The Silence

by Linda Tweedie

  Paddy took off.

  Intervention

  The reception area was pretty quiet when Sam made her last call of the day. Jesus, that poor female was still hanging about and that face would put anyone off their dinner. Shit, it looked like her kid hadn’t turned up yet. She really should go and speak to her. It was just that kids went missing every bloody week and she’d spend hours searching for them, just to have them turn up after a few hours sporting new tattoos or off their faces on the latest drug of choice.

  “Hello, no word yet?” Tact was not one of her strong points. “Have the police been back in touch?”

  Carol was almost incoherent, crying and talking at the same time. “No-one. I’m nearly out of my mind. I have to do something, I can’t sit about here any longer, but I have no idea where to start.”

  “Shit,” thought Sam. Maybe she should have taken this more seriously. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Just that my friend was going to meet a guy she’d had a thing with in the summer.”

  “Right, but how is the child involved?”

  “I was ill and she had to look after her.”

  “What do you know about the boyfriend and where was she meeting him?”

  “His name is Bobby and he cleans pools.”

  “Fuck, she’s not after Bobby Mack?” Sam laughed. “This is a small town and there’s not a female in Marbella he’s not promised the earth to. As far as the tourists go, he tells them all he wants them to stay and have his babies.”

  “Well she believed him.”

  “Hang on, let me make a couple of calls.” She walked off.

  A few minutes later she returned. “Right, I’ve got his address, let’s go.” She jumped on her tiny scooter. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time, it’s not far,” and off they sped.

  “I’m not sure exactly which house, but we’ll just ring them all till we get him.”

  She pressed the intercom, “Hi, Pizza Express. I’ve got a delivery for Bobby Mack.”

  “Wrong house. You want Glendale, three down on the left,” the disembodied voice replied.

  There was no reply to the buzzer, but the two girls could hear shouting and loud voices, so whether the occupants liked it or not, they were about to have visitors.

  Bloody hell, thought Sam, I could lose my job. So what? She was a bloody good rep and she’d get another one easily enough.

  So much for high-tech security systems, the girls climbed up and over the gates and within minutes they were both in.

  There had obviously been a break-in, a robbery, or whatever. There were two unconscious, badly beaten men tied up on the patio and blood was everywhere. The older man was bad, really bad; in fact Sam was sure he was a goner.

  The other was coming round.

  “Help me,” he urged. “Help me. Get me out of this before they get away.” Noticing that Carol was on the phone the injured man called out, “No police. No police or they’ll harm the child. Get me free.”

  “Where’s my daughter? What have you done to her? Tell me now!” she screamed.

  “I haven’t done anything to her. It’s the others. For fuck’s sake, get me out of this lot before it’s too late.”

  Carol ran to the outdoor kitchen, picked the sharpest knife from the rail and proceeded to cut the binding.

  Despite his injuries, the younger of the two men grabbed something that had fallen on the floor and sprinted off in the direction of next door’s property.

  A bloodcurdling scream stopped both Sam and Carol in their strides. Fuck, what had they got into? Carol knew there was no doubt that the scream came from Amy and she was in serious trouble. She needed her mother.

  Still holding the knife, she ran for her life in the direction of the noise. God help whoever had made her child scream because she would gut them from end to end if they’d harmed her most precious possession.

  Housetrained

  Her nerves were shot to pieces. She was like a coiled spring; terrified the dogs would get their scent or that their captors would find them. Let’s face it, she thought to herself, it wouldn’t be that difficult, but it was the best hiding place she could find.

  Fortunately, thanks to the gentle bobbing of the boat, Amy had been lulled back to sleep and for the time being had stopped her sobbing. The only real chance they stood was to keep absolutely quiet, but the poor wee soul was distraught, if only she could last a little longer.

  She could hear scraping and, too scared to look, Erin pulled Amy closer to her. The scraping was getting more frantic, one of the dogs was investigating the boat. His kennel-mates were running to and fro at the water’s edge, ready to attack at any moment.

