The Betrayed: A shocking, gritty thriller that will hook you from the first page

by Casey Kelleher

  Then seeing Reggie’s stony expression, Alex raised his brow questioningly.

  ‘Go on… What ain’t you telling me?’

  ‘They can’t move her on, and neither can we. The police checked her paperwork. She kept everything you sent her. She didn’t sign anything, Alex.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Alex spat, rendering the room silent as he stormed across to the filing cabinet and started pulling out a pile of paperwork, sifting through it all until he found the folder with the flat’s occupier details and contracts. Thumbing through the documents, until he reached Unit No. 7, Alex scanned the contract.

  His eyes lingered on the signature at the bottom.

  Only it wasn’t a signature at all. The woman’s writing barely legible, a mere scribble, she’d simply written:

  NOT INTERESTED

  Walking back to the desk, Alex slumped down in his chair. Of all the fuck ups, he couldn’t believe that this was the one that could cost them the project, and it was his.

  He’d fucked up.

  Jimmy’s job had been to do all the initial groundwork on this project. He’d put down the majority of the money and been working alongside the architects to get all the plans drawn up.

  Alex’s domain had been to sort out the legalities of the project. He’d been working alongside the solicitors and the council chiefs for months. He’d personally weighed out the Chief Planning Officer of London with a tidy sum of money in order to ensure everything ran as quickly and as smoothly as possible. He’d inspected the site along with the building controls officer, and a structural engineer. They’d granted them planning consent without any question.

  He didn’t understand how this could have happened; he’d overseen every single document himself.

  ‘I reckon she’ll try and sue our arses now too, boss. She’s that type,’ Reggie said, glad that Alex Costa was finally realising the severity of the predicament they were in. ‘I hate being the one that lands this all on you, boss, but as you can see, we had no choice but to down tools.’

  Alex nodded. Speechless, with the revelation he knew without a shadow of a doubt that when Jimmy Byrne got wind of this the man would do his nut.

  Someone’s head would be on the chopping board for this, and right now it looked like it was going to be his.

  Five

  Barely able to lift his head, Michael Byrne was ready to succumb to his imminent fate.

  In fact, now, he welcomed it. Anything to end his constant suffering. He still couldn’t comprehend that his Jimmy could do this to him. Torment him in this way. Leaving him strapped to a chair in some derelict house, out in the arsehole of nowhere.

  Kicking out, instinctively, his movement restricted, his legs tethered together with thick rope; his arms wrenched behind him awkwardly; the plastic cable ties cutting into the flesh of his tightly bound wrists. Michael shuddered as another rat scraped at his boots.

  He screwed his eyes shut as if physically pained – he’d had enough now. Jimmy was only fucking with him. He was certain of it. Even Jimmy wasn’t mental enough to actually murder him, surely? Jimmy was just keeping him out here so that he would learn his lesson, Michael was sure of it. He had to believe that, otherwise he’d have given up by now.

  And he had learned his lesson.

  He had no idea how long he’d been here for. Days? A week maybe? All he did know was that he’d had long enough to think about his actions and he was heart sorry. Shagging one of Jimmy’s girls hadn’t been his smartest idea now that he thought about it, though Michael hadn’t thought that Jimmy would have got wind of it. Not now the man was such a high flier. He had more girls on his books than he could keep up with, and Michael had heard a few rumours about a couple of big drug shipments that Jimmy and his business partner, Alex, were currently creaming in.

  Businessmen my arse! he thought to himself bitterly. Jimmy was nothing more than a crook. Swanning around London, acting the big I am.

  Still, Michael was learning the hard way about crossing his son. If Jimmy didn’t come back sometime soon and get him the fuck out of here, Michael was starting to think that he might die here.

  The rats were getting braver. Venturing nearer to him each time they scurried across the derelict house’s dusty wooden floors. They could smell that he’d soiled himself. The acidic stench of shit that lingered in the air only enticed them to him more.

  He just wanted to go home.

  Home to Joanie.

