Torn Apart

by M A Comley

  “That ain’t going to be easy, sir, if what happened to your car is anything to go by, and there has been a police no-go placed on the estate for a while now.” Julie’s gaze was still on Rupert, who stood alone at the church entrance.

  “There has to be ways around that, Sergeant. If other teams haven’t tried, then I want our team to be the first to try and succeed.”

  “I’m not with you, sir.” Julie turned and frowned at him.

  “I’m talking an undercover operation if we have to. We’ll chat later, back at the station. Right now, we need to support Rupert in his hour of need.”

  The detectives left their vehicle and followed the small crowd walking up the pathway to the church. As Rupert shook the hand of each person who arrived, his smile remained absent from his strained face.

  Hero listened to Rupert’s conversation with a tall man who was about the same age as Hartley.

  “How are you holding up, mate?”

  “I’ve been better. Have you managed to find anything out yet?” Rupert asked under his breath.

  The other man nodded and mumbled, “We’ll talk later. Okay?”

  Hero saw a spark light up in Rupert’s eyes as the man left him and walked into the church. He shook hands with the grieving husband, who took the time to smile and hold Julie’s hand longer than was necessary. After entering the church, Hero made a beeline for the man whom Rupert had just spoken to. He held out his hand and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Hero Nelson, and you are?”

  The man frowned. “Er…Dave Wheeler. Should I know you, Mr. Nelson?”

  Hero sat in the pew next to Wheeler. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what Rupert said to you back there. Mind if I ask what he was referring to?”

  “Why?” the man asked abruptly. His shoulders straightened as he sat back.

  Hero reached into his jacket pocket and produced his warrant card. He held it up so Wheeler could see. “I forgot to add that I’m DI Hero Nelson.”

  “I see. And I forgot to ask when you first introduced yourself, has your mother got a sense of humour?” Wheeler smiled, and it was Hero’s turn to frown.

  “I’m not with you.”

  “Naming you Hero, I guess she must have.”

  Hero stiffened in his seat. “Yeah, she’s a bit of a romantic. That’s why most of my friends call me Patch.” Wheeler raised an eyebrow, and Hero added, “Don’t ask.”

  The gibe appeared to have broken the ice between them. Hero tried again. “So…what was that all about?”

  Wheeler’s gaze drifted from Hero to Julie as she sat down in the pew beside Hero and leaned in to listen. “Are you the detectives investigating Rupert’s wife’s case?”

  “We are.”

  Wheeler looked behind Hero at the entrance to the church. “He’s asked me to do some digging for him.”

  “Digging? In what respect?”

  “I’m an investigative journalist.”

  “Now, hold on a minute. I can see where this is leading.” Hero’s gut started to twitch and irritate him.

  Wheeler shrugged. “He’s a mate. His family was everything to him. I know your lot are probably doing your best, but if a mate asks, then I have to help them.”

  “You’re right. We are doing our best. Can I ask what you’ve found out?”

  Wheeler’s mouth turned down at the sides before he answered. “Three words. The Krull Gang.”

  “Yes, three dangerous words. And can I ask what you intend telling Mr. Hartley about this gang?”

  “That they’re notorious hard nuts. That they’re the worst gang Manchester has ever encountered. What else should I tell him? That the police are scared of them?”

  “Fair comment, although ‘scared’ isn’t really a term I would use. ‘Wary’ would be more accurate.”

  Julie snorted, and Hero swiftly turned to look at her. His eyes widened, warning her to keep quiet.

  Wheeler jumped in. “Have you got something to add?”

  Under Hero’s continued glare, Julie shook her head. “No, not really. We’re doing our best, Mr. Wheeler.”

  “Hmm…I doubt that’s the case. Murder is murder, no matter if a gang rules its territory or not. They should be brought to justice by the proper authorities. If not…”

  Hero cocked his head. “If not? Please continue, Mr. Wheeler.”

  “I was going to say, if the police don’t want to or can’t deal with the gang, it could lead to something else.”

  “Now wait just a minute—” Hero began before the church organ started up.

