Bad Blood

by Kelleher, Casey

  Since Nathan and Christopher had paid him a visit last week, their offer had been all that he’d thought about. Though ‘offer’ was perhaps not the best choice of words. They wanted this place in return for the debt to be cleared. Keith would have to walk away with nothing. As desperate as he was, he just couldn’t do it. He’d put everything he had into this place.

  Gulping as he watched Christopher step closer, staring through him with an evil glint in his eye, Keith prayed that Nathan Woods was lurking about somewhere nearby. Out of the brothers, Nathan was without a doubt the more reasonable of the two. At least if he was here too, Keith might stand some kind of chance of walking out of here unharmed tonight.

  ‘Grab a pew, Keith. I’ve got a feeling we’re in for a long night. Nathan made you a good offer too. Personally you must be some kind of a thick cunt to even think about turning him down.’ Christopher reached inside his long leather coat, pulling out the rope he’d concealed. ‘Two loans you’ve taken out. Not once have you made the repayments on time. So it makes sense really, don’t it? You give us this place and we’ll scrub your debt.’

  Keith’s eyes were wide with fear as Christopher tied him to the chair. Petrified, Keith didn’t struggle. He didn’t want to antagonise the man any further. Instead he silently prayed that Christopher was just trying to put the frighteners on him.

  His debt was a hundred thousand pounds with interest, but the pub was worth five times that. He knew it and so did they.

  But they were persistent.

  ‘I said I’d make the payments and I will . . .’ Keith was so scared that his voice quivered when he spoke.

  Christopher laughed at the man. He was scared shitless and so he should be. ‘Well, you know, dribs and drabs ain’t how we work, Keithy-boy. And we’re a bit bored of waiting for you to get your act together. My brother has his sights set on this place, and what Nathan wants, he gets, do you understand?’

  Christopher yanked the bandage from Keith’s hand, purposely disturbing the cut. Then placing the sharp point of the knife against the cut on Keith’s forehead, Christopher scored the blade down the man’s cheek. Opening up his face as Keith screamed in agony.

  ‘Right fucking nasty gash that is. Dripping claret all over the floor, you are . . .’ Christopher reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of thick black gaffer tape; the last thing he wanted to do was have to listen to the man’s pitiful screams all night long.

  ‘Please, you don’t have to do this. It’s yours, take it . . .’ Keith cried before Christopher wrapped the tape tightly around his head, covering his mouth.

  The pub had fast become a noose hanging around his neck. And now, tied up in the basement with this psychopath, Keith was certain that no business was worth this amount of grief. It was just bricks and mortar; if the Woods brothers wanted it so badly, he’d let them have it.

  ‘I’d love to believe you, Keith, really I would. But your sudden decision sounds a bit hasty to me. So I’ll tell you what. You sit here and have a proper think about it yeah? I’ll go up to the bar to have a few drinks. Bit parched I am, you see. You don’t mind if I help myself to your rum, do you? At least you won’t be lonely down here while I’m gone, you’ll have some company.’

  Keith shuddered as he saw the evil glint in Christopher’s eyes, as he bent down and tugged at the rope, checking it was tightly secured.

  ‘Misunderstood little bastards rats are. Naturally shy creatures they are ’en all, more scared of you than you are of them. But I’m not so sure. See, I’ve seen what these little fuckers are capable of when they’re hungry,’ Christopher sneered. ‘You lock these little fuckers away in a box for a couple of weeks and they get so fucking hungry that they start eating each other. How fucked up is that?’ Turning the lights off, Christopher slammed the cellar door behind him.

  Whimpering all alone in the darkness, Keith could feel the scuttling rodents sniffing around his feet. Only a few at first. Then more and more surrounded him. Terrified, he tried to kick his legs out as he felt one crawl onto his shoe, but he had been tied so tightly he could barely move.

  Persistent, the rats continued to climb up his body. Keith could feel the creatures’ sharp, wiry nails digging into his skin as they began scampering up inside his jeans, scratching and clawing at his legs.

