ASBO: A Thriller Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

Davie couldn’t believe what was inside. “Guns? Are you crazy?”

  “Chill the fuck out. They’re just in case that psycho comes after us. I ain’t gonna play with this guy no more.”

  “Psycho?” Davie was dumbfounded. “We held him hostage and stabbed his family. I think he has good reason to be a little nutty.”

  “Whatever,” said Frankie. “If he comes at me he’s going to taste lead…or whatever it is they make bullets out of nowadays. Now just quit your bitching and take this.”

  Frankie thrust one of the revolvers at Davie and he immediately tried to shove it back. “No way! I don’t want it.”

  Frankie pushed harder until Davie had no choice but to take ownership of the weapon. “Just keep it in your waistband. You don’t have to go looking for trouble, but I need to know that you’re going to be safe if that prick comes after you.”

  “Andrew.”

  “What?”

  “His name is Andrew.”

  Frankie shook his head in confusion. “Does it look like I give a monkey’s nuts?”

  “No,” said Davie. “No it doesn’t. Fine! I’ll take the gun, but only for protection. What about the twins? Did you give them a gun?”

  “Fuck them,” said Frankie. “They can fend for themselves. Only person I care about is you.”

  “Hope I’m not breaking up a Hallmark moment?” Damien entered the room and stood in front of them both. Everything he wore was emblazoned with a logo or trademark of some kind.

  Frankie looked up at him from the sofa. “Nah, man, everything’s cool. Was just getting my little bro strapped.”

  Damien nodded. “What’s your next move?”

  “Don’t know,” said Frankie. “Either the police will turn up at my door or this guy that has a beef with me will. I’ll be ready for whatever happens though, thanks to you.” Frankie waved the gun as though it were a toy and not a deadly weapon.

  “You get caught with that you leave my name out of it, you hear me? They belong to my old man and he’d go ape if he knew I was lending em out. Can’t have you dead though, can I? Need you out on the street. What you do to this dude anyway? You can’t have just fucked up his car and house.”

  “We stabbed his wife and daughter,” Davie blurted it out, without being sure why. It felt like a weight had been partially lifted by the sudden confession though, and it felt good to have said it.

  Damien’s eyes widened and his eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “The fuck? The hell you do that for? You don’t fuck with a man’s family – with women.”

  Frankie waved a hand dismissively. “Shit went down. That’s all there is to it. You’re one to talk, anyway, Damien. You fuck people up all the time.”

  “Business,” said Damien. “I don’t fuck up innocent families. Did this guy even do anything to you in the first place?”

  “No,” said Davie. “He never done nothing to nobody.”

  Frankie turned to Davie and growled. “Will you shut the fuck up!”

  “Sounds like your little bro has a conscience,” said Damien. “Good for him. You should both get the fuck out of my house, though, right now, before I lose my shit on you both.”

  Frankie stood up. “What? Why you being like this?”

  “Cus you’re a fucking mug, an amateur. Now knob off – and leave the pieces behind.”

  Frankie pulled the revolver on Damien and cocked the hammer. Davie wondered how his brother even knew how to do that. Damien’s face was unflinching. Frankie’s twitch had gone into overdrive.

  Damien curled his upper lip into a smirk. “I hope this dude fucks you up. Makes you his bitch like they all did in the nick. How long’s it been since you had a cock up your arse, Frankie?”

  Frankie stepped forward and shoved the weapon’s barrel against Damien’s forehead. His whole arm was shaking, but Damien was still unmoved by the gun in his face. “Not another word, cunt,” Frankie was visibly shaken, “or I’ll end you, right here.”

  Davie stood up and moved beside his brother, trying to attract the attention of his demented eyes. “What’s he talking about?”

  Damien directed his gaze to Davie, a grin on his face. “Big brother never tell you?

  “Tell me what?” asked Davie.

  “When I went down for a little stretch – for dealing and shit – they sent me to the same nick as Frankie.”

