by KERRY BARNES
Tracey clasped her hands together, and with her forefinger, she rubbed her top lip. She removed the sweat band, revealing the tattoo and a notch carved into her wrist.
Gloria glared and her stomach churned. She assumed the notch was for Ricky. There and then, she wanted to whip out her gun and put a bullet right through the bitch’s head.
‘You know why, Gloria. You don’t need me to tell you, but if you want all the fucking gory details, then that, dear lady, is what you will have,’ replied Tracey, in an icy flat tone.
Close-up now, Gloria could see that Tracey, with the blonde hair extensions and low-cut tops, toppling around in her Jimmy Choos, was now quite a muscular woman. With a deeper voice and no make-up, she looked almost manly.
‘This is who you really are, ain’t it?’ Looking Tracey up and down, she went on, ‘You ain’t the dizzy dolly bird that wormed her way into my boy’s life at all, are ya?’
With a deep chuckle escaping her lips, Tracey was getting a kick out of this visit. She thought, What’s the point in having secrets if the woman’s going to die anyway?
She decided she would goad the Regan woman with words before she wrung her neck.
‘Dolly bird, huh? I’m far from a dolly bird, but I can act the part if I need to. Your son and Neil Lanigan, they love fake tits and blonde hair. Pathetic, both of them.’
Gloria had been told about Zara and the Lanigans. Her heart beat faster. Perhaps Tracey knew what had happened to Zara. At least she would be able to go back and tell Mike something. She knew he was suffering from a broken heart, what with Ricky and also Zara.
‘I guess that notch represents the person ya killed, then? Would that be my grandson, or Teddy Stafford’s brother, or even Zara …?’
Tracey wasn’t a fool. She knew what the old goat was up to.
So she laughed. ‘Oh, Gloria, you have no idea, do you? Zara ain’t dead, she’s very much alive. But, hear this. I will be taking over, and Zara and Ismail, her puny waste of space of a brother, will be more notches on my tattoo. So, your darling son Mike will genuinely have another person to mourn. Anything, to add to his suffering.’
It was Gloria’s time to scoff. ‘You don’t think I believe that, do you? If Zara is alive, she would be hunting you down and burying you. I know about Zara. She’s no silly bitch, unlike you.’
Tracey laughed even louder at Gloria’s dig. ‘Go on, Gloria, I know your game. I’m not stupid. Far from it, in fact. And the truth is, you can ask me whatever you like. Just don’t try to wind me up to get your answers. Go on, try me.’
At that point, Gloria knew that Tracey wasn’t planning on letting her leave this house alive; but then, Gloria wasn’t exactly planning to walk away without killing Tracey. The Harmans had taken too much away from her, to be left with only a pot of Valium to turn to.
‘Where’s Zara? What have you done to her?’
Tracey took a seat and smirked. ‘I cut her hand off, put her wrist in the fire, and then locked her in a basement under Izzy’s house. She’s a bit nutty now, not a danger to anyone. But Ismail, the little prick, insists on keeping her alive. I dunno, maybe he’s getting some sick kick out of it. What else would you like to know? That is, before … Oh, never mind.’
‘Where’s my grandson buried and how did he …?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Tracey’s eyes lit up, watching the agony on Gloria’s face and the resigned slump of her shoulders.
‘That, Mrs Regan, I can’t tell you, but I am sure his death was savage.’
In a sudden surge of fury, Gloria jumped up from her seat, the sneer and the mocking look too much to handle. This was her grandson she was talking about and Tracey’s dismissive attitude sent her over the edge. She didn’t even wait to point her gun; she whipped it from the back of her trousers, and, like an old pro, she released the safety catch and fired.
The bullet didn’t hit Tracey in the head, it just missed her. But as Tracey went to launch herself at Gloria, the older woman cocked the gun again and fired – this time directly into Tracey’s chest. Falling backwards, the look in her eyes was one of pure horror. The blood was instant. The gun may have been small, but it was no spud gun. Wheezing and gurgling, as Tracey tried to breathe, her body slumped to the floor, leaving Gloria stunned.
She had fired the gun and was now watching the woman slowly dying. Gloria’s hands shook, and she stepped back, not taking her eyes away from her victim. ‘You shouldn’t have fucked with my family.’ Tracey’s head flopped forward and the gruesome sound of her gasping for breath stopped.
