by Conrad Jones
34
Rickets sat in the van and watched the huge linen warehouse through binoculars. He had driven east along the M62 and then exited the motorway at the Burtonwood services. From there, he followed a tree lined road. It winded its way through farmland towards Burtonwood Village. He carried on slowly until he reached an elevated section of road, that overlooked the industrial laundry. A copse of trees offered him some cover. The building was enormous. It was the size of four football pitches with parking and loading bays that were half the size again. There were at least sixty articulated tractor trailers on the parking bays. The entrance was monitored by two gatehouses and a small army of uniformed security guards, who checked the paperwork for everything going in and out. Vehicles queued in both directions to be processed. Lorries were arriving and leaving every few minutes, the incoming vehicles carried soiled linen, the outgoing carried freshly laundered sheets and towels all over the UK. It was the ideal setup for distributing contraband across the country. The drivers would have no idea what was stashed beneath their vehicles. Everything would appear to be above board. If the Karpovs had hidden a shipment in there, it would take a dozen police handlers with sniffer dogs to find it. Storming in with shotguns was not an option. It was a legitimate operation turning over millions of pounds a month. The employees would have no idea whose money backed it or what was behind the Pristine logo. Any attempt to use force would bring armed police, helicopters and police interceptors. There would be no escape. They may as well of hidden it in Fort Knox.
On top of all that, he had watched men arriving at regular intervals. Eighteen vehicles so far, people carriers, vans, SUV’s and a minibus had pulled onto the site and parked up. The passengers had walked into the building and then fifteen minutes or so later, they climbed back into their vehicles and drove away. It was obvious to Rickets that the Karpovs were responding to their clubs being attacked and they had called in their cavalry. The prefixes on their registration plates showed that they were from all over the country. He had watched nearly a hundred men arrive and leave. They had all headed west towards the city. Against this outfit, Rickets knew that Big Ron Mason’s crew didn’t stand a chance. They were outgunned and outnumbered. The Karpovs had steamrollered every outfit that took them on and they had no qualms in chasing them and their families to extinction. He was getting ready to leave, when his mobile rang. The screen showed ‘fun police’, which was his nickname for his partner, Becky.
“Hiya,” he answered. “Sorry I haven’t rung. It’s been a busy night.”
“It has been a busy night all around,” a man’s voice said. It was thick with an accent. “Your lady friend, Becky has been busy too. She has been entertaining us. There were four of us. I’ll text you the pictures. We’re putting some of them onto her Facebook too. I don’t think she enjoyed it very much. She cried a lot. I think she wants you to come home now.” The voice paused. Rickets felt his stomach knot. He wanted to speak but he was fear-struck. His muscles were frozen stiff. Tears of anger filled his eyes. “Hurry up home now before it is too late for her.”
35
Henry and Patrick parked at the rear of the Mason compound. They carried their tools in a holdall and a rucksack. Henry took out a Glock-17 and checked the magazine. It was full. Patrick watched as he slotted the automatic into the back of his trousers.
“Where did you get that?” Patrick asked in a whisper.
“A friend of a friend,” Henry replied with a wink. “Don’t go soft on me now, Patrick. This is our chance to go home with our heads up and you get to keep all your limbs.”
“In the meantime, I don’t want to be banged up for murder.”
“Don’t worry your little head. Let’s hope we won’t need to use it. Now shut up and let’s get this done.”
“After you.” Patrick said, resigned to what they had to do. “If we are confronted, let’s tie them up. Don’t shoot anyone, please.”
Henry smiled as they approached the perimeter fence. He crouched down and studied the links. There were motion sensors attached to the pillars. He followed the cables until he found a section out of their field of vision. He took a wire with a crocodile clip on each end and bypassed the power supply. Cutting the data link, he rendered them blind, although they had the appearance of functioning. The lights flickered and then came back on.
He nodded and smiled. Patrick stood beside him and watched as Henry took a laser pen from his pocket. He pointed it at a motion sensor and let it rest there for a few minutes. It heated the sensor and rendered it useless.