  A wet, slobbering head poked its way under the tarpaulin, eye to eye with Erin. For what seemed like hours, the dog and the girl stared each other out, both ready to strike. With all the strength she could muster Erin smashed the vicious brute across his snout with one of the oars. Yelping, it flew back to the water’s edge as the other two bounded through the water to the boat, snarling and growling.

  Endeavouring to cover the child, Erin wrapped Amy in the tarp as quickly as she could, leaving no protection for herself. Wielding the oar, she smashed and thrashed at the dogs, but it was a losing battle. One of the beasts had managed to grab Amy’s arm from under her covering and was pulling the child out of the boat.

  The noise of the barking and snarling beasts was incredible, then a shot rang out and then another. Silence. Erin collapsed in a heap.

  “Erin, Erin, it’s okay, it’s me, Dad. You’re safe, Erin.”

  The blackness washed over her again, but this time she didn’t want to fight it. She didn’t want to face what was out there. She must have died. Why else would she be able to hear her dad? He was at home, not here in Spain.

  She could hear lots of other voices. That was uncle Michael, how could she hear him? Someone was lifting her out of the boat. She knew who it was, she recognised his smell. It was him, he’d come to save her. What about Amy, was she safe? Please don’t let her have been mauled by the dogs, let her be safe. Warily Erin opened her eyes. It was her dad and uncle Michael. Carol was tending to Amy, but why was that man pointing a gun at them? Why were her dad and Michael just ignoring him? He was going to shoot. She was watching him intently. He knew she was watching and he smiled just as he pulled the trigger.

  “Nooooooooo!”

  Where did the warning come from? Who had saved his life? They were all dumbstruck. As he looked down at his daughter, the big Glasgow hard man had tears streaming down his face.

  “Erin, you spoke. You shouted. Please tell me I’m not imagining it.”

  “Uh huh,” replied his daughter. Her voice was husky and sounded like a rusty old machine. But it was a voice nonetheless.

  The gunman laughed and then the most peculiar expression crossed his face: both surprise and bewilderment as he slumped to the ground.

  Carol pulled the knife from between his shoulder blades. “He shouldn’t have hurt Amy,” was all she said.

  The Last Rites

  “Michael, we have to work fast. We need to get Erin, the kid and her mother out of here.”

  Paddy nodded in agreement. “Hey you, blondie,” he called to the holiday rep. “You look as if you’ve got a bit about you. I want you to get them back to the hotel, call the missing persons off, say they turned up or something. Then come straight back here and wait for us, okay?”

  Shit! Sam had been on the verge of disappearing back over the gate. She’d done what she set out to do, and anyway, this scene was far too heavy for her. But when the big man collared her she certainly wasn’t going to be disobeying. You never know, with a bit of luck she might come out of this a bit better off. Sam had learned a long time ago to look after number one. Just as long as the mother didn’t let on that she maybe should have acted sooner. That was a chance she’d have to take.

  They left the villa the way they’d entered. Sam bundled the shocked and traumatised passengers into the Merc
edes and headed back to town. Luckily, there were few guests around when they arrived at the hotel and they passed through reception and into the lift without arousing any interest.

  The rep carried out Paddy’s instructions and waited while Carol contacted the local police and called off the non-existent manhunt. Thank God they’d taken matters into their own hands if this was how missing persons were dealt with. Sam ordered room service and made sure her charges had everything they needed before heading off to collect Paddy and the other big man.

  Much to Paddy’s regret he certainly had given the old man a hammering. He was annoyed with himself, reckoning O’Farrell had got off lightly as he aimed one more vicious kick at the inert form. How he would’ve liked him to suffer, just as the merchandise he had traded in had suffered. He had no-one to blame but himself and his legendary temper. It had been a long time since he had vented that on anyone.

