The Rack & Cue

by Hughes, David Owain

  “What is this?” Johnson wanted to know, facing Hun, who was sat in shadows. Smoke vapours rose about him as he smoked his pipe.

  With a flick of his hand, the two by the bed sat down. Shark removed his bulk from the doorway, which in turn filled the cell with light as he stood at ease. The master came into focus. He was old. Much, much older than Johnson had expected the biker leader to be – if he was a day under eight-five, then Johnson would have been shocked.

  “Expecting a younger man, soldier?!” Hun addressed him.

  “I…How did…”

  “Your face said it all,” the older man said, smiling. He filled his lungs with more smoke and exhaled it.

  The tobacco smelt exotic. Spicy.

  Johnson said nothing as he dug his cigars out and indicated as to whether or not his own vice could be granted.

  “Go ahead. Guards, you may leave us,” Hun said.

  “Got the run of the place, hey?” Johnson cracked.

  “Power, money and fear have a way of getting one what he wants. Needs,” Hun said.

  “And what is it that you need, Hun?” Johnson asked, wasting no time in pushing on with business. The old man and his thugs had him slightly rattled. He didn’t like confined spaces at the best of times.

  “A blunt man. I like that,” Hun said, then chuckled. “I’m looking for a man. A very dangerous man. A man who has caused me terrible problems. A man who keeps me in constant fear, Mr. Soldier.”

  “Johnson,” he corrected Hun.

  The other man smiled.

  “I want this man killed. Wiped from this world, once and for all.” A mask of loathing briefly covered his face as Hun looked through Johnson and stared into space.

  “Who is he? What’s his importance?” Johnson wanted to know.

  “Are such questions important to a mercenary?!” Hun spat. “A cold-blooded killing machine, who clearly sleeps well at night.”

  “I could say the same thing,” Johnson said.

  Their eyes locked and fused, neither man willing to break the stare.

  “This man has cost me a lot, such as my freedom. My club. My business. My woman. My friends…The list is inexhaustible, my friend.”

  Taking a long drag on his cigar, Johnson began to relax. This would be the first time he’d ever worked for a convicted felon. But, as he always said, if the money and target were both right, then that would be no problem to him.

  After all, he was a merc, and even a merc needed to pay his bills and put food on the table.

  Nestling into the chair in front of Hun, which had been placed in readiness, Johnson wanted to know more before he ventured on to the mission – provided he was going to take the job. It was no big deal if he didn’t, because he had others lined-up.“Tell me more,” the ex-soldier said.

  A hush fell over Broadmoor prison, as if everyone inside wanted to know Hun’s business. His story.

  The older man, who still wore his M/C cut, biker boots and jeans, adjusted himself in his chair. After taking a drag on his pipe and exhaling the smoke, he began.

  “Did you ever hear of the great biker war of 1970?” Hun wanted to know. “It started in The Traveller’s Arms pub, Cardiff, between The Boas and The Huns.”

  “It rings a bell,” Johnson admitted. “But I would have been far too young at the time to remember it.”

  “I thought you may have been,” Hun muttered. “It was big news. Made every paper.”

  “It was a bar fight?” Johnson wanted to know.

  “That’s how it started,” Hun said. “The Traveller’s Arms was Hun territory. Had been for many, many years. The pub served as The Huns’ HQ. It was run by the club. It was bought as a way of making ‘clean’ money,” Hun said. He smiled to himself, as though remembering something from his past.

  “I see,” Johnson said. He was now captivated; drawn to what the man had to say.

  “It spilled over. Got ugly. A lot of people got hurt. Killed, even,” Hun said, as he seemed to do that ‘staring-into-space-thing again’.

  “Tell me,” Johnson said, eagerly wanting to know the whole damn saga.

  “It was late evening. Eleven, maybe twelve. Locking up time, that’s for sure. We had a load of members in the pub, along with a few punters. The Boas were probably expecting it to be quiet when they hit. Trying to blindside us. We never knew they were out for war. We thought all our bad blood and scores had been settled. I later learned that the order had come from higher up – The Boas wanted us out.”

