by Paul Jones
‘Did Stacey happen to witness any of it?’
Will turned back to look out of the windscreen. ‘Only the last part of it, she appeared in the neighbour’s car on the way to take Georgie to the vet. And it’s because of what she saw me do that still haunts her to this very day.’
Geoff didn’t know what to say, then asked about poor Georgie. ‘What happened to your dog?’
‘He had to be put down.’
Geoff sat there mourning for him, then added. ‘Be that as it may, they deserved it, Will, don’t beat yourself up about it.’
But Will wasn’t satisfied. ‘Thing is, Geoff, If I could turn back time I would do exactly the same thing, I wouldn’t change anything, and that’s what Stacey just can’t seem to understand.’
Geoff sat there looking frustrated then Will reached over to shake his hand.
‘Cheers for the invite today, and thank Jan again for me will you?’
Geoff took his hand. ‘Yeah, of course I will, you’re welcome anytime, you know that.’
Will smiled, and climbed out of the car. By the time he had reached the other side, Geoff called out. ‘Hey, Will, at least you got the chance to catch those bastards yourself, you can be thankful for that.’
Will stopped, ‘no, Geoff, I can be thankful that I didn’t catch them killing my dog, otherwise I would be serving life right now.’
CHAPTER 21
His name was Gary Davies, and he was an eighteen-year-old youth who lived on one of the sink estates in Colwyn Bay. Always known for wearing a baseball cap, this tall, stringy waste of skin and bone just happened to be the culprit who was involved in the kitten throwing incident.
Boxing Day evening, Davies and two of his cronies were crammed into his customised sports car with the show-off tinted windows. Parked in pitch black darkness halfway around the Great Orme, they sat in wait for a rendezvous with some drug dealers who were going to supply them with that new controversial drug Meow, Meow. To Davies and co. this was the holy grail of a great mind blast which they had planned for their New Year’s Eve rave next week. Davies seated in the back seat, like he was some sort of infamous gangster was the first to spot the approaching headlights in the rear-view mirror.
‘Sorted,’ he said, alerting the others
The car pulled up behind them and flashed its lights. Davies tapped his mate in the front.
‘OK, let’s do it.’
Both of them climbed out of the passenger’s side and marched towards the car’s headlights. Straight away, they could see it was an estate van, but as they got closer, Davies wondered what the hell this guy in the van was wearing over his head. As they reached the driver’s door, Davies and his mate exchanged strange looks at this man sitting there in a balaclava. From the back of the van, two black figures leapt out on them, and slapped a cloth to their mouths containing chloroform. The two lads struggled frantically and Davies’s cap was knocked off in the fight, then their bodies went limp. Seeing all this, the third guy waiting in Davies’s car, fired up the ignition and skidded off, completely abandoning his chums.
Now that they were unconscious, the abductors lifted Davies into the back of the van. The other they left in the cold, wet grass to sleep off the drug, and then they drove off.
Slowly, Davies began to stir, his vision muddled and unsteady. He was sitting on the floor in a dark room, and he could feel cold tiles against his back. His hands were bound, and heavy tape covered his mouth. The whole place smelt of dried urine, and he began to puzzle what the hell was going on? Was this some rival gang getting vengeance? Well it definitely wasn’t the drug squad. What the hell? He shook his head.
The entrance door opened and someone wandered in with a torch, the powerful beam making Davies’s eyes squint. The figure squatted down beside him, and shone the beam right into his eyes, Davies tried to shy away from it, and muffled something abusive to his captor. The man said nothing in return, but held up a cut-out piece of newspaper, then trained the beam on it so Davies could read it. The headlines read:
CALLOUS YOB FEEDS KITTEN TO PIT-BULLS.
Davies’s eyes registered alarm, and only then did he begin to realise that perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea after all. The man stood back up and trudged back out taking the sobering beam of light with him. For a few moments, Davies was left to sweat it out and reflect on what he had done, his heavy breathing raising his chest up and down.
