by KERRY BARNES
‘Boss, do you have any idea who Lucas was referring to when he said “they”?’
Gerry was still fiddling with his seat belt, trying to slide it around his fat belly, when Colin shouted, ‘For fuck’s sake, Gerry! Ease the fucking thing in. Don’t yank it. And the answer to your question, Raff, is no. I have no idea, but I have a gut feeling that Shelley is up to something, so I’m going to find out what it is and put an end to it.’
Raff didn’t believe Colin for one moment. He knew that his boss was worried and that he was just putting on a front.
Gerry finally managed to lock his seat belt in and the constant bleeping sound stopped. ‘Raff, how many shooters did ya bring?’
The smell of booze on Gerry’s breath had Raff rolling his eyes. ‘Two, but by the fucking state you’re in, I won’t be handing one to you. You’ll only end up shooting yaself in the fucking foot.’
‘Oi, what d’ya mean?’ asked Gerry, wheezing heavily and noisily.
‘You’re pissed, mate. That’s what I mean.’
‘No, I ain’t. I’ve had a couple, ’cos it’s Christmas Day. But what d’ya expect?’
Raff shook his head and looked out of the window, wondering what the hell he was doing. Was all the money really worth it now? For although he’d enough saved to set up a legitimate security firm, he had sacrificed his life working for Colin, which ended up with him not having kids or even a wife. He looked once more in the rear-view mirror at the man’s beady eyes and felt his stomach churn. He wondered if his boss was actually turning evil. The last trip to Spain was pretty sick in his opinion. Snatching a kid and removing his kidney, what was that all about? He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and asked God to forgive him.
As they approached Shelley’s drive, Colin stopped the car. He stared up at the house. ‘That boy had better not be lying, or I swear to God I will—’
Raff interrupted. ‘You mean, you hope he is lying, or someone has got your daughter.’
Colin turned to face Raff, a flash of anger in his eyes. ‘Don’t fucking tell me what I mean – ever!’
Raff nodded in return. This wasn’t the man he used to know. Colin Crawford had changed immeasurably over the past six months. He’d turned out to be a monster, so as soon as this situation was sorted out, he was going to leave the firm and get as far away from Crawford as he could.
It was now four o’clock. The house was shrouded in darkness. Colin knew where his daughter lived but had never actually been inside. He’d only followed the car that drove Lucas home after his operation.
‘How d’ya wanna play this, Cole?’ asked Gerry.
Colin, irritated, sneered. ‘Gerry, don’t call me Cole, okay? Me name’s Colin. Right, you go and check around the back of the house, in case this is some kinda set-up. You, Raff, go and knock at the front door, with your gun.’
Colin, like the real coward he was, remained in the car at the end of the drive, watching the front of the house.
As soon as Raff was about to knock, he saw the door slightly ajar and gently pushed it open and crept inside, holding his gun in front of him. His hands were clammy as his heart raced. So many thoughts hurtled around in his mind. Whoever had taken Shelley must have a lot of front because although Colin was no fighter, he did have a dangerous reputation. He paid serious money to have people fucked up good and proper.
Slowly, trying to prevent even a floorboard from creaking under his feet, he made his way to the lounge. As soon as he got to the first doorway on the left, he lowered his gun and gasped. There in front of him tied to a chair and absolutely battered sat Shelley. He didn’t think about who else would be in the room. Lowering his gun as well as his guard, he rushed in to help her. It proved a big mistake. When he was no more than three feet from her chair, someone from behind the door grabbed his arm and smashed it against their knee, making him drop the weapon. As he turned to see who it was, he was struck hard in the face with a vase, knocking him completely off his feet. Trying to get his senses back, he blinked and focused on a huge man, towering over him. He knew who it was: it was Mike Regan. He felt as though he was going to shit himself. Regan was no stranger. Anyone who was anyone knew exactly who he was. Even though he’d been in the nick for years, Regan’s reputation preceded him. Raff held his hands up in defeat. ‘All right, mate, I ain’t gonna fight.’
Mike’s face was expressionless. ‘No, you’re right there. Who’s with you?’