  “But why?” Johnson wanted to know. You shared Cardiff for years, didn’t you?”

  “That’s what we thought,” Hun said, leaning forward. A huge scar could be seen in the light. It ran from his temple to his jaw line. “This is a reminder of that night,” he said, pointing at it.

  “How did it start?”

  “Out of the blue, as I said. Just before closing up for the evening, in walked twenty of them, armed to the teeth. They’d called in Nomads and some muscle from other chapters they have close to Cardiff: Newport, Swansea, Carmarthen and the Rhondda Valleys.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Johnson uttered.

  “There wasn’t any shooting involved. They hadn’t expected the pub to be as full as it was. They were there to enforce. Bust the place up. Break some heads. See us out. They hadn’t counted on coming up against ten to fifteen Huns.”

  “They were taken by surprise?”

  “Yes, their leader’s face had been a picture.”

  “This is the man you are looking for?”

  Hun nodded.

  “Okay, I see. Go on,” Johnson asked.

  “They marched in with clubs, bats, crowbars, knifes and other battering and stabbing weapons. I guess we were off guard, as we were not carrying.”

  “It must have been a bloodbath!” Johnson butted in.

  “Venom, their leader at the time, ordered we shut down business immediately and get out of town, or else there would be bloodshed. Naturally, we declined his kind offer. We were making too much money in the city to be pushed out by another gang. Especially by a gang we thought we had an alliance with.”

  Apparently, The Boas had been shutting down a lot of the smaller clubs around town. I guess we were the last to be shoved out. They came in making plenty of noise and I’m sure they thought that we were just going to fold.”

  Stopping, Hun took another puff on his pipe.

  “That was never going to happen. I was behind the bar that evening, and, ever the vigilant man, I had a 410 Shotgun under the counter – my uncle’s old hunting gun. It was a bolt-action, which I always kept loaded. Lucky, hey?” the old man asked, before starting a coughing fit.

  He choked and gargled on mucus, as he tried to get a grip on his breathing. He waved one of his thugs away when he started to get up to help.

  “I’m fine,” he wheezed, catching his breath. “I really should give this thing up,” Hun said, indicating the pipe.

  “Probably,” Johnson said meekly. He lit another cigar.

  “Drink?” Hun asked.

  “What have you got?”

  “Whisky,” Hun said.

  Johnson nodded.

  “Pour two,” Hun told one of his helpers, who did as he was asked.

  Having a glass each placed in their hands, Hun continued his story. “It certainly didn’t go the way The Boas had hoped. When their demands were laid before us, The Huns reacted how you’d expect any other gang to act.”

  “Violence,” Johnson stated.

  “Yes. In the ugliest of ways. And, as I always taught my soldiers, always go for the highest ranked enemy first, which happened to be Venom.”

  ‘Soldiers’, that’s rich, Johnson thought. But he wasn’t about to pick the man up on it. He planned to walk out of the prison.

  “One of my men leapt onto Venom’s back and sunk his teeth into the fleshy part of his neck. When he was kicked off by one of Venom’s men, a massive chunk of flesh came away. I saw Venom go down. I thought he was dead.”

&
nbsp; “He bit him?!” Johnson asked, his mouth agape.

  “Yes,” Hun said blasé.

  “It wasn’t this chap’s daddy, was it?” Johnson quipped, as he indicated the huge fella guarding the cell entrance.

  Hun didn’t see the funny side of it.

  He heard the guy crack his knuckles behind him.

  “My men were always told to take their enemy down by any means, especially when cornered.”

  “I see,” Johnson said, still irked by the man’s ‘soldier’ comment.

  “When Venom went to ground, it sparked an outrage. A fight broke out. The pub was smashed to bits that evening. One of The Boas lunged at me with a cleaver. The fucker got me, too, but I blasted him with the bolt-action. I’d never seen so much carnage in a small space of time. Most of my men were either killed, wounded or maimed.

