The Choice

by KERRY BARNES

  Mike looked at his son’s chest. There was no blood, yet he’d seen the gun being fired and Ricky catapult onto the sofa. On impulse, he pulled the jumper up over his son’s chest and stared at the black jacket underneath. Yanking it up, he saw the enormous red swelling.

  Mike wanted to cry with ecstasy. He struggled up from his seat and did his best to hurry over to see to Zara, whose face was now splattered with blood. But Torvic was in a far worse state: his head was a bloodied mess – his body virtually lifeless.

  ‘Christ, I thought we were gonna die.’ He half laughed, pulling Zara away.

  A noise from the kitchen made them all freeze to the spot and listen. They heard footsteps, and before Zara had a chance to grab her own gun, there, in the doorway, wielding another serious tool, was Detective Inspector Simon Lowry.

  Mike’s and Zara’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Fuck me! You should’ve got here sooner. He nearly killed us,’ said Mike, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He glanced over at Torvic, who was moaning on the floor.

  Zara stared questioningly at the detective, who still had his weapon held in front of him. ‘It’s okay. There’s just him and us.’ She pointed to Torvic.

  ‘Good. Now, I want you to stand back, away from him.’

  Mike’s eyes widened. ‘Hey? What the fuck’s going on?’

  Torvic coughed up more blood from his mouth. ‘You took ya fucking time, Striker.’

  ‘What!’ screeched Zara. ‘But you’re a … I mean, how do you know …?’ As if someone had turned a light on, she stared at the detective with incredulity. It was him, the other lad in the photo, standing next to Torvic.

  ‘Stand away from him!’ ordered Lowry, ‘or I’ll have you all nicked for attempted murder.’

  Zara’s phone rang again. As she began to move, Lowry stopped her in her tracks. ‘Leave it!’ he demanded, as he flicked his gun for her to get back from the device.

  Mike reached for her hand and gently drew her back, not taking his eyes away from Lowry. ‘So, you know Torvic?’

  Lowry smiled. ‘I warned Stoneham not to take on you lot. Everything would have been fine if you’d just kept your noses out of our business. But no, he wouldn’t listen. You see, Regan, no one will rid the streets of drugs because it’s what the kids want today, and far be it for me to stop them. I was a copper for years, slogging my guts out, trying to nick any scallywag for breaking the law, and you know what I discovered? It makes no fucking difference. D’ya get it, Regan?’ He didn’t wait for a response before he carried on. ‘Putting in all the hard work, I was just laughed at by the next dealer, robber, mugger, or any other shitbag who thought themselves above the law. There they were, driving around in their flash motors, living in their flash drums, and eating in fucking flash restaurants. And, what was worse, they were flaunting their money right under my fucking nose. You can imagine how soul-destroying that really was at the time, so you should actually see me as not a bent copper but as a man like yourself. Far cleverer, though, wouldn’t you say?’

  Mike couldn’t believe how different Lowry’s persona was outside the police station. This cocksure bastard was nothing like the fat, dopey, lazy detective he always thought he was. It seemed as though Lowry had been given a personality transplant overnight.

  The phone rang again but no one uttered a word until it stopped.

  ‘Do you know something, Regan? I fucking can’t stand you. You really thought you were so hard, even talking down to me, but look at you now. You’re not that tough now, eh?’

  Torvic moved, trying to get up. He moaned and attempted to talk, but Zara had well and truly battered him.

  Annoyed, Lowry huffed, ‘For fuck’s sake, Vic. Did you find Colin?’

  Torvic shook his head and spat out a mouthful of blood. ‘Nah.’

  ‘Where’s Colin?’ asked Lowry, glaring at Mike.

  Mike tried to shrug his shoulders and realized only one shoulder would move; the other was obviously shattered inside from the gunshot wound.

  ‘Liar! Where is he?’

  ‘Who’s Colin?’ asked Zara.

  Lowry’s eyes slid from side to side, quickly surveying his surroundings. ‘Don’t play games. You know who I’m talking about.’

  Zara’s lips turned down as she shrugged. ‘No. I’ve no idea who you mean.’