Under normal circumstances, Raff would have worked out a plan, but he’d had enough of the Colin Crawfords of this world and didn’t care anymore. He’d lost so much respect for the bloke and certainly wasn’t going to lose his life for him. And Regan was the type to kill him if he was on the wrong side of the argument.
‘Colin’s in the car and Gerry’s outside somewhere, at the back, I think.’
‘Just the three of you, then? Who’s got the shooters?’
Raff pushed himself up into a sitting position. ‘Just me.’ As he looked around him, he noticed other people in the room. There was Willie Ritz and Teddy Stafford. Whatever the reason for their presence, Raff knew it had to be serious. Then Raff’s eyes turned to the slim dark-haired woman.
Staffie snatched the man’s guns from the floor and made his way to the back door. The kitchen light was off so whoever was outside couldn’t see in. He listened to Gerry trying to open the door and instantly slid aside the bolt and ripped the door open. Gerry’s face froze with shock at seeing Staffie, and he tried to make a run for it. But in his pissed state, he wasn’t fast enough. Staffie smashed him on the head with one of Raff’s guns and hustled him inside.
Gerry held his hands up and walked in through the kitchen with Staffie prodding the gun in his back. He knew he couldn’t argue, not with the weapon, and especially not with the likes of Staffie. The shock was sobering, and as soon as he reached the lounge, he knew it was game over.
Mike pulled Raff to his feet. ‘You are gonna call Colin in!’
Raff sighed. ‘Aw, leave off …’
The sudden punch to the back of his head made Raff wince, but he wasn’t going to give in too easily. He had his reputation to consider. ‘I’m not doing that, Mike.’
Mike was impressed with the man. The hard blows he’d given him didn’t have Raff reeling in pain, and he was sure that he’d also broken Raff’s arm. ‘Yeah, you are, Raff, ’cos, mate, if ya don’t, I’ll blow your head off, and you know me. I fucking will!’
Raff stared into Mike’s eyes and understood that either he did as he was told, or he’d be another casualty, and he didn’t see why he should die for someone who didn’t really give a toss if he lived or died. The truth was, he had more respect for Mike than Colin anyway. He nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’
‘Good lad. You know it makes sense. And besides, Raff, there’s no war between us, mate, is there?’
Raff frowned, questioning that statement.
‘Mike, why would there be? I mean, what do you want Colin for?’
It was Willie who answered. ‘Just get him in ’ere, and you’ll fucking understand. But I promise you this: you fuck up, and I won’t blow your head off, I’ll fucking torture ya.’
Raff felt his mouth go dry. Willie was no pacifist, that was for sure. He nodded again. ‘Okay.’
Gerry shouted out, ‘You cunt!’ and was swiftly punched in the mouth by Staffie. As the older man tumbled back, Staffie lifted his steel capped boot and kicked Gerry hard on the knee. Gerry instantly fell down on one side, knocking over the side table.
‘Stay down, you mouthy prick!’ demanded Staffie, pulling back the safety catch on the gun. ‘One word from you and …’ – he looked at the weapon – ‘you’ll be eating bullets.’
The front door was closed sufficiently enough so that Colin, who was still sitting in his car, couldn’t see in. Mike followed Raff and told him to open the door fully, while he stood behind it, with the gun pressed into the back of Raff.
‘Wave at him to come in, and if you so much as drop that
smile, I’ll kill ya.’
Raff did as he was told and watched as Colin got out of his car, straightened his suit, and walked towards the door as if he were some member of a cartel. Raff stepped back, allowing his boss to enter.
‘So, what’s going—’
He didn’t get a chance to finish before Mike suddenly clutched him by the throat. He kept the gun levelled on Raff and then called for Willie, who appeared like a demon from the dead.
Mike let go of his grip on Crawford and waved the gun for Raff to return to the lounge.
‘What the hell is this?’ demanded Colin, although once he realized it was Willie Ritz standing there, everything was clear. All his bravado and threatening glances disappeared. He knew he was fucked.
