by KERRY BARNES
He hadn’t changed much, still very muscular and with wide piercing blue eyes like his cousin Neil.
However, Shamus was shocked to see how thin, gaunt, and sickly Zara appeared. It was such a vast contrast to when they’d last worked together.
She looked over his shoulder. ‘Did you come alone, Shamus?’
He nodded and stepped inside. ‘There’s only me in London. Davey’s at St Thomas’ Hospital with Neil, and the men are back in Ireland.’
She ushered him in and closed the door.
‘So, start from the beginning. What’s going on?’
He followed her into the office and gazed around. It was as though he’d walked into a vampire movie set, with the tall brass candlesticks and heavy curtains, along with the oversized gilt-edged paintings. The layer of dust everywhere added to the ambience. ‘Er . . . I think you need to get a cleaner in.’
She smiled. ‘Or hire it out for Halloween, perhaps?’
Shamus nervously chuckled, yet he still felt spooked. Then his eyes fell to her scarred wrist. Eerie thoughts whirled through his head all at once. The story of her having her hand cut off and then being kept a prisoner down in the basement of this creepy mansion plagued his mind.
That was until she said, ‘Right, as I said, start from the beginning. Ignore the décor. Get your mind back on the issues at hand.’
Shamus felt his face flush and wondered if she was telepathic. Her frail state belied who she really was, and Shamus wasn’t deluded by any means. Behind those hypnotic eyes was the Iron Lady of Gangland Britain. Even her voice had an edge that commanded attention.
‘In the last six months, the cocaine leaving the restaurants has dropped by fifty per cent. The Colombians have upped their price because we aren’t selling enough. The city slickers are still buying it, but the scallies who make up fifty per cent of the business have backed off. Apparently, they’re into a new drug. It’s cheaper and gives them a better hit.’
Zara listened, paying careful attention to every word that left Shamus’s mouth. ‘So, this new drug. Why don’t we find our own supplier?’
Shamus sat back on his chair and slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know about you, Zara, but there are some things we just don’t get involved in. Like heroin for instance. And this new drug is worse. It’s so addictive and although the hit apparently is euphoric it also sends the kiddies mental.’
‘Kiddies!’ she gasped.
He gave her a stern nod. ‘Yeah, it’s cheap, really cheap, and the teenagers are buying it with their pocket money. Once they’re hooked, they’re fecked.’
She swallowed hard and sighed. ‘So, if this drug is being sold and obviously the supplier is making a mint, why are they threatening my restaurants?’
Shamus clasped his hands together and bit his lip. ‘I don’t think it’s about the drugs. I believe it’s a takeover. It’s just odd that one minute we had everything running smoothly, and then the next, it was as if ants were running all over everything.’
Zara frowned. ‘Ants?’
‘Yeah, yer know, how they all descend and take away bit by bit whatever’s on offer, but you just don’t see them unless there’s a mass. It’s similar to that.’
‘Give me examples.’
‘We’ve had an issue with our gun imports. Since Willie, Lou, and Staffie got banged up, the gun trade has been reduced to nothing. But Staffie was kind enough to give us their arms contact so that we could carry on with the business.’
Zara nodded for him to continue.
‘Well, currently, our supplier has gone quiet. We’ve no way of contacting him, as the phone lines are dead. And I’ve got an update on what I told you yesterday. Now, three more of your restaurants are vacant. They fecking literally shut down overnight. No fecker knows where the managers went. I walked into Satiro’s place and it was abandoned. The tables were laid, the kitchen was clean, and even the food was prepped, ready for customers, and yet there was no one in sight. And Nico and his sons left, with no warning as well. They just upped and went. Even that moody bugger Gino has gone. Luckily, the restaurants were locked with a closed sign on the door, or you wouldn’t have a business standing. The looters would have been in.’
‘Okay, right, so they haven’t destroyed the business. They, whoever they are, have just run my dealers out of town. That’s not a problem I’m concerned about for now. However, what I am livid over is that they have hurt Neil, and that I won’t take lightly, so I want—’
Shamus raised his hand. ‘Wait, that’s not all, Zara. Raymondo gave away all the codes to the arcades. Every one of them was robbed in one night. They smashed the feck out of the machines, took all the money, and no one, and I mean no one, has a fecking clue who’s behind it, except we know it’s some black guys.’
