by KERRY BARNES
She’d already been back, and with the help of her men, she’d had the basement cleaned up and Jackie’s body disposed of in an adjoining field to her caravan site. One of Jericho’s lurchers had found it. After the formalities were completed – the police were unable to discover who was responsible for Jackie’s murder – she was laid to rest.
The back door had been made secure and the CCTV system had been repaired, so that when she turned it off, the electric didn’t go off with it. Approaching the front door, she didn’t think to be cautious, not now everything was back to normality, and the fear of Torvic returning was a thing of the past. She inserted the key into the lock of the front door and pushed it wide open. As soon as she stepped inside, using her backside to bump the door shut behind her, she found that the entrance hall was warm, which was a blessing, since the December air had such a nip to it. Yet she experienced a strange sensation as if someone was there watching her. Feeling for her gun, she slowly crept towards her father’s office. Before she peered inside, a voice called out, ‘Don’t be alarmed, Zara, it’s only me.’
She instantly recognized the voice as that belonging to Lance. Her first thought was automatically to greet him, but this was her house, so how the hell had he got in? He didn’t have a key, and he hadn’t been invited inside. On her guard now, she pulled the gun from her belt, and then appeared, holding the weapon in front of her.
With his shoulders square and his thickset neck, Lance stood there, looking more prominent than ever. He smiled and held his hands up. ‘Look, don’t worry. I come in peace.’
‘How the hell did you get in?’ she asked, clearly unhappy, and, worse, somewhat uneasy.
‘Sorry, Zara, I had to come to your place. Don’t worry, though. I haven’t vandalized anything. I can get in anywhere, by the way. It was my job for long enough.’
Zara stepped forward, not taking her eyes off him. ‘And, Lance, do tell me, exactly what is your job?’
‘Are you alone? Is Mike coming?’
‘I’m asking the questions, Lance. I thought you would’ve realized, considering there’s a fucking gun still pointing at your chest.’
He nodded, looking totally unconcerned, and then he noticed the paperwork on her father’s desk. ‘He was a good man, your father. A man who you could trust, and the feeling was mutual, by the way.’
Zara glared, trying to work out his intentions. ‘Look, you still haven’t answered my questions.’
He slowly looked up with a sorrowful expression. ‘Zara, I came here to talk, partly because you are the only person, and I mean the only person, I can trust. Like your father, I trusted him and vice versa. I didn’t mean to startle you, but I couldn’t call or knock. I had to get inside before I was spotted.’
Sensing Lance wasn’t a threat, Zara placed her gun back into her belt and removed her jacket.
Lance followed her movements as she walked over to the drinks cabinet. ‘Tell me, what was my father’s favourite drink?’
He knew she was testing him and quite rightly so. ‘Funny you should ask because, like me, as much as he liked his vintage brandies, he still favoured a good old-fashioned vodka martini, even with the glazed cherry.’
Zara spun around and actually laughed. Whether it was from relief that Lance was behaving to type or that he’d rekindled a memory of her father’s, she didn’t know. ‘Yeah, he did, the silly ol’ bugger.’ Her shoulders relaxed; not many people knew that. Her father only let his guard down when he was wearing his carpet slippers and was holding his favourite tipple in his hand. So, she knew then that after all the underhanded acts that had happened to her and Mike’s firm, and to various individuals along the way recently, Lance wasn’t a fake. She knew he was the real deal.
‘And yours, Lance?’
He blushed and took a seat by the side of the large oak desk. ‘Me? I like a gin and tonic.’
‘Good, then we shall enjoy a drink together. So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
‘Well, I should imagine your father spoke a lot about me, and I guess, from what you’ve seen of me, that impression would’ve seriously left you feeling let down, possibly questioning your father’s sanity.’
Zara walked over to Lance, where she handed him his drink, after which she pulled up a chair to sit opposite him. He cast her a glance, observing how graceful she was. Anyone sitting here, but not knowing anything about this slender lady with her swanlike neck and serene movements, which were the epitome of ladylike, almost regal in fact, would most certainly form the wrong impression of her. He looked directly into her fiery eyes that reminded him of that stone, tiger’s-eye, and noticed how very pretty they were. When he’d initially met her – at the hangar – she’d worn such a dark, almost foreboding, expression that he hadn’t really seen the woman behind the cold mask.