  A lone, strangled sob escaped his mouth then, as he finally admitted to himself that Jimmy was indeed a mental fucker. Perhaps his boy really would have the nerve to leave him here to die after all. The man was unhinged. Michael had always known that about Jimmy. He had been a fool to underestimate him.

  There was no point in calling out for help. Shouting was futile, useless. Michael had tried already for hours. Bellowing and screaming until his throat was coarse and raspy. Until he couldn’t physically cry out anymore.

  No one could hear him.

  No one would come.

  Overcome with self-pity for the way in which he was suffering, all he had left were his tears. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

  His emaciated body shook with fear.

  Somewhere behind him, he could feel the icy night air blowing in through a broken windowpane. The cold stabbing his skin now; the bitter chill reaching right down inside his bones.

  Earlier, before the pitch-black darkness had settled in all around him he’d been able to concentrate on the small trail of thin white cloud that had spanned out in front of him, at his every breath.

  Now he couldn’t see a thing, only darkness. Alone with his thoughts and the eerie sounds of the house. The odd creak. A bang. Outside bare branches of trees creaked loudly as they swayed in time with the wind.

  He was hungry. His hollow stomach ached as he thought about the dry, stale sandwich he’d eaten the day before. That’s all he’d had, that and a few sips of water. He felt weak.

  The rats could sense that too.

  ‘Get the fuck off me!’ he cried out, feeling the sharp claws of a rodent scratch at one of his legs as the creature tried to scurry up the inside of his trousers.

  Crying now openly as he raised both his legs, frantically waving his limbs around with sheer desperation. The chair beneath him rocked, unsteadily. Swaying from side to side, before finally tipping over. Crashing down on the floor with Michael pinned beneath it.

  Michael was bawling, sobbing into the damp, threadbare rug he’d landed on. He pressed his face down into it to try and protect himself from the onslaught that would follow.

  If death didn’t come quickly for him now, the rats soon would.

  ‘Well, there’s a fucking sight if ever I saw one!’

  Squinting through the darkness as a brilliant white light flashed in his eyes, temporarily blinding him, Michael squeezed them shut. He focused on the noise instead. Recognising the voice. Loud and obnoxious.

  Jimmy was back.

  Slowly Michael opened his eyes again. Taking his time to adjust them to the bright stream of light that poured in around him from the torch that Jimmy was shining directly into his face, Michael Byrne looked up at the shadowy figure standing over him.

  Jimmy peered down at him with a twisted smirk spread across his face.

  ‘This must be your lucky day, eh?’ Jimmy said.

  He felt Jimmy’s strong grip, wrenching him up onto his feet.

  ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ Michael said through his tears, his voice sounding pathetic even to his own ears. For the first time this week he was actually happy to see his son.

  He wasn’t going to die. Not today.

  His bawling reduced to sobs, he was overcome with relief and gratitude to the man that had caused him such suffering.

  ‘Get the fuck up.’

  It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Jimmy was holding onto him, the force of his grip rendering him upright. Michael didn’t have the strength to stand on his own.

  ‘Fuck me, you
bleeding stink!’ Jimmy said then, catching the stench of shit and piss that lingered in the air between them.

  Michael bristled, humiliated once more.

  Of course he stank. Jimmy had held him here against his will. Leaving him here all day and night on his own, he’d only popped back to give Michael scraps to eat. Or to taunt him some more. He’d had no choice but to soil himself. Then he’d been left to sit there caked in his own excrement for days. His skin sore and blistered. His crotch burning.

  Jimmy had brought Michael to his lowest ebb. His son had got a kick out of it, Michael’s pain and discomfort too.

  But now he was here, and it appeared that he was going to let Michael leave this godforsaken place after all.

  ‘I thought you were going to leave me for dead. If you hadn’t come back just now, I’d have been gone by the morning,’ Michael snivelled, as he searched the face of his son for a tiny hint of anything that resembled compassion.

  There wasn’t any. Jimmy stared back at him. His eyes stone cold, void of any feeling at all for his father.

