The Reprisal

by Kerry Kaya

  Lucas held open his arms and laughed lightly. “You think Paul would have actually trusted me with a key? We both know that wouldn’t have ended well.” He looked away, as if ashamed by his past behavior. “What does Cathy know?”

  “She said Stella mentioned him, that was about the crux of it, as you yourself heard.”

  Lucas shook his head. “She knows something is up.” He tapped the side of his nose. “That’s how women work. She was fishing for information.” He looked down at his knuckles once again. “Problem is, she doesn’t know what she is getting herself involved in. We’re gonna need to watch her back. Barkley is a ruthless bastard and she’ll be easy pickings for someone like him.”

  “I’m not working for a fucking woman.” Taking his feet down from the desk, Charlie’s voice was incredulous. “And I’m not working for a fucking skag …” Realising he’d already said too much, Charlie’s voice trailed off.

  Snapping his head around, Lucas snarled. “I’m clean, have been for fourteen days.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. It was an arrogant gesture that immediately had Lucas’s back up.

  “I said that I’m fucking clean.”

  An awkward silence fell over the portacabin.

  “Look, Luke,” Darren finally broke the silence, “you can’t blame us for being wary.” He opened up his arms in an apologetic gesture. “You’ve got a track record, mate. Even Paul struggled to handle you when you were buzzing off of your head, and that’s saying something. So what hope do we have?”

  Lucas nodded his head. He, better than anyone, knew the truth of that statement. “That was before Paul and Jason were blown to pieces, before the boys, three kids, were hacked to death, butchered like fucking animals.” He looked at each of them in turn, his expression hard. “That was before Barkley took fucking liberties and killed my pals. Now I’ve got a score to settle with him.” He leaned forward. “But first, I have to make sure that Cathy stays out of his way, that she’s kept safe. I owe that to Paul.”

  Darren and Charlie exchanged a glance.

  “Look,” Lucas opened out his arms, “I don’t expect you to trust me. If the boot was on the other foot, I probably wouldn’t trust me either, but I have to watch out for her. I have to do that for Paul and the boys. Fourteen days,” he reaffirmed, “even when I went to rehab, I didn’t make it this far.” He looked between the two men, his face open. “I haven’t touched anything, not even a beer, which believe me, says a lot.”

  Darren nodded his head. He had to admit that Lucas looked well. In fact, he looked better than he’d done in years.

  “You’re really clean?”

  “As clean as a fucking whistle,” Lucas grinned.

  “Okay.” Darren gave a long sigh. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Woah, hold up a minute.” Charlie held up his hand. “How much are you paying us first? Because we don’t come cheap.”

  “You’ll be paid.” Lucas chuckled. “Same rate as Paul paid you.”

  “Yeah, all right then.” Looking to Darren, Charlie nodded his head. “But you had better stay fucking clean.”

  Lucas kissed his teeth. “And you, Charlie, had better remember who you are talking to.”

  Charlie had the sense to look down at the floor. “Noted,” he begrudgingly grumbled.

  * * *

  Stella sat back on the kitchen chair and shook her head. “She’s not doing it.”

  “Mum …”

  “No, Kate.” Stella put up her hand. “You’re not doing it, and that’s the end of it.”

  Leaning back in the chair, Cathy momentarily closed her eyes. “She’ll be safe.” She wiped away an imaginary crumb from the granite table. “What’s the worst that could happen to her? It’ll be daylight, and there will be other people around.”

  “I said no.” Stella blew out her cheeks. “This vendetta of yours is getting out of hand.” She looked around the table. “I’m sorry, but it is, and someone has to say it.”

  Cathy’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s easy for you to say, Stella. You still have your daughter.” She raised her eyebrows. “What about my boys, eh?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  All eyes turned toward Donna and she shrugged her shoulders. “I know Devan; it’ll be easier for me to get in and see him.”

  Cathy shook her head. “You can’t, you’re pregnant.”

  “And so is Katie,” Stella reminded her sister-in-law.