‘You what? Raymondo? Why did he do that?’
Shamus lowered his head. ‘’Cos one of the fecking bastards held a fecking knife to his baby’s throat. Some cunt dragged his baby from her pram and held a fecking six-inch blade to her neck.’
‘Jesus wept,’ shrieked Zara, her eyes on stalks. ‘Scumbags, fucking scumbags.’ She could feel her anger rising, and her need for answers overruled her patience. ‘What else, Shamus?’
‘We’ve had trouble back in Ireland too. It seems more than a coincidence, but that’s just my opinion. We have a set-up, counterfeits, yer know. Well, the two sites got burned down. Our pub, when I say our pub, I mean our meeting ground – Uncle Davey’s office, as he calls it – that too was burned down. So, in short, we’ve been attacked on all sides. Yet this gang or gangs or whoever the feck they are, are going in really heavy, and they are recklessly disrespectful. Jesus Christ, who the feck rips a baby from her pram, eh?’ He rubbed his stubbly chin.
Zara was taking it all in, her mind processing the ramifications of the reckless takeover. ‘And you seriously have no fucking clue who’s behind it?’
Shamus shook his head. ‘Only that they’re black, maybe Yardies. Yet, rough as feck they may be, I don’t think they’ve the brain power to run a racket like yours. Sorry, I mean ours. Someone else is backing them, and for the life of us, we don’t know who. We thought since Mikey’s out of prison, he could do some digging. He still knows anyone who’s anyone. Surely, he would have a clue?’
Zara inhaled a deep lungful of air. ‘No, leave Mike out of it. He’s got his own business to deal with. I’m gonna sort this.’
Shamus raised his eyebrow as he looked over at the tiny woman. What the hell could she do, really? He didn’t argue but nodded. ‘I’ve got to get back to the hospital. Davey will need a break. He’s been up all night.’
Zara was staring off into space. Then she jumped out of her thoughts. ‘Shall I come?’
The offer was kind, but Shamus knew it would only bring further worry. Davey and Neil hadn’t seen the state of Zara. It would just add to their concerns.
CHAPTER SIX
Mike slowly opened his eyes and blinked furiously at the light. His head was pounding as if it had been clamped in a vice. Knowing if he moved his stomach, he was likely to empty its contents, he decided to stay where he was.
As he lay there staring up at the ceiling, he tried to recollect last night’s events. The flowing beers had wrecked him. After twelve years with no alcohol, he’d lost track of how many pints he’d consumed. In fact, he couldn’t remember what happened after about four beers. He recalled worrying about Zara and then Eric telling him she’d gone to bed, but that was about it. Slowly, he took two deep breaths and eased himself into an upright position, holding his throbbing temples. Light-headed and feeling nauseous, he knew he would have to make his way to the kitchen and swallow a couple of tablets. His mouth was like the bottom of a parrot’s cage. That mental picture did him no favours and made him almost gag.
Seconds later, he jumped up and bolted to the cloakroom, where he threw up a bucket-load of London Pride. Hanging on to the bowl, he gasped for breath. ‘Never again,’ he said aloud.
After he w
ashed his face and cleaned out his mouth, he returned to the lounge and almost stopped dead in his tracks. There, lying on another sofa, was the party girl – Jennifer – barely dressed, her hair covering her face. His mind went back to the events of yesterday evening and his heart sank. Zara. Where was she? He suddenly panicked and hurried up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he swooned. The hangover was still harsh, even though he’d thrown up a year’s worth of drink and food. He paused and slowly opened the bedroom door, but tension gripped his shoulders. Empty. He dashed into the bathroom: ditto. She’d gone. Every possible thought shot through his mind. Zara must have seen him here with Jennifer, half-naked on the sofa. She would then have deduced that he’d shagged the woman, especially since he’d been drunk and after the abstinence of any sex for twelve years and counting. But no way would he do that, not to Zara.
Shaking with worry and reeling from his hangover, he returned to the lounge and roughly shook Jennifer. ‘Oi, wake up.’
She stirred, farted, and breathed stale breath into his face.