Again the door opened and behind the intense cone of light, he saw the silhouette of the man and two sinister-looking shapes squatted down beside him. The two shorter shapes began to growl at the intruder sitting in the dark. Now Davies knew what was going to happen, and his heart began to thump in his chest. The two snarling Rottweiler’s pulled heavily on their leashes, and the hand that was restraining them let them go. Davies screamed against his mouth tape as the dogs charged at him then the door was closed locking them all in.
*
‘Have you seen the newspaper Geoff?’ Jan marched through from the breakfast room.
Geoff’s eyes were peeled to the TV screen. ‘No, why?’
Jan breezed through still holding the newspaper. ‘There’s a report about a so-called vigilante attack on the young man who had thrown the kitten to the two pit-bull dogs. It says that a Mr Davies was found staggering around the North promenade covered in blood and suffering from severe flesh wounds. (reading from the paper) After he received hospital treatment, Mr Davies told police that he was kidnapped and taken to a secluded toilet in Happy Valley where he was locked inside and set upon by two Rottweilers. Mr Davies’s injuries were so severe that he required an emergency operation to save one of his hands. The police are looking into the incident.
Suddenly, Geoff lifted his head from the newspaper. Meanwhile, Jan wandered off into the kitchen, her voice trailing behind her. ‘Someone’s beaten you lot to it. Unless it was one of your own who got him.’
Geoff reminded himself about the terrible story Will had told him about his pup Georgie. Then another terrible thought entered his head.
*
Stacey was now back from her Christmas break with relatives, and was enjoying an early evening stroll on the prom with Will. Will noticed that she looked a bit sullen.
‘So did you miss me then?’ he asked.
‘A little bit,’ she teased, and changed the subject. ‘So when are you going to come over to my hotel for a change? Mum and Dad are beginning to think you’re avoiding them.’
Will tapped a pebble away with the toe of his trainers. ‘I will, I will, I just want us to establish ourselves a bit more first, you know. If we’re relaxed together then they’ll be able to see that, and it’ll convince them, especially your mother that we’re going in the right direction.’
‘But we are relaxed,’ She replied.
Will looked at her doubtingly, ‘You sure everything went well at your relatives? You don’t look very happy about it.’
Stacey lowered her head as if her troubled mind was weighing it down.
‘Yeah, it went fine, but it’s not that. Have you read the local newspaper today?’
‘No,’
‘Well, some chap threw a kitten into a garden with two pit-bulls…’
Will cut in, ‘oh yeah, I heard about that in Geoff’s.’
‘Apparently, some vigilantes got him and locked him in the public toilets with a couple of Rottweilers and they nearly ripped him to pieces.’
‘Good,’ Will retorted, and Jan gazed at him sceptically.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Well, based on how you reacted with Georgie, sounds like your kind of retribution?’
Will gave her a tired look. ‘I don’t do things like that anymore, remember?’
Stacey eyed him closely, looking for any hint of guilt.
‘Where the hell am I going to get two Rottweilers from?’ he huffed.
Not wanting to start an argument, she let it go and walked on. ‘OK, let’s forget it then.�
��
Behind her back, Will sighed relieved then followed her.
*
Sunday evening, on Trinity Avenue, Tom and Charlie were sitting in the old banger waiting for someone to join them. Inside the car the mood was tense, both of them feeling the effects of pre-fight fear.
‘So do you think this will sort it then?’ Charlie asked.
Tom sighed. ‘It better had. We need to get a message back to whomever they are that we want to sort it out. It’s obvious that Merseyside outfit sent that team down to get us. We don’t want to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.’
‘Christ, I hope so. Sure we shouldn’t tell Geoff? I mean we could still pretend it’s the Wilkinsons.’
Tom shook his head. ‘This is our problem remember? Wouldn’t be fair to include the rest of the team. We started this, so we’re going to sort it out once and for all.’
‘What if this guy gets back to them and they want double their money back for the hassle of stealing their drugs?’
Tom felt like telling him to shut up then someone approached the car and got in. Nigel, the bouncer and ex rugby player straightened out his leather jacket as he settled in the back seat. Eyeing his two accomplices in the front, he sighed, OK, let’s do it.