  Paddy loaded O’Farrell into the cruiser and headed round to the neighbouring mooring where Michael was waiting to stow his passenger on board. How the mighty had fallen. The dapper, well-dressed man about town was going to his watery grave. Not in a fine oak casket and draped in a silk shroud, mourned by many, but tied up in an old, filthy tarpaulin, mourned by none.

  The brothers headed out to sea with their silent cargo. McClelland was first overboard. There was a loud splash and Paddy’s old mate disappeared from view. Paddy felt nothing.

  Michael had already hoisted O’Farrell onto the rail when the body groaned.

  “Fuck, Paddy, he’s still alive,” said Michael, almost letting go.

  “Good,” said Paddy, peering into the face of the most despicable creature he had ever come across in his life. “Good. I want mine to be the last face he ever sees before entering the gates of hell.” He laughed as he stared right into the old man’s eyes and saw the terror in them.

  The shock of the cold water brought him immediately to his senses. As he surfaced, he saw the cruiser disappear into the distance.

  Meet the Wife

  As they secured the cruiser back in its moorings, the brothers were eager to get off the premises and away from the crime scene. It amused Paddy that despite the number of gunshots, no-one had come to investigate or called the police. This was an area where if something didn’t involve you, you didn’t get involved.

  Five more minutes and they would have been home and dry. As they sprinted across the terrace, Paddy and Michael were suddenly blinded by the full blare of the security lights and a strident, disembodied Scottish voice yelled at them from just inside the house. “What the fuck are you doing on my property and who the fuck are you?”

  Paddy couldn’t see a thing, but he recognised the woman immediately; the voice said it all. “Hello, Dianne, enjoy your trip? I’m afraid the welcome home party have left,” he laughed.

  “Jesus! Paddy Coyle,” said the stunned owner of the voice.

  “So you remember me? I’m flattered.”

  “Pete!” She screamed. “Pete, get your arse out here now.”

  “You’ll have to shout a bit louder than that darlin’, he’s well out of earshot.”

  “Where’s my husband? What the hell have you done with him?” Dianne roared at the two men.

  “Pete? Oh, Pete’s gone skinnydipping. Him and his best pal.”

  “Skinnydipping? What have you done to them?” wailed Dianne. “Why, Paddy? Why, after all these years? Why could you not leave us alone?”

  “My daughter, that’s why.”

  “Your daughter? What about her?”

  “I’ll get to her in a minute.” Quite nonchalantly Paddy turned to his brother, “Michael, go and get the car keys off blondie and send her back to the hotel. This might take a little time. Sit down, Dianne. We need to have a little chat.”

  “Chat? A fucking chat?” Hysteria was rising in her voice. “Oh, I’ll be chatting alright, chatting with the carabineri, the National Guard, Interpol. The fucking lot.”

  “That’s not a good idea, Dianne. I want you to listen before you make any rash decisions,” said Paddy quite amicably, although it was obvious from his demeanour that he was feeling anything but amicable.

  “Don’t think you scare me, you fucking two-bit crook.”

  “Language, Dianne. That’s not very ladylike.”

  “Where the fuck is everyone? Bobby, where’s Bobby? Where’s my son? By Christ, he had better be okay.”

  “Shut up, for fuck’s sake, woman. There’s no-one else but us on the premises. Your darling Pete stupidly made sure of that, and as for Bobby, I’ve not laid eyes on that young buck, but trust me, when I do, he may well be keeping his father company.”

  This was definitely the wrong thing to say to the incensed mother. Dianne was like a woman possessed. The thought of anyone threatening to harm her only son was more than she could endure. She flew off the sofa, gouging at Paddy’s face with her beautifully manicured talons.

  It took all of Michael’s strength to pull her off his brother and he received a few battle scars himself in the process. Christ, she was some woman.

  A swift sharp slap stunned her into silence. “This is your last chance, lady, or so help me God, you’ll suffer the same fate. Now shut up and listen to me.” Paddy shook her. “Your beloved husband and that lairy little Irish cunt are a right pair of nonces. For the past ten years or so they’ve been making a bloody fortune running the biggest paedophile ring in Europe. And before you say you don’t believe me, I know you know all about it.”