She was dead.
‘Trace, have ya made me that tea, love?’
Having planned to kill the woman, Gloria was now stumped. What should she do now? She pulled her phone from her bag and called Eric. ‘Son, where are you?’
‘Mum, not now. I’ll call ya when we’re on our way home.’ Eric assumed his mother was just fretting and was about to turn the phone off.
‘Listen. Zara is in Izzy’s house, locked in some basement or something.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘Just get over there quickly with ya father and the others. The poor girl’s locked up in the house somewhere.’
There was a brief pause while Eric tried to absorb his mother’s words. ‘How d’ya know that?’
‘Son, I haven’t got time to explain. Hurry up, will ya?’
‘Are you okay, Mum?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, love. And one more thing. Please remember, you are doing this for your brother. Zara’s his bird. She’s all he has. I have to go. Call me when you find her.’
Eric bit his lip. He wasn’t doing this for Mike; rather, he was going to rescue her hopefully for himself.
Chapter 23
Charlie Ritz rushed down the drive, still trying to put his jacket on. Eric was taken aback by the speed of the man. Willie was so much like his father Charlie, except the latter didn’t have a huge scar down his face. And Willie was lanky, whereas Charlie was meaty. Lou, sometimes known affectionately as Big Lou, since he towered over his son Lou, had as much suaveness as a Portuguese pot-bellied pig. Still, no one would ever be brave enough to verbalize that notion. Once they were all seated, Arthur tore off.
‘Now, lads, we have one shot at this. I have no idea who’s in Izzy’s house, but if the girl is locked up, then you can bet ya bottom dollar there will be someone guarding her,’ said Arthur, taking his usual stance as the leader.
‘All right, son. I’ve got me gun, a knife tucked in me boot, and me angina puffer.’
‘And you, Lou?’ asked Arthur.
‘Yep, I’ve got me gun and me pepper spray.’
Eric had never seen them ready for a war. The way they carried themselves made it clear why they had gained a ruthless reputation.
‘We need to get in there and grab the first skullcap and bring him to his knees. I want a shooter in his mouth and fucking answers. We may have been hunted for years, but I ain’t having any of our families suffering the same. This ends today, once and for all. Anyone with a tattoo on their fucking wrist will get it from me, both fucking barrels.’
‘Why didn’t we bring Teddy?’ asked Charlie.
‘Because I reckon that what we uncover today will tell us who killed Monty, and he’ll go ballistic. I want a controlled showdown.’
The sky was now loaded with dense clouds, the air was sticky, and soon a storm would be over them. As they turned into the drive that led up to Izzy’s former house, a crash of thunder made Eric flinch. The others didn’t even blink. A sudden eerie feeling came over him. In the distance, up the hill, with nothing around except fields and trees, the Georgian house, with its numerous tall chimneys, cast an imposing and somewhat daunting sight. Around the perimeter, it was equally dark and uninviting. Arthur turned the car’s lights off and drove to within a short distance of the house.
‘Only one car, Arthur,’ said Lou, in his husky voice.
‘What’s on the number plate? Can ya see?’
Lou fiddled with his case for his glasses. ‘Fucking eyes and hip. Jesus, I hate getting old.’
Eric struggled to see himself.
‘It says I5MAL.’
‘Ismail!’ said Eric. ‘So, her brother’s there, then. The little fucking bastard, eh? If Mum’s got this right, he must be in on it.’
Arthur was quick to jump in. ‘Ya muvver’s always right.’
‘No sensor lights have come on,’ commented Charlie.
Arthur stared at the monster of a house; it put him in mind of a vampire film he’d recently watched.
‘It means we’re too far away, so let’s get out and walk on the grass and surround the house. Don’t walk on the drive, in case the lights are pointed that way. Eric and Charlie, you creep around the back. Me and Lou will go to the front.’
As he’d thought, the sensor lights were pointing down the drive. They walked to the side of the house and bent down as they crept past the windows. Nothing came on.
Lou held himself away from the door, against the wall, while Arthur knocked. With no glass in the door, whoever opened it wouldn’t see who was there at first.