  ‘Well, now. Here’s the thing. Despite the fact that you’re nothing more than a useless, cheating, lying prick,’ Jimmy said, the hatred still evident with his every word as he wrenched the thick rope from his father’s feet. ‘My mother – your wife, as you clearly need reminding – still seems to give two shits about you. Worried out of her fucking mind she is. Can you believe it? After the way you’ve treated her all these years? That woman is actually worried about you?’

  Jimmy shook his head in disbelief as he slid the scissors in behind the cable ties. Purposely digging the sharp blade into the older man’s flesh as he cut. He was in no mood to pander to the old man’s whims.

  ‘Just so we’re both clear, that’s the only reason you’re getting out of here alive today, do you get me?’ Jimmy said, staring at his old man with disgust.

  ‘From now on, I’m going to be keeping a very close eye on you. You are going to be on your best behaviour, do you get me? You’re going to start treating my mother – your wife – like she’s the Queen. There’ll be no more drinking. No more gambling and no more tarts, do you understand?!’

  Michael understood all right.

  Nodded obediently, acknowledging his warning as Jimmy led him roughly out of the squalid house, pushing and dragging him when he tripped or fell unsteadily on the uneven, rubbish-strewn floor.

  Jimmy held him by the back of his neck. Gripping him tightly, wrenching him upright as he led him outside along the narrow overgrown footpath, to where his motor was parked just outside the front gates.

  Michael stood next to the passenger door, expectant, as he waited for Jimmy to open it for him.

  Jimmy shook his head.

  ‘Not a fucking chance, mate,’ he said as he led his dad to the boot. Opening it up, already lined with plastic sheets. ‘You ain’t getting in my motor in that state. You’re going to have to get in the boot. You’re lucky that I’m even letting you in there!’ Jimmy spat as Michael did as he was told and awkwardly clambered into the boot.

  Degraded once more as he lay down like a stray dog, he shot one last fleeting look back to the derelict house he’d been kept in for the past few days, barely able to comprehend what Jimmy had put him through.

  Jimmy read his mind.

  ‘You have got off lightly tonight, now don’t you fucking forget it,’ Jimmy sneered. ‘From now on, not only will you look after my mother but you will go above and beyond to do everything and anything she asks of you. If she says jump, you backflip, you get me?’

  Michael Byrne nodded, as Jimmy slammed the boot down on him, plunging him into darkness once again.

  Jimmy was wrong.

  Michael hadn’t got off lightly at all and they both knew it. At least if the rats had got him, his death would have been quick. Instant. Jimmy hadn’t given him a chance tonight, he’d only prolonged his suffering even more. Michael was going to have to spend the rest of his days under the watchful eyes of his stuck-up wife and his psychotic son.

  Jimmy hadn’t allowed him to live, he’d offered him death instead.

  One of the slowest and most torturous ways to die of them all.

  Six

  Throwing down his cutlery with a loud clang as Alex broke the news, Jimmy Byrne stared at his business partner with disbelief, unable to comprehend what he’d just been told.

  It all made sense now – Alex’s sudden offer of a dinner tonight at Jimmy’s favourite Italian restaurant, Raphael’s, in the heart of London’s West End – the bloke had just been buttering him up. How Jimmy hadn’t worked it out sooner he didn’t know. Alex offering to pay for anything should have been suspicious enough. Alex was so tight, he’d even begrudge you the steam off his piss. It had been a standing joke between the two men for years, how Jimmy liked to flash his wealth and buy only top quality, high-end designer clobber, while Alex would sooner wait for something to be on sale before he parted with his precious cash. The man never got his wallet out unless he had to.

  ‘You’re a shifty fucker, Alex,’ Jimmy said, shaking his head. Finally in the loop about the major fuck up that had gone down on the new site, Jimmy wasn’t the slightest bit impressed and Alex knew it. ‘That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?’ Jimmy said, laughing at Alex’s cowardly actions. ‘What did you think, eh? That because we’re in a restaurant full of people I won’t lose my head at you?’ He was raising his voice now. ‘That because you bought me a steak and a few glasses of their finest Scotch, that somehow I’d just fucking let the fact that you fucked up slide?’ Alex had underestimated him. Annoyed at Alex for not telling him about this ‘Mrs Walsh’ sooner, Jimmy didn’t give two shits about the people sitting within his immediate proximity.

