The Rules

by KERRY BARNES

  ‘Willie, cut Torvic’s gag and try not to fuck his face up. I think I would like to do that myself.’

  Willie, now in his element, couldn’t contain himself. ‘It’s not ladylike, babe.’

  She nodded in a cold, controlled fashion. ‘Oh, I know, Willie, but shit happens!’

  Willie chuckled again and removed the gag, leaving just a minor graze. Torvic couldn’t get the words out quickly enough.

  ‘You, fucking stupid fool. You think you could ever step into that prick Izzy’s shoes? Dream on, lady! He may have run me out of the country once, but that was a big mistake. The manor wasn’t his to run, it was mine. And whether you like it or not, you’ll never take control.’ He looked around the room. ‘The Regans are history. You’ll all fall flat on your faces. You should’ve listened to me. I would’ve helped you to build a fucking empire,’ screamed Torvic.

  ‘I would never have worked with the likes of you. I may never be able to walk in my father’s shoes, but the one thing I will always do is to follow in his footsteps and play by the rules.’

  Torvic let out a deep, harsh, and forceful laugh. ‘Rules? Are you delusional or what? There are no rules, you silly bitch. There is no honour among thieves. And there is no such thing as live by the sword or die by the sword. We write our own rules, lady, and that’s where you’ve fallen down. You’re weak, feeble, and sentimental. You said to me once that if you ever came face-to-face with the Governor, you would stoop to his level.’ He laughed again. ‘You haven’t got it in you, have you? You said the Governor had written his own rule book, and you, ya stupid cunt, said you would break every one of them. Play me! Me! At my own game? The only game you could fucking play is snakes and ladders.’

  Zara stayed motionless, not even flinching, as he ranted.

  ‘Oh, I don’t say things lightly, I meant every word of them. Beside you are your two precious sons, and you, Torvic, will kill them. You see, you might think that by terrorizing innocent families and killing innocent people they were expendable, a necessary means to an end. And you might believe that I couldn’t stoop any lower. You are probably thinking that I haven’t the guts to match your game, but ya see, old-timer, I can stoop just that one unbearable step lower.’

  Torvic suddenly went quiet. His face paled over, and his eyes filled up. No way. There was only one move she could make that would be lower than what he’d ever done. He held his breath, praying he was wrong.

  ‘Mike, you wanted answers. Do you want to take over for a bit? I need a coffee.’

  Mike watched her in admiration. She was ruthless, the Devil’s daughter, but he loved her with every bone in his body. ‘Yes, Boss.’

  The tables had been turned: never in his wildest dreams would he have ever thought he’d call the love of his life ‘Boss’. Over the years, they’d grappled over power in an affectionate way. It had been a real tug of war; but tonight, she’d shown her worth, and he had to respect the woman.

  He stormed into the backroom and practically dragged the almost dead weight and threw him on the floor in front of Alastair.

  Torvic sighed with relief. His worst fears were misplaced if Dez was the best they could do. He wanted to laugh. He had no affection for the man; he was just another foot soldier hooked on Flakka and eager to please. His eldest son, Stephan, suddenly came out of his shock and looked down at the bloodied mess in front of him as Dez writhed around the floor in agony. The blood-soaked jeans and anguish on his face made Stephan almost faint with nerves.

  Mike kicked Dez in the back. ‘Look up, you piece of shit!’

  Dez gasped for air as the kick had severely winded him.

  ‘Which one of these cunts helped you to batter my son?’

  Dez didn’t even attempt to lie or argue. Straightaway, he pointed to Alastair. ‘Him. He did!’ he cried.

  ‘Are you fucking sure?’

  Dez curled in a ball. ‘Yes, yes, it was him. I didn’t want to hurt the girl. I only wanted to give your son a beating. I never thought it would go that far. Please, I’m begging you. No more.’

  Lance was balling his fists, trying desperately hard to hold his temper. The anger was at boiling point. With flared nostrils, he turned to Zara, who’d just reappeared with a cup of coffee in her hand. ‘Are you done now?’

  She shook her head. ‘Wait, Lance. I’m a woman who stays true to her word. I promised Torvic that I would stoop lower than him. That’s going to happen. Now!’