“Okay, cut the links,” Henry whispered. Patrick cut from the ground up until the gap was wide enough for them to pass through. “That will do. Get in there.”
They crouched low and reached the back of the building. Henry reached into the bag and took out a thermal lance and a gas bottle. He attached the gas and ignited the flame, narrowing it until it was at its most effective. The flame cut through the metal sheet cladding like a knife through butter. It crackled as it burnt through. Henry had cut an arch within minutes and he kicked it down. He took out the Glock and gestured for Patrick to follow him into the building. Patrick checked around behind them and then ducked into Mason Security.
YOUNG RONNY WAS BUNDLED into Alexei’s dining room. Three men stared at him, two standing and one seated. Alexei was sitting on a hardback chair, his feet tied together and his hands bound behind his back. A small blowtorch was on the floor next to his feet. The blue flame hissed as it burned. His toes were blackened and blistered, the nails burnt to cinders. Tendrils of smoke floated from his big toes and the stench of burning nails filled the air. His chin was on his chest as if he was sleeping; blood was running from his nose. Ronny was shocked and sickened by the scene.
“Alex, are you alright?” he stammered. “Why are you doing that to Alex?” Ronny shouted at the men. “You horrible bastards!” A blow to the back of the head sent him sprawling across the floor. He landed facedown at Alexei’s feet. The stench of burning flesh was overpowering and he gagged. He felt blood trickle down his neck from a wound in his scalp. “Who are they, Alex? What the fuck do they want?” he moaned as the men pounced on him and tied him up. They dragged him onto a chair opposite Alexei, pulling his hair painfully tightly. “That hurts!”
“Really?” the man behind him said. He pulled harder, ripping the hair from the roots. Tears filled Ronny’s eyes but he couldn’t move away from the grip. “We’ve been talking to your boyfriend, haven’t we?” he chuckled evilly. The other men grinned and nodded. “We guessed that you two were queers. Of course he denied it at first but we found the photographs on his phone. You know the ones where you’re on your knees?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ronny muttered. His face turned red with embarrassment.
“Don’t you?” the man sneered. He grabbed a mobile and flicked through the images. “Here look. That is you there isn’t it?” Ronny looked away. “What is that in your mouth, eh?” He kicked Alexei in the shin and put the phone in front of his face. “What is that in his mouth, Alexei?” The men laughed coarsely.
“Fuck you,” Ronny said, beneath his breath.
“Don’t be like that. He even has some videos of fucking you from behind. Did you know that he had filmed it or was that for his own pleasure?” Ronny cried out when he ripped his head backwards again. “I said, did you know?”
“Get off me!” Ronny shouted but he couldn’t move. “You don’t want to admit that you’re a faggot, eh?”
“Either way, your dad is going to be so proud of you when he sees these pictures,” another man said. “I can imagine what he will say, can’t you?”
“Leave me alone!” Ronny shouted in frustration. “My dad will fucking kill you. Just you wait and see.”
“Your father won’t kill anyone.”
“Oh, he will. He’ll kill you.”
“No he won’t. Your father is an idiot.”
“You’ll see who the idiot is.” Ronny couldn
’t believe that he had called his father an idiot. That word was usually aimed in his direction. “Cheeky cunt, you’ll see.”
“We will?” The man shrugged. “He doesn’t have a very good record so far. We took his money, we took his drugs and now we have his son,” the man sneered. “He is a fucking idiot.”
“He’ll break you in half.”
“We will wait and we will see.” The man shrugged. “In the meantime, we need to know if what Alexei has told us is the truth.” The man moved towards Alexei. “He’s having a little nap, aren’t you, Alexei?” The man slapped Alexei hard around the face. He moaned in pain but didn’t look up. “Wake up. Your faggot boyfriend is here to see you.” The man put his fingers beneath his chin and pushed his head backwards. Alexei opened his eyes and a tear ran from the corner. He focused on Ronny and began to shake his head. Saliva dribbled from his chin.
