s phone rang. It was a distraction that Zara welcomed.
‘What? Go on. I wanna know everything,’ said Mike brusquely to the caller, as the others remained silent.
Zara noticed right away that Mike not only looked deeply troubled, but his eyes were intently focused on Willie. Her skin became covered in goose bumps.
Suddenly, Willie clocked that out of all the people in the room, Mike was looking at him.
With wide, frightened eyes he jumped up. ‘What the fuck’s ’appened?’
Mike ended the call and stepped towards Willie, preparing for an embrace. Yet, Mike’s sombre smile filled with grief and sorrow made Willie jump back.
‘What, Mikey? What’s ’appened? Just tell me, will ya!’
‘Willie, mate, I’m so sorry …’
Willie’s eyes darted around Mike’s face. ‘Nah, nah, not my boy, no way. He ain’t part of this. Fuck me, he’s …’
Mike leaned forward to reach out to Willie, to hold him before the man went nuts. But, to his surprise, Willie suddenly slammed his hand into Mike’s shoulder.
‘Get the fuck away from me! This ain’t my war, or my boy’s fight. It’s yours, Mike, and …’ He spun round and glared with spite at Zara. ‘And yours!’ He stared defiantly, looking Zara up and down. ‘Ya see, don’t ya? This is your fault! Why my boy, eh?’
‘Willie, please,’ said Mike, desperately trying to comfort or even calm a situation that could easily turn nasty. ‘Look, we don’t know what’s ’appened yet.’
‘Well, has he been shot or stabbed? What the fuck’s going on? Tell me! Now!’ he bellowed, as his eyes turned red with rage.
Stupidly, Zara thought that being a woman, she could intervene and somehow calm Willie down, but the moment she was a mere foot away, he viciously flung his arms about and knocked her prosthetic hand. The clanging sound made everyone jolt and prepare themselves for the backlash; either Zara would lose it or Mike would.
Willie’s actions shook him into sanity. Instantly focused, he looked from Zara to Mike, expecting a nasty repercussion.
But Mike held his hand out, still intent on comforting Willie. He knew he was the only man in the room who would know precisely how Willie felt.
‘Willie, don’t assume he’s dead. One minute he was in the kitchen, preparing a meal for them all, and the next, he vanished. Someone has taken him, but …’
He looked at Zara and then back at Willie. ‘But Terrence thinks he was drugged and taken away. Now, before you start jumping to conclusions, right, we don’t know he’s dead.’
Willie could hear Mike’s words but they just wouldn’t register. All he could see was his son being cruelly murdered.
‘Get fucking real, Mike. Look what we did to that cunt Torvic. Jesus, it was sick.’ He glared again at Zara. ‘What you made him do to his own son, it was obscene. And you reckon the bastard won’t do that to mine? What … are you lot fucking delusional?’
Zara felt physically sick because she knew no amount of talking would ever stop Willie from thinking the worst. After all, in his position, she’d feel exactly the same. ‘I don’t think it’s Torvic’s style—’
She didn’t get to finish. Suddenly, Willie was in her face. ‘Style? Style? What the fuck would you really know? ’Cos if you knew so much, he wouldn’t have fucking escaped, would he? And he wouldn’t now be torturing my boy!’
It was Lance who brought Willie back to thinking rationally. ‘Look, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Torvic hasn’t got your son because he couldn’t have got to Spain and set this up all in a matter of hours. The kids were rushed out of the country. He would’ve had to second guess everything. So, there’s no way Torvic’s involved. I don’t believe it was him.’
Willie kicked the chair out of the way, ran his trembling hands through his hair, and then punched the wall. No one said a word as they watched the man collapse to his knees with cries that would set off a pack of wolves.
Mike hurried to his side and flung his arms around the man, holding him close. ‘Come on, mate, try and stay with us. We all feel your pain. Ya know I do, what with all that happened to Ricky. You were all there for me, and we’ll all be there for you too. We don’t know what’s happened yet, but I swear to God, we’ll do everything to find out. And one more thing: there’ll be fucking murders when we find the fuckers who have done this to one of our own.’
