Dividing Line

by Heather Atkinson

  “Do you seriously think I’d do that after what he did to Rachel? But you’re right, I was going to pass you over because you’ve become greedy and reckless and Alex is too volatile. He’s a heavy, not a leader. All three of you are a disappointment. I’m handing things over to Rachel, she’s got more guts and brains than all of you put together.”

  Terry’s eyes fill with ice. “Oh I’ll be sorting her out too, have no worries on that score.”

  “You’ll leave her alone.”

  “Rachel, the daughter you never had. I’ll really enjoy her before I fucking finish her and all.”

  Frank stares at him with his mouth open. “Have you completely lost your mind? What happened to make you like this?”

  “You happened you fuck. Stuck in your ways, unable to adapt. You’re old school Frank, I mean, not touching heroin and prostitution. What’s that all about? We’re losing out on a fortune because of your morals. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’ve personally killed fifteen people, had many more murdered on your word and you have the nerve to lecture other people. Danny’s just the same. But Alex, well he’s a different matter. He’s got vision and together me and him will have this whole city sewn up and fuck the Laws, they can go begging.”

  “Does Alex know what you did to his brother?” Frank’s heart is in his mouth as he asks this question. Part of him can’t bear to hear the answer.

  Terry knows this and smiles maliciously. “He’ll understand. He’s business-minded and if he objects then he’ll go the same way as Danny.”

  With a roar of rage Frank struggles to his feet and flies at him but Terry floors him with one punch.

  “You see Frank? A year ago I wouldn’t have been able to get near. Now you're as weak as a kitten.”

  Despite the sweat pouring off him and the fire in his belly, Frank once more hauls himself to his feet and launches himself at Terry. With great ease Terry wrenches Frank's arm up his back and hurls him backwards, knocking a chair over in the process. Terry stands over him as Frank fights with the agony tearing through his entire body, his heart thudding scarily in his chest. As he struggles onto all fours Terry kneels before him, contempt in his eyes.

  “You've had your time old man. Now it's my turn.”

  Drawing back his fist, Terry punches him as hard as he can in the stomach. Instantly blood erupts from Frank's mouth as his ulcer ruptures. He falls backwards onto the floor, his large body landing with a heavy thud. Frank’s face pales as he continues to bleed internally and goes into shock. Terry stands quietly watching. It takes Frank a good hour to die, he always was a stubborn bugger. The last thing Frank Maguire sees is his younger brother's hard unmoved face staring down at him.

  When Frank’s breathing stops Terry checks the pulse on his neck then straightens the furniture that’s been overturned and leaves the house quietly, whistling as he goes.

  “It’s just me love,” calls Martina as she enters the house clutching a rake of shopping bags. She knows Frank’s ulcer has been causing him misery lately so she’s decided to spoil him tonight with a nice meal and a massage. A warm, cosy feeling envelops her as she imagines the night ahead with her husband.

  When she sees a pair of feet sticking out from behind the sofa a knot of fear forms in her stomach.

  “Frank?” she says tentatively, afraid of seeing the truth.

  She walks around the couch and screams at the sight of her husband lying dead on the floor in a pool of congealed blood. But the worst thing is his expression. His face is contorted into a mask of agony and suffering, revealing the torment in which he died.

  “Frank,” she screams again and runs to his side, clutching at his inert form.

  Martina is still screaming when Alex walks in half an hour later.

  Rachel is curled up on her couch at home, a glass of wine clutched tightly in one hand, tears pouring down her face. She puts the glass to her lips and her hand trembles slightly. Frank Maguire is dead. She can't believe it. The man who had taught her everything she knows about survival, who had been like a second father to her, is gone and she is scared. The last line of defence has been removed and God only knows what’s going to happen next.

  She raises the glass to her lips then pauses as movement on the security monitor catches her eye. Putting down the glass she gets up and walks over to the grey screen, studying it carefully. A figure flickers before her eyes and she leaps back, startled. Danny's image smiles at her. She blinks and he’s gone.