Izzy had installed cameras and floodlights; but, since his death, ten or more years ago, Ismail hadn’t bothered to keep these in working order. Over time, various parts of the security system had failed, and his slapdash attitude had resulted in nothing being repaired.
Arthur banged hard and gripped his gun as he waited. A few minutes later, the door opened. It was Ismail, as he suspected. Once Ismail laid eyes on Arthur, he tried to close the heavy oak door, but with one hard kick, Arthur was through and into the hallway. Ismail had no time to run before he was snatched and pushed to the floor with a gun in his mouth.
‘Who else is here?’ demanded Arthur.
Ismail looked up at Arthur and then at Big Lou whose appearance made Ismail turn from white to grey. The man was colossal. The younger man’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets. He tried to shake his head, but Arthur shoved the gun deeper down his throat. ‘If you’re lying, this fucker will decorate the hallway with your brains.’
‘Lou, let the others in, will ya?’
Lou headed past Arthur towards the back of the house. Not really knowing where to go – he guessed the house had well over thirty rooms – he walked straight ahead until he came to another oak door on the left-hand side. The key was in the lock, and as he turned it, he saw a staircase leading to what appeared to be the basement. He turned around and there on the furthest wall was a set of French doors covered by red velvet curtains. Eric and Charlie were outside and eagerly came in.
They followed Lou back to the hallway where Arthur still had Ismail by the throat.
‘Where’s ya sister?’ demanded Arthur.
Ismail was so terrified his legs shook as though he was having a seizure. Arthur took the gun out of Ismail’s mouth. ‘Where. Is. She?’ he bellowed.
Ismail looked at the four men and knew he couldn’t escape. He was alone this evening until ten-thirty, when Benjamin and Guy were going to pay him a visit. So he guessed he would be tortured until then. What choice did he have but to tell them? But, more to the point, what could his sister tell them anyway? She was a dribbling, brain-damaged cabbage. ‘She’s … downstairs,’ he gingerly replied.
Arthur grabbed his arm, almost wrenching it from its socket. ‘Show me!’
Ismail took them to the side door that led downstairs; the others followed, eerily fascinated by the underground fortress. There in front of them was the metal prison door. But as they peered through the bars, all they could see was a warm, inviting room, with a red carpet, walnut cabinets, and a beautifully carved wooden bed. Arthur laid a mighty hand on Ismail’s shoulders.
‘Fucking open it!’
Fumbling in his pockets, Ismail pulled out the keys, and with unsteady hands, he turned the locks and stepped back.
All four men were completely stunned. Inside, sitting on a chair with a high back and dressed in a khaki brushed hoodie and matching cargo joggers was Zara. She was watching ITV’s News at Ten, not even looking their way.
She didn’t move until Arthur gently placed his hand on her bony shoulder.
Slowly, she turned her head. Then, as if she’d just come out of a trance, her eyes widened as they focused on the other men. Realizing that they were not connected to Guy at all, her gaze fixed on Eric. To her astonishment, her nightmare, which seemed to have lasted an eternity, was now at an end. Instantly, her body began to quiver, the relief so overwhelming.
Then she caught sight of her brother out of the corner of her eye. She gave him a look that he recognized – the one she’d used as a child when she’d fooled him into thinking he’d hurt her.
At that moment, he knew that for the last five years she had deliberately hoodwinked him again. His eyes looked for his only escape route.
Just as he was about to run, Zara screamed, ‘Get him!’ She knew she wouldn’t be fast enough, but Charlie – who she could see clearly resembled Willie and was presumably his father – despite his advanced years, moved like a whippet. He lurched forward and caught Ismail by the hair, throwing him hard against the wall.
Arthur went to help her up. ‘Are you okay, love? You’re safe now, babe.’
With studied concentration, Zara’s eyes focused on her brother.
Carefully, she rose from the chair and slowly walked towards the door.
Eric then spotted her wrist, and he gasped in horror. ‘Jesus, what the fuck did they do to you?’
She didn’t answer but stood over her brother, who was slumped on the floor. His big puppy-dog eyes, pleading with her, meant nothing.
‘You evil fucking bastard. You verbally taunted me every fucking day, you sick motherfucker!’ Lifting her leg, she stamped down hard on his head.
