Frankie and Danny watch with fascination as Benton emerges from the building Davenport entered earlier.
Danny leans forwards in his seat. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Who's that?” says Frankie.
“Superintendent Benton. He's had it in for our family for years.”
He is even more astonished when Jeremy and May leave.
“The Coalition,” he whispers as it suddenly hits him that he is looking at the people who have haunted his family's lives for so long.
Frankie is curious to see who they are. After all, if this so-called Coalition can happen in one city, it could happen in any city.
Then it strikes Danny. “You bastard Terry,” he snarls.
“What is it?” says Frankie.
“Terry’s the traitor whose been giving The Coalition inside information about our family. He stirred all this shit up to upset my dad and make him sick with worry. He probably hoped the Laws would kill him too in the war and leave the way free and clear for him to take over. I bet the bastard even arranged for me to be stabbed.”
“Then he will die for it,” says Frankie quietly, stroking his axe. Frank Maguire’s death had upset him deeper than he’s willing to admit to anyone. The one person in the whole world he’d actually liked was dead. He glances sideways at Danny, whose face is set with rage. Still, it seems his younger son is going to be a worthy successor and Frankie’s already starting to respect him. He’ll see how he plays this out and if he impresses Frankie then he’ll put some business his way. He’s got a huge deal coming up that he’ll need some help with from a friendly face in the south.
Lord Davenport is the last to emerge and they follow him all the way back to his palatial residence on the outskirts of the city.
Rachel steps out of the car outside the Henley and stares up at it with a sense of foreboding. She can see the window of the flat Alex shares with Beth and notices the curtains are drawn. Ignoring the nerves in her stomach she enters the building.
Stan is at his post as usual. He never seems to sleep. Day or night you can guarantee he’ll be there.
“Hello Mrs Maguire,” he says respectfully.
“Hi Stan. How's the kids?” she says as she waits for the lift to descend.
“Oh grand thanks. Paulie's just joined the football team. He's doing really well too.”
“That's great,” she smiles as she steps into the lift.
The smile disappears and is replaced by an anxious frown while she waits for the lift to make its excruciatingly slow ascent. Rachel taps her foot impatiently, relieved when the lift pings and the doors slide open. She walks to flat number forty four and knocks tentatively. Nothing. She knocks even louder and is rewarded by the sound of someone moving about inside. As a precaution she slides a hand inside her jacket pocket, the weight of the stun gun reassuring. The door opens and she is shocked to see Beth pale and drawn, her hair a mess. Unusually for her she wears no make-up. The only time she has ever seen her friend in such a state before is when she had the hangover from hell.
“What's happened?” says Rachel.
Beth's lower lip wobbles then she breaks into floods of tears. “It's Alex. He's disappeared.”
Rachel steps inside the flat and closes the door behind her. She leads her sobbing friend to the couch and gently sits her down then pours her a brandy. Beth puts the glass to her lips with a trembling hand.
Rachel feels sick. “How long's he been gone?”
“Three days. I've tried ringing his mobile but it's switched off. I've been round all his friends but no one's seen him.”
“Why didn't you tell me or one of the family?”
Beth's face clouds over. “I did. I told Terry.”
Rachel's face falls and Beth picks up on this. “Was that wrong Rach? He's the head of the family now, I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Rachel puts her arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “It's okay love, you did the right thing. What did Terry say when you told him?”
“He was nice and told me not to worry, he'd sort it out. He said he’d find him and I've not heard from him since. When I ring he rejects my calls. I didn't know what else to do so I've been out looking for Alex myself but of course there's some places that I just daren't go.”
Rachel nods in understanding. Alex is a regular in some of the more dubious pubs and clubs. Beth breaks into floods of tears on Rachel's shoulder. “I can't bear to lose him, I can't. He's everything to me.”
“I understand,” soothes Rachel, stroking her friend's hair. “Believe me I do and I'm going to sort this out for you.”
She hands Beth a box of tissues then gets to her feet, pulling her mobile out of her pocket.
“Battler, have you or Bruiser seen Alex lately?”
“No,” replies Battler's gruff voice.
“In that case I need you to help me look for him.”