  The Boas took their fair share of loss, too.”

  “Were the police involved?”

  “No. The Boas fled after losing as much blood as they could stand. When the dust settled, I noticed Venom’s body was gone. Either taken by his men or his own two feet. I thought that had been the end to the matter, but word got out – The Boas were planning on retaliation. Picking the rest of us off one-by-one. We decided to act first.”

  “Smart,” Johnson agreed.

  “We hit that very night. I had been right. Venom was alive and being nursed by his wife. After forcing him to watch the rape and murder of his pregnant woman, Venom had been shot, stabbed and beaten to death. Or so we’d thought.

  We then proceeded to work our way down The Boa’s list of hierarchy. When the night was over, most of The Boa officials and original crew were dead. We left it at that, hoping our point had been proved.”

  “Let me guess, it hadn’t?!”

  “On the contrary, actually. Things settled down. Went back to how they were – Venom’s replacement agreed on peace. The Boas and The Huns would go on living and working side-by-side in Cardiff.”

  “If that’s the case, then why all this? It’s been near enough fifty years!”

  “Because he’s still out there, Mr. Johnson. His revenge may have been fulfilled, but he still walks the earth.”

  “How in hell can that be possible, Hun? I don’t believe in ghost stories.”

  Johnson awaited a reply.

  “Show him,” Hun said to one of his men.

  One of the heavies on the bed produced a stack of photos. They were black-and-white, colour, past and present. Right up-to-date. They were placed on Johnson’s lap.

  “What are these?”

  “Your target,” Hun said.

  “But the man is dead! You and your men killed him all those years ago,” Johnson stressed.

  “Look at the photos. Entertain me.”

  Flipping through the pictures from fifty years ago to present, Johnson had to admit, that the man depicted in them was identical. “How can this be possible? He’s not aged!”

  “We don’t know. I’m not a religious man, and I too don’t believe in ghosts or things that go-bump-in-the-night! I’m a realistic man. But I have seen him with my own eyes, Johnson. He came back for us.”

  “Us?!” Johnson pressed.

  “Yes – for me and my remaining Huns. Four or five months after we thought we’d killed him. He came back. Just like that. He’s not of this world, Johnson.”

  The ex-soldier almost laughed at that one, but the seriousness in Hun’s eyes told him better.

  “What do you mean – ‘Not of this world’?”

  “He’s no longer a man. That night in the pub changed him. Some have dared to say it was the bite he received. Dirt or decay may have got into his blood. Changed him, somehow…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Johnson demanded.

  “You see the proof for yourself, Johnson. I want him dead. Once and for all.”

  Johnson looked at the photos. It was a mystery. He was hooked. Wanted to know the truth. “If you’re lying, or sending me on a wild goose chase, you’ll be sorry.”

  “Do not threaten me, soldier man. I’ll have you chopped up and fed to the dogs. I’ll pay you fifty million, should you take this man out, and bring me the proof.”

  Johnson gobbled the remainder of his whisky. “I’ll need a big team for this one.”

  “I’ll cover your expenses. I’ve heard you’re the best.”

  “All this because you’re spooked by a ghost?”

  “Yes,” Hun said. “Also, I want retribution. When he did come back, he killed everyone and everything around me. For some reason, he spared me. After being pushed out of Cardiff, The Huns set-up outside of Cardiff. We became a small and quiet outfit. We made lots of money. Absurd amounts.”

  Johnson nodded. “Why not send your dogs after him?”

  “I don’t want a direct link. You may use some Huns if you wish, but on a low, quiet scale. Bring me the proof of this man’s destruction, and I will pay you well. Your men, too.

  “He really fucked you up and over, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I want him to suffer. Make sure you do that, please.”

  “Okay. Mission accepted,” Johnson said.

  ⃰ ⃰ ⃰

  Having drifted off with his musing, Johnson was awoken by Max. The large black man was knelt by his side.

  “Sir,” he called, giving Johnson’s shoulder a few rough shakes. “Sir,” he said again, trying to rouse his boss.