  Lowry felt uneasy, uncomfortable that his notion of Regan capturing Colin was merely that – a notion. His mission was to find Colin, kill Regan, and then get his lucrative business back on track. He glanced down at the state of Torvic. For a moment, he wondered what the hell he was going to do. Torvic had fucked up, by doing what he did best – teasing and torturing his victims before he killed them. However, he could see that this time his little plan had failed, and now it was left to him to pick up the pieces. It would usually be Stephan or Alastair, not himself, who would do the heavy lifting. He wanted to kick Torvic for being such an idiot, but he didn’t have the time to start having a row. He had to get this mess cleaned up and quickly before whoever it was who was calling the house decided to turn up.

  With Torvic incapacitated – as useless as a knitted condom – all he had was himself to take control.

  Again, the phone rang, and it was joined by Mike’s; as before, the noise was distracting.

  Zara suddenly became aware of another movement inside the house. She knew every creak in the old mansion; someone else was inside.

  ‘Get back against the wall,’ ordered Lowry, now beginning to sense something was awry.

  Mike gripped Zara’s hand and glanced at his son, who was still seated on the sofa. He prayed that Ricky wouldn’t pull the same stunt, in case this time it didn’t work. But then he came to the conclusion that his son was in no position to do anything. The swelling he’d seen when he’d lifted the flak jacket told him that some of Ricky’s ribs were broken.

  Lowry’s light-blue shirt, peeping through his jacket, was wet with sweat; it was obvious to everyone that he was nervous, and his eyes, flicking around, showed he was on edge. ‘Get up, Vic.’

  Torvic was fucked, but he tried to get onto his hands and knees.

  ‘I said, get up, will ya, for fuck’s sake.’

  Zara looked behind Lowry to see a shadow cast from the hallway light, which was permanently on. She knew then that someone else was present.

  Lowry clocked her looking behind him, and in his nervous state, he stupidly did the same. That’s when Zara spotted the red laser light appear on Lowry’s head. Who else was here? she wondered. She realized what was about to happen and held her breath. As soon as Lowry turned his head back to face them a sound like a whistle went off. In a split second, Lowry hit the floor next to Torvic, who wasn’t slow to react. He may have been badly beaten up, but he still had the wherewithal to grab Lowry’s gun.

  But he wasn’t quick enough. From nowhere, a man, dressed entirely in black, entered the room and shot him cleanly in the head – twice.

  For the first time in his life, Mike was wholly stunned. All he could do was stand and stare.

  The man dressed in black combat trousers, a padded black jacket, and a balaclava covering his entire face, grabbed both the dead bodies by their collars and dragged them to the front door.

  Mike was about to follow, but Zara pulled him back. ‘No, Mike, don’t.’

  ‘But, who the fuck? I mean, what’s going on?’

  ‘Mike, just stay here with Ricky and me, okay?’

  Mike looked at his son, who was washed out. ‘Are you all right, my boy?’

  Ricky slowly nodded. ‘Me chest hurts but at least I ain’t dead.’

  Zara sat next to him. ‘Sorry, Ricky, I should’ve told you when I gave you Izzy’s jacket, that it will stop a bullet penetrating, but, fuck me, it does hurt. You’ll be fine in a few weeks, darling.’

  Ricky knew then that she’d been shot at some time in the past. His eyes lowered in sadness. What had Zara really endured in her life? He wondered if she’d been through far worse than she’d let on. Perhaps that expl
ained their close bond.

  They listened as the front door opened and closed. Zara got up and looked out of the window to see a black van making its way down the drive.

  ‘What the hell was all that about? Who were they? Jesus! It was like a fucking James Bond film.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s “The Machine”.’

  Mike’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘What? As in Lance Ryder?’

  She nodded. ‘It all makes perfect sense now. Lance was after the big fish. Lowry was the one he was after. I gave Lance an old listening device that I thought belonged to Torvic and he recognized it, I guess, from his line of work. It must have been one issued by the police and no doubt planted by Torvic but given to him by Lowry. Torvic was a sideshow as far as Lance was concerned. He helped us out only because Torvic killed his daughter, but it was never about him. It was always about the top guy. Lance told me to stay safe – always. That’s why I gave Ricky my father’s flak jacket.’

  Tears welled up in Mike’s eyes. ‘You wanted to protect my son even though you knew you would’ve been the target?’

  Zara smiled. ‘You got that slightly wrong, Mike. He’s our son, Mike, our son.’

  Ricky chuckled. ‘And that prick really thought I was Eric’s son. Jeez, what a dick.’