  Frankie thrust the revolver forward, jarring Damien’s head. “Not another word! I’m warning you.”

  Damien continued anyway, despite the warning, and Davie dreaded what he was about to hear. “Your big tough bro here was the prison bitch for a whole year. Fell in bad with the top dogs when he arrived – mouthing off and acting like a gangster before he even knew the score. Spent the next year getting it up the shitter by half the guys on G Wing.”

  “Bullshit,” said Davie. “You’re talking bollocks.”

  Damien winked at Davie. “God’s honest truth, little man. When I arrived, my dad’s rep was enough for me to be one of the top dogs straight away and I put a stop to all that stuff – shit-stabbings really not my thing, you get me? Your brother was so grateful that he offered to do anything in return. Just so happened that I needed some help shifting gear when I got out. The rest is history.”

  “Is this all true?” Davie asked Frankie. It seemed like he was going to go off like a firework, veins bulging through the redness of his skin.

  Frankie sniffed back a nose full of snot. “Guy’s full of it. He did me a few solids during our time together, that much is true. In fact the only reason he ain’t dead right now is because I owe him.”

  “Owe me big time,” Damien added. “Big time. After all, I helped you...deal with you problems inside, one by one. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  Frankie nodded. “Lucky for you, I honour my debts – but consider us even.”

  Damien smiled behind the gun barrel. “Fair enough, guess I can let this slide. Say goodbye to your supply though.”

  “Whatever,” said Frankie. “Come on Davie. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Still pointing the revolver at Damien’s face, Frankie backed out of the room. Davie followed after him, shell-shocked by what he’d just heard. There was every chance that Damien was just making stuff up to mess with Frankie – Davie prayed that was the case – but if it was true…

  Then my brother is messed up for good reason.

  “Hey, Davie,” said Damien. “Don’t end up like your brother, okay?”

  Davie said nothing. He left the room after Frankie and together they navigated the house’s long hallway towards the front door. Frankie turned the Yale lock and pulled down the handle. The door opened silently and the cold air of the afternoon hit Davie in the face like a punch, making his teeth ache.

  “Getting cold,” he said, rubbing at his shoulders.

  Frankie shrugged. “Other things to worry about right now.”

  “No shit,” said Davie. Yet somehow he couldn’t help but think about the weather. Perhaps it would snow this year like people were saying, but Davie had a feeling that before any snow started to fall there was going to be a storm of epic proportions.

  And the first drops of rain had just started to fall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After taking his statement, Officers Wardsley and Dalton had refused Andrew’s request to locate Frankie. They didn’t want him taking the law into his own hands. They’d insisted that he go get his injuries taken care of and then look after his family. So now here he was, sat at his wife’s bedside wondering what to do. It was approaching 5:00pm, the morning and afternoon having come and gone in a whirlwind of grief and emotion. Bex had yet to awoken, but the doctors assured Andrew that she would soon – her body was just taking the opportunity to rest. Pen’s condition was less optimistic.

  Critical.

  Her surgery had ended two hours ago and she’d been lying deathly still since. Stitches and gauze covered her throat and a drip entered the artery of her right arm, supplying her body with whate
ver it was the doctors thought it needed.

  “I’ll make this right,” Andrew whispered to her, clutching her left hand tightly in his own, unsure of whether or not she could even hear him. “I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done to you – for what they’ve done to Rebecca.”

  Andrew sat for a while and listened to the silence, hoping beyond all hope that Pen would just sit up and say something. It wasn’t going to happen, though – might never happen. Tears fell from Andrew’s eyes and stained the thin, white cotton sheets that covered his wife’s battered body.

  “I failed you, Pen. I’m your husband and it’s my job to keep you safe. How can I ever forgive myself for any of this? If you die, how will I go on? I’ve loved you since the day we met. Life wouldn’t make sense without you.”

  Andrew flopped forward and placed his head against her stomach. He could hear her heart pumping away – slow and steady – the pause between each beat a balancing act between life and death. “Please don’t leave me,” he sobbed. “Please, Pen.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said a young, blonde nurse, entering the room, “but your daughter has just woken up.”

