Dangerous Girl_An utterly heart stopping thriller

by Emma Tallon

‘Oh God, I really didn’t want to just turn up after all this time and start moaning about my problems,’ Amanda said, reluctance in her voice.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it’s been – I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. A problem shared is a problem halved,’ Anna repeated one of her mother’s favourite quotes. ‘Come on. Spill,’ she ordered.

  Amanda’s shoulders sunk as she gave in. ‘Things just aren’t good with my husband at the moment. He…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I found out he’s having an affair. He doesn’t know that I know.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Anna’s heart felt heavy as she watched Amanda crumple.

  ‘I’ve known for a while that he played away.’ A tear fell and Amanda quickly wiped it away, embarrassed to be crying in public. ‘At first he just started coming home late and seemed preoccupied. He said it was work, and I believed him. Then he started not coming home at all some nights, and his excuses didn’t seem to quite add up. I still ignored it though. He was my husband – I trusted him. But then I found his secret phone and saw the messages…’ She sighed. ‘I hid my feelings for a while, turned a blind eye, hoping that maybe it would stop once he got it out of his system. That was the first time. This one is the third. And lately something has been different. This girl isn’t just a casual fling – he’s seeing her regularly. I think he has real feelings for her.’

  ‘Amanda, I’m so sorry.’ Anna didn’t know what to say. She had never met Amanda’s husband, but she had always thought that they were happy together. Then again, she had always thought that she and Freddie were happy together too. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as the conversation reminded her of her own worries.

  ‘It’s OK, really.’ Amanda wiped her face and sat straighter as she regained her composure. ‘I’m used to it. I shouldn’t keep getting so upset.’

  ‘No, Amanda, you shouldn’t be used to it!’ Anna replied, feeling angry. ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with that. He shouldn’t be doing that to you – to you and your family. Why haven’t you confronted him? Or left? Amanda, you are worth so much more than this treatment.’

  ‘I know that, Anna. Of course I do. But I can’t just think about me; I have to think about the children too. They come first. If this all came to a head and we split up, it would destroy them. They are so young still. They need stability. And honestly, I wouldn’t be able to provide them with the same sort of life they have now. I would have nothing if I left. And I’ve been out of work for so long that even if I didn’t have small children to look after, no one would hire me on the sort of salary I’d need to be able to provide for them.’

  Anna sat back and sipped her coffee. She understood her friend’s thought process. But it wasn’t fair. Why should Amanda have to be so unhappy? She wished there was a way for her to help her, but she couldn’t think of one just yet.

  Why did some men think it was OK to treat the women in their life with such disrespect and cruelty? she wondered. She thought back to her own unhappy past with her ex, Tony. He had been an evil bastard, rotten to the core. He had beaten her, mentally tortured her and trapped her in a lonely, unhappy life. It had been hell, even after she found the courage to leave him. Her nightmare had only ended when Freddie had finally killed him. Though that hadn’t just been because of how ill Tony had treated her. Tony had incidentally gone up against Freddie professionally, not knowing of their connection. He had planned to take Freddie out and claim Central London for himself. Luckily Freddie had been one step ahead, as he always was, and had nipped the issue in the bud.

  ‘Anyway, that’s enough about me,’ Amanda said. ‘I want to hear about you. How are things going? Tell me about your club – I’ve heard amazing things.’

  ‘The club is doing really well. You know, you should come for a night out sometime. Take your mind off things – let your hair down. We could have a girls’ night. I can introduce you to my business partner, Tanya. She’s a real character.’ Anna smiled as she thought of her vivacious best friend.

  ‘Yes. I think I might take you up on that,’ Amanda said, her expression suddenly determined. ‘That actually sounds like it’s exactly what I need.’

  21

  Michael waited in the dark, the only light coming from the end of his lit cigarette. His eyes had adjusted, so he could make out the dark shapes moving silently across the water as they made their way out and back from the large container ship sitting out at sea. One of the ships they used to smuggle goods in had been stopped earlier in the evening, before it was able to come up river. No one knew why, but one of their men on board had managed to get a message out to Freddie. This was very unusual, so Freddie had sent Michael and Paul to clear out their goods before anything else happened.