  Zara thought her heart was about to stop functioning. ‘You didn’t believe Torvic, did you?’

  Mike heard the hesitancy in her voice. ‘No, and I won’t ask why you thought it. Whatever the reason, it’s all in the past.’

  Zara swallowed hard. Perhaps Mike had guessed the truth – that Jackie had told her and that’s why she’d killed her. ‘Yes, it’s all in the past. Ricky is your boy.’

  Mike pulled up his sleeve and pointed to the tattoo that read ‘RICKY MY BOY’. ‘Do you know why I had that tattoo done?’

  Ricky was smiling, but Zara, confused now, shook her head.

  ‘I knew about Eric and Jackie. That’s why sometimes I was hard on him, and when my boy was born I wondered. Not that it would’ve made any difference. When Ricky was five, I decided to have a DNA test done, just to put my mind at rest.’

  Astonished but relieved at the revelation, she gasped in surprise.

  Ricky joined in. ‘I remember it well. You took me out for dinner that day, didn’t ya? And you showed me the tattoo. I remember. I ran my hands over it, thinking how sore it must have been. But most of all, I remember Dad saying that no matter whatever happens, or whatever’s said in the future, he had a letter that stated I was his son. I never knew it was a DNA test, I was too young, but I remember feeling proud that he was my dad.’

  Mike ruffled his son’s head as he’d always done.

  ‘Jackie made me believe my dad was dead, and my memories were fading fast, but …’ He was choked up and had to pause for a second. ‘But that day in the prison when I was being held at knifepoint and this big man lifted his sleeve and showed me that tattoo, everything came flooding back. I knew he was my dad, so, just now, I didn’t believe anything Torvic said.’

  The phone rang again, pulling them out of this poignant moment. Zara smiled gracefully, indicating that she should take the call. As soon as she answered, the voice on the other end brought her back down to earth.

  ‘Zara, listen. We’re on our way.’ Neil’s Irish accent was unmistakable. ‘Torvic isn’t dead. Get out of the house, Zara!’

  ‘Neil, it’s fine. He’s definitely dead now. I watched his demise with my own eyes this time.’

  Neil slowed his car down from 140 miles per hour to 80. ‘Are you sure he’s dead? ’Cos that fecking monster seems to have a way of coming back from the grave.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, he’s definitely dead, and so is Lowry. He was in on it all the time. Where are you?’

  ‘On my way to yours. Your cousin Josh tried to call you and then he called me. He saw Torvic driving his own fecking car towards your home. I thought when no one answered the phone, he’d killed you. Jesus, you had me fecking worried there.’

  Zara looked up at the large painting of her father. ‘Not in my house, he wouldn’t have.’

  As Mike helped Ricky to remove the flak jacket, Zara left the room to get cleaned up. She walked up the stairs, past her bedroom, and stopped at her mother’s room. She stared at the bed and imagined her mother sitting up and smiling at her. A tear appeared and plummeted down her cheek as she whispered under her breath, ‘Sorry, Mum. I just had to pretend that he was my father, but only for a minute.’ She looked down at her bloodied hands. ‘I hope, Mum, that you and Dad will now rest in peace.’

  She didn’t hear Mike behind her. ‘Who are you talking to?’

  ‘Oh, just ghosts, I guess.’

  He gently slid his arms around her waist. ‘Um, Zara, Izzy was your farver, wasn’t he?’

  She smiled with her eyes. ‘Of course he was. Where else do you think I got my eyes from?’

  He stared for a while and watched the colours change from amber to dark brown, like swirls of tiger’s-eye. How could he have even questioned it? In that respect, Zara and Izzy really were alike.

  Chapter 24

  Two weeks later

  Shelley kneeled by her son’s bed; his face was grey, his cheeks were sunken, and scabby sores covered his lips. She stroked his hair and allowed more tears to flow.

  ‘Come on, Shell, leave him alone. The doctor’s on his way,’ said Nicolas, with a touch of compassion. It wasn’t for Lucas but for Shelley. She had been his love for many years, and, as thick as she was, she doted on that nasty child of hers.

  ‘We should’ve taken him to A&E,’ she said, sobbing. ‘I bet that fight with his no-good bastard brother caused this fucking setback.’

  ‘But, Shell, love, we couldn’t do that. You, me, and Lucas would’ve been locked up. The only quack that can see to him, as well you know, is that Dr Bourne fella.’