  “I know.” Grasping her niece’s hand, Cathy gave Katie a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Kate.” She rubbed her palm over her face. “I’m not thinking straight. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Paul and the boys’ faces.” Her voice broke, and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes tightly. “I need to do this. I want revenge, I need it, and I won’t rest until I get it.”

  “Let me do this, Cath.” Donna glided her palm over her tummy, only a slight curve was visible. “I’m not showing yet, I’ve always been a late bloomer, and Devan doesn’t even need to know that I’m pregnant. To be perfectly honest, I doubt it would even cross his mind.”

  Nodding her head, Cathy used her free hand to reach out and grasp Donna’s hand. “Just be careful,” she warned. “We’ll be waiting with the car. Any problems, you scream that building down, and we’ll be there like a shot.”

  Donna giggled. “It’ll be Devan screaming. If that bastard so much as lays a finger on me, I’ll kick him in the gonads.”

  The four women smiled, albeit, it was tinged with concern.

  Chapter 25

  With purpose, Devan swaggered through his massage parlour in Stepney, East London. Underneath his feet, the outdated yellow and orange patterned carpet that looked more like a sixties throwback was sticky, and the stench of unwashed bodies and sex permeated the air. With a face like thunder, he made his way out to the back office.

  He’d lost count of how many times he’d asked his manager to have a tidy around, or at least to get the vacuum cleaner out and run it over the carpets, but no, the carpet cleaner still sat in the hallway, untouched and covered in cobwebs. He scratched at an itch on his arm. Every time he entered the building, he started itching. He had a nasty feeling that they had an infestation of something or other, lice would be his main guess. The very thought made him want to scratch even harder.

  “Monica.” He screamed out the name of his so-called manager, although the word manager was a term he used loosely.

  Monica Jones was brunette, tall, slim, and busty. Despite having nondescript features, she drew in a lot of punters. Why, Devan had no idea, most days she stank to high heaven and that was saying something. For all her faults, though, she was popular amongst the other girls—a fair and natural leader. She took no nonsense from the punters, and when the shit hit the fan, she wasn’t afraid to have a fist fight with a man twice her size. Brought up in the care system, she was a dirty fighter, and more often than not, came out on top.

  “What?” Chewing on a piece of gum, Monica’s scarlet painted lips opened and closed. Her teeth, which in his opinion had never been her strong point, were tobacco stained and crooked.

  Looking her over, Devan shook his head. “You fucking stink, I can smell you from over here.”

  “Well, that’s charming, that is.” From underneath the desk, she pulled out a pack of wet wipes and wiped underneath her armpits before taking out a second wipe and rubbing it between her thighs. “Happy now?” she smirked.

  Devan screwed up his face. “You’re like an animal, Mon.”

  Monica grinned. She tossed the used wipes into an overflowing waste basket and pointed a nicotine stained finger toward him. “An animal who makes you a lot of money, let’s not forget that little fact, Devan.”

  Together, they smiled, and as he took a seat, Monica perched her backside on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette.

  “That heavy you sent here last week,” she exhaled a cloud of smoke above her head, “get rid of him.”

  “And why would I do that?” Raising h
is eyebrows, Devan placed a zoot between his lips.

  “He’s causing hell with the girls. I’ve had to break up two fights this week alone over him. He’s a handsome fucker, and you know what the toms are like. They’re territorial; they see him as theirs. The stupid bitches can’t even get it through their thick skulls that he climbs out of their beds and goes home to his wife and kids at the end of every shift.”

  “See it as done.” Devan shrugged his shoulders. It was no skin off of his nose. In fact, he’d get Marty in for a couple of weeks. Just one glance at his scarred boat race would send the girls scurrying to their rooms without so much as a murmur.

  Hopping down from the desk, Monica stubbed out her cigarette. “Oh, by the way, there is someone here to see you. I put her in the back room.”

  “Who?” Lounging back in the chair, Devan’s interest was piqued. It wasn’t often that women came to the parlour to see him, unless of course, it was a tom looking for work. He stared at her with hard eyes. “It’s not Keisha, is it?”