Willie’s chest heaved in and out as the sobs choked the life out of him. But slowly, after he’d calmed down, those words of Mike’s resonated with him. They were all family. Ever since their school days, it had been all for one and one for all. It had served them well in the past. He earnestly prayed it would do so now.
Zara could only watch on, helpless. This was turning into her worst nightmare.
* * *
It was early evening when Shelley parked outside her father’s office. The rush-hour traffic was at its height, and she couldn’t find a parking space for love nor money. In her frustration, she pulled into a reserved parking bay and climbed out of her car, slamming the door shut. The wind was fierce and almost knocked her sideways, forcing her to regain her composure.
Just as she was about to lock the door, a jumped-up traffic warden called after her, ‘Sorry, but you can’t park there!’
Raging, Shelley spun around to face him. ‘Go fuck yaself!’ she hollered back, to the disgust of some passers-by.
‘Madam, those spaces are paid for and—’
‘Aw, fuck off. It’s my father’s building and his parking slots, so mind ya own business.’
The traffic warden looked at the windscreen of her car and grinned. ‘Well, that might be so, but you don’t have a pass on show, so that means you can’t park here.’
Shelley didn’t have time to argue. She took a deep breath and was about to walk away, but the traffic warden wasn’t having any of it.
‘Madam, I said you can’t park here. You’ll have to move.’
Inhaling through her nose, she tried to hold in her anger, but she was on edge and had been for days.
‘I said, go fuck yourself!’
Suddenly, the tall glass doors to the building opened and out stepped Glen Maitland, the security guard, a long-legged black man with a cold, expressionless face. He held up his hand. ‘It’s okay. She has a pass!’
‘Not on the windscreen she hasn’t, and—’
Before the traffic warden could finish, the security guard pulled a card from his pocket and waved it in front of the man’s nose. ‘Yes, she does!’
Glen turned and sneered at Shelley. ‘He’s waiting for you. Give me your keys.’
Shelley wondered if all of her father’s staff hated her, but then her mind cast back to her son, and, instantly, she went into one of her couldn’t-give-a-shit moods. She slapped the keys into Glen’s hand and made her way into the building and took the lift to the top floor.
As usual, her father was dressed impeccably. Anyone who found themselves in this building facing him would only assume he was a successful financier. Underneath the sleek facade was a razor-sharp businessman, with a keen eye for illegal gains. She had admired him as a kid. Then, as a teenager, she’d understood why he was so well off and why he had men kissing his feet. His game had initially been counterfeit money. He’d set up factories all over the country. So good were his copies that it had caused mayhem back in the eighties, severely affecting the banking system. He knew when to call it a day, though, and by the time he was loaded, he reinvested some of the money into property. He had the local MPs and councillors in his back pocket and managed to secure run-down warehouses and disused factories, turning them into luxury apartments for the Russians to purchase as an investment.
Shelley paused for a moment, wondering what mood her father was in. He was seate
d and staring at a computer screen. She hated it when he didn’t acknowledge her right away; it was one of his trademark management tricks to show those he allowed into his working space had to pay homage to him. It made her think that perhaps that was why she’d run into the arms of his enemy. The thought sickened her because her father was worth a fortune, and since she was the only child, she should eventually inherit the lot. But that wouldn’t be the case now: he’d made that crystal clear.
‘Any news, Dad?’ she asked, in her softest tone.
‘Yes, your brother-in-law will be assigning the house to you.’ His wicked smirk etched its way across his face, and it turned her stomach. She knew what he’d done. It was another one of his euphemisms: Mack would have been tied up and forced to sign the paperwork.
‘I meant, did you make arrangements for Lucas?’
Colin looked away from the computer and sighed. ‘Yes!’ he spat, as his skin tightened around his jaw. Shelley hated that look: she knew it was controlled anger.