  Benton stares down at Frank's body in the funeral home and smiles. He’s disappointed his death was due to natural causes, he would have liked him to suffer the same treatment as the dead Law brothers. However The Coalition will be pleased. Benton is surprised to feel a little sadness at the death of his nemesis. For years he’s pursued Frank Maguire, he’d been a major part of his life and now he’s gone. But this feeling disappears as he realises Frank has merely been replaced with Terry and he smiles at the thought of taking that arrogant bastard down. At least Frank had some ethics, a code which he followed to the letter. Terry is just a mindless thug whose sole concern is making as much money as possible and, like any thug, it will be no holds barred. Now things are going to get really nasty.

  Martina has been sedated. The loss of Frank at such a young age has torn her heart out. She is asleep upstairs while the family tiptoe around below, murmuring quietly, afraid to speak too loudly.

  Rachel stands on the doorstep and raises her hand to ring the bell. Then she pauses, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She is not looking forward to this. Opening her eyes she rings the bell and a moment later it is opened by Battler. Rachel is surprised to see him looking pale and drawn.

  “Hi Rachel,” he says solemnly. “Come on in.”

  He stands aside to allow her to pass and she steps inside. The first person she comes across is Mikey, who likewise looks pale and stunned. They give each other a tight hug.

  “How are you doing?” he says, concern in his eyes.

  “As well as can be expected. You?”

  He glances round before answering to ensure no one is listening. “A bit nervous to be honest Rach. There's going be a shit storm.”

  She nods in understanding. “How's Martina?”

  “She's taken it really bad. The doctor had to sedate her. She's asleep upstairs.”

  “Are Alex and Terry here?”

  “Yeah, they're in Frank's study talking business. Why?”

  She opens her handbag and pulls out the DVD of the security footage from her home. “I need to show them this. Come with me, you need to see it too.”

  Mikey takes in a deep breath, apprehension creeping up his spine.

  As Rachel makes her way to the study at the opposite end of the house she is stopped by other family members and friends and speaks quietly with them. Rachel notes that Jake and Sharon are absent. Everyone is devastated by the loss of Frank, devastated and a little scared. A power vacuum has opened up and these are always dangerous.

  Finally Mikey and Rachel reach the study door. She knocks and enters without waiting for an invitation to find Terry already sat in his brother's large leather chair, chatting animatedly with Alex. A flicker of annoyance crosses Terry's face as she enters then it quickly disappears to be replaced by affability. He gets to his feet to greet her.

  “Rachel sweetheart. How are you?”

  “Holding up. Am I interrupting?”

  “No, not at all. What can I do for you?”

  He addresses her as though she’s a child interrupting an adult conversation and she has a job hiding her irritation as she lays the DVD on the desk in front of him.

  “What this?” he asks in a bored tone.

  “Footage from the CCTV at my house. You really need to see it.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “Just put it on,” she says impatiently.

  Terry purses his lips at her tone and flings the disc at Alex, who shoves it roughly into the DVD player. The screen flickers int
o life to show the driveway of Rachel's house.

  “What are we looking at?” sighs Terry, not bothering to hide his impatience.

  “Wait,” she replies, her eyes never leaving the screen.

  Suddenly Danny appears and grins at the camera. Then he disappears.

  “Fucking hell,” cries Alex, staring at Rachel incredulously. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

  She nods.

  “When was this taken?” demands Terry.

  “Eleven thirty last night.”

  “But that was nearly twelve hours ago,” says Alex. “Why didn't you call us? We could've come down and looked for him.”

  “Because he would have been long gone, he wasn't going to hang about. I reckon he just wanted us to know he’s back.”

  “Bit of a coincidence don't you think?” says Terry thoughtfully. “Danny reappears back on the scene just as Frank dies.”

  Alex looks angry. “What are you trying to say?”