  Torvic closed his eyes, afraid to hear another word. The thought of what she’d planned ripped the heart right out of him. He knew what was coming, and he knew he would rather die a thousand horrific deaths than face her wrath.

  ‘Neil!’ she called out. ‘Bring her in!’

  That was it. Torvic felt a pain that only death could stop.

  He had to open his eyes, he had to see, although he knew it would totally break his heart.

  From behind the door, Neil and Shamus appeared, holding a woman between them. Tiffany, his treasured granddaughter, she was the only person alive who he would die for. His sweet little angel, who he used to tuck up in bed, who he watched grow into a beautiful woman. She was the child who was tougher than both his two sons together. His eyes met hers, and he trembled as he witnessed the fear on her little face. A face that was pleading for help. Her eyes, soaked in tears, had turned down at the silent pleading. Her round white face and her pretty heart-shaped purple lips were bursting through the gag. The cloth shoved in her mouth may have stopped the words, but he knew she was begging him to help her. He had always supported her. She called him her guardian angel. Yet she wanted to be like him and run the firm. She loved the excitement, the exhilaration, and for a woman, she was strong. He pushed her time and time again to see how far she would go and how much she could handle. He was proud. He once watched her plunge a knife into his runner who disobeyed him. She didn’t flinch when she threw the acid and watched the skin peel from the woman’s face. In fact, she threw another load on her just to hear the blood-curdling screams. His Mighty Mouse, he called her. She listened, and she learned, and she did as she was told.

  Stephan, her father, wasn’t as strong as Tiffany; he may have been her flesh and blood, but he was pathetic in comparison.

  ‘Oh God, no. Please! Don’t hurt her. You can kill us but spare her. She never hurt you or anyone!’

  Zara began pacing the floor. ‘I must admit you have a clever little granddaughter . . . but she’s not intelligent enough to outsmart me. You see, Torvic, something disturbed me immensely when she was held at knifepoint. Oh yes, the attack was definitely the actions of this so-called Governor, and, for a moment, I thought it really was Eric. The thing is, though, while you made out a strong case for me to believe Eric was involved in all this shit, I could never believe in my heart that he’d really hurt a woman. And he certainly wouldn’t hold a knife to a young girl’s throat.’

  Mike watched and was saddened to think that it had ever crossed Zara’s mind that his brother would do something as callous as that. As much as he was fed up with his brother’s antics, he still knew the man’s level, and hurting girls wasn’t in his blood. He was just relieved that Zara had come to her senses before it was too late: she could have cut more than Eric’s wrist.

  Zara took another sip of coffee, before she continued. ‘So, I was puzzled by Tiffany’s detailed knowledge of the person she described. It was a bit like the TV programme Through The Keyhole. The clues were painstakingly obvious. It was almost as if she was handing me the evidence on a plate. But then I thought about things. If a man suddenly grabbed me in the street in the dark, with a knife at my throat, I wouldn’t be taking much notice of his aftershave, or the bandage on his wrist, or the gold ring on his little finger, would I? You see, Tiffany fucked up. She was so eager to give me such a detailed description, it was just too rehearsed. Imagine a young woman having a blade under her chin. Now would she even be able to look at the perpetrator’s wrist and their little finger? And would she honestly be able to
tell you what type of aftershave the villain was using? You can’t kid a kidder as they say, and I’m afraid the girl chose the wrong person to try that stunt.’

  ‘Yeah, look, please, I did put her up to it. It was me, it was all me. She never hurt anyone. Please let her go. Kill me, but just let her go!’ Torvic begged.

  Zara took one last sip of her coffee and placed the empty cup on the draining board.

  ‘Are you sure about that, Torvic? Your sweet, innocent little granddaughter, a law-abiding citizen who wouldn’t hurt a fly? ’Cos, I know different. She threw acid on a woman. She destroyed her pretty face.’

  Torvic gasped. ‘No. That wasn’t her, that was me. She didn’t do it!’

  Zara laughed. ‘Oh, fuck off, Torvic. Mike told me about the police report, a woman fitting your granddaughter’s description, who poured acid over that innocent woman’s face.’ She sneered. ‘Accept it: you taught her everything she knows.’