She gives her instructions, which Battler promises to follow to the letter then rings off. Next she phones Mikey, who sounds very weary.
“You sober now?”
“Yes. I've had about a gallon of coffee.”
“Good. Can you meet me outside the King's Arms in half an hour?”
“But that's rough as old dogs.”
“I know, that's why I need you with me. We need to find Alex.”
“Okay. I'll be there.”
Beth watches her friend in astonishment. She sounds just like one of the men giving orders and what’s even more amazing is that she's being obeyed. Beth has just realised what her friend has become. She also wonders what has happened to make her like this.
“What's going on Rach?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, I'm not stupid. You sound like a gangster.”
Rachel laughs. “A gangster? Well I can promise you I'm not.”
“Something's going on Rach, I can feel it. You don't have to tell me and to be honest I don't want to know but please, is Alex involved?”
Rach looks at her friend thoughtfully and decides to tell her the truth. “I'm not sure. I don't know what side he's on.”
“Side? I didn't know we were taking sides. Against who?”
Rachel grips her hands tightly. “I'm sorry Beth, I can't tell you yet.”
Beth opens her mouth to protest but Rachel talks over her. “I'm not being awkward. It's for your own good, it's dangerous knowledge. But I swear to you, I will tell you everything soon. Just bear with me a bit longer, okay?”
Beth nods but doesn't look too happy about it.
“I promise you Alex will be safe.” Rachel hopes she will be able to keep this promise.
Beth gives her a small smile and her expression softens. She trusts Rachel to keep her word. “Okay.”
Rachel smiles and gets to her feet. “Thanks. Now I have to go and I need you to do something for me. I need you to pack a few things and go straight round to Martina's house. Stay there and don't move, either of you. I will bring Alex to you there. Do you understand?”
Beth sees the steel in Rachel's eyes and dares not disobey. “Something big's happening, isn't it?”
“Yes. It will be over soon but I need to know you and Martina are safe.”
Beth nods dumbly, getting really scared.
“Now Beth.”
Beth rushes into her bedroom and frantically begins throwing things into an overnight bag. Rachel waits for her and escorts her to her car. Only when she sees Beth safely on her way does Rachel get into her own car and drive to the King's Arms.
As Lord Davenport's doddery old butler escorts Danny and Frankie through Davenport Grange, Frankie's anger steadily grows at the luxury surrounding him.
“The lousy bastard. He has all this and still he has to steal off other people. I'll fucking teach him a lesson he'll never fucking forget.” He's not bothered about the butler overhearing, he's obviously deaf as a hatstand.
The butler throws open the doors to the huge decadent sitting room where Lord Davenp
ort is sat enjoying another G & T.
“Mr Daniel Maguire and Mr Frankie McVay to see you My Lord,” announces the butler, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on his employer. Lord Davenport leaps three feet into the air, dropping his glass on the thick carpet and gapes at them in horror.
The butler addresses Danny and Frankie deferentially. “Would you care for some refreshment Sirs?”
“Aye, a whisky if you've got it pal,” growls Frankie, his eyes never leaving Davenport.
“Same for me please,” replies Danny pleasantly.
“And you Sir?” the Butler asks Davenport.
“A G & T please Carruthers. A fucking big one.”
The butler raises his eyebrows, his employer never swears but he makes no comment and leaves, closing the door behind him. Davenport looks like a trapped rat, one who is willing to chew off its own limb to escape.
“Frankie, I can explain,” stammers Davenport. “It wasn't me who took your money it was my financial advisor. He did me over too, stole half a million from me and disappeared.”
Frankie takes a small plastic airtight container out of his jacket pocket and throws it to Davenport, who catches it, fumbles and almost drops it, such is his fright. He looks at Frankie questioningly.
“Open it,” he orders.
Davenport hastens to obey and when he sees what’s inside he releases a horrified shriek and drops the box and its contents on the floor. A severed tongue that is turning green lies on the expensive oriental rug.
“I caught up with your financial advisor as he was trying to leave the country. He told me it had all been your idea and that you had all the money. He said he was doing a runner because you'd set him up and the police were after him. Then he told me he had nothing to do with taking my money. So I had to cut out his lying tongue.”
