‘Good evening, Craig, would you like something to drink.’ He held out the bottle of wine.
‘What?’
Plymouth checked his watch. ‘It’s been eighteen hours since I picked you up and you must be thirsty by now.’
Craig tried to focus but his eyes seemed to be sliding from left to right in a constant motion that made him feel sick. ‘Let me go,’ he whispered.
‘That depends on your brother, if he does as I suggest then I’ll make sure you get home, if he doesn’t,’ he smiled. ‘Well, you’ll still get home but it’ll be one piece at a time.’
Plymouth thought it impossible for the man on the bed to blanch, but his face seemed to bleed away into the white pillow. He swallowed and tried to sit up, but the straps did their job.
‘Now, if you want some of this I’ll release the straps then you can have a drink, if not then I may as well get some sleep,’ he turned toward the door and stopped when Green mumbled something. ‘You’ll have to speak up, Craig.’
‘Thirsty,’ he repeated.
‘Fine.’
Crossing the room Plymouth snapped back the straps. Green winced as he pushed himself up until his back was resting against the headboard. Plymouth handed over the bottle and sat back down in the chair. ‘When you’re feeling refreshed we can give your brother another ring.’
Craig’s hands shook as he took a pull from the bottle. ‘I don’t know what you expect him to do but this is the wrong way of going about things.’
‘I beg to differ, people like your brother don’t respond to threats, it’s actions that get their attention.’
‘You do realise he’ll kill you when he gets his hands on you?’
Plymouth sighed as if bored by Craig’s idle threats. ‘So you keep saying.’
‘But what have we done?’ Craig sounded genuinely baffled as if he were a law-abiding citizen who had never put a foot wrong, rather than a piece of low life, drug-dealing scum.
Plymouth emptied his glass and placed it on the floor. ‘As far as I’m concerned you’ve done nothing, but I get paid to do a job...’
‘We can double it, whatever you’re getting, treble it even.’
‘You know that’s the second time today someone’s offered to make me a rich man.’
Green frowned. ‘I’m serious.’
‘I’m sure you are, but money is not an issue for me. I give a price and that’s the end of the matter. Now, finish your drink, I’m tired, and we don’t want to keep your big brother waiting.’
‘Just get on with it.’
Plymouth shrugged, pulled out Craig’s mobile and pressed the call button, smiling at Green as he placed the phone to his ear.
‘Ah, Mr Green, I hope I didn’t wake you.’
Craig could hear the raised voice of his brother crackling from the phone. Plymouth pressed the loudspeaker button and it was almost as if his brother were in the room with them, the fury in his voice coming through loud and clear.
‘You fucking bastard, I'll kill you for this!’
‘I’m going to hand you over to Craig for a moment, just so you know that he’s alive, but try and keep the language clean, remember I have tender ears.’
He held the phone out and Craig grasped it like a lifeline. ‘Cal...’
‘Don’t worry, Craig, this cunt will fucking pay...’
‘Shut up, Cal!’
The line went quiet for a moment; Craig could imagine his brother looking at the phone in disbelief. ‘What did you say?’
‘You can’t swear, Cal, he doesn’t like it.’
‘He doesn’t fucking like it!’ The voice thundered around the small room and Craig winced when he saw Plymouth approaching, he began to shake his head from side to side the panic blooming into terror.
‘Listen to your brother, Mr Green.’
‘Get fucked you piece of shit, nobody...’
Plymouth plucked the phone up from Craig’s fingers and held it in front of his face. ‘I didn’t have you down as a stupid man but it appears I was wrong.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Green sounded out of breath, ragged.
‘I need you to shut up and listen. I know in your line of work you get used to people jumping through hoops, you like to think of yourself as a one-off but you’re far from it. Now I suggest you put your bloated ego to one side and try to think in a rational manner,’ he paused. ‘Because if you don’t I’ll end the call and that’s the last you’ll see of your brother,’ he looked down at Craig, who watched him, a look of pleading in his eyes.
‘What do you want?’ Green hissed.
‘I’m working for someone who has an interest in your business dealings and before you ask another inane question, you don’t know the man. Now, he has a simple proposition for you and it’s one that I think you will appreciate.’
‘Just get on with it,’ Green snapped.
Plymouth smiled. ‘That’s more like it. What he requires you to do is simply move away.’
Callum Green laughed. ‘Move away?’
‘Simple as that, you sell up and go, maybe to the villa in Spain, or the place you have in Scotland.’
‘You’re having a bloody laugh, pal. If you think you can somehow scare me into doing a runner then you're cracked.’
Plymouth sighed, a sound full of regret. ‘Don’t decide straight away. I realise it’s a big decision and you need time to think...’
‘I don’t need time to think the answer is no.’
Craig glared up from the bed, his eyes a strange mixture of pride and fear.
‘You’re a wealthy man, Mr Green...’
‘Money has nothing to do with it.’
‘It seems we share some commonalities after all.’
‘Now you listen to me, you will let my brother go and then you will tell your boss...’
‘I don’t have a boss.’
Craig could see a subtle change flit across Plymouth’s face.