  ‘No, I swear. She’s not like that. She’s a kid. Look at her, for Christ’s sake.’

  Zara turned and faced the young woman. ‘Hmm, she looks over twenty-one to me, which, to my eye, makes her a woman, doesn’t it? Like me, eh?’

  Torvic shook his head. ‘No, she’s not like you. Please, she’s . . . ’

  Zara laughed. ‘Yeah, I know, she’s how my father saw me, his precious child. But, hey-ho, life’s a fucking bitch, and then you die.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  Lance was now growling under his breath like a vicious dog. ‘Enough, Zara. I’m gonna kill ’em!’

  Mike pulled him back. ‘Hang on, Lance. I have as much right as you.’

  Lance turned and faced Mike dead on. He poked his finger in Mike’s chest. ‘Don’t you fucking tell me you have as much right as me. Remember this: your son survived, but my daughter didn’t, did she?’

  Torvic was watching, praying that a fight ensued between the two most prominent men in the room. It was his only chance of fucking up Zara’s plans.

  Mike stepped back and hung his head. ‘Ya know what? You’re right, mate. I’m sorry, buddy, really sorry.’

  Mike’s altered stance, the change in his body language, and especially his soft, compassionate words produced the desired effect. Lance backed off.

  Alastair, as cold and emotionless as he was, was unnerved by seeing his niece in fear for her life and by the mess Mike had made of Dez. It was a salutary moment; it was time to take stock of his situation – his life. For once, he didn’t feel invincible. Life had been good to him. He knew his exceptional looks, smart clothes, and the way he spoke, set him miles apart from the double life he’d led. Now he realized that things looked decidedly ugly for him.

  Sleeping with Lance’s wife, he’d enjoyed outwitting one of the country’s most valued assets in the SAS. Yet once Lance had fucked off out of the Army and out of Rebecca’s life, he was able to plan for the future – his future. He realized that Rebecca was good for business – an MP he could manipulate to reduce the police budget and to enable him to run a drugs business more efficiently. All he had to do was bite the bullet and shag the ugly bitch every so often. He had to hand it to Lance, though. He was a perceptive bastard.

  Although he suspected Kendall had never voiced to Lance his own carnal desires for her, she knew he liked her, and she was very aware that her scornful looks and piss-taking smirks had riled him up. His obsession for her was probably why she’d wanted to leave home, but he couldn’t bear it. After all, he was used to getting what he wanted.

  Alastair looked over at Lance, who appeared to have expanded like one of those building foams in a matter of minutes. The man’s shoulders seemed huge, and his chest was like a gorilla’s. Maybe a sudden whoosh of fear was making himself see things out of perspective. This was new; he’d never felt fear in his whole life. Everything was always on an even keel; a rush of adrenaline was alien to him. He looked at his father, who was showing every emotion under the sun. Again, it was unnatural to him. His father had once told him that he was the epitome of a psychopath, and somewhere in the same sentence, he’d said he was proud. Yet looking at Dez reeling in such agony did something to him. He thought maybe it was because of the fact that he hadn’t inflicted the pain. For when he watched his victims writhing around, he got such a kick out of it.

  Stephan’s head bobbed up and down as he shook all over. What disturbed him the most was this whole set-up. The partition wall half-opened, with men making an appearance as if Zara was a host on This Is Your Life, was scary to say the least. His eyes looked to his left, to see if there was anyone else about to turn up. Had she rounded up all their enemies to put on some display to make it clear that she was the boss – that she was the bitch from hell, who won every turf war?

  As if Zara could read his mind, she called out, ‘Eric, can you bring me the acid, please?’ She turned to Torvic. ‘A nice try, old man. It was lucky I came to my senses before I actually killed Eric. You failed, Torvic. Your silly idea of turning our firms against each other might have worked if you’d only known me well enough, but you underestimated me. Izzy never did, though. He put me in charge because he knew I was smarter than the likes of you.’ She turned to see Eric entering the room and holding two decanters of acid.

  She gave him a generous smile. Their long phone conversation had been a salutary lesson in how to put all their grievances aside and look at each another anew. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as she took one of the glass bottles. ‘How’s your head?’