Willie towered over Crawford with a look like a deranged lunatic, his eyes red and his jaw jutted forward. ‘Get inside, you no-good cunt,’ he said, clenching his fists tightly. He wanted nothing more than to kill the man with his bare hands, but he’d promised he would wait for Zara to interrogate Crawford first. She had something up her sleeve, and knowing her, it was worth paying attention to.
Colin felt his breathing increase as terror struck him in the chest. His palms were sweaty, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. How the hell could he talk his way out of this one, and why had he been so stupid not to have brought more men? It was over. So, instead of squaring his shoulders and acting as a boss should, he meekly followed Raff into the lounge. He looked about, and in two seconds flat, he’d determined the set-up. Then his eyes fell on his daughter, who looked brutalized. For a moment, he felt sorry for her. She looked like her mother, his dear wife. Then he saw the tear that escaped her eye, and all he wanted to do was to put his arms around her. He assumed that he would be dead soon. The Regan firm were no idiots, and yet all he could think about was his daughter, his little girl. Why had he been so hard on her? Perhaps it had been misguided pride, but now, looking around the room, where exactly had that got him?
‘Sit!’ demanded Mike.
Colin was silent as he sat down at the dining-room table.
‘And you, Raff, sit ya arse down too. It’s gonna be a long night, unless we get some fucking straight answers.’
Colin looked at the back of his daughter’s head. Her hair was a mess, and she was clearly suffering from sharp blows to her face. He looked up at the three men all ready to devour him and then wondered where his grandson was. Not that he cared that much for the boy. Firstly, he’d never really known him, and, secondly, what he did know, he didn’t much care for. Lucas was a spoiled, arrogant bastard. Christian Bourne, his long-term friend, had said as much. The boy had been rude and disrespectful, especially to the nurses. Everything was now falling into place. Of course, the lad whose kidney they’d removed had recognized Christian; his friend had confirmed that. He wished he’d listened instead of calling Christian a paranoid twat.
This lot had played them. Leaving it for three weeks, they’d led them to believe that the boy hadn’t known who had operated on him. It was a shrewd move that had sent them all into a false sense of security.
Just as he was about to open his mouth, a slim, attractive woman suddenly appeared. There was something icy about her, an evil aura, that he’d only ever seen in men like Willie Ritz. She walked with ease and class and sat down across from him.
The others were quiet as if she was the one in charge. He couldn’t believe that some woman had the power to control the Regan firm. It wasn’t possible.
‘So, Colin, now we have your attention, I’ll ask some questions. And, please, don’t take me for a fool. It’s Christmas Day, and, really, I have better things to do.’
‘Who are you?’ Colin was fuming that he was being held obviously at her say-so.
‘I ask the questions. Here’s the first one. What right did you have to take Nicolas’s house from him and put it into your daughter’s name when Nicolas had already given the bitch half in cash?’
Colin relaxed. So this was about Teddy Stafford’s uncles. He could sort this out with no bloodshed, or so he thought.
‘So, then, this is about Mack and Nicolas? Well, I took the property off them because Nicolas only fucked and then married my daughter to get at me. We were enemies, and in my book, they took a right liberty, so I made Mack sign over the deeds. It was that simple.’ He looked around at the seething faces. ‘But, look, seriously, I don’t want a war over that. I’ll sign the house back over and offer a bit of compensation, if that’s how you want it. How’s that?’
Zara stared at the sudden confidence in the man. That was it: he bought his way out of trouble. She knew now she had the measure of Crawford.
‘Now, the next question. What can you tell me about the imports from Poland?’
Colin clenched his hands together and frowned. ‘What about my import business?’ This was something he hadn’t expected.
‘Tell me all about it, and, before you begin, I know a lot already, so I’ll realize if you’re lying. Begin.’
Colin was flummoxed. What could she know and why would she even want to? he wondered.
‘Are you the Filth or what?’
She shook her head. ‘Answer the fucking question!’
‘I dunno what you mean.’
Zara smiled wickedly. ‘Willie, show Shelley your diver’s knife. I think her father needs a little encouragement.’
