The Hunted

by KERRY BARNES

  Mike’s face dropped. He felt oddly cold.

  ‘Who the fuck is her mate?’

  ‘I, er … she’s just an old slapper.’ His voice was a whimper.

  ‘Where’s my son now?’

  ‘I dunno. At that house still, I expect. It’s near Ely. The address is in me sat nav. I promise, I left when she was at the shop. I just grabbed me stuff and went …’ His words trailed off as his face paled over. Then, he fainted.

  Mike’s deep sigh sounded like a growl.

  Zara was staring at the blood dripping from the gruesome puncture wounds. She pictured Jesus on the cross, in the film The Passion of the Christ. For some reason, it wasn’t the sight of Scottie being tortured that turned her stomach, but Mike’s steely disposition.

  He turned and nodded and made another demand of her. She didn’t argue this time but slipped outside the workshop and spoke with the two men waiting outside. She asked one of them to return to Scottie’s car and call her with any addresses stored in the sat nav.

  The skies outside were now dark and menacing, the storm was about to break, and as soon as she slipped back into the workshop, the thunder made her jump. Yet Mike didn’t even flinch, preoccupied with prising out of Scottie everything he needed to know. He glared as Scottie came to.

  ‘Whose house is it?’

  Scottie frowned. ‘Hers, I assume.’

  Mike kicked the chair, causing Scottie to yelp like a dog. ‘I swear that’s what she told me. It was her house. She owned it. She wanted a new life.’

  Mike glared. ‘What, with you, ya fucking ugly weasel?’

  Scottie eyed up the gun and thought better of saying any more. If he was going to survive, he needed to box clever. Little did he know, Regan was going to kill him anyway.

  ‘Why did she give my son alcohol?’

  Scottie wanted to say it was an accident and that she never knew the drink had vodka in it. However, he needed to turn Regan’s aggression on to Jackie – to be seen as the innocent one – well, at least regarding her son.

  ‘Jackie wanted him drunk to keep him quiet. I told her it was wrong. I wanted to get him out of that room and to the hospital, but she wouldn’t have it. She said she would keep him locked up and quiet.’ He waited for a sympathetic reaction – or at least an even-handed one.

  But you can’t kid a kidder. Mike turned on him and kicked the chair so hard that the leg snapped. Scottie came crashing down, landing on the injured knee. He screamed out in pain.

  ‘It’s all very convenient, wouldn’t you say, a little yarn like that, eh, Scottie? How long did it take you to think that one up? You and your dippy brothers think you can take me for a fucking fool, do ya? Ya grassed us up to the Ol’ Bill to have us nicked, so you could then ’ave me outta the way, allowing you to run around like sneaky rats looking into my business. Then that failed, and so ya brainwashed divvy Travis into taking pictures of my set-up, and ya didn’t think we would suss ya. Then, to top it all, in the cunt stunt trade, ya went and gutted me pal’s dog. You Harmans are a tent short of a full-blown fucking circus. Ya grassed, ya went against the rules, and now ya think by blaming my wife that somehow lets you off the hook.’ He tapped his foot, looking down at Scottie who was squirming in pain. His body was still held to the chair by the rope tied around his middle.

  ‘By not stopping Jackie from harming my boy, as I see it, Scottie, you are as fucking guilty as that bitch. Yet, I’m wondering why I should believe you. How the hell do I know you haven’t done away with the pair of them? It would be right up your street, wouldn’t it, Scottie, since you and your brothers have been brought up the wrong way? There are rules and you’ve just broken every one of them.’

  Scottie felt shooting pains all over him. There was an intense burning feeling as if every nerve was alight. The cocaine must have cleared from his body, allowing the terrible agony to take a real hold. His eyes red-rimmed and full like a frightened child, he tried to look up at Regan.

  ‘No, please, you have to believe me. I haven’t touched her or your son. I swear, as soon as your boy said he was talking to you, I knew then I was in trouble. I expected you to be on your way. I wasn’t gonna hang around. I never wanted all this aggro. It was me dad and … they were the ones, not me.’