  Writhing around in a bid to shake the rodents off him, Keith tried to scream, but the thick tape that masked his mouth muffled his cries. Jolting backwards, his panicked movements caused the chair to wobble, and then topple. Impacting with the cellar floor, his jawbone crunched as it whacked against the cold concrete.

  Feeling the warm trickle of piss escaping down his leg, as the rats prevailed over him, Keith blacked out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Accelerating the motorbike at lightning speed, Raymond’s adrenaline was pumping as he sped down the Essex dual carriageway. Even the roar of the bike’s engine couldn’t muffle his thundering heartbeat. Going full throttle, the bike soared despite battling against the bad weather. Pushing through heavy sheets of rain, Raymond was adamant that the downpour was not going to hinder their getaway.

  Glancing around to check that his two accomplices were still there, Ray saw that Nathan was steaming up directly behind him, hot on his trail.

  Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for Terry Stranks.

  He was lagging much farther behind, and was closely followed by the persistent flashing blue lights that were tailing them.

  Raymond gritted his teeth, hoping to God that Harry knew what he was doing letting this muppet on board.

  Cursing again loudly Ray turned his attention back to the road in front of him, just in time to see the large puddle covering his lane. Skidding, the bike swerved dramatically as it aquaplaned across the lay-by. Ray tightened his grip and fought to gain some control. The second that he felt the bike’s tyres hit some traction, he expertly pulled himself and the bike back up level and managed to somehow steer himself back over to the other side of the road.

  Seeing the roundabout up ahead, he signalled with his arm so that Nathan would know to follow.

  They needed to get off the main roads, and lose the police as quickly as possible.

  The two police cars roared behind Terry. He could hear them screeching up behind him, just a few feet away from the back of his bike. Raymond and Nathan were both up ahead in the distance, but he knew there was no way he was going to catch up with them now. As thick black smoke billowed out from the back of the bike, Terry was scared to go any faster. It rode like a sack of shit, and with the lashing rain impeding his view he was already zigzagging all over the place.

  Terry was fast losing hope of being capable of outrunning his own shadow let alone the police cars that were quickly gaining on him.

  It was supposed to have been an in and out job. Raymond had assured them that it would be a piece of piss. The warehouses down on the docks were manned by two security men, and all they had to do was pick up the shipment that had just come in. It all seemed legit.

  Harry had a massive warehouse at the back of his house filled to the rafters with all sorts of foreign merchandise that he’d had shipped in – Woods Enterprises, he called his little empire. It was obviously making him a shit load of money.

  Terry was only too happy to help; all he had to do was help Raymond and Nathan deliver the goods. Talk about easy money, twenty grand just to courier a couple of parcels.

  Terry should have known that it would never be that cut and dried, and thinking about it now, with the police hot on their tails, he didn’t actually have a clue what was inside the packages, nor had he given a shit until now. That had been a mistake.

  Harry had been so vague when he’d arranged everything, and though he’d mentioned exported goods, he hadn’t once even hinted about what they were picking up.

  Three men on bikes, riding around Essex in the middle of the night. How had he
been so stupid? Of course the whole operation had been suspect. Everything was so hush-hush, and Terry had a sneaky feeling now that whatever it was they had stowed away in their bikes, it was far from kosher.

  He’d even let Raymond’s words of wisdom go straight over his head when he’d warned Terry not to stop for anything. Even if the police gave chase, he said, you put your foot down and keep going. Don’t stop for nothing.

  Terry had been so keen to comply, he’d just nodded like a prat at whatever they said. Seeing Nathan’s tail lights up ahead in the distance, just as they went out of view as the bike turned off at the roundabout, Terry cursed loudly.

  He’d fucked up. He should have never got involved in this.

  The police were gaining on him, and if they caught up with him the proverbial shit would well and truly hit the fan. Terry knew the brief. He was lagging behind and now he needed to split off from the rest of them.

  He felt a trickle of sweat running down his forehead under his helmet. He’d have to take a different route, to try to throw the police off track so they’d at least lose Raymond and Nathan.

  Moving over towards the left-hand side of the road, Terry veered to the left of the roundabout to make it look like he was following the two other motorbikes.