With his hands in the air, Colin shouted, ‘Stop! All right, listen. I import drugs, okay? It’s not really my thing, but I do it …’
Willie stepped back, still turning his knife around in his hand.
‘Good. So, if it’s not really your thing, then I can only assume someone has put you up to it, and I wanna know who and fucking why,’ grilled Zara.
Colin hadn’t become a multi-millionaire without being smart. He smiled. ‘I have property all over the world. I have an import and export company, mainly goods, all above board, and a few bits and pieces that make the real money. The Poles are good for business. They’ll do anything for their euros and are happy to export drugs, so that’s it, really. I’m not one for getting me hands too dirty but that little set-up is, shall we say, very lucrative.’
‘And who’s the man behind it?’
With an exaggerated frown, Colin replied, ‘Me.’
Zara leaned back on her chair and looked at Willie. ‘Show Colin what happens when he lies.’ She sniggered as her eyes shot a callous glare at Shelley.
‘No, wait! Don’t hurt her. I am the man behind it. Who else are you talking about?’
Zara chewed on her lip. ‘Who’s Striker?’
Colin narrowed his eyes. ‘Who?’
‘Striker!’
Colin shrugged his shoulders in utter indifference. ‘I’ve no idea who you mean.’
Zara started trying to work out if Colin was lying, but his face showed no emotion.
‘And what about Torvic? I thought he was the dealer? The man who arranges the imports.’
Colin knew who Torvic was, and he hated him. A rude, aggressive bully, they had one thing in common, though, and that was their lust for money and power. Yet he was out of the picture, so he’d been told.
‘Torvic? He’s the distributor. Look, what is this all about? Perhaps we can work something out. If you want in on the deal, then …’ – he looked at Shelley – ‘we can do it amicably. There’s no need for this. I’ve enough business to go around, and, to be frank, I’m thinking of jacking in the drugs side of stuff. Just tell me what you want.’ He hoped he sounded convincing enough to buy himself some time to get out of this mess without exposing the man behind the Flakka business.
‘So you’re the man who had that stinking drug that had half the druggies demented and the kids addicted in one fucking hit, then?’ Her eyes narrowed as she looked Colin up and down, sickened by the idea that this lowlife, this scumbag, had the ability and the means to take Liam’s kidney and export the terrible drug to half of the capital. Then, her eyes widened and her cheeks lifted into a sm
ile. With Colin at their mercy, they would extract enough information to ensure that Flakka would never be sold in London again.
Colin had to think quickly because whoever this woman was, she obviously had morals and didn’t take too kindly to kids getting caught up in drugs.
‘Look, lady, whoever you are, you have the wrong man. I had nothing to do with what Torvic and his lot did to the drug once it reached England. As far as I’m concerned, it’s as cheap as chips and far less harmful than cocaine.’
‘Less harmful? Seriously?’ She slammed her gun down on the table. ‘It’s evil and it’s fucking cruel.’ She glared with pure hatred in her eyes. ‘Anyway, I wanna know what’s gonna happen now Torvic’s dead along with his sidekicks. So, tell me!’
Colin hadn’t been told that Torvic was dead; he’d only been informed that the man was out of action. ‘Dead?’ Just then, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
Zara suddenly laughed. ‘Yeah, dead.’
Intrigued, he looked around the room, and he wondered if the man had died at their hands, but, at this point, he didn’t want to know.
He threw his hands up. ‘Well, that’s it, then. Listen, I can promise you this: I won’t be shipping any more of the stuff out of Poland. You have my word.’ He looked at his daughter and shuddered, hoping he’d said enough to secure the family’s freedom or their lives at least.
Zara stood up and smiled. ‘Well, you won’t be able to anyway. I just wanted to meet the man behind that devastating drug … Oh, and one final question. How the fucking hell do you think you had the right to take Liam’s kidney?’
Colin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘What? What the fuck?’ He was totally mortified. So they did know it was him. There and then, he was overwhelmed with fear. He’d met the feral eyes of Willie and knew his own death would not be pleasant. How much did they actually know?