Arthur didn’t stop her at first. Far be it for him to do so. But then it dawned on him that he needed answers. ‘No, wait, love, I want the fucking truth, and he’s gonna give it to me.’ He leaned down and gripped Ismail’s wrist and then glared at the tattoo. ‘Hunter, eh? Charlie, give me your knife. I’m ending this, once and for all.’
Ismail’s eyes were wide, and he felt the bile rush to his throat. ‘Oh, no, no, please don’t cut me. Please!’ he begged.
Then he looked at his sister, but he could see from the body language that there wouldn’t be any sympathy from her. Instead, she grinned. ‘Let me do it!’
‘No!’ said Eric. ‘It’s gruesome, love, and you’re a lady. Let me get you out of here. Me dad’s gonna make him talk.’
Zara looked at her own scarred wrist. ‘Oh, believe me, I do gruesome. What answers do you want?’
Arthur shook his head. ‘Love, don’t you worry about it. Let Eric take you somewhere safe.’
‘Give me the knife. Please!’ she insisted.
Arthur couldn’t argue with her. He understood that, after all this time, with her physical injuries and mental torture, he was in no position to deny her poetic justice. He handed the blade to her.
‘No, please, I’ll tell you everything!’ shrieked Ismail.
Arthur eased Zara aside and glared down at Ismail, who was whimpering like an injured dog.
‘Who else has that tattoo?’
‘Oh, I can tell you that! Guy Segal and his fat fuck of a son.’ said Zara.
‘That tattoo has a meaning that’s followed my family around like a bad smell for decades, and I want to know who’s behind it and why!’
Zara let the knife fall out of her hand. ‘Oh my God, it was you!’ Her eyes shot from Arthur to Charlie and then to Lou. ‘Do you remember back in the sixties when two Jewish boys were murdered?’
Arthur jolted his head and looked at Lou and then at Charlie. ‘Jesus wept. So, all this really was about the murder of those two Jewish kids?’
Zara ran her hand through her hair and sighed. Ismail was visibly shrinking.
‘That tattoo means “hunter”. You, and the boys who were there that day, were hunted. An ey
e for an eye.’
‘But that’s fucking mad. We didn’t kill them. We were only ten years old.’ He looked at the men who were staring at Zara in utter amazement.
Charlie banged the wall. ‘All those years of being grassed up, bashed up, and wondering who the hell was behind it all, we still didn’t have any answers as to fucking why. You mean to tell me that someone holds a grudge because they thought we killed two Jewish kids? Who the fuck were these boys anyway?’
An uncomfortable expression clouded Zara’s face and she lowered her eyes. ‘They were my father’s little brother and Guy Segal’s brother!’
Arthur’s jaw dropped open. ‘Your father was one of these so-called fucking hunters?’
It was Ismail who unexpectedly showed some courage. ‘No. Izzy was a defector. He covered his tattoo. He was weak, not worthy of the ink.’
Lou gave Ismail a swift kick to his head. ‘Shut up, you fucking lightweight prick.’
‘When my father was just a teenager, he and Guy had a tattoo. I think it was just one of those things that kids did in those days. It would have looked cool. My father never went into great detail. He said he was ashamed and left it at that. I heard bits and pieces, but he was called a defector because he wouldn’t join forces with Guy. I was betrothed to Benjamin as a baby because Guy and my father were close. Then they fell out, and a serious feud between them began. My dad drove the Segals out of the country. I was shocked to see Guy at my father’s funeral …’ She glared at Ismail. ‘And worse, I now discover my own brother invited him.’
Arthur then turned to Ismail. ‘Right, Lou. Let’s tie this fucker up and gouge his eyes out!’
Arthur knew damn well that he wouldn’t need to use Gestapo tactics to extract the truth out of Ismail. The man would roll over with a flick of the ear. Right on cue, he was proved correct.
‘No, wait, I’ll tell you what happened. Please, I beg you. Don’t cut me.’
Charlie laughed. ‘Nah, I wanna skewer his mince pies.’
Ismail screamed, ‘Oh God, no, please!’
‘You fucking sick bastard. Look at ya. You’re so pathetic. Now, tell us the fucking truth!’ Zara screamed.