  Monica shook her head. “Nah, I dunno who she is, but she asked for you personally, by name like.”

  “Well, go and get her then.” Devan was still rolling his eyes as he poured himself out a spiced rum and cola. Monica may have been a good earner, but she certainly wasn’t at the top of the tree when it came to intelligence.

  A few moments later, he heard her high-heeled shoes clip-clop back across the wooden floorboards.

  “This is her.”

  About to swallow down his drink, Devan almost choked on the liquid, and forcing the alcohol down, he rubbed his hand across his fleshy lips. He could barely believe his eyes. Standing in the doorway was Donna Cassidy. Despite her cruel treatment of him, he’d fancied her back in school, as did the majority of his classmates. He could recall many a time that he’d wanked off to a grainy photograph of her. He gestured for Donna to take a seat, and then motioned for Monica to fuck off and take the wastebasket with her. It stank of stale fish and cum filled condoms, and he’d already seen Donna, much to his humiliation, wrinkle her nose at the stale stench permeating the room.

  He waited for Monica to close the office door, then grinned. “Donna Cassidy, in the flesh. Long time no see.”

  Donna smiled in return and opened out her arms to reveal a black lacey strappy top that showed off her ample cleavage. “That’s me.”

  He continued to look her over. “And what can I do for you, Donna?”

  Lounging back on the chair, Donna crossed one shapely leg over the over. “I would have thought that was quite obvious.” She licked her glossed lips and looked around her at the room, which held a desk, three chairs, and piles and piles of paperwork stacked up untidily. Every available surface was covered in a layer of dust. It was more than obvious that a good clean was needed. In fact, the whole parlour needed a deep clean. Her shoes had stuck to the carpet, and she shuddered to think about what could have been the cause of the sticky white residue that covered the sofa in the room she had been placed while awaiting his arrival. “I’m looking for work, and I have it on good authority that this is the place to come.”

  “Who’s authority?” Dragging his eyes away from her bare thigh, Devan cocked an eyebrow upward.

  “Oh,” Donna flapped her hand, “you know how girls talk. It’s always Devan this, Devan that. You have quite the reputation amongst the ladies.”

  Satisfied with her answer, Devan shrugged. He wasn’t surprised. Let’s face it, he’d shagged his way across half of London and he was good in the sack. He knew that for a fact and had never had any complaints in that department. He licked his fleshy lips as he looked her over. “Why don’t you get your kit off and come and sit over here.”

  Donna’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “Get your kit off and come over here.” Laughing, Devan patted his knee. “We both know that you ain’t shy, Donna, and I need to see the goods before I decide whether or not to take you on.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand.” Donna gave a weary smile. “I was looking for more of an office position, you know, filing, typing,” she looked around her at the clutter and wrinkled her nose, ”that type of thing.”

  Devan roared with laughter. “What the fuck would I want with a secretary? This is a brothel, love, not a fucking office.” He relaxed back into the chair and laced his fingers across his chest. “A secretary won’t earn me money, Donna. But,” he licked his lips and nodded down at the flash of thigh on show, “what’s between your legs will, and let’s face it, we all know that you’ve been around the block more than once. You’re already a pro,” he winked, “might as well get paid for it, girl.”

  Donna’s cheeks flamed bright pink. “As I said,” she repeated desperately, trying to keep her temper in check, “I’m looking for more of a secretarial role.”

  Devan picked up his glass. “And like I just said, I have no need for a secretary.” He sipped at his drink, observing her over the rim of the glass through hard eyes. “Did that cunt Keisha send you?”

  “Keisha?” Donna’s voice was high. “Why on earth would Keisha send me here? I haven’t seen her in years.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Are you going to get your kit off or not?” He glanced at his watch. “I’m a busy man and don’t like having my time wasted by some stupid little bitch who doesn’t want to put out.”

  Donna began to stand up. “My mistake,” she flapped her hand, “I thought you might have need of a secretary.” She looked around the small space that she took a wild guess coupled as an office, come sex room, if the stacks of wrapped condoms thrown carelessly across the desk was anything to go by. “But I can see I was wrong. See you around, Devan.”

