by KERRY BARNES
The feeling was so uncomfortable, she had to make the first move. Clenching her jaw, she hissed, ‘Get back!’
She stepped forward, forcing him to withdraw out of the front door.
‘Put the gun down, Zara!’ he demanded, his face showing a smug leer.
She took another step forward so she was standing at the threshold. This time, he retreated a little more. But he still didn’t look unnerved.
There was no one around except Benjamin in his long brilliant-white shirt and black trousers. She could smell the sweat from his armpits as a soft breeze blew in her direction. It tainted the sweet aroma of the trailing honeysuckle around the front door entrance. His deep throaty chuckle destroyed the sound of the bees and tweeting birds. And his fat, ugly body distorted the view of the wild flowers in the meadow, gently swaying like a sea of colour.
As if her mind was going in slow motion, she watched the fiendish grin on his face expand. Suddenly, along with a whipping sound, came a sudden flash, like a windscreen wiper flicking across her view. She blinked as she felt a hard thump to her wrist. And then she saw his eyes; they were excited and alive with pleasure as a sudden gush of bright red blood shot up his gleaming white shirt and splattered his face.
She heard a heavy thud as an object hit the doorstep. Instantly, it made her look down. Her eyes were wide and terrified, and immediately her whole body convulsed in shock. No! Her severed hand was there on the quarry tiles, still gripping the gun. Staring in total and utter disbelief, as the blood spurted like jets, Zara felt no pain, only pure grief. The blood gushed relentlessly, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The instant shock brought her to her knees while her eyes were focused on the devastating remains of her wrist. Like a thousand pricking needles, her whole body was alive with the utmost fear. Benjamin towered over her, cruelly kicking the severed hand and gun away like a piece of dog turd. She realized there was no sound; she had been shocked into deafness. Then, all at once, she heard a wail; it was coming from behind Benjamin.
‘Noooo!’
Holding her arms as if she was cradling a baby, she snapped out of her state of disbelief and looked up to see her brother being held back by a man she didn’t recognize. Ismail was screaming and trying to break free from the neck hold. Thrashing around red-faced and angry, he shrieked, ‘Let me go, Griff, you bastard, you fucking bastard!’
Then she heard a spiteful, high-pitched woman’s voice. ‘You’re gonna die, you fucking filthy Regan cocksucker bitch. I’ve been hunting you down for five years.’
Zara glared at the attractive, blonde-haired woman. And in that surreal moment, she thought she recognized her.
‘Let me fucking go!’ screamed Ismail, who was still overpowered.
‘Griff, take that poncey prick out of ’ere, will ya,’ bellowed the woman. ‘I’ve got more work to do with my samurai sword.’ She held up a long, curved silver blade and kissed it.
As if someone had slapped her face, Zara’s mind jolted into reality, as everything pieced together. The Segals and the Harmans were working together to bring the Regans down over a stupid belief. And there, just outside the house, being held down, was the back-stabbing traitor – her own fucking brother. Waves of dizziness swept through her body, the world closed in around her, and then, before she could move or say another word, she was unconscious.
The woman kicked Zara in the leg. ‘Wake up, bitch. I want to hear your fucking screams, as I slice you to ribbons.’
Benjamin grabbed the enraged woman’s arm and yanked her away.
‘You shut ya mouth and do as I fucking say,’ he growled in a deep voice. ‘I need this house turned over. I want to know everything about her plans and her business.’
She shook him free. ‘Okay. But then I want her for myself. And don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again, ya great fat oaf.’
Ismail was still being held by Griff, Benjamin’s brother-in-law. With his tear-stained face pushed onto the flagstones, Ismail was apoplectic with fury, seeing his sister’s hand cut off. It broke his heart. His perfectionist attitude – almost OCD, in fact – extended to everything he could see or feel. Now his big sister had lost her hand. He felt almost sick in revulsion, at her and for her in equal measure, knowing his sister was anything but perfect and now she never would be.