Davenport turns white as a sheet, his jaw hanging open.
“I wouldn't leave your mouth open like that, I just might be tempted again,” says Frankie sadistically.
Davenport's jaw snaps shut as the butler returns with their drinks. It’s obvious his eyesight is as good as his hearing because he steps right over the severed tongue still lying on the rug without even noticing it.
“Thank you Carruthers,” smiles Frankie as he takes his drink.
Danny watches the scene with a grin. Give Frankie his due, he's good at the theatrics. Now Davenport is willing to spill his guts and they haven't even had to resort to physical violence.
“Here, get that down you,” says Danny, handing Davenport his drink.
Davenport knocks it back in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Frankie stands in front of him and stares at him steadily.
“Now, where’s my fucking money?”
Battler and Bruiser enter the Pig and Whistle, their immense forms filling the doorway. Everyone stops and regards them warily, their reputations preceding them. The majority of people in the pub know why they’re here. Alex Maguire has been on the bender to end all benders and although he has already departed his antics have left a lasting impression.
Battler and Bruiser scan the crowd for Alex and when they don't see him everyone is fearful as to who they will select to pump for information. The clientele releases a collective sigh of relief when they approach the landlord.
“You seen Alex?” says Battler.
Although on the surface the landlord appears calm his insides are churning. He polishes a glass casually, keeping his grip tight to stop his hands from shaking.
“He was in here yesterday but he left about eleven last night. I've not seen him since.”
“What state was he in?”
“He was alright at first. He sat in the corner drinking, kept himself to himself but he seemed really wound up, like he had something on his mind. Then he started to get angry and picked a fight with Jimmy Kay. Beat the shite out of him. Smashed a few glasses and broke a table in the process. It took four guys to pull him off him. Then he left.”
“Any idea where he went after that?”
“I heard he was in the King's Arms.”
Battler nods. “Cheers. This is to cover the damage.” He throws a wad of notes on the bartop.
“Thanks” replies the landlord, snatching up the money and pocketing it.
No one dare breathe as they watch Battler and Bruiser leave. When they’ve gone they all start chatting animatedly, coming up with wild theories to explain the Maguires’ latest antics.
CHAPTER 32
Rachel and Mikey stare at the dilapidated frontage of the King's Arms from her car. There are bars over the windows and the paint is peeling off in large chunks. Never was there a finer example of a shithole.
“Shall we?” says Rachel.
“If we have to,” replies Mikey
They have no fear about entering this pub, one of the roughest in the city. Mikey's reputation as a boxer is second to none and Rachel has built up a formidable name for herself in her own right.
As they enter the stench of stale beer and sweat assails their nostrils and it takes all of Rachel's willpower not to grimace. The bored barman stands reading the paper, the place nearly empty. A group of four drunken men stand at the bar, laughing and joking. Two men Rachel recognises as acquaintances of Frank's are sat at a table talking quietly. They both smile and stand to greet her.
“Rachel, how are you?” ask the elder of the men, a grey haired craggy faced man with a bulbous nose and bushy eyebrows.
“I'm good thanks,” she replies with forced cheer. “You?”
“Can't complain.” He likes Rachel and appreciates her beauty. She seems so out of place in a dive like this but he admires the way she is totally at ease, as though she owns it. Of course he knows Mikey too, he won five grand betting on him to win his last match. Seeing him up close up it’s hard to believe this slender boy is such a formidable fighting force. He wonders what could have brought them here. His curiosity is soon sated.
“Have you seen Alex?” she says.
He shakes his head negatively. “No but we've only just got here. You're best asking Fred.”
He nods his head towards the landlord, who is watching them with interest. As Rachel and Mikey approach the bar the four men eye Rachel up.
“About time,” yells one of them. “A woman. I was starting to think this was a gay bar.”
Everyone stops and gapes at them. It’s obvious they’re outsiders and have no idea of the people who frequent this place.
“Just ignore them,” says Fred. “They're on a stag party.”
As they ogle Rachel she gives them her coldest look and they quieten down.
“You’re too late. He’s already left,” says Fred.
“Who?” says Mikey.