‘Let my brother go or I will find out everything about you and everyone you ever cared about or loved will be wiped off the face of the earth.’
‘You’re not really in a position to make those kinds of threats, Mr Green...’
‘Ask my brother, he’ll tell you I don’t make threats.’
‘So, your answer is no?’
‘Let - him - go,’ each word was spat out through clenched teeth.
‘I'd like to be able to say I admire your nerve, but I think you would be less blasé if it was you tied to the bed rather than your brother.’
‘You obviously don’t know me.’
‘And what about your sister and your mother, I...’
‘You even think about hurting them and...’
‘And what? I know all about you, I know where your mother lives and your sister, while you know nothing about me,’ he paused. ‘Now is it really worth putting those people at risk just so you don’t lose face, are you really that arrogant that deluded?’
The line went quiet. Craig shuffled further up the bed, after thirty seconds he began to panic, thinking that Callum had heard enough and had simply ended the call.
‘Look, maybe we can do a deal.’
Craig hissed out a pent up breath. ‘He doesn’t do deals, Cal, now just do what he fucking says,’ spittle flew from his lips his eyes wide and frantic.
Plymouth nodded and smiled.
‘Listen to me, Craig, this scum can’t dictate to...’
‘For God’s sake you’re not listening. You never bloody listen, this man isn’t kidding...’
‘Craig, I promise you’ll be alright...’
‘Do we have a deal, Callum, I need an answer.’
‘Yes, yes OK, we have a deal. But I can’t just up and bloody leave; it’ll take time to sort things out.’
Plymouth reached down and picked up the glass of wine.
‘Why don’t I believe you?’
‘What do you mean, I’ve said I will, I’m just asking for some time.’
Plymouth frowned. ‘Are
you taking me seriously, Callum?’
A pause on the line that seemed to stretch into oblivion, the atmosphere in the small room suddenly charged with uncertainty.
‘I get the feeling you need a little push Callum. Right now you’ll say anything, but deep down you still believe you can somehow sort this out. You think someone will come forward and tell you my name but that won’t be happening, you have some scenario in your mind where you get to keep your hands on your business and everything will go back to how it was.’
Craig Green closed his eyes and took a long pull from the wine bottle. When he opened them, Plymouth was pointing a gun at his face. He opened his mouth to scream, the bullet ripped through the bottom of the bottle, demolished his nose and exploded through the back of his head, destroying the lower half of his face, blood gushed from the wound, spraying over the whitewashed walls.
‘Craig!’ Green’s voice echoed around the room, matching the boom of the gunshot.
‘Too late, Callum, your little brother has gone to meet his maker.’
When the screaming and abuse started, he hung up and went to get some sleep, like the dishes in the sink; he would clear up the mess in the morning.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
He found Spenner standing outside the hospital entrance, puffing feverishly on an electronic cigarette, his face pale, frantic with worry.
‘So where the hell were you, Spenner?’
The young PC quickly shoved the plastic e-cig into his uniform pocket. ‘I tried to get to them, sir, but the snow slowed me down and...’
‘But why hadn’t you gone together, why was she chasing someone like Collins on her own.’
Spenner looked away. ‘I didn’t know it was Collins, I mean, I still don’t.’
‘Whoever it was is immaterial, you still haven’t explained why she was on her own?’
An ambulance pulled under the canopy and a couple of medics climbed out, a few seconds later they were wheeling an old man toward the entrance. He was wearing a paisley dressing gown and flat cap, an oxygen mask clamped over his face.
‘I asked her out and she said no.’ Spenner mumbled.
Lasser felt his mouth fall open; it was like saying the dog ate my homework.
‘I mean, I’m not a bad looking guy...’
‘Shut the fuck up, Spenner, now where have they taken her?’
For a moment, he looked bemused, then his eyes focused and he seemed to shiver. ‘Ward seven B, when I last checked she was having stitches.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘I tried to catch him but...’
‘Save your excuses and wait here,’ he jabbed a finger at Spenner’s chest. ‘Don’t even think about going walkabout.’
He snapped to attention. ‘Yes, sir.’
Lasser pushed through the double doors and entered the hospital; A&E was full of the usual assorted drunks and druggies. Checking the hospital diagram pinned to the wall, he headed off into the bowels of the building.
An hour later, he was sitting in a bland corridor sipping another cup of sludge from the machine that hummed away in the corner, the lemon coloured walls were giving him a headache, the strong scent of disinfectant making his stomach roll.
‘Sergeant?’ he looked up, the doctor smiled down at him, his white coat looked to be two sizes too big, the sleeves too long, his fingertips poking out of the bottom. To Lasser he looked like an imposter, perhaps someone from the psychiatric ward who had stolen a coat and was doing the rounds.
Lasser shot to his feet. ‘How is she?’
‘Well, under the circumstances she’s doing well.’
Blowing out a sigh of relief, he dropped the plastic cup into the waste bin. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘Of course we’ll have to wait until she regains consciousness before we know if any permanent damage has been done...’
Lasser felt his stomach lurch. ‘I thought you just said she was doing well?’
‘Well considering the assault, she’s lucky to be alive, but her vital signs are good and she seems to be strong,’ he paused. ‘Though, a full recovery could take some time.’