  They had picked up a group of dockhands and two vans, and had driven over to the coastline, nearest to where the ship sat out at sea. Upon arrival, they had cut the bolts on three small motorboats nearby and were currently using them to shift the cargo from the container ship to the shore. Their men on deck were doing a clean job, and so far they had managed to stay out of the way of the coast guard. They didn’t dare put lights on and only used the motors out of hearing distance of the main ship.

  Still, Michael felt incredibly tense. This hadn’t been properly planned – there were no back-up routes. If one thing went wrong, they would be totally screwed.

  The sea breeze caressed his face and neck, and he breathed in deeply. Taking one more drag on his cigarette he flicked it away and the cherry end went out in the darkness. Pulling a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket he put them on, securing each finger in thoroughly. As the next boat pulled up Michael stepped forward into the lapping waves on the pebble beach and grabbed one of the sides of the wooden front. Paul picked up the other side, and the two of them hauled it up onto the beach until it was secure enough not to be pulled back by the waves. Two men jumped out and, without a word, all four of them began moving the wooden boxes from the bottom of the small craft to the open back of the van.

  ‘How much more?’ Michael asked quietly. It was a deserted beach, but sound carried further here, and you never knew who might be about.

  ‘The other two have got the rest; they’re right behind us. The ship’s clean.’

  ‘Good.’ The boxes all packed up, they turned towards the shore to watch the next two boats come in. Thick clouds filled the sky, blocking the excess light from the moon. The sea was calm, the waves breaking lazily as they hit the shore. It would have been a nice night to be there, had it not been for the threat of being caught and arrested, Michael thought.

  ‘Shit,’ Paul swore under his breath.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look – over there.’ He pointed to a speck of light in the distance. It was moving steadily towards the container ship. It was the coast guard. They were still far away, but that didn’t mean they were safe. The coast guard’s light shone far and they still had two boats in the water. Michael’s stomach tightened and his dark blue eyes watched intently, all his senses alert.

  The second boat reached the shore and they ran forward to pull it up. This time six pairs of hands moved the cargo, making light work of it. One box, two, three; they continued until there were none. The glass bottles inside chinked together as they were jostled about. Paul stretched his arms out, his muscles beginning to complain at the heaviness of the boxes.

  In just seconds they were waiting again in the dark with bated breath. Time moved slowly, and after what seemed an age, the third boat glided quietly in over the black water, its bow crunching up on the gravelly shore. They pulled it in and the last two men joined them on the beach. They formed a human chain from the boat to the back of the second van, passing each box along from one to the other like a production line.

  Suddenly a short, sharp siren blast cracked through the air. The brothers glanced at each other and then out to sea, where the coast guard had changed direction. They were headed straight for them. A long beam of light sho
ne over, its power luckily very weak over such an expanse of water.

  ‘Get the last boxes in – quickly!’ Paul shouted. Michael estimated what they’d be able to see in such weak light. Not much, he reckoned. Not enough anyway, if they were careful to leave nothing else.

  ‘Open that box,’ he ordered the nearest dockhand.

  ‘What? This ain’t the time for a fucking drink, Mickey!’ Paul said, his voice rising in disbelief.

  ‘Michael,’ he growled. ‘Just give me a bottle.’ He took one and walked towards the first boat. The coast guard called out through a megaphone, the muffled voice authoritative.

  ‘This is the coast guard. Stop what you’re doing and put your hands up.’

  ‘Fuck that for a laugh,’ Michael said. He opened the top of the bottle and poured it out all over the first boat, shaking it around to cover as much surface area as possible. He threw the empty bottle into the back of the van and then, returning to the boat, picked out a small zipped pouch from under the front seat. ‘Cover the other two, one bottle each. Do it now. Keep the empties,’ he ordered.

  He was quickly obeyed, two of the dockhands hurriedly emptying bottles in the same manner they had seen Michael do.