  The police car behind him was so close now that it almost skimmed his back tyre. The fuckers were trying to box him in.

  Wobbling now, as he leaned into the curve of the roundabout, Terry swerved unsteadily, dodging in between the two cars. Tipping the bike hard, he bolted to a sharp right in a bid to lose them.

  The transit van came out of nowhere, the full beam blinding him.

  Before Terry even had time to register where the light had come from it was too late.

  Pulling its brakes, the van skidded on the wet road surface. Terry heard the screech of metal on metal just seconds before he felt the force of the impact. The van hit him head on, sending his bike in an upwards spiral into the air, his weightless body following closely behind like a floppy rag doll.

  Landing heavily with a thud, Terry felt the wet ground around him soaking him up. His body screamed in pain. Everything ached. As he gulped in bursts of air, he tried to control his breathing. He was badly winded and a sharp pain ripped through his chest.

  He heard the police cars screech up next to him seconds later, and the officers leapt from their vehicles. Terry tried to move, but it was impossible. There was no escaping them now.

  ‘Stay down,’ the officer ordered as he neared Terry’s limp body, before checking that he was okay and more importantly unarmed. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Terry, Terry Stranks.’ Moaning in pain, Terry couldn’t do anything but stay down. He felt battered. Lying there silently as the police called in an ambulance, Terry closed his eyes.

  Harry had warned him of the worst case scenario, and this was it.

  Staring up at the dark night sky, he gazed at the stars twinkling above him as if they would somehow give him his ‘get out of jail free card’. He knew that no matter what happened now, he’d have to keep his mouth shut. Harry’s name was to be kept out of it no matter what.

  Fuck!

  Hearing the emergency sirens blaring as the paramedics grew closer, the officer’s stern tone of voice broke Terry’s thoughts. ‘Terry Stranks, we’re taking you into hospital under police custody,’ the officer instructed as he peered down at Terry with clear scrutiny, as the paramedics arrived on the scene.

  ‘It’s all right, you’re going to be okay,’ the young paramedic reassured him, as she and her colleague carefully checked Terry over before hoisting him up onto the stretcher.

  ‘I’m far from fucking okay,’ Terry grunted, in no mood for niceties, his mind whirling from trying to figure out what he was going to do.

  ‘Judging from the state of your bike over there, you are one very lucky man,’ the paramedic said with a smile as they wheeled the spinal board over to the ambulance.

  ‘Guv. We found this on his bike. Must be three kilos of cocaine in there at least.’

  Terry closed his eyes as he listened to the two police officers.

  Cocaine?

  No wonder Harry had been cagey about telling him what they were picking up.

  He had three kilos of the stuff on him? He was royally screwed now.

  Grimacing in pain as the orthopaedic stretcher was pushed up the ramp and into the back of the ambulance, Terry couldn’t agree with the paramedic.

  Tonight had been a total fuck-up.

  He was alive, yes.

  Lucky? Terry Stranks?

  Not a fucking chance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘How did it go?’ Walking into the dining room and seeing three of his four children sitting together around the table as they ate their breakfast, Harry would have normally been full of beans, classing the occasion as a rare treat. But this morning the only beans he needed to be full of were coffee beans and plenty of them. He was knackered. He’d hardly slept all night, worrying about the three of them. Between the fire at Evie’s school yesterday, and the job he had sent the lads out on last night, Harry was frazzled. He needed to snap out of it, though. Tonight was an important night. He was hosting a massive boxing event over in Hackney, and Christopher was all set for the main attraction. It was true what they said: it never rained, but it poured. Harry felt rushed off his feet.

  ‘It went okay, I guess.’ Nathan shrugged. He’d managed to get in about 3 a.m. and there had been no sign of Terry. Raymond had told him to go home and get some kip. Terry was probably just lagging behind. Nathan wasn’t sure, though. Still, he knew not to discuss anything around the breakfast table, especially in front of Evie. ‘Uncle Raymond said he’d fill you in. Said he’d be here for breakfast, so he’s probably on his way.’