‘Oh, Jesus, give me strength.’ He shook her again. ‘Listen. Get your arse up and off this fucking sofa, will ya!’
Jennifer opened her eyes, and on seeing Mike’s face, she tried to pass off a sexy, seductive look, yet her false eyelashes had stuck to her cheeks, and her hair was like a net over her face. ‘Morning, Mikey,’ she replied, her voice croaky.
‘Get up and get out!’
He wouldn’t usually talk to a woman like that, but if she was the reason that his Zara wasn’t in the house, then he would snatch her by the hair and physically remove her. ‘Fuck me, what the hell are you doing crashed out in the lounge anyway?’
He paced the floor, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
Jennifer stood up, tugged her skirt over her hips, straightened her hair, and sighed. ‘Blimey, don’t I even get a cup of coffee?’
‘No, ya fucking don’t!’ he hollered. ‘Why are you even here?’
She looked Mike up and down. ‘What the fuck, Mikey. You used to be fun. Eric invited me. Bloody hell, we’re practically family, ya know.’
Rifling through her bag, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one up.
Mike was irritated. ‘Put that fucker out. Have some respect. This is my mother’s house. Now, before I raise the fucking roof, I wanna know what the fuck you’re doing ’ere, and, for the record, you ain’t family. You’re Teddy’s niece by his sister who fucked off to Manchester, so what are ya doing ’ere?’
With her hands on her hips, Jennifer was about to launch a mouthful in reply, when Gloria, wrapped in her satin dressing gown, bowled into the room. ‘My flippin’ head. Whose idea was it to drink a bottle of champagne? That’s it. Never again.’ She stopped and tilted her head to the side. Seeing her son standing there with no top on and Jennifer still in her clothes from the night before, Gloria looked suspiciously at Mike. ‘Er, where’s Eric?’ she snapped.
Jennifer gave her a dismissive hand gesture. ‘Upstairs, I guess. I dunno. I crashed down ’ere, with ol’ misery guts.’
‘You what!’ Gloria shouted. ‘Where’s Zara? Mikey?’
Jennifer didn’t wait to get into a row. She snatched her bag and was out of the house, leaving Gloria with a face that could strip paint. ‘What the hell’s going on, Mikey? Please, tell me you didn’t . . . ?’
Mike shook his head, certain he’d not got his leg over with Jennifer. ‘Not a chance. I fucking never would. Ya know that, Mum. But how the hell did she get left alone with me? Why is she even ’ere? Now, Zara’s gone. For fuck’s sake, Mum. If she came in and saw me and that tart, well . . . ’
‘That Jennifer came with Eric. I thought he was seeing her?’
Mike sat back heavily on the sofa, with his head in his hands. ‘Zara’s gone,’ he repeated, bitterly.
While Gloria headed to the kitchen to make the coffee, Mike reached for his new iPhone. He stared at the screen and wondered for a moment how to use the newfangled device. After playing around, he managed to get Zara’s number up and pressed the call button. He wouldn’t know what to say if the reason for her leaving was because of the tart on the sofa. The call went over to voicemail, so he tried again. This time, her phone didn’t even ring, it went straight to divert. He knew then she was ignoring him. In a split second, he hurled the device across the room, just missing Gloria, who was holding a tray of coffee and biscuits.
‘She’s not answering me. That bloody Jennifer! What the fuck was all that about? Why didn’t someone get her a cab home?’
Gloria placed the tray on the coffee table and settled herself in the armchair opposite. ‘I thought she was Eric’s girlfriend. She was sitting with Eric when I went to bed.’
‘So where’s Eric now?’
Gloria sipped her coffee and winced. ‘Shit, that’s vile. Er, I dunno, Son. He ain’t in his room. Look, don’t panic about Zara. Eric may have taken her back to the house to pick up a few bits and pieces.’
‘What, now? Why would Eric do that? Why wouldn’t she ask me?’
Feeling nauseous herself, Gloria placed the cup of coffee down and tried to nibble on a biscuit. ‘Because, Mikey, you were probably out for the count. Blimey, you weren’t half knocking ’em back, dancing and singing. Still, did you have a good time?’