On the way to the hospital, he had imagined finding her propped up in bed with a few cuts and bruises. He’d even contemplated stopping to buy some grapes and a glossy magazine, now he was listening to a doctor talk about brain damage and a long recuperation.
‘When will I be able to see her?’
‘Well it won’t be tonight, give us a call tomorrow afternoon, we should have some news for you by then.’ With that, he spun on his heels and walked away his shoes squeaking on the polished floor.
It took him almost ten minutes to navigate his way out of the building; every corridor seemed to lead to a dead end, every stairwell appeared identical to the last. Eventually, he spotted the exit sign and hurried towards it. When he pushed his way through the doors it had started to snow again, the car park covered in a fresh coating of white. A Salvation Army band were playing a tune that he didn’t recognise, huddled under the canopy, an elderly woman smiled at him and shook her tin in his direction. Pulling out a handful of loose change, he dropped it into the slot. She smiled at him, showing a set of brilliant dentures, as white as the snow that fell behind her.
‘God bless you,’ she said.
Lasser looked around; Spenner was nowhere to be seen.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Tommy shuffled his feet and looked at Callum in shock; he'd only been gone a couple of hours, but it was as if time had accelerated for his friend.
His face had a grey cast and his eyes looked haunted, dark circles clung beneath, the reek of whisky seemed to ooze from every pore.
Over the years, he had seen his friend in every mode, apart from the one he was seeing now.
Fear had always been an alien concept to them both. Even as kids growing up together they had always gone out and grabbed what they wanted, safe in the knowledge that they could rely on one another.
Tommy sloshed some whisky into a glass and took a swallow. ‘I mean, are you sure about this, Cal?’
‘Of course I’m fucking sure, I heard the shot, the bastard told me what he’d done and then he rang off.’ Callum stood in front of the raging fire, swaying from side to side.
‘Jesus.’
‘I want him found, Tommy, I want to know who he is and who he’s working for...’
‘That isn’t going to be easy...’
Green glared him into silence. ‘Is that all you can fucking say!’ he jabbed out a finger. ‘You told me you’d sort the twat who knocked my grandmother down and the shit who robbed her account, but you’ve come up with fuck all!’
Tommy bit his tongue, he knew Cal had to lash out at someone and he was the nearest, so he was bound to cop the flack.
‘He said he’s working for someone, this is a paid job, now I want you to get in touch with the lads in Liverpool and Manchester and see if they know anything.’
‘But if it is someone trying to take over then they’re hardly going to admit it.’
‘Someone always blabs, Tommy.’
‘Well yeah, but this isn’t like the usual shit is it?’
Green looked out of the window; his own reflection stared back at him, the garden beyond was bathed in moonlight. ‘He killed my brother, I told him I’d do what he wanted and he still fucking shot him.’
Tommy sighed and slid his hands into his pockets. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I want you to make sure that the rest of the family are safe.’
‘He threatened them?’ Tommy could hear the disbelief in his own voice.
‘He knew their names and I want them watched.’
‘Fuck me.’
‘This hasn’t been done on a whim; this piece of shit knows everything about me and mine.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘I’ll make sure we put a couple of boys at their houses.’
Callum nodded and then twitched spilling the whisky as the memory of the gunshot reverberated around his bra
in. ‘I can’t let this go, Tommy.’
‘I know, mate.’
Green straightened his shoulders and swiped a hand across his eyes. ‘You know as well as I do that our Craig was a dumb bastard but he was still family.’
Tommy smiled and nodded, he hadn’t seen his own brother in years, the last he’d heard he was living somewhere in Skelmersdale with a tribe of kids and a wife who resembled a pig.
‘What did you do with Collins?’ Green asked.
‘I did like you said, let him go and gave him forty-eight hours to find the Beddows girl.’
Callum drew in a huge breath and let it out slowly. ‘I want them found, Tommy, every last one of them...’
‘Understood.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
On the way home, Lasser made a detour and called at the huge Tesco on the outskirts of town. It had gone midnight; yet the place was still busy as people did the last big food shop before Christmas. He stood in a queue at the self-service checkout with a bottle of spiced rum in his hand.
He could feel his temper beginning to rise as a young couple attempted to put through a trolley’s worth of food. Every thirty seconds the machine would fail to register a packet of frozen profiteroles or a bag of sprouts and they'd have to wait for the flustered attendant to come over and sort out the problem. The woman standing in front of him cursed under her breath and checked her watch for the tenth time.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she suddenly abandoned her trolley and headed for the doors. Lasser pushed it to one side and moved forward. After what seemed like an age, he was heading for the car, the wind swirled, throwing freezing sleet into his face. Clambering into the Audi, he started up and made his way to the exit.
By the time he arrived home, the inside of the car was just beginning to thaw out. He crunched through the thick snow to the front door and let himself in. The house felt colder than the car and he slapped on the central heating, grabbed a glass from the kitchen cupboard, and then slumped down onto the sofa. The drink burned its way down his throat, warming as it went.
The Way That It Falls: DS Lasser series volume 2 (The DS Lasser series.) Page 15