  Let them look, let them stare. He had a business to run, and Alex was acting like a first prize cunt by keeping him out of the loop like this. ‘Now, tell me again, what the fuck has been going on?’

  ‘It was an oversight, Jimmy,’ Alex said, clearing his throat as if struggling to get his words out. Aware of the other diners watching them, Alex felt foolish for thinking that bringing Jimmy here might soften the blow. ‘I thought everything was in order. I thought she’d signed it,’ he said, registering the thunderous look on Jimmy’s face. If there had been any way that Alex could have sorted this out without involving Jimmy, he would have.

  He’d had his solicitors go through everything with a fine toothcomb. The old bird had them all over a barrel. Unlike some of the tenants that were paying the council rent, Edel Walsh owned her flat and the florist outright. The mortgage was all paid off. If she was refusing to sell up then there was fuck all that Alex could do to rectify the matter.

  He had no choice now but to come clean to Jimmy about his error.

  ‘THOUGHT?’ Jimmy shook his head dismissively. Picking up his Scotch and downing it in one, he nodded to the waiter to bring him another. After the shit Alex had just come out with, he was going to need it. ‘What do you mean, “you thought”? She either signed it, or she didn’t,’ he bellowed, losing his rag. This was not what he wanted to hear. Not at this stage of the work. Not now he’d invested every penny he owned into this project.

  This was going to be the job that put him on the map.

  This project was going to set him up for life.

  ‘Our men are already on site. They’ve already started tearing the place apart. Knocking down the walls, ripping everything out in accordance with the plans that my architect drew up, and now you’re telling me in the final fucking hour that you THOUGHT that the woman’s paperwork had been signed up?’

  Nodding to the waiter as he brought over a drink, Jimmy snatched it from the tray and slammed it on the table, staring down at the drawings that Alex had just presented to him.

  ‘This should have been dealt with at the very beginning. It was paramount that everyone signed the paperwork. You knew that.’

  ‘Look, Jimmy, I know you’re fucking pissed, mate, I am too,’ Alex said shifti
ng uncomfortably in his seat, as more diners looked over at them. He felt mortified at the epic fuck up he’d made as it was, without Jimmy making him look like a cunt on top of it all. ‘I thought I checked it all—’

  ‘What? With your eyes fucking closed?’

  ‘Seriously, this woman never let on that there was a problem. She didn’t make any fuss. I remember her handing me the signed contract. Not a peep! I had no idea that it wasn’t signed. I thought I checked it, but maybe I got distracted.’

  ‘Oh have a laugh, Alex?’ Shaking his head, Jimmy sneered. ‘The whole fucking project’s in jeopardy because you think you “got distracted”? That’s the best you can give me?’

  Wincing at Jimmy’s sarcasm, Alex felt like a right tit.

  ‘All the other tenants were happy with their offers. We paid way above premium to make sure everyone signed. Our solicitors drew up the contracts and sent the monies out to the relevant parties. Only, somehow this flat slipped under the radar. The money never left the account, and no one checked the paperwork. The first any of us heard about a problem was when the old dear tried to rip Reggie a new one.’

  Jimmy sat back in his chair, dumbfounded at what he was hearing. He had hundreds of thousands of pounds invested in this development. The money he’d paid out to buy the other properties on the unit alone had cost him a fortune and now they were being held to ransom by some little old lady. It was a complete and utter mess.

  ‘We offered more than a fair price for those flats. Every other fucker bit my right arm off for the money. You think she’s pulling a fast one, and trying to hold out for more money?’ Jimmy said begrudgingly, his tone clipped as he spoke, convinced that this Edel Walsh must be a shrewd old fucker to have been able to get them all this far along until she kicked up a stink. ‘She’s got us, hasn’t she? The woman can name her price and she probably knows it too.’