  Mike raised his eyebrow and protruded his lower jaw. ‘You have squealer embedded in your arteries, don’t ya?’ He stepped away and laughed aloud. ‘Easy to blame ya ol’ man since he’s now flushed down the khazi. Right: if you hate Harry and Vinnie so much, you’ll want to see them punished, won’t ya?’ Mike, in his anger, overlooked the fact that Scottie stumbled over his words when he grassed his father. Those were two names that nearly tripped off his tongue.

  Scottie felt his stomach contents climb his throat and rush out through his mouth and nose.

  Zara looked away; she couldn’t bear seeing people being sick around her. She slid the door open and crept outside, taking in great gulps of air, until she steadied her unsettled stomach. Moments later, she returned.

  Mike waited for an answer from Scottie.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ cried Scottie.

  ‘I wanna know where they are, and if they have my son. And until he’s back home safe and sound, I will spend every day turning you bit by bit into mushy peas, starting with your fucking eyeballs.’

  The current pain he was in was enough to know that Regan wasn’t bluffing, but he couldn’t grass, not on Harry and Vinnie. They would string him up. He briefly pondered over his options, but the pain was making him sick; he couldn’t get his head straight, and all he could concentrate on was how he could get out of this mess.

  ‘The address is in my sat nav. I promise you, Jackie has him.’

  ‘Well, Scottie, we’ll see about that because you’re gonna be here until I’ve checked out this so-called address near Ely.’

  Scottie was well aware of how long it would take to go to Jackie’s house and back. He wasn’t sure if he could hold out.

  Zara’s phone interrupted his thoughts. ‘I’ve got the address, Mikey. I can call in a mate who lives that way.’

  Mike spun around and snatched the phone from her, staring at the text message of the unfamiliar address.

  Zara was still slightly queasy and so she didn’t have the energy to pull Mike up on this latest slight to her authority.

  ‘Call ya mate!’ he demanded.

  The tables had now turned. Zara was answering to him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She dialled one of her associates who was plotted up just outside Cambridge. It was a landlord of a pub that Izzy had set up as a stopgap for arms coming down from Scotland. The arrangements made, she slid it into her pocket. With her head tilted to the side, Mike noticed how tired and drawn her face looked.

  Blood leaked continuously from the wound in Scottie’s shoulders, and pooled around his face that was now pressed against the floor. His energy was drained, and he couldn’t hold his head up.

  Mike was like a tiger pacing its cage, waiting for the call, praying that his son was safe. Half an hour seemed like an eternity to everyone.

  Zara’s ringtone made her jump; it didn’t affect Mike, though, who stood rooted to the floor in anticipation. He couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone, but he watched Zara’s reaction to the caller. She shook her head.

  Sympathy spread across her face as she told him, ‘No one’s there. My contact had to break in at the back. All he found was a kid’s suitcase in a small room.’

  Mike’s temper took over his senses. He ripped open the top drawer of a metal toolbox and retrieved an axe. With both hands, he held it above his head and was about to bring the lethal implement down and break Scottie’s head in half when Zara grabbed his arm, and, somehow, using all her strength, she pulled him away. Even Mike was shocked by the power inside her thin arms.

  ‘Wait. I’ve an idea.’

  Mike lowered the axe, his chest heaving.

  ‘Tell him to call his brothers. Weed them out. If they have Ricky, th
en he’s our only hope of finding them right now.’

  For a moment, Mike was back in time seven years ago, with the sweet woman who smiled coyly and showed him so much affection. She tried to smile now, but inside and unbeknown to him she was hurting. Yet he was heartened by the way she’d said the word ‘our’.

  Taking the phone from her, he looked at Scottie who had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. ‘What’s Harry’s number?’

  Opening his eyes, Scottie tried to recall it, but the pain was dulling his senses. A swift kick, though, soon made him think faster. ‘No more, please. I’ll tell ya.’

  Mike had his finger to the ready as Scottie reeled off the digits.

  ‘Ask him where he is and tell him to meet you at the Portobello in one hour.’

  Scottie nodded. As Mike pulled the chair onto its three legs, he held the phone to Scottie’s ear. It rang twice before Harry answered. Mike was close enough to hear the call.

  Scottie nervously stared at Regan. ‘Harry, where are you?’