  ‘This is the coast guard. I repeat, put your hands up and stay where you are.’

  Michael waded into the water and pushed the boat out so that the current began to pull it away. Opening the zip of the pouch in his hand, he pulled out a flare gun. Without hesitation he loaded it, pointed it into the middle of the boat and took a shot. Immediately there was a huge flash of light and smoke began to fill the air. As the flare thrashed around, the alcohol took hold and fire burst to life. The flames licked across the hull and quickly engulfed the small vessel.

  ‘Holy fuck!’ Paul laughed. ‘Alright then.’

  Michael pushed the other two boats off into the sea one by one, setting them alight in the same manner.

  ‘Get that van out of here,’ Paul ordered one of his men, pointing to the first vehicle. The dark van pulled off swiftly and disappeared into the distance up the road.

  Michael waded out of the water, the three boats now all sporting raging fires as the wood and oxygen-rich air fuelled them. The coast guard was speeding towards the shore now, too close for comfort.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Paul urged, pulling his brother forward with urgency. Michael turned to see the flaming boats. His eyes twinkled with humour and his mouth curled up in an entranced smile. Paul pushed him roughly along and opened the van door. ‘Get in, you fucking nutter!’

  Michael pulled himself into the front seat and closed the door as Paul ran round to the driver’s door. He watched the scene they were leaving out of the window. The coast guard had almost reached the beach but had no choice but to stop behind the three floating firestorms.

  ‘Stop right there!’ they screeched over the megaphone in pure frustration.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ Michael laughed as Paul slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He sped out as fast as he could, leaving the lights off so that they couldn’t read the number plate or make out which road he was taking. They bounced along the rural road faster than they usually would. They could hear bottles breaking in the back, but Paul didn’t slow down. A few broken bottles wasn’t the worst outcome in the grand scheme of things.

  They travelled in tense silence for nearly half an hour before Paul slowed to a more reasonable pace. He had turned the lights on, not wanting to draw police attention. Checking the mirrors one last time, he blew out a loud breath of relief.

  ‘Well, that was certainly a close one, boys,’ he said jovially. There was a murmur of agreement from the back. Michael still had a wide grin on his face.

  ‘They must have been so pissed off with those boats.’ He shook his head, amused.

  ‘It was a good distraction, that’s for sure,’ Paul replied.

  ‘Well, it was more to get rid of any lingering DNA from this lot. Some of them weren’t wearing gloves.’

  ‘Oh, good spot.’

  ‘But yeah, it worked out nicely all round.’

  ‘Mm. Except not for the owners. They ain’t half gonna be raging tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s what insurance is for,’ Michael replied. ‘Plus, they’re probably owned by a bunch of posh fucks who use them to go out to Daddy’s yacht.’ Michael’s lip curled. ‘They could use a taste of reality for a change.’

  Paul glanced at his younger brother. Ever since Michael had suffered at the hands of bullies at private school years before, he’d had a chip on his shoulder where the upper class were concerned. He hated them with a passion. Paul had been subjected to Michael’s heated rants on the subject on more than one occasion. He hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those times.

  ‘Yeah… wonder why the ship was stopped?’ Paul pulled the conversation back round to the events of the evening.

  ‘Beats me. Whatever the reason, it don’t matter now.’

  ‘Call Freddie, will ya? He’ll be waiting.’

  Michael pressed one of the speed dials on his phone and waited for his brother to answer. He smiled to himself again as he remembered the three little boats.

  ‘Michael, how’d it go?’

  ‘All clean. Where are we headed?’

  ‘Go meet Alan – he’ll sort a place out for now.’

  ‘Gotcha.’ Michael clicked off the call. ‘Head for the docks.’

  ‘OK.’

  The two men fell into silence for the rest of the journey, each lost in their own thoughts.

  22

  Freddie’s phone rang shrilly in the early-morning silence, vibrating on the wooden bedside table. Coming round slowly from the comfortable nothingness of a deep sleep, Freddie tried to ignore it. He was warm in the cocoon of the large bed, the puffy duvet wrapped up around his naked body and Anna draped over him where she had fallen asleep on his chest. He wrapped his muscular arms around her and snuggled in closer as the phone rang off. Sleep began to overcome him again, clawing him back into its dark security.