Yet, right now, she wasn’t concerned. ‘Oh, Dad, thank you. Oh my God, I’ve been so worried. I feel like …’
‘Shut it!’ he yelled, which made her recoil. ‘I ain’t doing it for you. I’m doing it because it’s what ya dear ol’ mother would’ve wanted. You were right to fuck off with that bastard husband of yours, ’cos you two are cut from the same mouldy cloth. You’re as useless as he is, and as for your son, he fucking got himself into this mess!’
‘Dad, you would’ve done it for me when I was a teenager, wouldn’t you?’
Colin stared straight through her. ‘I’ve bailed your arse outta shit many a time. Having men beaten or buried, I did it to protect your name, when, really, you were nothing but a slut, using my reputation to swan around like you fucking owned the place. I paid your debts, I gave you everything, but you still went off with that bastard. See, that’s where me and you are worlds apart. I know which side my bread’s buttered. You’ve been brainwashed by your estranged husband for so long, you’re not my girl anymore, you’re still his.’
The pulse in her neck felt like a jackhammer, and she wondered if he was actually right. But then the vision of her son came into her head, and she didn’t care what her father thought of her, as long as she got what she wanted.
‘About Lucas. How long will it take, Dad?’
‘It’s happening tonight. And I’ll tell you this much. This has cost me a fucking shitload of money, so once it’s done and dusted, I don’t ever want to see your face again. And when Lucas is sorted, please don’t think for one minute that by sending your son to butter me up, it will in any way change things. It won’t. He’s off limits, as you are. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Dad, he’s a lovely boy. You really should get to know him.’
The flash of anger in her father’s face made her eyes widen.
‘Listen to me, and fucking listen good. I don’t want no fucking needy kid of yours knocking at my door! Got it?’
With a firm nod, Shelley got up to leave. ‘Yeah sure, Dad. Message received. Is there anything I can do?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I’ve everyone and everything in place. I don’t want you interfering, or you’ll fuck things up, and I ain’t going to jail for you, so you stay well away. My private jet will be leaving tonight for Spain, with Lucas on it.’
‘Oh shit! You’re flying him out of the country, then?’
‘Yeah, tonight, so keep away. I have my people on the case, and they know what they’re doing. I’ll have your ticket ready at the airport. You fly separately, though. Understood?’
‘Yeah, sure, but why Spain?’
Colin flared his nostrils in a temper. ‘Shelley, either you want my help, or you don’t. If you have the right bloke, then he is in fucking Alicante. Your dipshit of a son is just lucky I have contacts in Spain to sort out this problem. Now shut up with the fucking questions and piss off.’
She had a million things to ask, but she knew it was her call to leave.
Colin watched as his daughter, dressed in her tight-fitting black tube dress and her short cream leather jacket, toddled out of his office like some Barbie doll on drugs.
He sighed and took out a small bottle of Scotch from his side drawer. It was hard to believe that his daughter, the former love of his life, was now like a looming dark shadow, gnawing away at his conscience. He’d planned to go completely straight and leave all his criminal days behind him, yet Shelley bursting once more into his life was sending him right back to the past where he’d done anything to get to the top. Now he was at his peak, he was annoyed that she’d put him in this position.
All he could do was to thank his lucky stars that he knew many people who owed him, and now he had to call in every single favour. He shuddered; pouring another drink, he gritted his back teeth.
* * *
Amanda Wells, Colin’s personal assistant, had the door to her office partially open, hoping to earwig on his conversation with Shelley. She’d heard Colin on the phone the day before and knew that his daughter was expected around mid-morning. Knowing Colin’s history with Shelley, Amanda felt uneasy that he was even entertaining his daughter. ‘Gold-digger,’ she mumbled, under her breath, as she heard the clip-clop of Shelley’s stiletto shoes recede along the corridor.
* * *
As soon as Shelley stepped outside, where the blustery, cold wind whipped around her bare legs, she felt as though a sudden dark veil of guilt and sadness covered her mind. She did miss her father, if she was being honest with herself, and now there was just him alone, she wondered if he was happy. Would he have still been the same man if she’d not gone down the path she had? It was too late now though – or was it?