There had never been any suggestion that they would kill her; the plan had only been to bring her back to London and make her sign over the properties, as a fair exchange for all the businesses that the Segals believed she’d taken from them. Seeing his sister in this state made him retch. Seconds later, he expelled the contents of his stomach onto the flagstones, partially coating Griff’s arm.
Benjamin stepped over Zara, who was now slumped against the outside wall, the blood still oozing from her mutilated wrist. He dragged the woman who was still wielding the sword and took her with him to go upstairs and look for papers, phones, or anything that could yield vital information.
She shot him a look of annoyance. ‘I’m fucking warning you, Benjamin. You manhandle me again, and you’ll be the next candidate for my sword.’
While Benjamin searched the office, Zara briefly came to. Believing her life was slipping away, she wanted somehow to leave a message, a warning. With her remaining hand, she wrote in the thin layer of dust BENJAMIN SEGAL and underneath she etched HARMAN. With all her strength, she moved her leg to cover it.
Just as she was slipping from consciousness once again, Benjamin came marching through the doorway with his cousin on his heels, still gripping the bloodstained sword.
‘Help me to get her inside. I want her alive for answers!’
The blonde woman was almost foaming at the mouth. She only wanted to kill Zara, and everyone linked to her.
Gripping both of Zara’s arms, he hoisted her up.
He then laid her on the floor in front of the fire. She couldn’t open her eyes, as they were so heavy, but she could hear everything – the crackling of the fire, the stomping of feet, and her brother’s voice somewhere in the distance, pleading to be let free.
The woman’s voice was hoarse. ‘What the hell are you giving her that for?’
‘I need this bitch alive, and if I don’t stop the bleeding, I’ll be left with a fucking corpse and no gain.’
Zara felt a sudden prick in her arm. Moments later, her body became heavy, and a warm, comforting feeling swirled around her head. She had been sedated.
Chapter 21
The sound of a ticking clock – tick-tock, tick-tock – pulled Zara from her deep slumber. The smell of disinfectant mixed with a recognizable musky odour made her blink and want to open her eyes. Yet her eyelids were so weighty. There was a sense of peace; maybe it was the smell or the gentle rhythmic sound of a grandfather clock. She was back at home in Izzy’s old house, or perhaps it was a dream. Her fingers gently felt the soft bedsheets, but there was something not right. She was gripped by a terrifying sensation: with her right hand, she could move and feel brushed cotton, but why couldn’t she move her left hand? Then, a cold chill entered the pit of her stomach. As she attempted to lift her arms, a horrific realization gripped her around the throat, trapping her breath. She was tied down. The surge of panic that ripped through her forced her eyes to open. The room was a blur, but when she turned her head to the side, there, up against the window, were the deep red velvet drapes. Then, when she lifted her head, her eyes focused on what was tying her to the bed, and she blinked furiously. ‘No!’ she screamed, as she saw the heavily bandaged wrist. There was no hand. The past came flooding back. Her breathing intensified and her whole body shook. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for someone. Her brother. He was the last person she remembered seeing, his face held down as he screamed. It was all coming back, piece by piece. Her home in Ireland, Benjamin, and that woman wielding the long sword.
Yet she couldn’t understand why she was now in her father’s house and tied to a bed with her handless wrist dressed.
She peered more clos
ely and assumed that a doctor or surgeon must have attended to her because the dressing had clearly been done by a professional. Strangely, she experienced no pain, just a light-headed and sick feeling.
Seconds later, she heard the door being opened and instantly closed her eyes.
That voice made her stomach turn over. It was a dry, gritty sound that made her shudder. Benjamin!
‘Don’t you think by now she’ll be well enough to speak? It’s been a month.’
Shocked to the core, Zara wanted to open her eyes; however, something told her to keep them shut – to pretend she was asleep. Her inner survival mechanism was at work.
‘Benjamin, I don’t like this. I would prefer to give back all the money you’ve paid me and walk away. This doesn’t sit right with me. And this house, it’s like Izzy is watching me from the grave.’