  Harry was obviously raging. ‘Where the fuck are you, more like? Jesus, Scottie, I thought the fucking Regans had murdered you. Muvver’s gone missing, and the bastards have killed Farver.’

  Scottie’s eyes widened. ‘Where are ya, Harry? Can you meet me at the Portobello pub?’

  ‘You what? No, I fucking can’t. Get yaself down to Broadstairs now, you stupid cunt.’

  Scottie stared at Regan waiting for a clue as to what to say next. Mike mouthed the words ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Whereabouts in Broadstairs, Harry?’

  There was silence for a second. It then dawned on Mike that Broadstairs was either their hideout or their holiday home. It would seem strange, therefore, for Scottie to ask Harry for the address.

  ‘Are you all right, Scottie?’

  Quickly, Scottie replied, ‘No. Harry, they’ve got me. They’re gonna fucking kill me.’

  Mike ripped the phone away and held it to his own ear. ‘That’s right, Harry. So, if ya want ya brother alive, then you give me back my son.’

  ‘You bastard! Ya killed me ol’ man, ya sicko. Now you wanna kill me brother? If you touch him, Regan, I will destroy you …’ Harry was so blinded by fear, and concern for his brother and his mother, that he didn’t twig right away what Mike meant when he’d said, ‘give me back my son’.

  ‘Trust me, Harry, when I fucking get hold of you, you’ll know the real meaning of destroy because I’ll shred you like pulled pork. Now, where’s me boy?’

  Stupidly, Harry still didn’t think to deny that he had Ricky. Not thinking on his feet, he launched into attack mode.

  ‘I will hunt you down, Regan, every last one of your family, and I’ll wipe you all off the face of this earth. You will be sleeping with one eye open, you no-good stinking fucking cunt. You went below the belt, Regan, killing me farver the way you did. Now, where’s me muvver?’ he bellowed down the phone.

  ‘I want me boy, and you can have ya muvver.’

  ‘An eye for an eye!’ replied Harry, who apparently didn’t quite grasp the meaning of the quote. He thought it meant a straight swap.

  ‘You bastard. If you dare to touch my kid!’ screamed Mike, as he looked at Scottie and stuck his finger in his shoulder wound, making him yell out in pain. ‘Did ya hear that, Harry? I will continue torturing your brother until I have my boy back and in one piece.’

  With his mind all over the place, Harry was hard-pressed to think of a way to save his brother. Scottie had clearly been up to no good. He was so sly that, unlike his brother Vinnie, he held his cards close to his chest. Although Scottie loved their father, there was a closer bond between him and his uncle Ronnie, Frank’s brother, who’d always said that Scottie was the son he never had. He was right. Ronnie was clever and crafty with no morals – a master at the art of using people for his own ends. Scottie was just the same.

  Then, it dawned on him. Perhaps his brother was on his own mission and had done away with Mike’s son. He wouldn’t put it past him. He recalled Scottie telling him that he had his own plan to take down the Regan firm. However, at the time, Harry had thought that his brother was too busy to sit and listen to theirs and had used the excuse to go off and screw his bird – the one he’d kept a secret.

  Harry’s thoughts darkened at what he assumed his brother had done, raising his anger and trepidation. Vinnie had killed the dog, and now that Scottie had kidnapped the kid or worse, both brothers’ actions had led to severe consequences, with the brutal murder of his father and possibly his mother. Christ, had his brothers no fucking sense at all? Next, it would be him on the block.

  ‘Jesus. How the hell can I give you back someone I don’t bloody have. Ask my prat of a brother, ’cos I sure as hell have no fucking idea what you’re on about. I—’

  ‘Okay, I’ll leave my axe to do the questioning!’ interrupted Mike before he cut the connection and raised the sharpened tool above his head.

  ‘No!’ screamed Scottie.

  ‘Harry said you know where my son is!’

  Scottie was mortified. His brother had just signed his death warrant – but he would get his revenge. ‘No, Harry has him. I had nothing to do with it. I don’t even know where Harry took him. I swear, if I knew, don’t ya think I would tell ya? Come on, Mr Regan, please! I swear to God, I don’t have him. I wouldn’t hurt a kid – ever!’