  “Prove it,” snarled the woman.

  “Oh, I’ve got the proof alright and one word in a certain person’s ear and the hottest club in town will be colder than a witch’s tit. You’ll be ruined, finished, and I suspect, possibly run out of town.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody will believe a word of it. We’re well respected in this town. Everybody knows Pete and Dianne Mack.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. When word of this gets out, there’ll be a queue of ‘friends’ around the block, ready to help you pack. Trust me. The big guns here will turn a blind eye to most activities. A bit of smuggling, guns, drugs, even sex workers. They don’t even mind a bit of murder or extortion. But when it comes to kids, the gloves are off and no-one will believe that you didn’t know all about it.”

  Dianne was losing some of her bravado. She knew from the past that Paddy Coyle would think nothing of finishing her off, but she had to keep face, it was her only chance.

  “Okay, so I had my suspicions,” she volunteered. “That’s why I was sent back home. I refused to breathe the same air as that odious little fucker. So I gave Pete an ultimatum. Frank or me.”

  “Who the fuck is Frank?” asked Michael.

  “O’Farrell. He likes to be called Frank when he’s in his civvies. Anyway, Pete promised me this was the last time, so I buggered off and left them to it. But I don’t understand how your daughter got mixed up in all this.”

  “We don’t know the full story, but it seems she came back to Marbella to hook up with some little fucker she met over the summer. Some guy who promised her they’d live happily ever after, just to get into her pants. Ring any bells?”

  Dianne blanched. She’d warned him for years that some day it would come back and bite him on his smooth, tanned, rounded arse. And it had, in the shape of Paddy Coyle.

  “Somehow she seems to have got caught up with that old bastard. Maybe she recognised him, I don’t know, but he and Pete kept her and her mate’s kid prisoner and tried to blackmail me.”

  “For fuck’s sake, what a pair of idiots.”

  “So, your choice. You keep your mouth shut. No police. You know nothing, you’ve just come back from a trip home. Michael and I are heading back to the hotel and we’ll be away early morning. If there are any repercussions, I will personally come back and finish you both off and you know that’s no idle threat.”

  “Not much of a choice, is it?” murmured Dianne.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re a very ric
h woman now. A very rich, single woman.”

  She was arranging the funeral in her head before Paddy and Michael got into the car.

  Homecoming

  “Hello, Mum.” The voice on the other end of the phone was barely distinguishable, like metal grating on metal.

  “Who’s that? Carol is that you?” Bridget shouted into the mouthpiece. “Speak to me! What’s happening?”

  Again the raspy voice, “It’s me, Mum. Erin.”

  “Oh my god. OH MY GOD,” she screamed as tears streamed down her face. “Is it really you, darling? Speak to me, say something else.”

  “Yes, it’s really me,” Erin laughed, handing the phone over to Carol.

  Bridget couldn’t take in what she’d just heard. Had Erin just spoken? It had been ten long years since she’d heard her daughter speak, never mind laugh. Dear God, what had happened to bring this miracle about?

  “Hello, hello, Mrs Coyle. It’s Carol, it’s okay, she’s safe and no real harm done.”

  “What do you mean no real harm? What harm did they suffer? It had to be something dreadful to shock her into getting her speech back.”

  “Honestly, she’s fine. Do you want to speak to her again?”

  Bridget composed herself and listened to something she never thought she’d hear again: her beloved daughter.

  ”Mum, it’s quite painful for me to speak, so you have to believe me, everybody’s fine and we’ll be home early morning, okay? Love you.”

  That simple phrase just broke her mother up. Not since she was eight years old had Erin Coyle been able to say what most mothers cherish. “Love you back,” said Bridget in floods of tears, but for the first time in a long, long while, tears of joy.

  “Are you feeling a bit happier?” Carol asked.

  “I am, dear. Goodness, I never asked. I take it your wee one is safe and well?”