  Andrew’s stomach churned and he had to swallow back a mouthful of stomach acid.

  What the hell do I say to her? She’s just a kid, and she should never have had to have gone through something like this.

  Andrew got up, kissed his wife’s forehead, and following the nurse out of the room. Both Penelope and Rebecca had been moved since their surgery had concluded, and were now in separate parts of the building. Pen was in the ICU under constant watch, while Bex was in the Convalescence Ward. It took Andrew five minutes of marching through a maze of corridors and staircases before he reached his daughter’s room.

  Although obviously weak, Bex smiled immediately at the sight of her father entering the room. Andrew’s heart ached at the sight of her, but her smile at least nourished his soul a little. Dark brown hair matted her forehead and her usually rosy complexion had turned ashen. She looked like a zombie from one of the films she loved to watch so much.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” said Andrew, as he placed himself down on a cheap plastic chair beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got stabbed with a pair of scissors.”

  Andrew grinned, happy that his daughter’s sense of humour had not been damaged despite everything else. “Arts and crafts never were your strong point, Bex.”

  “How’s mom?”

  Andrew had hoped the question could wait, that his daughter would not remember events enough to realise that she was not the only one who’d been injured. Telling Bex that her mother might not make it would not be good for her recovery.

  But he couldn’t lie to her; not his own daughter.

  “She’s bad, sweetheart. The doctors have told us to wait and see, but right now she’s not responding. Her surgery went okay though, which is a good sign. We have to hold on to the positives.

  Bex looked her father in the eyes and wore an expression that seemed to hold more sadness than should have been possible for such a young girl. “Why did they do this to us, Dad?”

  Andrew looked down at the floor. “I really don’t know. I wish it made sense.”

  “They would have killed us all if you hadn’t done something.”

  “I got you both stabbed!”

  “It would have been worse if you’d done nothing.”

  “I might not have gotten the chance if Davie hadn’t tried to put a stop to things first.”

  Bex bit her bottom lip. “You think he’ll be okay? What if the others blame him?”

  Andrew shrugged his shoulders and winced at the pain that fired through his ribs. “To be honest the only people I’m concerned about are you and your mother. Davie still sat and watched Frankie torture us all. He did what was right in the end, but it wasn’t enough, was it?”

  “Don’t be angry, Dad.”

  “Don’t be angry? Are you joking?”

  “If you’re angry, then you’re just letting them get away with it even more. Of course I want them all arrested and sent to prison…for, like, ever…but I won’t let them inside my head one moment longer. They don’t deserve to change who we are, Dad. You’re not an angry person, so don’t let them make you one.”

  Andrew couldn’t believe his daughter was so willing to move on. Would she feel the same way if the doctors came in right now and told her that her mother was dead? Would she let anger into her heart then? Andrew understood what his daughter was saying, but it was too late to put aside his emotions – anger had already chronically infected his soul. There was no going back to the man he was before. Rebecca may be able to forgive, but he did not have her youthful purity. His role as a father, and as a man, had been tainted forever.

  He needed to change the subject. Dwelling on it was already making his heart grow heavy with rage. “Is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart?”

  Bex smiled and nodded, but seemed trapped in a constant state of drowsiness – as if she could not escape the fringes of sleep. “That would be nice,” she muttered. “Can you pick me up some magazines from the newsagents?”

  “Of course, honey.” Andrew thought about the newsagents at the front of the hospital and about the fact that they had a payphone. He’d not called work in days and probably wouldn’t have a job to return to anymore. Sympathy was not something his firm was known for, and they would offer little understanding of the events of the past few days. He put such worries aside for now though – they seemed utterly unimportant – and gave Bex a warm smile to match the one she’d given him upon entering. “I’ll go get them for you now. I won’t be long, but you try and get some rest in the meantime.”