  His pleading words meant nothing to Mike. Zara wasn’t quick enough to stop him. The axe came down and completely removed Scottie’s face and the front part of his brain. He died instantly, but his body still shook and twitched. With blood all over his face and up his arms, Mike stood there, frozen by the realization that he’d acted irrationally, by allowing his temper to control his actions – with devastating consequences. He should have waited until he was 100 per cent sure of the facts.

  Zara wanted to vomit there and then but could only bend over and dry-heave. She felt Mike’s meaty arm rub her back.

  ‘Go outside, Zara, and get some fresh air. I need to get this place cleaned up.’ His voice was softer, more caring. Even in among the blood and mess – in what was an almost surreal situation – she wanted to feel his hand on her for just that little bit longer.

  There was no more playing about who was in charge; it was not a battle of wits anymore. It was raw emotion, and no one could argue with that.

  ‘Joshua can help.’ Her voice was croaky from heaving.

  ‘No, darling, this is my mess. Besides, I don’t know him.’

  He sounded resigned, or perhaps just exhausted. She took the bloodied axe, twisting it around in her hands.

  ‘Well, I trust him. And he’ll be cleaning up my mess too. There. It has my DNA on it.’ She threw the axe to the floor.

  Chapter 10

  As the sun came up the next morning, Mike slowly opened his eyes and felt the warm, smooth skin beside him. Zara was still asleep. Gently, he sat up, not wanting to wake her. She looked peaceful, her dark hair and olive skin so striking against the pure white linen sheets. He stared for a while, admiring her delicate bone structure and the gold chain that held a tiny ring, which was gathered in the pocket of her collarbone. He watched as it moved up and down with the gentle waves of her breathing. He followed the contours of her body and gazed at the peaks and troughs of her hips and her long thighs. There was not a blemish, except for a few fine slivers of silver stretch marks just below her navel. Everything about Zara was natural, and with hardly any make-up, she was still a very attractive woman.

  Rubbing his hands through his hair, he got up from the bed and crept from the room to make a coffee to liven himself up. His thoughts turned to Jackie. He wondered if Scottie had told the truth; however, there was the frightening doubt that screamed at him: what if he hadn’t? He couldn’t imagine any sane mother plying their child with booze. If she hadn’t taken Ricky away, and their disappearance had anything to do with the Harmans, then what the hell were they playing at? He just couldn’t fathom why they weren’t screaming for a deal. A fair swap
. What could be more important than Harry’s mother and his brother’s life? He was usually a reasonable man; nevertheless, right now, Mike didn’t care, and no one and nothing would stand in the way of getting his son back.

  Just as the kettle boiled, he sensed her presence in the room.

  ‘Mikey, about last night …’

  With his back to her, he replied, ‘Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.’

  Grateful that he had his back to her, so he couldn’t witness her hurt expression as she quickly blinked away the tears, she said, ‘I know, Mikey, I get it. You were tensed up and I was just the sexual release for you.’

  Her tone was anything but harsh. Mike turned to see Zara with her arms folded to cover her breasts, that would otherwise have been visible through her long, thin T-shirt. Her tousled hair and rosy cheeks stirred that old attraction, and Mike looked away from her.

  Their affair had been a long time ago, and too much had gone under the bridge to even think about resurrecting anything now. Yet he was fighting the urge to take her back to the bedroom for another full-on session, on a bed that had been virtually destroyed by their animal-like lust in mauling each other’s bodies last night. Seven years. Seven years away from each other hadn’t killed their former passion. Far from it: the ripped clothes, the bite marks, the scratches from sharp nails, the taste of each other’s skin – they were testament to that.

  An unexpected feeling of guilt plagued him. His son was missing, yet he was being drawn into another sexual encounter at the initiative of Zara. He instantly changed the subject.

  ‘It was a bit over the top yesterday. It was something you shouldn’t have been a part of,’ he said, in a low tone.

  Still hurt, she raised her eyebrow. ‘You’re forgetting, Mikey, I’m your boss.’

  Not perturbed by her comment, he tapped her on the nose. ‘Would you like a coffee?’

  She knew then that the boss thing wasn’t going to work. ‘Yes, please, er … Mikey, I need to ask you something.’