‘Lance, I’m not stupid, by any means. I was grateful for your help that night at the hangar and also for your loyalty in helping the youngsters in Spain … But, as for not finding Torvic and leading us all to believe that that was your aim, well, I didn’t believe it in the first place.’
He chuckled and sipped his drink. ‘No, I assumed that would be the case, if, of course, you are anything like your father was.’
‘So, I’m also guessing that your involvement at the hangar was just revenge for what Torvic and his two sons …’ She paused, not wanting to finish the sentence.
‘Yes, that’s partly true. I wanted to make sure Alastair was tortured, but I didn’t want to interfere too much.’
Their eyes met in mutual understanding. ‘So, Lance, I’m aware that you got involved with Eric with the aim of finding the person responsible for selling Flakka on the streets of South-East London, and that you claimed your mission was also to stop the gangs selling it. I also understand that your involvement was authorized by the same department that was overseeing the Police Commissioner’s handling of the increased serious crime rate. But really, though, your role was just a front, wasn’t it?’
‘Very good, Zara. Yeah, you’re spot-on there. It was indeed a cover-up. And, for the first time in my career, I got too involved. I was trained as a soldier, ended up in the SAS, and then I was sent off on various missions. I worked for whoever I wanted to because I owed no one anything. Yet when Alastair killed Kendall, it got kinda personal, and then discovering the twins were mine, it changed my whole perspective on things. Now? Now, I’m back on another mission.’
‘I was right. My father told me bits and pieces about you but not everything. I was led to believe you were the guy who infiltrated the IRA and stopped the barracks from being bombed. That was just one of Izzy’s bedtime stories.’ She grinned. ‘So, I’m not surprised. Can I know who this bigger fish is you need to fry?’
His sympathetic smile told her the answer.
‘Oh, Lance, before you go …’ She slid open the desk drawer and retrieved the listening device she’d found. ‘Do you know anything about these gadgets? I believe Torvic planted this one in the grandfather clock.’ She threw it to him.
Catching it with one hand, he turned the device over to scrutinize the serial numbers. ‘Zara, may I take this?’
‘Yeah, sure. Any ideas?’
He looked up and nodded. ‘Yes, Zara, I do have an idea. A bloody good idea, now, thanks to you. Right, I have to go.’
‘Hang on. As I said, I thought Torvic planted it.’
‘Zara, I’m sorry but I can’t divulge anything.’
‘Okay, Lance, I appreciate you coming over to see me. I guess, if anything, it confirmed my theory about you. Well, I hope whoever it is, you capture him … or her.’ She chuckled again. ‘Unless, of course, he is one of my men.’
He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’
With one more gulp of his gin and tonic, he placed the cut-glass tumbler on the desk and rose to leave.
Zara stood up to see him to the door. ‘Tell me, Lance, was that all you came to say? I mean, you could’ve called me.’
Instead of goin
g towards the front door, he headed for the back. ‘I can’t call you. In fact, I can’t see you. I need to act as if my interest in the Torvic issue has been satisfied … But the real reason I came is because I wanted to tell you face-to-face to never let your guard down. I liked how you handled me earlier with your gun always at the ready. Don’t forget: always remain vigilant, and for now, try not to be alone.’
She gave him a deep, puzzled frown. ‘And are you going to give me any explanation or anything?’
That sympathetic look adorned his face again. ‘I can’t, Zara. I wish I could, but it wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interests.’
As she held the back door open for Lance to slip away, there was one burning question in her mind that needed answering. ‘This big fish. Was he or she Torvic’s puppetmaster?’
Lance scanned the vast, open fields surrounding the property, pulled his jacket collar up around his neck, and then looked closely into her eyes. ‘Yes.’
Zara gasped. ‘Shit! So, then, there is someone behind that bastard. Does that mean they’ll take revenge on us?’