  Terry ignores Alex and looks directly at Rachel. “Is it possible? Could he have upset Frank so much that his ulcer burst?”

  Rachel visibly pales. “I suppose,” she replies, her voice almost a whisper. For a moment she looks as though she could be sick as she realises what Terry is saying. “But Danny would never do anything to hurt his Dad.”

  “But it's possible?” presses Terry.

  “Shut up Terry,” yells Alex. “Just shut the fuck up right now.”

  “Oh come on Alex. We all know Danny hated Frank for locking him up. So he lays low and picks his moment, waits until Frank's at his most vulnerable. Then he…”

  Alex squares up to Terry, enraged. “That's my brother you're talking about and your nephew.”

  Terry shoots to his feet and shoves his face into Alex's, both men glaring at each other ferociously. Rachel and Mikey take a step back, knowing a fight between these two would be epic.

  “I agree with Alex,” interjects Rachel. “Frank had a serious ulcer, it could have ruptured at any time. We don't know it was anything to do with Danny.”

  “Why are you sticking up for him after what he did to you?” frowns Terry.

  “He's still my husband.”

  “Only because your solicitor said you can't get a divorce for seven years. If you had your way you'd be Rachel Thomas again.”

  Her eyes blaze and she opens her mouth to retort but Mikey steps in.

  “Everyone just calm down. We're all upset and we’re taking it out on each other. We need to think about what we’re going to do. Calmly.”

  Mikey’s words have the desired effect. Alex and Terry step away from each other and Rachel sinks into an armchair.

  “Now, the first thing we need to do is find Danny,” continues Mikey.

  “Who the fuck put you in charge?“ demands Terry.

  “Why shouldn't he be?” says Rachel. “He's making a lot more sense than you.”

  Terry slams his fist down on the desk. “That's it. You two, out,” he yells, jabbing a digit at Rachel and Mikey in turn.

  Rachel leaps to her feet again. “This is my husband we're talking about. I'm going nowhere.”

  Terry looks murderous.

  “She's every right to be here,” says Alex.

  Realising he’s defeated Terry sinks back into his chair as Rachel stares at him triumphantly.

  “Go on then Little Miss Smart Arse. Enlighten us. Where should we look for him?” snarls Terry.

  She looks back at him steadily. “We won’t need to look for him. He'll come to us.”

  “That's your master plan is it? Do nothing.”

  “I think she's right,” says Alex.

  “Oh what a surprise,” mutters Terry sarcastically.

  Alex ignores the barb. “He showed himself on the camera because he wants us to know he's back. He'll show himself again, probably when we're least expecting it.”

  Smithy Statham is in the King's Arms drinking heavily and congratulating himself on the business he’s just concluded. He knows the Laws and the Maguires are finished and the way is open for a new main boss and he’s just taken his first step towards the throne. Smithy is tall but flabby, his once strong and athletic frame lost beneath rolls of soft, pink flesh. He knows he's only a minor cog in a big wheel but that is due to the stranglehold the two top families have on the drugs in the city. However now that grip has weakened he is going to show everyone just what he's capable of and he’s started by taking out one of the Maguire's drug runners. He's coveted the east side of the city for so long and now he’s staked his claim.

  Smithy is puffed up with his own self-importance as he holds court to his cronies. The landlord of The King’s Arms watches Smithy with a frown. He thinks he’s a fool, that he's moved too soon before gauging whether the Maguires are actually spent, which he personally doesn't think is the case, not by a long chalk. Thirty three seconds later he’s proved right.

  The door opens and two men enter. The pub is so busy that at first no one pays them any attention. It is also bitter out so the fact they wear hoods obscuring their features does not cause any concern. The figures scan the crowd, searching for someone. When they see Smithy Statham they march over to him, taking their time, not drawing any attention to themselves. To all intents and purposes they are just two men wanting a drink. It’s only when one of the figures pulls back their hood that the realisation of what is about to happen strikes Smithy Statham.