*
Having just showered, Geoff felt an itch in his groin, and thought about his chances of getting a jump with his wife later, after all, there was no work in the morning. Diving into the bedroom, he went to the wardrobe to secretly check on the supply of condoms to make sure. In the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms, his mobile phone vibrated against his thigh. Curious who that might be on a Sunday evening, he took it out. On the caller display window, it read. MIKE TEAM. Geoff thrust the phone to his ear.
‘Hi Mike, what’s up?’
‘Geoff, we have a problem.’
Geoff plonked on the edge of his bed to listen. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s Tom and Charlie, they’ve gone after the head of the Wilkinson’s gang.’
Geoff stomach did a flip-flop. ‘What?’
‘They didn’t want to get the team involved, and wanted to handle it themselves.’
‘Bloody idiots,’
‘Thing is they made me promise not to mention it to anyone else because it might endanger us all, but I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.’
‘Shit, so where are they now?’
‘They’re on their way to the Ship Inn in Rhos.’
‘OK, I’m on my way to pick you up, you can tell us the rest on the way there. And while you’re waiting contact the others.’
‘I will.’
Geoff ended the call, and adrenalin jetted into his stomach flushing out any previous thoughts of a roll in the sack with his missus. Not wasting a second, he threw on a tee-shirt and hoodie, and dashed through to the living room to see Jan.
‘Was that you on the phone I could hear?’ she asked as he burst in.
‘Yeah, I’ve got to pop out… emergency… the team,’ he blustered.
A look of foreboding came over Jan’s face. ‘Why what’s happened?’
‘Haven’t got time, I’ll explain later,’ he said and kissed her on the forehead.
The feel of her soft warm skin made him want to stay at home with her safe and cosy, and it took every drop of courage he had to tear himself away. As he left, Jan tried to tell him to be careful, but Geoff didn’t hear. Fearing for her husband’s safety, she sealed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer.
At the boot of his car, Geoff checked that his nunchakus (two batons of teak wood joined by a chain, the weapon made famous in the Bruce Lee films) were safely inside, they were, and he was off. Moments later, he found Mike standing waiting by the Linx hotel roundabout on Conwy road, and Geoff flashed his lights to signal his arrival. Mike jumped in and Geoff shot off towards Rhos-on-Sea.
‘Did you phone the others?’ He asked.
‘Yeah, Guy and Brad are going to meet us there.’
‘So what’s all this about then?’
Mike blew apprehensively. ‘I don’t know why they’ve decided to take it upon themselves, all I do know is that on Christmas Eve, Tom was talking to this guy Snoopy. He’s the bouncers’ local grass, he knows everything about everybody. After, Tom and Charlie were chatting amongst themselves and I just caught something about going to sort it out. So when I asked them innocently what that was about Tom told me they were planning to have a meet with the Wilkinson’s gang, in the Ship Inn on Sunday night. So I suggested to him about mentioning it to the team, and he said no. As far as he was concerned, it was a matter for him and Charlie to sort out.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell us all this sooner?’ Geoff flicked him a vexed glance.
Mike shrugged helplessly. ‘I know, I know, I should have done, but they made me promise, shit,’ he cussed himself.
Geoff shook his head. ‘Why are they doing all this by themselves? That’s what I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t know.’
Geoff then asked Mike if he was tooled up, and Mike unzipped his Peter Storm jacket and showed him the tip of the baseball bat he used in the Wetherspoon’s ambush. ‘What about you?’
‘Got the nunchakus in the boot.’
The air between them went silent, and the adrenalin began to flow; all Geoff could think about now was fight. That sick, paralysing feeling as his body prepared to do battle. He was now lost in his own psychological hell. Will I be able to cope? Can I really handle this? What if we lose? What if we really get injured or worse? Christ, I wish I was back at home right now! Geoff was scared, Mike was scared, but neither would admit it to the other.
As they reached the small roundabout, the urge to dip down Glanwyddan Lane and head back home was overwhelming. Geoff swallowed courageously and proceeded onwards.