‘Palo, you’ve had the money, and I don’t do fucking loans, so you will continue to do as I say.’
Zara knew precisely who Palo was. He was her father’s doctor. He was a weak old man, who had been struck off thirty years previously, yet the community still went to him for help rather than be put on a two-week waiting list to see their own doctor.
‘Benjamin, she’s not well enough for me to bring her around. We must keep her sedated until that wound has healed. I have another course of antibiotics. I’ll feed them in her drip.’
There was a pause, making Zara wonder what was going on.
‘Benjamin, I will continue to ensure that the girl is well and cared for, but you must leave me to it. I don’t want you in the room again.’
‘Since when do you give the orders?’ growled Benjamin.
‘There are many things, Benjamin, I can turn away from, and not concern myself with, but there are certain times when my soul will override my fear and this is one of them.’
‘Oh, shut up, you silly old man! Your job is to make her well. Tell me when she’s ready to speak.’
‘No! Benjamin, I will not be quiet. I don’t like you hovering around or the way you look at her. It defies belief, and I won’t allow it. I know what goes through your mind. It’s disgusting. I will keep quiet about your plan. However, Benjamin, taking advantage of a woman under sedation, I will not keep quiet about. Do you understand me?’
It was the first time Zara had ever heard Palo raise his voice.
‘You’re going mad and blind, old man. Just get her better, I said!’
Zara listened as the door closed, and then she heard Palo’s soft voice. ‘I’m so sorry, child. Please forgive me.’
She felt the needle prick. Once again, she was unconscious.
* * *
One month later
Her eyes flickered, hearing her brother’s voice. ‘Zara, wake up,’ he gently whispered.
His tone instilled an air of trust, but as soon as she opened her eyes wide, her vision was clear. Ismail was being held back by Guy. She was no longer in her father’s bedroom. Her heart sank. Her body trembled. It was over: there was no escape.
Oh, Izzy, why did you have to play James Bond and build a secure underground room? She knew this room so well. Only Izzy, Ismail, and herself had known about it. It was designed and built years previously, when he had been part of a more prominent firm. It wasn’t a dark dungeon; far from it – Izzy would never have had anything as ugly as that in his home – and nor had he ever used it to hold anyone hostage. He turned it into a guest suite, as he called it. It consisted of a bedroom, bathroom, and a living room with solid wood cabinets, which contained books, games, an antique chess set, and solitaire. There were no windows and no doors from which to escape. The only entrance into the area was a reinforced steel frame, with heavy-duty metal bars. He had been so smart and a real genius when it came to architecture. And such irony. If only he’d known that his invention would be used to hold his own daughter prisoner, he would have cut off his own hand. She closed her eyes again and pretended to be asleep.
‘So now you are with us, Zara, it’s only fitting that we share with you our plans because, my dear, they include you,’ said Guy, as he shook her shoulder. ‘Benjamin, untie her arms and sit her up. Like I told you before, Zara, your father wanted us to work together.’
She felt the ties being removed and Benjamin’s heavy hand roughly pull her into a sitting position. Her body was weak, having lain in a bed for so long. Her only blessing was Palo, who had ensured that she was kept clean and moved constantly, so that she didn’t suffer from bed sores or, worse, blood clots. However, being as weak as a kitten, she flopped all over the place. Even her eyes rolled around as if she were drunk.
Palo, who was standing behind Guy, stepped forward. ‘You cannot just move her like that. She is very fragile. Her muscles will be like mush. She needs time to build up her strength. The drugs will have affected her brain, and so she will need time. You cannot just ask her questions and expect a lucid answer.’ He hurried over, moving Benjamin out of the way. Looking directly into Zara’s eyes, he winked. ‘She may not ever really recover, you know. Patients kept sedated for so long can suffer brain damage.’
Zara heard the message loud and clear.
‘Do you know where you are and what your name is?’ he winked again.