  Wheeler sat back and whispered, “It’s not that difficult to work out, Nelson.”

  Julie nudged Hero as the pallbearers passed by their pew. He knew that any further conversation with the journalist would need to wait until the service had ended.

  The two coffins were placed on the waiting trestles situated on the altar, and the ten pallbearers drifted away to take their seats. The vicar spoke proudly of Saskia and Laurence’s contribution to their commune and how their church had benefitted from Saskia’s extensive charity work over the years. Then it was Rupert’s turn to say farewell to his family. He left his seat at the front of the church and made his way slowly past the coffins up to the altar. His hands trembled as he withdrew a piece of paper from his inner jacket pocket and placed it on the stand in front of him.

  He began reading from the sheet, his voice low and choked when he spoke of his only son, Laurence. The church was silent, apart from the odd snuffle from the female members of the congregation. Rupert’s words about his departed wife were fuelled by anger. He talked about his love for the woman he had plucked from obscurity in Russia, whose parents had disowned her for leaving their cherished country. This woman had become his best friend and had spent her days thinking constantly about doing what was best for both him and their son. His eyes welled up with tears. He paused to wipe them away with the sleeve of his jacket, then surprised his captive audience by going on the attack.

  Hero cringed at the intensity of Rupert’s words, but he completely understood where the man’s anger and anguish was coming from. However, Rupert’s final words rocked him the hardest.

  Hartley’s gaze rose up to the church’s vaulted roof, and he clenched his fist. “Saskia, my love. Your death will be avenged. You and Laurence died a horrendous death that no person on this earth should have been forced to suffer. I’ll see to it that the culprits are brought to justice.”

  Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd. Julie nudged Hero in the ribs again and whispered, “Do you think he and Wheeler are going to join forces?”

  “I have no idea. It does sound as though something is going to kick off, though. I think we need to have a quiet word with both of them after the service, don’t you?”

  Julie nodded. With his threat voiced and out in the open, Hartley returned to his seat, touching the two coffins with his fingertips as he passed.

  The organ music began playing again, and the pallbearers raised the coffins and carried them up the aisle, to the hearses waiting outside. The cars appeared to crawl around the churchyard to an area at the rear with waist-high wrought-iron railings around it. The congregation followed the vehicles to the family plot. The vicar continued his service, and the coffins were laid to rest next to one another.

  Ten minutes later, the crowd dispersed, and the two detectives wandered over to Rupert, who was chatting with Dave Wheeler.

  “Mind if we interrupt? Only we have to get back to the station.” Hero gave both men a brief smile.

  “Sure.” Rupert turned to shake hands with Julie first, then Hero. “I wanted to thank you again, Sergeant, for all your help. I’ll be eternally grateful to you for your kindness.”

  The colour rose in Julie’s cheeks. “It was all part of the job, Rupert.”

  Hero cleared his throat, then he tackled the subject that was worrying him. “About what you said in your speech, Rupert, I hope I didn’t misunderstand the implication behind your angry words.”

>   “I’m not sure, Inspector. It depends what you read into my angry words,” Rupert replied.

  Hero took umbrage at the way Hartley was talking to him, and he bit back. “One word, Rupert. Revenge. I believe that was what you were referring to. Am I right?” Hartley shrugged nonchalantly. “Revenge! Not entirely sure what you’re getting at there, Inspector. I thought bringing the gang to justice was a matter for the police.”

  “It is, Mr. Hartley. I promise you that we are doing our best to do just that. I’d also advise you and Mr. Wheeler that any ‘outside influence’, shall we call it? Would be damaging and downright ludicrous. This gang—”

  Hartley cut him off, “Oh right, so you do know who’s responsible for the death of my family then. Tell me, Inspector, why haven’t you arrested them yet?”

  “It’s not as simple as that, Mr. Hartley. We need proof—hard factual evidence—before we can make an arrest.” Although he knew that the CCTV footage would be more than enough to bring in the gang, Hero was just trying to buy some time with Hartley to get his own plans in order for bringing down the gang.

  Rupert only smiled in response, but it was a false smile. He could also tell that both Hartley and Wheeler would be continuing their conversation after he and Shaw left.