Passing the Llandrillo college, Geoff’s mobile rang, and he flipped it out and tossed it over to Mike.
‘Hello?’ Mike answered for him. ‘What, what?’
Geoff pulled in, mounting the edge of the kerb.
‘It’s Guy,’ Mike told him.
Geoff waited on tenterhooks.
‘OK, OK,’ Mike obeyed, and ended the call.
‘Well?’ Geoff cried.
‘They’re not at the Ship Inn, Guy and Brad saw Tom and Charlie getting bundled into a VW transporter van. There were about a dozen men with them.’
‘What the hell?’ Geoff baffled.
‘They must have been set up.’ Mike explained. ‘Guy said they’re right behind them on the way back towards Penrhyn Bay.’
Geoff snarled with frustration, and pulled a quick U-turn in the road ready to double back. By the time they had reached the Penrhyn roundabout, the phone went again. Mike answered, and Geoff dipped his car in beside a row of shops.
‘They’ve turned down Bryn-y-Bia road at the Llandudno-welcomes-you sign. They didn’t follow because they saw the van stop further down, so they pulled in out of sight.’
‘Tell Guy to get the van’s registration number,’ Geoff ordered him, and wheel-spun off to the top of Penrhyn hill.
Turning off at the brightly-lit Llandudno sign, they caught sight of Guy waving them down, and nearly slammed into the back of his grey car.
Guy and Brad dashed over as Geoff threw open his car door.
Guy puffed. ‘We saw the van stop, and all of them got out and headed off into one of them fields.’
‘How far down the lane are they?’
Brad cut-in. ‘About a hundred yards or so.’
‘Get yer tools,’ Geoff ordered and darted to the boot of his car for his nunchakus.
As the others stood clutching their baseball bats, Geoff grabbed his sticks and slammed the boot shut. Noticing Guy holding a bottle with a dirty rag hanging out of the top, Geoff asked what the hell the petrol bomb was for?
Guy shrugged. ‘Yer never know when it might come in handy.’
Geoff reminded him about the van’
s registration number, and Guy showed it scribbled on the palm of his hand. ‘What do you want that for?’
‘I’m going to give Phil a call, this is where we might need his help. If Tom and Charlie have walked into a trap, we don’t want to do the same without a bit of back up, do we?’
*
Tom, Charlie, and Nigel were forced down on to their knees in the damp grass, their hands were bound behind their backs with insulation tape. They were in some dark woodland, and from their position they could see the illuminated bay beyond. Behind them, six balaclavared figures stood wielding hunting knives, and bats of their own. One of their captors spoke up in a thick scouse accent.
‘So you came to try and sort it, did yer?’ Bet you had a real shock when you found us waiting there for you. Thought you get away with screwing us? Well don’t you worry, we’re going to take very good care of you all.’
The second he finished his sentence, what looked like a firework illuminated the black sky in a giant arc, and when it landed it exploded into a whoosh of flames. In alarm, everyone except the hostages scattered like chickens in a farmyard. Before anyone had the time to react, the team were on them. Mike clubbed one of the balaclavas out, Guy and Brad took out another three between them. And Geoff had already nunchuked one to the ground and was measuring up his second. In the flickering light of the petrol fire, the remaining balaclava member back-pedalled, knife in hand. Geoff, one nunchaka under his arm, the other held with his right hand, inched closer towards him, taunting him to either fight or flee. The tables were now turned and it looked like the team might just pull this off. They were wrong! Half a dozen more balaclavas rushed out of the darkness armed with .38 revolvers, and completely surrounded them. The team froze, and their hopes died along with the shrinking flames of the fire. The cold steel of a gun’s barrel was pushed against the back of Geoff’s head, and his nunchakas dropped to the ground. Now he wished he’d stayed home with Jan after all.
‘Let’s do em all now,’ scouse balaclava snarled.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you?’ Geoff warned, trying desperately to control the quiver in his voice. ‘My mobile is due to go off any time now, and if I don’t answer it, the police are going to be all over you.’