Lance shrugged his shoulders. ‘The short answer is, I really don’t know. This person may have more pressing issues to deal with.’
‘I take it you know who this person is then?’
Lance shuddered. ‘I can’t tell you that. Just stay safe, yeah?’
She watched as he sprinted across the fields. Within seconds he was gone, and a fierce wind, which was blowing through the back door, tore through her blouse, making her shiver. She quickly locked it and felt for her gun again. She had to rationalize the situation. Whoever this big cheese was, he was influential enough to have the special ops team after him, which surely meant he wouldn’t have taken Torvic’s capture personally. Besides, Torvic was dead now, and, in any event, would he have gone running to his boss to tell him or her the truth? How pathetic would that look? She focused her mind on the fact that whoever this person was they were probably male and almost certainly had international credentials. Torvic was just a big buyer and supplier of the dirty drug called Flakka. Yet her anxiety levels were suddenly raised. She wanted to run after Lance and demand more answers, but she knew that he wasn’t the type to divulge anything unless he believed it was in his interests to do so. He hadn’t got to live this long – bearing in mind what he did – by imparting information that was classified.
Chapter 18
Shelley lined up her son’s tablets on the kitchen counter; the daily routine was now set in stone, and she would make sure he had the best care. She made his favourite drink, which was a latte with squirty cream and cinnamon. She placed the tall glass and the coloured pills on a tray, along with two slices of toast covered in peanut butter. She smiled, pleased with herself that she had created a smiley face in the peanut spread. ‘There, that will cheer him up,’ she said to herself.
Lucas sat in his latest gaming chair with a controller in his hand; he was fighting the Germans on his vast plasma screen. His mother entering the room irritated him. He was in mid-fight and could lose the tank he’d worked so hard to have as his weaponry.
‘Here you go, babe. Your tablets are here, and I’ve made your special brekkie, as you like it.’
‘Mother, fuck off, will ya? I’m busy. I’ll come downstairs when I’m ready.’
Shelley ignored his moodiness and placed the tray on the small table directly next to his chair. ‘Now, you know you have to take these tablets bang on time. The doctor said if you don’t, you’ll end up sick, so just put the controller down and take them. Eat the food, and then you’ll have all day to fight the world.’
Lucas wasn’t listening; he was intent on bombing the German tank. But what he didn’t see was the other tank behind the mound. Bang! He was blown up.
‘For fuck’s sake, Mother! Now, you’ve got me killed. I worked hard for that tank. Why don’t you just stop fucking fussing? Like I said, I’ll come down when I’m good and ready,’ he snarled at her.
Shelley tried to ignore his aggression, but once he was in one of his antagonistic moods, he wouldn’t stop.
He jumped up from his chair and stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Ya know what? I’m getting sick of you always in my face! Are you ever gonna leave me in fucking peace? Or are you gonna carry on fannying about? I ain’t sick anymore, right? I’m well.’ He held his hand out and looked down at his body. ‘Look at me. I’m fucking fine now. If you keep on in my ear ’ole, I’ll fuck off and get me own place.’
Shelley was dressed ready for the shops, her fitted black coat and long black boots with high heels giving her the look of a self-assured woman. Right now, though, she felt anything but. She adored her son, but he could be a right little bastard when the mood took him. ‘Lukey, listen to me, I’m only trying to help. You nearly died, and I did everything to help you get better …’
‘Mother, you didn’t! The kidney donor did that, so stop deluding yaself. Now, I’ll take those damn tablets but only when I’m good and bloody ready.’
Shelley was itching to go to the shops. She’d let herself go over the last month, what with all the hospital visits and then flying over to Spain. But she wasn’t happy leaving her boy unless she was sure that he’d taken his tablets. She knew that without them his body would reject the kidney and he would die, so all this tablet-minding was stressing her out.
‘Lucas, I tell ya what. You take those tablets and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll even stay out all day. How about that?’
What seemed like a very reasonable offer was turned on its head. Unexpectedly, Lucas lost the plot; with a quick movement of his hand, he wiped the small table clean. The tablets, the drink, and the toast covered in sticky peanut butter went flying across the room.