  Feeling defeated, which didn’t sit well with him, Hero said goodbye to the men and returned to the car with Shaw. Hero sat in the passenger’s seat and slapped the dashboard. “I’m not liking this, Julie. Not one bit.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They were in the kiddies play area of the estate, where they did most of their planning.

  “Why are you so fucking late?” Crabbie asked Johnson, the newest gang member. “Think before you give me any shit, man.”

  “It’s only two minutes, Crabbie. Give me a break.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for any backchat, so he gave the signal to the two other gang members present, and they pounced on Johnson. Each holding an arm, they held him while Crabbie punched him in the guts five or six times. “If you want a break, fuck off back to the other gang. Either respect me, or take a hike. You got that?”

  Johnson coughed and groaned. Winded, he couldn’t talk properly, so to reinforce his point Crabbie laid into him again. Johnson mumbled an apology, and the leader backed off.

  Johnson reached in his backpack, pulled out a can of lager and opened it. Under Crabbie’s watchful gaze, he downed the can in one gulp.

  “Now, why were you late?”

  Johnson drew in a breath and winced. “My old dear was on about the funeral of those two we run over last week.”

  “Yeah, and…?”

  Johnson smirked. “Well, I thought it would be a good idea to go down there and cause havoc.”

  “Yeah, and I say you’ve got shit for brains, arsehole. We’re already on the cops’ radar thanks to Barrett not covering his face when he put the camera out of business. Sometimes I wonder if you guys have two brain cells between ya.”

  Johnson sat down on the bench next to him. “All right, Crabbie. I just thought it’d be a blast to go down there. That’s all.”

  He kicked Johnson’s foot. “That’s exactly why all the thinking comes from here.” He tapped his own head and then poked Johnson hard in the temple. “And not here. Right, who’s up for some ag today? I thought we’d go over to the Rickman Estate and see what’s happening over there.”

  His brother, Stuart, nodded enthusiastically, and the other gang members followed suit. Crabbie grinned smugly and walked towards the car. He heard the others step into line behind him. His stomach churned with excitement at the thought of the aggro ahead. Nothing like a bit of danger to start one’s day. His brother revved up the Subaru they had stolen the previous night, and the four of them got in. The other estate was about a fifteen-minute drive from their own hangout. Stuart turned up the volume full blast, and the sub woofers in the back made the car vibrate hard. The heavy metal noise of Saxon filled the vehicle and continued until they reached their destination.

  “Leave the music on, Stu. Let’s make sure we get their attention from the start.” Crabbie pushed open the door and stepped out onto the pavement. The others followed him. The four of them surveyed the area with menacing glances. Anyone seeing them would have known instantly that they meant business.

  “Looks like a ghost town, don’t it?” Crabbie took a few strides up the deserted street towards the high-rise flats at the end.

  Because he was slightly shorter than his brother, Stuart’s pace was quicker than Crabbie’s. “What ya gonna do, bro?”

  “Watch and learn, little brother. Watch and learn.”

  Crabbie heard Barrett and Johnson snigger behind him. They knew what was about to happen, even if his dim brother didn’t. He glanced over his shoulder and issued Barrett with a taut smile when he saw what he was holding in his right hand.

  He heard running in the distance and knew that the lookout had gone off to warn the leader of the opposing gang of their arrival.

  “I hope you’re ready for this, boys?” Crabbie asked. The familiar sensation started to churn up his insides, and his anticipation grew the farther they moved in to the estate. His eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, he was on the lookout for the slightest movement.

  A voice rumbled down the alley in front of them, “What the fuck do you want, shithead?”

  Recognising the unmistakable voice, Crabbie smirked. His one-word reply made the rest of his gang laugh. “You!”

  Crabbie’s stomach twisted in knots, not with fear, but exhilaration when the opposing gang—all ten of them—came into view. He heard a few gulps from the boys behind and sent a warning glare over his shoulder. “Get your weapons out. Let’s show them we mean business, boys.”