“Don’t hurt him. He doesn’t know anything,” Alexei slurred. Blood ran from his nose into his mouth. “He’s only a boy.”
“Oh that is so sweet, isn’t it?” the Russian said sarcastically. He punched Ronny in the face, splitting his top lip open. Ronny moaned in pain and spat blood onto the carpet.
“Don’t!” Alexei shouted.
The man grabbed Ronny’s hair and wrenched his head backwards.
“Alexei told us that you told him about a drug deal that happened last week.” The man looked into Ronny’s eyes.
“I don’t know anything about any drug deal.”
“You told him when and where it would happen?”
“No, I did not.”
“You told him that you would be there?”
“No.”
“You told him that you would be a lookout?”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“You know what I am talking about. The drug deal,” he said, leaning closer to his face. “The one where we killed your uncle and your cousins.”
“Fuck you!” Ronny spat into his face. The man wiped the blood and phlegm from his cheek with his sleeve. He smiled at Ronny and shook his head slowly. The smile disappeared a millisecond before he smashed his forehead into Ronny’s nose. There was an audible crack as the bridge splintered. “Aah!” Ronny cried out. He felt blood running down his face and he could taste it at the back of his throat. White light flashed through his mind and bolts of pain streaked through his brain. “No more, please,” he whispered.
“Good girl,” the man said, grinning. “Let’s start again. Alexei said that you gave him the information about the drug deal. Is that true?”
“Yes.”Ronny flushed red, embarrassed and ashamed that he had ratted on his family. He had been trying to impress Alexei. “You said that you wouldn’t tell anyone no matter what!” he snapped at Alexei. “I can’t believe that you told them that. If my dad finds out that I told you, he’ll kill me. They killed my Uncle Gary.”
“I didn’t know that would happen, Ronny,” Alexei slurred. “They said that they might monitor it but that nothing would happen.”
“They lied.”
“They did and I am so sorry.”
“You lied too,” Ronny snapped.
“Don’t be surprised that he is a liar, Ronny. Your boyfriend has been talking out of turn to people a lot lately.” He slapped Alexei hard. His head rocked back sharply and blood sprayed up the wall. “He has been talking to the police, eh Alexei?”
Ronny frowned and shook his head. “He’s one of you lot. He’s not a grass. No way. Alexei wouldn’t talk to the police. You’ve got that wrong.”
“No, we are right. He’s a grass alright. So you did tell him about the drugs coming from Ireland?”
Ronny nodded. “Yes I did. He said that he had to mention it to his bosses but that nothing bad would happen if he did. He said that they wouldn’t be interested but that they had to know who was doing what. He said it was the rules. They had to know what was happening. They said nothing bad would happen but they lied.”
“Everyone lies, Ronny. Especially our cousin Alexei. He is the worst type of liar. He lies to his family, to his own flesh and blood.” The man punched Alexei hard in the stomach. It knocked the wind from his lungs. He gasped for air and vomited. Yellow bile splattered onto the laminate floor.
“Leave him alone. I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t turn on his family.”
“Why not? You did.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Ronny said, shaking his head. He hadn’t felt like a rat when he told Alexei. He was just showing off. “We were just talking. I didn’t know that he would tell the others but when he did, he said that he had to and that nothing would happen.”
“He lied.”
“But why would he do that?” Ronny was genuinely confused. He was in pain, physically and emotionally.
“Because he is a rat. He was talking to police.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. Alexei was passing on your information to hide the fact that he was about to turn himself into the police, didn’t you, Alexei?” the man sneered again. “It was all a smoke screen, wasn’t it, you old queer.” He stepped back and punched Ronny this time. “So, we have two rats in a trap. Now then, let’s have your phone. We need to speak to your dad.” The man checked Ronny’s pockets and took his mobile. “Where is your dad?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Ronny said. His lip was swollen and bleeding. His voice was shaking with fear. “He went out before I left.”
“Left where?”
“What?”
“Where were you?”