  ‘Good.’ Harry sighed. ‘How about you, darling, did you sleep alright?’ Harry looked at Evie, sat between her brothers, like a rose between two thorns. Unlike him with his bags and dark circles under his eyes, there wasn’t a trace of Evie lacking any sleep. In fact, sporting a pair of pyjamas, a messy bun and not a scrap of make-up the girl’s stunning beauty somehow managed to light up the whole room. She was the image of her mother.

  Harry had obviously lain awake last night and done enough fretting for the both of them. He’d thought that Evie would have been petrified after the school catching ablaze like that, but she looked perfectly okay.

  He’d been worried sick when he’d got the call from the school yesterday about the fire that had broken out. He’d jumped straight in his car, driven to the school at break-neck speed, but of course, when he’d finally got there Evie had been absolutely fine, just as the headmistress had said. One of the girls had apparently left a cigarette burning in her bedroom, and the whole place had gone up in flames. Luckily, everyone had got out unharmed.

  ‘I always sleep like a baby when I’m home, Dad.’ Evie shrugged as she tucked into her plate of scrambled eggs. She really was glad to be home. The smell of the place, her soft cosy bed. Right now it was the only place she wanted to be. Especially after the past few days.

  Sitting here now with her family, everything else that had gone on felt surreal. She still couldn’t believe that she had done it. Lighting Madeline Porter’s cigarettes and throwing them down on the girl’s bed, Evie had managed to set the whole school on fire. She could only hope that Madeline got the comeuppance she deserved for the damage.

  Harry smiled. He was pleased that Evie seemed better than yesterday. When he’d picked her up she’d been adamant that she didn’t want to go back to the school. Harry had nodded understandingly at the time, putting her words down to the shock and trauma of the fire, and decided to leave the subject for the time being. Evie could probably do with a bit of a break for now anyway. The school would be closed for months due to the extensive damage, so Evie would have no choice but to stay at home with him now
, and Harry was secretly pleased. He loved having his Evie at home with him, and with everything that he had going on at the moment, it was perfect timing.

  ‘Ha, slept like a baby . . . tickles me that saying does. Between shitting their nappies every five minutes and waking up crying for a bottle, the little brats don’t really get much shut-eye, do they?’ Christopher snorted at his sister, before continuing to shovel food greedily into his mouth, unaware that his dad’s eyes were now boring into him.

  ‘Oi,’ Harry warned, raising his brow. ‘Have some manners when you speak to your sister. She means that she slept well, you bloody moron. Contented.’ Irritated, Harry could tell that Christopher was in a wind-up mood again today. After everything that Evie had gone through yesterday he didn’t want anyone upsetting the poor girl. Especially Christopher. ‘And bloody slow down, will you? You’re eating like you’ve never seen food before, no-one’s going to nick your bleeding plate,’ Harry scolded. ‘And should you even be eating that shit before the fight tonight?’ Remembering his strict diet and regime before a match, Harry didn’t know how Christopher had managed to wing his fights up until now. It was a good job that the boy was a natural fighter, and clearly he had a lot of luck on his side. Because ‘discipline’ to Christopher would have sounded like a foreign word.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me, Dad,’ Christopher muttered. ‘My body’s a machine.’ He’d forgotten how tetchy his father got when his precious Evie was home. The way he acted like the kid was fucking royalty or something. Princess Evie, sat on her throne at the head of the table. The only regal thing about her as far as Christopher was concerned was that she was a royal pain in the arse.

  ‘Here, Nathan, guess who rang me last night. Only bloody Keith Ryan. Asked me to pop over, said he’d been mulling over our offer. Said he’d had a change of heart.’ Christopher grinned smugly. He’d been dying to tell Nathan the news all morning.

  ‘Really? Great, we can nip over and see him in a bit.’ Nathan wiped his mouth with his napkin, surprised that Keith had changed his mind, and even more so that out of the two of them, Keith had decided to contact Christopher. The more he’d thought about it, the more he had decided that if they did take on that pub he’d want to do it on his own. The only person he’d spoken to about it was Cassie, and she agreed with him. Nathan wanted to set up on his own. Do things legitimately. Without his dad or his brother getting involved. But he’d yet to tell Christopher that.