  “Terry,” he whispers, his throat suddenly dry.

  Terry smiles, enjoying the fear man's eyes. Before anyone can make a move he takes a piece of lead piping out of his jacket and brings it down on Smithy's left hand, which is resting on the bar top. Everyone turns to look as Smithy screams with pain, dropping his pint glass, which smashes on the floor. Terry then lays into Smithy's head and upper body with the pipe, beating him until his cries stop. No one makes a move to assist Smithy, he's brought it on himself. He's also stepped on more than the Maguire's toes so everyone thinks Terry is performing a public service. They all stand back to allow Terry and the second figure to pass as they drag Smithy's unconscious form out by the hair. The Landlord hastens to open the back door and slams it shut behind them with relief, glad they’ve taken Smithy with them and not left him in the pub for him to clear up.

  Benton squints into a beaten up black Fiat Punto. Smithy Statham's body is slumped in the driver's seat, shot twice in the head. He has also had his face sliced off so there is no doubt as to who did it but trying to get anyone to actually talk about it will be a waste of time. Smithy had been found by a taxi driver just coming off his shift. The poor bugger suffered a mild heart attack and is recovering in hospital but the message has been received loud and clear. The Maguires are still top dog.

  CHAPTER 27

  So many mourners have turned up for Frank's funeral that the cars are queued right down to the main road. Martina is pleased with the turn out. Even in death Frank still commands great respect. Initially she had wanted a private ceremony but so many people asked if they could come she’d been forced to relent. As she walks into the church clutching Alex's arm tightly she feels as though she's in a dream. Everything is so surreal. Frank can't possibly be dead, he just can't be. She is so grateful to have Alex by her side but God how she wishes Danny was here too.

  Rachel is sat at the end of the front pew with the rest of the immediate family, between Beth and Mikey. She watches Martina staring at Frank's sizeable coffin, disbelief still etched on her face then she glances around at the assembled crowd. Every face from the higher echelons of the criminal fraternity is present, including Ryan and Jez Law, who are sat a couple of rows back. Ryan looks at her and nods and she returns the gesture. In fact the number of people present who aren't involved in any illegal activity is in single figures. The door opens, someone who is late trying to sneak in. Rachel glances over her shoulder and time seems to stand still. Danny is standing at the back of the church, looking smart in an expensive black suit. His brilliant eyes meet Rachel’s and her heart
slams against her ribcage. A number of the mourners notice Danny's presence too and a murmur ripples around the room.

  “I don't believe it,” says Beth.

  Terry and Alex notice Danny's presence too but Martina is too caught up in her grief. Terry gives him a malevolent glare and Danny stares straight back at him steadily. Those not of the immediate Maguire circle watch all this with interest, attempting to discern what is going on. None are successful.

  Rachel turns her attention back to the words of the minister. She needs to say goodbye to Frank before she can deal with all this.

  At the end of the service Rachel looks to where Danny had been sat but he’s gone. The rest of the mourners hang back to allow the family to leave first and Rachel ensures she leaves before anyone else. Once outside she spots Danny leaning against a black Mercedes. He watches her approach with a half smile, his head cocked to one side and despite his smugness his eyes are red from crying.

  “Hi Rach,” he says softly. “You're looking good.”

  “So are you,” she replies and she means it. His body looks leaner, harder, as though he’s been working out a lot. Mercifully his skin has lost the pale, clammy pallor of a drug user and he has a healthy glow. His hair is neatly cut and clothes immaculate.

  “I've straightened myself out. Got clean.”

  “Where've you been Danny?” she says, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice.

  He grins mysteriously but is prevented from answering by Terry charging up to him.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? Haven't you caused enough damage?”

  Danny regards him unflinchingly but does not reply.

  At that moment Martina emerges from the church, appearing older than her years and clinging onto Alex's arm for dear life. Her eyes light up when she sees her younger son.

  “Danny?” she says tentatively, afraid he will disappear if she says his name too loudly