  She sniffed back the tears. ‘I suppose you’re right. How long will he be? Because I really don’t think Lucas will last much longer. I mean, I just don’t understand what’s going on. He was taking his meds, so why is he so ill?’

  Nicolas took her downstairs and led her into the kitchen. ‘Sit there, babe. Let me make you a cup of tea. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Perhaps his body has rejected the kidney. I mean, are you sure he’s even Willie’s son?’

  Shelley threw him a spiteful glare. ‘Of course he is, and they did all the tests before the operation.’

  Nicolas poured the tea and sighed. ‘Babe, these transplants don’t always work, ya know.’

  Shelley ran her hands through her hair and then wiped her tear-stained cheeks. ‘For fuck’s sake, I just wish that doctor would hurry up. The plane landed four hours ago. It ain’t that far from Gatwick. He should be here by now.’

  Nicolas felt for Shelley because he knew damn well that Dr Bourne wasn’t going to arrive, and if he did, it would no doubt be in black plastic bags.

  ‘He did say he would pop home first to collect his medical bag.’

  ‘We should’ve taken Lucas to his house then and met him there. Fucking ’ell, I wish I hadn’t gone away on holiday and left him alone.’ She glared up at Nicolas. ‘You should’ve taken proper care of him.’

  Nicolas sighed. ‘Shell, let’s get things straight, yeah? We ain’t together anymore, he ain’t me fucking son, so don’t go on at me. All this ain’t my fault. And another thing. You extending your stay here don’t mean that me and you will get back together.’

  Shelley wiped her nose on the back of her left sleeve and sipped the tea that Nicolas had put in front of her.

  ‘When Lucas is better, I’m off anyway to Spain. I’ve got a business to run. Oh yeah, I tried to draw some cash out from the machine, and all I got was a “card declined” message.’

  Nicolas turned his back on her.

  ‘Nick, why would my card be declined?’

  Biting his lip, Nicolas wondered if now was the right time to tell her about the legal papers she had signed. He took a deep breath before
he said quietly, ‘Listen, Shell, there isn’t any money.’

  ‘What!’ She gasped, as she lurched to her feet. ‘What the fuck d’ya mean there isn’t any money?’ She tugged on his arm. ‘Answer me!’

  Reluctantly, Nicolas turned to face her, the confused look turning to deep anger in her eyes. At that point, every ounce of sorrow he’d felt for her dissipated into thin air. He hated that expression and the selfish, cold side to her.

  ‘The deeds to the Spanish development you signed weren’t really worth much and certainly won’t be bringing you in any money.’

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What the fuck! Have they done me over? ’Cos I swear to God, I’ll have ’em all behind fucking bars. They won’t get away with this!’

  Nicolas watched as her eyes turned dark and her face flushed bright red.

  ‘You can’t do that either, Shelley, because, my sweetheart, you’ll be behind bars with them. Remember, you signed a confession.’

  Her eyes flicked from left to right as she tried to comprehend what had taken place; it was a complete piss-take.

  ‘What the fuck have I inherited, Nicolas?’

  Uneasily, he shifted from foot to foot, because he knew that once she read the papers, she would go ballistic. Yet there was nothing she could do about it. His reluctance to answer Shelley sent her tearing from the kitchen into the lounge where the legal documents were. With her hands trembling, she frantically trawled through the papers.

  Shivers were running up and down her spine as she looked at the other documents, and, specifically, the deeds to the property in Spain. She glared at the picture of the waste ground and the stamp across it that said: ‘Permission for development declined’. Shocked, Shelley felt her legs buckle. She had been well and truly fucked. She looked at Nicolas standing there in the doorway. ‘You bastard, you fucking bastard!’

  ‘Shelley, you did some shit things, and I didn’t deserve it. I loved you. I took you and your kid on. You wanted for nuffin. I threw you out because all you cared about was that kid. I gave you half, more than you should’ve got. You bought a grand house, and yet that still wasn’t enough, was it? You had me brother nearly killed and my house put into your fucking name. So, Shelley, you’re the bastard, not me. Now, my lovely, you’ve no choice but to keep ya fat gob shut, or you’ll be inside for a very long time, and trust me, babe, they don’t have boutiques, hair salons, and spa baths in the fucking nick.’