Once he met Lucas, he would see that the boy was just like him, his grandfather. Maybe Lucas was not as handsome, but he was tall and smart looking, with the same chiselled face, except his nose was longer and his eyes were piercing blue. Yet she saw her father in him and hoped her father would too.
Chapter 6
Jackie sat nervously in her caravan as she watched Torvic pace the floor. He tutted and moved her belongings out of his way, using his forefinger and thumb as if he might catch some disease.
He growled, with his eyes glaring at her. ‘I gave you enough money as security to get a decent car and follow the bitch and keep a lookout. Yet you fucking turn up in your shitty jeep with gaffer tape and an engine, which, in another twenty miles, would have given up the fucking ghost. Bloody hell, woman, how fucking stupid are you? The fumes blacked out the village. Talk about leaving a fucking trail. Ya nearly gassed half of Kent.’
With each sharp word, she blinked. ‘Look, Mr Torvic, you didn’t give me any time to get a decent motor. One minute, you were at my door, putting on the bleedin’ charm, and the next, I was hiding in the fucking bushes with a bloody pair of binoculars watching …’ She paused and looked away, reliving the horrific scene. ‘Well, let’s just say, I didn’t expect to be caught up … in this shit.’
Her last words faltered as she recalled the moment Torvic poured that acid over the bloke’s head. Her ex-husband, Mike, who she’d lived with over thirteen years ago, had a reputation, and that was no secret. But she’d never seen him in action, and as for Zara, she shuddered, because a while ago, she’d fronted the woman out and got swiped across the face with a blade for her trouble. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever believed her life would’ve turned out in the way it had.
Nausea made her mouth fill with saliva. It was all very well in the past giving Mikey some verbal stick because she believed then, deep down, he wouldn’t have hurt her. After all, she was the mother of his precious Ricky. Now, though, after what she’d witnessed in that hangar, she was having second thoughts. Equally, she was stuck in her poxy caravan with some nutter and his granddaughter, who was in and out of consciousness. She swallowed the rising puke and took a deep breath.
‘Right, listen to me very carefully. I need to sort something out. This is the last place that
Mike or that bitch Zara will think of coming to. So I need you to take care of Tiffany for an hour or so, and I mean take care of her. You’ll get the rest of your money, all in good time, but, for now, guard that kid with your life!’
Jackie looked over at Tiffany who was slumped on the sofa. She leered at her in annoyance. Kid? Was he having a laugh or what? She was a woman. End of. She stared at Tiffany more intently, noticing the gold chain around her neck and the expensive-looking watch on her wrist. Yes, those would keep her in Grey Goose for a couple of months, she thought.
Torvic snatched her car keys, shook his head, and exited, without even closing the door behind him.
‘Fucking pig,’ she grumbled, under her breath. Then, she turned back to Tiffany, who suddenly appeared to be coming round. Her eyes blinked, and she tried to sit up.
‘Where am I?’
With flushed cheeks, Jackie excitedly jumped to her feet. ‘Aah, it’s all right, babe. Your grandfarver’s gone to get some ’elp. He said to give you something.’
Tiffany’s long dark hair was matted, and her usually pretty, made-up eyes were smudged as if she’d been on the piss all night.
Jackie pulled open the drawers, like a frantic burglar, until she found the box of sleeping tablets. Pouring four in the palm of her hand, she shoved them under Tiffany’s nose.
‘Take these. You’ll feel so much better. Ya grandfarver said to take ’em. He’ll be back soon.’ Jackie tried to sound soft and motherly, but it really wasn’t in her nature. Still, she would give it her best shot.
‘Go on, babe. You’ve been through one ’ell of an ordeal. This’ll take the edge off.’
She gave the tablets to Tiffany and went over to the rotten, dirty sink where she grabbed a glass that had congealed milk at the bottom, swirled it under the tap, and then filled it with fresh water.
Tiffany was still slightly wobbly and didn’t notice the tiny milk particles floating on the top. She threw the tablets to the back of her throat, groggily took the glass, and swallowed the contents. The cold water seemed to help: it livened her up. Suddenly, her expression was different: cold and dark.