  Devan jumped up from his seat, and blocking the doorway with his hard body, he narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s your game, Donna?” He traced a calloused finger down the length of her cheek and spoke in his usual mockney Jamaican accent. She cowered away from him, as if afraid, and the knowledge was like a balm to him. After all these years, he finally had Donna Cassidy, who’d ridiculed him throughout their childhood, exactly where he wanted her. In the back of his mind, he recalled the cruel taunts that had been thrown at him on a daily basis, stig of the dump, being a particular favourite of hers.

  “No game,” she said in a tight voice. “Like I said, I thought you might have need of a secretary.”

  Taking a deep toke on his joint, he blew the smoke noisily into her face. “I’m not the kind of man to mess with, Donna.” Gone was the smile he’d afforded her when she’d first arrived. “Now what the fuck are you really doing here?”

  Donna licked at her lips, and refraining the urge to not gag at the pungent scent of the cannabis, she swallowed deeply. “I’m looking for work, that’s all.” He was so close that Donna could see the tiny threaded veins in the whites of his eyes. “Why else would I be here?”

  Still staring at her, Devan wrapped a lock of her dark hair around his forefinger. “Are you sure that you don’t want to get your kit off?” He licked his lips. “I’ve got men who’d pay a lot of money for a woman like you.”

  “No.” Shaking her head vigorously, she took the opportunity to slip underneath his arm and practically run toward the exit. “See you around, Devan,” she called out as cheerfully as she could.

  With his eyes still narrowed, Devan watched her go. He’d bet his life on it that there was more to the sudden appearance of Donna Cassidy than met the eye, or his name wasn’t Devan Barkley.

  * * *

  Her hands still shaking, Donna climbed into Cathy’s car.

  “Well?” Turning in her seat, Cathy looked Donna over.

  “It’s him all right.” She held up her hand to reveal the tremor there. “I don’t know how I managed to stay so calm.” She screwed up her face. “That bastard killed my Kieran, I know it was him, and I won’t, I can’t, forgive or forget something like that.”

  “What if it wasn’t him though?” Katie’s voice was small, and clutching her mothe
r’s hand, her face was white and pinched. “What if we kill an innocent man?”

  Cathy thought this through. She knew for a fact that if what Lucas had told her was true about him being Samson’s son, then Devan had a motive, and looking toward Donna, she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “It was him.” Donna’s face was hard. “When Keisha first told me, I admit I found it hard to believe. The Devan I knew was a scrawny, scruffy little kid, but him,” she nodded toward the brothel and screwed up her face, “there’s something about him. You can see it in his eyes, in his demeaner. He’s bad to the bone; he did this. He killed our men; I know that he did.”

  Turning in her seat, Cathy studied the building and took note of the entry and exit points. “How many are in there?”

  Donna pursed her lips. “I saw at least seven toms and then there’s the manager, Monica something or other, a right hard-nosed bitch, she was an’ all.” She nodded her head. “She’s the one we have to watch out for.”

  “In that case, we take her out first.” Cathy continued to watch the brothel. “Any camera’s in there?”

  “Not that I could see. It’s a brothel. He wouldn’t be that stupid and put up cameras, would he? I mean, it’s hardly legal, is it?”

  Cathy shrugged. “I doubt he cares very much about that.” She looked up at the nearby street lamps. It stood to reason there would be CCTV in operation, camera’s where everywhere these days. “We need to make sure that we won’t be identified—dark clothing, something to cover our faces.”

  From the back seat, Stella shook her head. “Cover our faces? You’re taking this a bit too far now, aren’t you, Cath? I mean,” she looked around her, “we’re not really going to go through with this, are we?”

  “What is your problem, Stella?” Cathy turned in the seat, her eyes blazing. “Your man is dead. Jason, remember him? Your husband, the man you supposedly,” she lifted her fingers using them as quotation marks, “loved.”