  Bex nodded and already seemed to be slipping into a deep sleep. Andrew exited the room silently, not wanting to disturb her, although he was sure that no amount of racket would have woken her now. The corridor here was bustling with staff and patients, in contrast to the deathly silence of the ICU. An old man ambled past, trundling a drip-stand behind him. He said hello and Andrew said the same, surprising himself that pleasantries were still within his capabilities.

  A middle-aged, male nurse passed by next, and Andrew reached out to stop him. “Excuse me? How do I get to the newsagents from here?”

  “Just follow this corridor to the end and turn left, can’t miss it.”

  Andrew hadn’t seen it when he’d entered the hospital, but then he had not been paying attention to such things. His plan was to get there and back quickly. Pen needed him back by her side.

  The corridor coming up on Andrew’s left had a sign that said GIFT SHOP so he took it. It led through to a waiting room and then straight on to the one of the building’s entrances. Andrew assumed he would find the shop there. But, as he was about to pass through the waiting room, he noticed something that made him stop.

  His heart rose up into his throat, filling his mouth with the taste of copper.

  Sitting in the waiting room, looking extremely sorry for himself, was one of the twins – Jordan, if Andrew wasn’t mistaken. The bite wound on the boy’s perspiration-soaked face was glistening with pus and blood as his whole body trembled. Infection had set in to the large, open sore and Jordan looked to be in a great deal of discomfort.

  Good, hope it kills you!

  But it wouldn’t, would it? Jordan would recover and put the whole thing behind him as just another fun-time in a long line of terrorising innocent people. Andrew moved to the rear of the room, behind Jordan, so that the youth would not see him. Of the options available to Andrew, none seemed clear. He could call Wardsley and Dalton, but he had little faith that they could do anything sufficient enough to be called justice. The other option was to attack the son of a bitch right now – wring the little bastard’s neck – but that would only result in his own arrest. The only thing Andrew knew for sure was that he had to do something.

  He took a seat and decided to wait.

  ***

  Twenty minutes la
ter, a nurse called out a name: Jordan Ebanks. Andrew watched the boy get up and then slowly followed after him, making sure to stay several steps behind. The nurse took Jordan into a consultation area that contained two rows of adjustable gurneys inside individual curtained surroundings. Andrew stayed back and watched Jordan hop up onto one of the beds, but then the nurse pulled the curtain closed and Andrew lost sight of him.

  He crept forward and tried to look inconspicuous by nodding hello to anyone that noticed him. Putting his head down, Andrew hurried over to Jordan’s cubicle and stopped just outside of it. He listened to the conversation coming from inside.

  “How did it happen?” asked the female voice of the nurse. “Looks like a bite-mark.”

  “Got jumped by some nutter, innit,” was Jordan’s reply. “Think he was a crack head or something. Must have thought he was a zombie cus he took a chunk out of me.”

  Lying little shit, Andrew thought. Why don’t you tell her what really happened?

  “Well,” said the nurse. “If that is what happened, then you should inform the police.”

  Jordan sucked at his teeth. “Don’t deal with the pigs, darlin’. I deal direct with my shit, if you get me?”

  The nurse ignored the boy’s bravado and carried on with her job diligently. Andrew assumed she heard such nonsense all the time and paid it no mind. “I’ll get it bandaged for you,” she said, “but then you’ll need a course of general anti-biotic. If it gets any worse, you’ll need to come back.”

  “Sound,” said Jordan. “I’ll make sure I ask for you, darlin’.”

  “If you wish,” replied the nurse, unable to sound any less interested. “I’m just going to get a doctor for your prescription and then I’ll come get you dressed up.”

  “I like getting undressed better,” Jordan quipped, but the nurse had already exited the cubicle.

  Now that Jordan was alone, Andrew froze. He hadn’t thought about what he would do next. So, without a game plan, Andrew allowed instinct to take over. He slipped inside the curtain.

  Jordan’s bloodshot eyes went wide at Andrew’s sudden appearance. “The fuck you doing here?”