‘Mum! Listen! Zara’s not answering her phone, and now she’s switched the bleedin’ thing off.’
‘Stop worrying. Zara ain’t bloody buggered off for good. You’re getting paranoid. Now, drink your coffee and clear your mind.’
Mikey knew his mother was talking sense, and yet he regretted last night. So much so, he felt an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He should have left the party early and spent the first night at home in bed with Zara, making up for lost time. And there was so much they hadn’t talked about: planning their wedding, for example, or even going over the past and preparing for the future.
He could kick himself right now: all this time he’d waited for his girl, and now he’d royally fucked up – on the first bloody night as well. His anger then turned to Zara. How stupid was she? She should’ve known he wouldn’t be interested in anyone else. Acting like a kid running off, she should’ve fronted him out, like any grown woman would have.
Just as he was about to retrieve his phone and call his brother, Eric appeared – as if from nowhere – looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Fresh, tidy, and smart. Mr Cool. Mike had to blink. For a moment, he didn’t even recognize him. ‘Eric, where’s Zara?’
Mike clocked the cocky smirk but wondered if he was seeing things. ‘Eric?’
As if he was about to make an important announcement, Eric took a deep breath, fiddled with his cufflinks, and sighed. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, it had nearly killed him. Big, powerful Mike. The man himself. Self-assured and always having his own way whenever he wanted it. Well, sod you, big brother.
‘Well, now you’re sober, I need to tell you that last night Neil got stabbed and I do believe Zara has gone to have a meeting with the Lanigans this morning.’ Eric was a little frustrated himself, finding Zara had already left when he’d woken early this morning to get himself ready to escort her.
‘What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
Again, Eric smirked; it was a new feature that Mike hadn’t seen before. ‘Like I said, Mikey. You were drunk, and so I thought it best to talk to you this morning.’
For a moment, Mike felt entirely out of control. Eric should have woken him.
‘Is Neil dead, then?’
Eric shook his head. ‘No, I called the hospital this morning. He’s out of the woods but it was touch and go.’
‘Well, thank Gawd for that!’ piped up Gloria.
‘Where’s she meeting the Lanigans?’ asked Mike.
Eric shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I thought she would’ve told you. I guess she decided to go it alone.’
Mike couldn’t work out whether Eric’s
tone was sarcastic or genuine; either way, his brother was different. Having been apart for so long, he now wondered if he actually knew his brother at all. ‘So, where’ve you been?’
‘Just making a few calls and sorting out a little bit o’ business.’
Mike stood up and glared, not liking the sound of it. ‘What business?’
‘A bit o’ knocked-off gear.’
Looking Eric over, and noticing the smart suit, he cast a questioning look. ‘What, dressed like a fucking nightclub owner?’
‘Does it matter? The fucking world didn’t stand still while you were away, ya know. I was still earning a crust. What, d’ya think I was sitting twiddling me thumbs and waiting for you to tell me what to do?’
‘Obviously fucking not! Ya never even wrote me a poxy letter!’ bellowed Mike.
Gloria watched the tension between her two sons mounting and decided to nip it in the bud. ‘Lads, listen. Our Ricky will be up in a minute. I don’t want any bickering. Besides, it’s not like you two. I thought you were both on the same firm?’ She shot Eric a glare. And then she looked back at her eldest boy. Maybe he hadn’t got over Eric abandoning him when he went to prison after all. She couldn’t really blame Mike; she’d held it against Eric herself for fucking off to Spain when Mike needed him the most.
‘Sorry, Eric. Listen, mate, I’m still edgy. Prison does that to ya.’
Eric nodded in acknowledgement, but he didn’t offer his own apology. As far as Mike was concerned, it was like old times except his brother seemed to have gained an attitude. All the bollocks on the prison visit from Eric, pleading that he was really sorry and begging forgiveness, it all seemed so fake. Mike wondered if his brother had been taking acting lessons.
Storming from the room, Mike headed for the bedroom. After a quick shower and a strong coffee to wake him up, he hoped that he would see things in a clearer light. Staying at his parents for the night had been a wrong move. He should have gone home with Zara and Ricky and eased back into life. Damn it! Well, if she wanted to be stubborn, he would trump her in that department.