Shelley had to jump back quickly or she would’ve been struck by the plate.
‘Fuck the tablets!’ Lucas shouted at her. ‘They make me feel sick.’
As Lucas got his breath back, Shelley scrambled around the floor on her hands and knees gathering up the pills. ‘For God’s sake, Lucas, what’s wrong with you? They’re just pills. One big gulp, and it’ll be over. Please, love, do it for me.’
With flared nostrils, Lucas spat back. ‘And why should I do anything for you, eh? You ruined everything for me. I could’ve had it all. Colin would’ve given me the business. I would’ve been driving around in a new motor, with money in me back pocket and a future to look forward to. But you put an end to my dreams! You had to shack up with that dildo, Nicolas, and ruin my fucking chances in life!’
Shelley stood up in shock, her hands to her mouth. How the hell did Lucas know all of that unless her father had decided to dig the knife in and tell him? She had to know.
‘So, you’ve been listening to my father then, I take it?’
Lucas glared with eyes that would curdle milk. ‘He told me enough, that’s all you need to know. Then, he informed me that I was never to knock at his door again.’
‘Tell me what exactly he said. Only, I wasn’t aware that he’d even had a conversation with you.’
With a deflated tone, Lucas replied, ‘His exact words were these: “I’ve taken a serious risk in getting you fixed up. Don’t look at me as if I’m your grandfather. And don’t get any ideas that you can come running to me for favours, ’cos this is the last favour I’m ever going to do for you.”’
With a sorrowful expression on her face, Shelley sighed. ‘He’s an absolute bastard anyway. We don’t need him, we’ve got each other, and as true as my word is, I’ll make sure you’ll want for nothing.’
‘You just don’t fucking get it, do ya? I don’t want to be wrapped around you. Look at ya, a silly tart, thick as two short planks, and as for how you get your money …’ He laughed. ‘That’s a joke. You wouldn’t know how to earn a few quid unless it was selling yaself. All you’ve ever had is through men like Nicolas. You ain’t worked a day in your life.’ Even the horrified and hurt look on his mother’s face didn’t stop him from tearing into her. His voice was getting loude
r as he wound himself up. ‘You must’ve taken after your mother, ’cos you ain’t like your ol’ man. But I am. I’ve watched him with his men, the way he walks and talks. That would’ve been me in a few years from now. But you’ve ruined any chance I had of being part of his firm. It’s all your fault, and I won’t forgive you for it. I could’ve been someone. He has the money, the respect, and it would’ve all been mine one day. So, fuck off, before I forget you’re me mother.’
With his malicious words whirling around her brain, she was furious. And she attempted to slap his face, but he was too quick, and, in a flash, he gripped her wrist and leaned into her face. ‘Touch me again, and I’ll throw you through this bedroom window.’
Shelley shook her arm free and left the room. With tears of anger streaming down her face, she grabbed the car keys from the hallway table and her bag from the floor and left.
Her new GTI was her pride and joy, and once she put her foot to the floor, all her troubles would’ve normally been blown away in the wind, but not today. She drove around the streets, trying to calm down, until, finally, she stopped in the multi-storey car park, leaned on the steering wheel, and sobbed.
Her son, her only child, was a spoiled brat. She had raised a monster, and no matter how generous and kind she was to him, he just got worse. In her heart, she knew that he would belt her one someday – the evil glint in his eyes told her as much. She tried to dig deep and think what it was that made her protect him so much, to fuss and give in to his constant tantrums, but all she could think of was that he was hers. When everyone around her could dismiss her at the drop of a hat – Nicolas, her father – Lucas was the constant in her life, and she aimed all her love and affection in his direction.
She took a deep breath and pulled down the mirror and stared at her tear-stained face and the wrinkles that were deepening with age and worry. In the glove box was a packet of wipes. She pulled one from the packet and cleaned her face. There was no point in wearing make-up since she was off to have Botox and then her hair done. She tilted her head down and looked at the roots in the mirror. A few grey strands told her she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, and if she was to meet a decent man, she needed to tidy herself up.