  The sound of flick knives filled the air. Crabbie pulled a knuckleduster from one of his bomber jacket pockets and a six-inch kitchen knife from the other. That’s all he needed to prove his point that they could outmatch any gang north of Watford—and south, for that matter.

  The other gang members halted twenty feet ahead of them and spread out in a line. “Look, boys. We’re outnumbered two and a half to one.” He pointed at the runt on the end of the line and added, “He’s the half.”

  Insulted, the guy ran at him, but Crabbie stood his ground. As the short guy got nearer, screaming like a whistling kettle, he slashed him across the side of the head with his knife. Blood poured from the wound. Crabbie motioned with his head for the rest of his gang to pounce on the man. Johnson and Stuart held the panicked guy by each arm while Barrett held up the canister he’d brought and poured its contents over the guy’s head. Crabbie glanced up to see the fear resonating in the eyes of each of the other gang members as they observed their companion’s fate.

  With one eye still on the opposing gang, Crabbie stepped up to the guy and punched him in the mouth. “You shouldn’t have done that, little boy. Now you’ll have to pay the consequences.”

  “Yeah, like Trev is going to let you get away with hurting me! Do your worst, fuckhead!”

  Crabbie pointed at the leader of the gang, tilted back his head, and laughed. “What, that Trev there? The one who looks as though he’s crapping himself at the moment? Let’s see how fast they come to your rescue, shall we?”

  He took a box of matches from his pocket and struck one. The guy’s eyes widened in fear. He appeared hypnotised by the tiny flame. Crabbie signalled to the two men holding the man to release him. Johnson and Stuart let go of his arms and backed up a few feet. Before the tiny flame extinguished, Crabbie flicked it at the guy. It spun through the air in slow motion and struck him in the chest. He was immediately engulfed in flames, resembling a human Olympic torch. Screaming, he dropped to his knees as the skin started to peel away from his face. He rolled around of the pavement, trying to put out the flames lashing at his body, but it was no good. Within seconds, his movements ceased as the flames ate through his flesh and boiled his blood.

  Crabbie looked up at the shocked leader of the
other gang. Their gazes met, and hatred electrified the air between them. Crabbie laughed and watched as the defeated gang drifted back down the alley. He turned back to his own gang members, who were all staring down at the dead man. “Don’t you lot go soft on me now. Laugh and show that you ain’t bothered, or I’ll dish out some punishment when we get back to our place. You hear me?”

  The three men laughed, giving him his answer, but they all appeared to be shell-shocked.

  Crabbie flung an arm around his brother’s neck then rubbed the knuckles of his clenched fist against his head. “Come on, boys, let’s get back to base for a conflab.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hero and Julie stopped off at the pub near the station for a quick bite to eat before returning to work for the afternoon shift. After studying the menu on the blackboard, Hero ordered a roast beef sandwich, while Julie chose a cheese-and-pickle roll.

  “So, now Rob’s thinking of joining the TA. He’s been banging on about it all weekend. The Territorial Army pamphlets were still scattered over the coffee table when I left for work this morning. I tried to tidy them away yesterday, and he almost ripped my head off,” Julie said. She took a bite of her roll and opened her bag of cheese-and-onion crisps.

  Damn! That’s all I bloody need. Bryce is such a wanker. He tried to appear as though the news didn’t bother him. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know?”

  Julie picked up her glass of orange juice and frowned. “Really? You’re always banging on about how great it is.”

  Yeah, me and my bloody big mouth, and I bet you went running home to tell him. Now that screwed-up boyfriend of yours wants to join me on the weekends playing soldiers! Holy crap! Hero pushed his half-eaten sandwich to the middle of the table, having suddenly lost his appetite. “Not being funny or anything, but the TA is bloody hard work, mentally and physically, is Rob up to that?”

  Julie turned sharply to look at him, her lips pulled into a thin line in annoyance. “What are you saying, sir, that Rob’s a wuss?”

  If the cap fits, love. “Not at all, Julie. I’m just telling it how it is. You know, some people join up just because they want to play with guns. The TA isn’t about that.” He smiled awkwardly at his partner.