  “Hmm…mmm…What is it, Max?”

  “It’s close to five, sir. I thought maybe you’d like to freshen up before moving out at six?”

  Coughing, Johnson rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “It’s exactly five now?”

  “Just gone, sir. Closer to ten-minutes passed.”

  “Right, okay,” Johnson said, shaking the grogginess from him. The mist rose. “Rally the men and women. Get them ready. We roll at six, Max. I’ll be ready and down by the jeep by five-to. Make sure you’re behind that wheel and that Dawn and Geraint are loaded into the back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want us to cover the next few towns before sunrise.”

  “Very well, sir” Max said.

  Johnson then heard his man going from tent to tent, rousing the others. “Right, I need to get myself organised,” Johnson muttered to himself. Getting into a sitting position, his legs crossed, he dug a mirror and razor out of his bag. After cutting a dry shave, Johnson then patted aftershave onto his rosy cheeks, neck and throat. He put on clean underwear and trousers, along with a fresh t-shirt.

  After finishing, he shoved everything back into his holdall, and set about taking the tent down. Once finished, he headed down to his vehicle. He watched as others about him rushed to fill their trucks, cars and bikes.

  As the clock descended on five-to, Johnson was clambering into the passenger seat of the four-by-four. Dawn and Geraint were already in the jeep.

  “That’s what I like to see,” Johnson said. “Promptness.”

  As Johnson’s watch ticked over to six o’clock, Max was jumping into the driver’s seat. The engine kicked to life.

  “Okay. Where are we heading next?” he asked. Most of the heat was dying out of the day by now. Light was starting to fade.

  “We move on to the next town. Venom has family in these parts, but I don’t want to have to play that card just yet. Not unless there’s no trace of the man. Besides, I don’t think he would hide behind family. Not if the man truly is something born out of hell,” Johnson said.

  The others said nothing as Max squeezed down on the accelerator. The convoy was moving again and soon the next town came into sight. They would explore this one, too, just like the countless before it. Sooner or later, they would pick the trail up again.

  Johnson was sure of that.

  He’d never let a target slip through his fingers.

  Chapter 25

  Getting into a standing position, Diesel decided to give the whole area another sweep with the binoculars.
This took him a good ten minutes to achieve each time. Nothing. There was nothing out there. Nobody was coming.

  Not a single car, bike, truck or anything else for that matter passed by. Why the hell were Toni and Venom scared? What were they running from? And where the hell had Venom been all these years? He looks much younger than he should, too! Diesel thought. His mind had run wild with questions all morning and afternoon.

  The sun was now starting to set. The heat fully burned out of the day.

  As dusk started to move in, Diesel was starting to think he was on the roof for the night. He’d need sleep, though. Other needs, such as food had been taken care of by Toni. She’d been true to her word, having left dinner in the attic for him. Out of respect for Venom, and courtesy of Toni, Diesel had been dutiful on the roof. Vigilant and diligent.

  Nothing had slipped his attention. When he’d needed the toilet, he’d taken a piss off the roof. Luckily he’d not needed a shit, but that too would have been done in the same style.

  Settling back on his blanket, Diesel prepared for a long and cold evening. Then, just like that, he heard Toni’s voice.

  “You may come down now,” she said. “Diesel? Are you there?”

  “Yeah,” he yelled back. Why didn’t she come up? He wondered. It would be easier than shouting.

  “Venom and I would like you to join us down here for something to eat. You can also get some rest. We’ve had ours,” she said.

  Getting to his feet, he went to the hatch and poked his head through it. He saw Toni looking up at his upside down face. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve had yours’? Don’t you guys sleep at night?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why?”

  “Just in case they come for us at night,” she said.

  “Will you tell…”

  “All will be revealed to you this evening, Diesel,” she said. Her voice was soft, just like Venom’s. “Come down, Venom wants to see you. You may leave everything up there, as you will be back on guard tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay,” he said, using the ladder.