  The peace-shattering ring sounded again and Anna tapped his arm. She murmured sleepily through the curtain of dark hair that had curled over her face.

  ‘Freddie, get it. It’s not stopping.’

  Freddie groaned and moved into a half-sitting position as Anna slid off him and curled up deeper under the covers. He rubbed his eyes and tried to blink away the sleep that wasn’t quite done with him. Squinting at the digital clock next to his phone, he frowned. It wasn’t even 6 a.m.

  He picked the phone up and answered the withheld number. ‘What is it?’ he asked, groggily annoyed. It had better be good for someone to call him at this hour.

  ‘Freddie, my friend, how are you?’ The thick Albanian accent dripped sarcasm down the line.

  Freddie sat upright, his frown deepening. ‘Viktor?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. How are you this morning, Freddie Tyler?’

  ‘What?’ Freddie looked back at the clock to make sure he was reading it correctly. ‘Why the fuck are you calling me at this hour? And how did you get my number?’

  ‘Now, now, Mr Tyler, that is no way to speak to a friend.’

  ‘Are you having a laugh? It’s barely even light outside. This isn’t OK. What do you want?’

  ‘You’re right. First light. Which means that a certain ship currently sitting out at sea is about to be raided by border control.’

  Freddie sat up straight abruptly. His attention was now sharp, and he quickly pieced together Viktor’s plan. He shook his head. He had known something wasn’t right.

  ‘You are not the only one with friends in strange places, Freddie Tyler. I have friends too, and as we speak they are boarding that boat. When they find your latest shipment, and they will, they will be looking to me for confirmation of what to do next.’

  Freddie could hear the widening of Viktor’s smile in his voice. He curled his lip in cold fury. He reached for his boxers and slipped into them.

  ‘Wh
at to do, what to do. Now, perhaps if you were to rethink your decision on allowing me to buy some of your shipment space… perhaps there is something I can do about this little problem.’

  Freddie stood up and shrugged on the thin cotton dressing gown hanging on the back of the bedroom door as he passed it. He walked down the hall, his shoulders tensed in a boxer’s stance, the dressing gown flapping behind him, still undone.

  ‘You are very quiet, Freddie. You are working out what you have on there, yes?’

  Freddie reached his office and made his way behind the dark, heavy desk. He opened up his cigarette packet and lit one, breathing in the thick smoke deeply. He exhaled and put the phone on the desk in front of him, pressing the speakerphone button.

  ‘I have nothing on that ship, Viktor.’

  ‘No? This is not what I have heard.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not. However, like I said, I have nothing on that ship anymore, Viktor. You see’ – Freddie leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk – ‘I had my men pull everything out last night. That ship is as clean as a whistle. The only thing your friends are going to find of mine is a half-empty container with a bunch of value-price baked-bean tins. I am and will always be one step ahead of you. Do you know why?’ Freddie’s eyes burned and his face turned hard.

  ‘Why?’ Viktor asked, his voice less confident.

  ‘Because I’m Freddie fucking Tyler.’ He ended the call and sat back in the large leather swivel chair. Staring angrily at the wall, he smoked his cigarette in silence. The rage and disbelief built up in him more and more as he processed everything. The fact that he’d had to put his brothers and men on such a risky job in the first place already bothered him. To find out that this jumped-up low-life had tried to do him over and hold a gun to his head filled him with fury.

  He picked his phone back up and scrolled through the contacts. He pressed dial and waited. The phone was finally answered with a groggy greeting.

  ‘Dean. I need you to pay Viktor Morina a visit. He needs a lesson in who not to mess with. Take a small crew, use the back room in the drug-storage unit. Bag his head – don’t want him knowing where that is. A broken arm should do it. Then dump him back with a final warning. There are rules in this life. He needs to learn that you stick to them or deal with the consequences.’