“Where we live,” Ronny stuttered.
“Liar.” The man punched him again. Ronny felt a tooth crack. The pain in his nose intensified by a hundred times.
“Were you at his house?”
“Yes.”
“Liar,” the man said, smiling. He punched Ronny in the ear. His full sovereign ring ripped through the cartilage leaving the top hanging loose from his head.
Ronny rocked sideways, almost toppling from the chair. His eyes widened in shock and he had to blink to clear his vision. The man waited a few seconds for him to recover.
“Let’s try again. His house is burning to the ground as we speak. We know he wasn’t in it. They searched it before they torched it. You are obviously too stupid to feel the pain. Alexei feels it though, don’t you, Alexei?” He bent down and picked up the blowtorch. The blue flame hissed noisily. He put it beneath Alexei’s left foot and turned up the heat. Alexei screamed, the sound piercing. He twitched in his chair, his body jerked violently with the pain. His eyes rolled backwards in his head. “Try again. Where were you staying?”
“Okay, okay!” Ronny sniffled. The man took the flame away. The sweet smell of singed flesh filled the room.
“Where were you?”
“He has a farm on the outskirts of the city. I don’t know the address but I can take you there.”
“You don’t know the address?” The man put the blowtorch close to Alexei’s other foot.
“Don’t burn me,” Alexei pleaded. “He isn’t good at remembering addresses and the like. He has learning difficulties.”
“So the son of the idiot is actually an idiot?”
“I am not an idiot. I know where it is,” Ronny mumbled.
“We don’t need the address. We’ll make your father come to us. He’s stupid enough to do it to.”
36
RICKETS
When Rickets arrived home, it was like a scene from Law and Order. A fire engine was parked in front of his house, the hoses trained on his roof. Blue lights flashed off the surrounding houses. Orange flames climbed through a gaping hole where the trusses had burned through and collapsed. The first floor windows were nothing but black holes, flames roared skywards, the glass and frames gone. Scorch marks ran upwards from the ground floor, the entire structure an inferno. An ambulance screamed past him in the opposite direction. He saw three police cars to his left; uniformed police officers were hol
ding back the neighbours. Anger, rage, hatred and worst of all, guilt burned inside him, hotter than the flames. His heart was broken.
The Russians had sent him pictures of Becky being raped and they had lived up to their promise to post them on her Facebook too. Facebook had gone into meltdown and his phone hadn’t stopped ringing, friends and family horrified by what had happened. Becky’s father had been particularly clear about who was to blame. He had always hated her being with Rickets and said that nothing good would come from living with a criminal. He said that it would end in tears. In hindsight, he was right. Rickets had to hang up and ignore any further calls. It was difficult enough to cope with what they had done to Becky without being blamed for it too. The truth was, it was difficult to cope with the fact that it was his fault. It wasn’t a random attack. She had been targeted because of what he had done. He should have talked Big Ron out of it. Attacking the clubs was a huge mistake, one that Becky had paid for dearly. He knew that it wouldn’t end there. They would not stop hunting Rickets until he was dead. What happened to Becky would happen to every female member of his family until he was caught, shot and buried in the woods. His guts were twisted with anger and regret. Tears ran freely down his cheeks and saliva dribbled from his mouth, down his chin and onto his chest. He was almost hysterical when he first saw the photographs. It was impossible to comprehend her suffering captured on camera. The expression on her face would break the strongest mind.
He had called the police immediately; they could be there in minutes whereas he was an hour away. The switchboard operator could hardly understand him because his sobbing rendered him incoherent. His vision was blurred all the way home, the tears hadn’t slowed down or stopped once. He parked up and wiped his eyes. Becky’s father was across the road arguing with a police officer. He saw him and began a tirade of abuse. Rickets ignored him and opened the car door, not knowing whether Becky was alive or dead. Her phone had been switched off and the neighbours that they knew were away or at work. He walked towards the police cordon, a sense of dread in his heart. Darkness began to spread from the pit of his stomach, through his veins and into his very soul.