  He smiled back. ‘I’ll live.’

  Lance stepped forward and put his arm around Eric’s shoulder. ‘Ya did well, mate, but I think the Boss, here, was just a tad smarter.’

  Eric gave Lance a smile. He looked up at the man with whom he’d been only too willing to join forces. Lance had left the SAS ostensibly to retire from the Services, but, actually, he’d been invited to become part of the chain of specialists in the field of covert intelligence. Lance’s brief, sanctioned by COBRA, the cross-departmental committee that comes together to respond to national emergencies, was to act as a conduit – a middle man – and he hired Eric to infiltrate a group led by the Governor.

  Although Eric had made a few mistakes and followed wrong leads, he knew that the Governor, whoever he was, would hone in on Zara or his family. The one thing he would die for was his family. He’d hoped that by proving his worth, he could get back in Mike’s good books, although he couldn’t help but still feel jealous. He prayed that one day he would overcome his inferiority complex and become his own person.

  Torvic glared, his mind now awash with confusion. How did Lance know Eric? What was the acid for? What were they going to do next? And the biggest question: would they let his precious Tiffany live?

  ‘Willie, would you cut loose Torvic’s ties? The man is going to need his hands.’

  Instantly, Torvic saw a way out. If he could get a grip of Willie and that knife, he could have a hostage and a bargaining tool. Yet, as if the men in the room were telepathic, they all pulled out their guns and released the safety catches. The simultaneous click, click from their guns was so loud in the charged silence. His eyes widened as he watched Zara hold a decanter of acid above Tiffany’s head.

  What the fuck were they about to do? Panic set in and his body became rigid with terror; Sonya Richard’s plight was now at the forefront of his mind.

  In one fluid movement, Willie cut the rope that held Torvic’s upper body to the chair. The diver’s knife was as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. The slice ripped into him but not deep enough to cause his innards to spew out. He winced at first and then felt the blood returning to parts of his body that had gone numb from the tight rope. Pins and needles fizzed around his chest and along his arms. He was in no state to take on any of these men and neither would he risk his granddaughter’s life to go for Willie; besides, he would only have a ten per cent chance anyway.

  ‘You really believed I wouldn’t be cold-hearted enough to take revenge in the same way that you do busin
ess, but you were wrong. Now then, this is what you’re going to do. But, before I tell you, you need to know why. You see, in the last few hours, I’ve managed to gather so much information about you. Turning all of you in to the police would be just and fair, but they’re not bothered if we finish you off ourselves.’

  Torvic’s quick breathing was now noisy, yet he wouldn’t interrupt her in any way, in case Zara let that acid drop on his granddaughter’s head.

  ‘You see the reason that the Regan firm was released early was to clean up the streets, to find you and your gang, and to take you all out. Eric, who wanted to run his own firm to reclaim his brother’s respect, was given a tip-off as to who the Machine was. Eric and Lance then made a pact. Their aim was to discover who was behind the drug called Flakka.’

  She looked over at Lance. ‘It’s just so sad that Kendall Mullins was murdered by the evil drug at your son’s hands. You see the Police Commissioner, Alastair’s brother-in-law, wasn’t fit for purpose, really. The Army seconded Lance, at the government’s request, to find out who you were. Even the government want you dead and buried. They see little upside in bringing you to justice. In fact, they’ve removed your rights as British citizens. I just thought you should know.’ She paused and looked at Eric. ‘Hand Torvic the acid, would you?’

  Eric looked rough; his wrist was still bandaged, and his head was badly bruised. Zara felt a twinge of guilt. If only he’d said. She could have forgiven him for trying to make a pass at her; she guessed he couldn’t help who he loved. The same could be said for her, in that she couldn’t just turn off her feelings for Mike.

  Torvic watched Eric approach with the decanter in his hand, and, for a moment, he stupidly thought of throwing the contents in Zara’s face. However, firstly, the liquid would in all probability not even reach, and secondly, would she instead pour it over Tiffany’s face? The thought wasn’t worth thinking about. He took the decanter with both hands and shook all over. Flashes of scary images shot through his mind as to how devastating this evil liquid would be once it touched and devoured a person’s skin.