“Alex. He was here about an hour ago and to be honest he was so wound up he looked like he could kill someone. I called Terry. He told me to hang tight until he could send someone round. I thought that was why you were here,” he frowns.
Mikey and Rachel look at each other knowingly, which doesn't go unnoticed by Fred but he knows better than to enquire. It seems to him all is definitely not well in the Maguire camp.
“Did Alex say anything?”
“Apart from ordering a pint, no.”
Rachel is relieved. She doesn't want anyone outside the family knowing their business. “Do you know where he went?”
“Sorry no idea.”
At that point one of the four men comes up behind her and grabs her bottom.
“Fancy a drink?” he leers.
She wrinkles her nose in disgust, the stench of alcohol overwhelming.
“Oy back off,” growls Fred.
The man ignores him, confident of the back up of his three friends.
She slowly turns to face him, her expression contemptuous.
“If you don't take your hand off my backside I'll break your fucking arm.”
He is momentarily taken aback by the threat in her voice and is unsure what to do but he doesn't want to look silly in
front of his friends.
“Give us a kiss,” he smirks, trying to pull her towards him.
She knees him in the groin then punches him hard in the face, knocking him to the floor. Two of his friends rush to his aid and Mikey knocks one out with one easy punch, swiftly followed by a kick to the stomach for the third. The fourth stands staring at his fallen friends in shock.
“I suggest you leave while your kneecaps are still intact,” says Rachel.
Not needing to be told twice he runs out of the pub without a second thought for his friends. Fred, Mikey and Rachel stare down at the remaining three groaning on the floor. Rachel notices the badge on the shirt of the man who grabbed her, indicating that he is the groom.
“I feel sorry for the poor cow he's marrying,” she says.
“How long now?” says Jake anxiously, tugging on a cigarette.
“Another five minutes,” replies Terry.
Ashton House is a magnificent seventeenth century mansion set behind a dense forest, affording complete privacy with only one road leading in and out. Terry and Jake sit in a brand new stolen Range Rover, Ron Devlin and his cousin Marcus in the second vehicle behind them. There are no neighbours to see them but just in case the police are alerted they can make their escape across the rough terrain in the four by fours. A white sprinter van sits on the other side of the woods, in which wait three men Terry has brought in just for this job. They will transfer the goods into it and return to the warehouse while the Range Rovers are dumped elsewhere. The family who own the mansion is away on holiday but they have left a group of four security guards to look after the place, given the recent break in's. Terry isn't too worried about them though. They'd watched the place for days and it seems all the guards do is play cards and watch TV, confident that nothing untoward is going to happen. Well they are about to get the shock of their lives.
Jake's right leg jiggles up and down agitatedly and Terry tries to control his annoyance. He is starting to regret bringing his nephew in on the robberies. His main aim had been to wind Mikey up and show him who's boss because he’s so loyal to Rachel it's sickening, following her about like an obedient Poodle. Plus he’s getting far too lairy for his own good. Since his success in the boxing world he really thinks he’s the dog‘s bollocks. They all need teaching a lesson, especially Rachel. It's funny but he thought it would be Alex who would give him the most aggro but he’d fallen into some weird depression since his Dad died. It’s Rachel whose stood against him time after time, refusing to let him use the clubs as armouries or for pushing drugs. He's been surprised by her and if he is a little honest he’s impressed. When he'd pressed her to sort out Jason Wilks he'd never thought she would actually do it, never mind with her own hand. On top of that she’s proving to be a formidable businesswoman. The way Danny had treated her had hardened her. If only she'd roll over and let him use the clubs as he wanted then he would have no objection to her keeping her position in the family. Well he is going to teach her a lesson she'll never forget and if she doesn't acquiesce to him then he'll destroy her. He'd killed his own brother, he wouldn't think twice about a little tart like her. He might have some fun with her first too, he's always fancied her and is eager to get his hands on her hard little body. Then he will sort Alex out once and for all. He is becoming a liability, a very dangerous one at that. He needs to decide where his loyalties lie. Mikey is neither here nor there but he'll get rid of him too. Terry feels the excitement stir inside him as he thinks about what he's going to do to them all. He can hardly wait.
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