With her head wobbling as though she were pissed, she slurred a wordless reply.
Guy and Benjamin were standing back, waiting for Palo to assess the situation.
‘Do you know who this man is?’ He turned and pointed to her brother, who was hunched up like a scared rat.
She allowed a dribble to run from her lips. Slowly, she shook her head.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ He showed two.
She lolled her head again and drooled once more.
Palo gently laid her back down. ‘This process cannot be rushed, as you can see. Let’s get her comfortable and give her some soup. She needs to build up her strength for her brain to heal. If it ever will, that is.’
Guy screeched, ‘She lost her fucking hand! She didn’t smash her bloody head.’
‘She’s been sedated for two months, so, therefore, the brain can suffer damage. If you remember, I didn’t have the equipment needed to help her. It was your idea to keep everything that way. If she’d been in the hospital, the wrist would have healed in no time. You, Benjamin, may have saved her life by burning the wound, but you also caused a serious infection that has taken months to clear. And we cannot rule out that there could be severe consequences even if her brain does recover. So, please be gentle. She could still die.’
‘Enough, Palo!’ bellowed Guy.
When her feet first touched the floor, she realized just how weak she was; her legs wouldn’t hold her up at all. She must have lost so much weight too because Palo and Ismail had no problem getting her into the bed; she was as light as a feather.
Just before they left, Ismail whispered in her ear, ‘Not so big now, are you, dear sister?’
‘Ismail!’ screamed Benjamin. ‘Get out, ya little jerk-off.’
She watched her brother scurry away like a pathetic rodent after his cheese. She would never have imagined that her own flesh and blood would have allowed this sick, twisted game to go on. Her only option, she believed, was to play dumb and hope and pray that someone would find her. And it was her most fervent wish that the names in the dust weren’t obliterated.
* * *
Mike left solitary confinement and was escorted by Eugene to the visiting room. The last visit from his father had knocked him sideways. The lock-up had been raided, the cars en route were confiscated, and the boys were in Brixton Prison awaiting trial. Neil had constantly tried to contact Zara. Receiving no response, he’d headed back to her house the very next morning only to find bloodstained floorboards and the remains of a computer in the open fire. He also discovered the name ‘Harman’ etched in the dust by the front door. There seemed to have been another name written there, but it appeared to have been disturbed by footprints, making it impossible to read.
Mike was heartbrok
en when he received a call from Neil Lanigan; his son dead, and now his one true love missing – probably murdered. He understood the saying, God pays back debts without money. None of it made any sense. Why, for example, would she leave a sign inscribed in the dirt? As far as he was aware, all the Harmans were dead. He racked his brains, night after night, until he fell into a tortured sleep.
The Lanigans had exhausted every avenue looking for her. They raided firms and interrogated everyone who had tried to take over Zara’s manor, but they only found pathetic Jewish men who knew nothing. Davey now had most of the businesses run by his own men. But as to the whereabouts of Zara, they were hitting brick walls.
As Mike’s name was called, he entered the visiting room, and for a second, he didn’t know who he was looking for. Because although he’d spoken many times with Davey Lanigan on the phone, he’d never actually met him in person. The older man, smartly dressed in a navy-blue suit and a light-blue shirt, waved across at him. Mike could see the hardness in the man’s eyes before he even had a chance to take a seat.
For his part, Davey was almost in awe of Mike: just his imposing size and manner deserved admiration. As soon as they shook hands, Davey could feel the strength in him. He hadn’t met many like Mike.
‘It’s a shame, Mr Regan, that we meet under such … let’s just say frustrating circumstances.’
Mike nodded. ‘I won’t let this go, you know. If there’s another Harman left alive, I’m going to hunt him down, and I’ll make a solemn promise to you now that he’ll be ripped apart with my bare hands. They killed my son and now they have taken my …’ He paused and gritted his teeth. ‘My girl.’
‘She loved you, Mr Regan. With all her heart, that woman adored you.’