by J. D. Weston
“Turn here, Frank.”
“But this is-”
“John Cartwright’s house, yes.”
“What are we doing here?”
“Taking a walk, showing you something.” Harvey sighed. “Letting you in, I guess.”
“Letting me in?”
“You wanted to see where my noose was tied.”
“I thought I held the rope?” asked Frank.
“You tightened the knot. The rope has always been tied to this place.”
Frank stopped the car beside the little groundsman’s house. It was where Harvey had lived when he worked for his foster father, John Cartwright.
“Needs some care and attention, doesn’t it?” said Frank, looking at the broken windows, overgrown ivy and graffiti on the front door.
“Don't we all.” Harvey climbed out the car, let the dog out, and started walking along the little stream that ran through the grounds of the three-hundred-acre property. Frank followed and caught up with the younger man. The dog ran ahead, drank from the stream and bounded in the long wild grass.
“Are you keeping him?” asked Frank, referring to the dog.
“Was thinking about it, or maybe gift him to Melody. They both need some love and attention.”
“What you going to call him?”
“Boon.”
“Boon?” asked Frank. “Why Boon?”
“It’s a name, and I found him the boonies, in the middle of nowhere.” Harvey paused. “This is where Hannah and I played as children,” he said without looking at the older man.
“Lucky kids,” said Frank.
“We made the best of a bad situation. Our parents were murdered, remember?”
Frank didn’t reply.
“We used to climb that willow there and pretend to be pirates. Our names are carved in the bark somewhere.”
“Fond memories?”
“The only memories I’ve got, Frank,” said Harvey. “At least, the only ones I wish to remember.”
“You’re different now. You’ve changed, Harvey.”
“Things happen, people adapt.”
“No, not adapting. You really have found peace, haven't you?”
“I think so, Frank. That’s why I need the noose removed.”
“Okay. That’s easy, Harvey.”
“It’s gone?”
“It’s gone.”
“No more threat of prison?”
“I’ll tear the warrant up as soon as we’re back.”
Harvey didn't reply.
“Feel good?”
Harvey nodded. “Want me to remove yours?”
“My what?”
“Your noose.”
“Mine’s tight.”
“That’s what I thought, I can ease the knot, you can take it off yourself.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“You remember the basement here?”
“How can I forget? Its history is full of-”
“Closure, Frank,” said Harvey. “Its history is steeped in closure.”
Frank didn’t reply.
“Why don't you go take a look down there?” asked Harvey. “I’ll wait here.”
“And what will I find?”
“You remember once, we discussed the obligations of society, and how sometimes a man’s crime is so severe that society is obligated to punish him?”
“I remember,” said Frank. His heart began to beat harder as the tone of Harvey’s voice fell into a cruel, cold tone.
“And do you remember how we discussed that, sometimes, it is those that have suffered the most who are obliged to enact that punishment?”
Frank was quiet, his breath held. “Al Sayan?” he whispered.
Harvey didn’t reply.
The End.
End of Book Stuff
Stone Rage - Book Four - Chapter One.
“What the hell are we doing out here, Les?”
“This is where the boss said to meet them,”
“Its pitch black mate, I can’t see anything, there could be fifty of them out there.”
“Stop being paranoid,” said Les, ”it’s not like you to be a bit jumpy.”
“I’m not jumpy, I just don't trust them dirty, sly little-”
“We’ll be out of here before you know it,” replied Les, “chill out. I used to bring the birds over here-”
“Over here? What for? The place gives me the creeps, can we at least have the heater on, it’s freezing?”
“Why do think I brought them here?” said Les turning the Jaguar’s temperature dial up, “A bit of rough and tumble, Jay, they loved it.”
“Is that what they told you? How many of them came back for a second night of creepy love in the freaky field?”
“Not many,” Laughed Les, “well, one actually, a few times. Sticky Sarah we used to call her, she used to like that people could see in, dirty cow, voyeurism I think they call that.”
“Sticky Sarah?”
“Yeah, strange girl she was, had a great set, but she was a bit weird.”
“Les, nothing about what you just said is normal. Firstly why was she called Sticky Sarah?”
“Well, it was more like a tacky really, but the name Tacky Sarah didn’t work-”
“Oh right, and when you say, ‘We,’ can I assume that you weren't the only one to experience Sticky Sarah’s tacky sensation?”
“No, we all had a go, well, most of us, apart from Little Lee, poor fella was a slow developer, I have no idea how that guy survived childhood, he’s probably still a virgin now.”
“And when you say that Sticky Sarah used to enjoy being watched, do you mean to say that you brought her over here and banged her in the back of your car so other blokes could see in?”
“Yeah, dog walkers and stuff, she loved it.” Said Les.
“Did that not ever strike you as a bit weird, Les?”
“Not really,”
Jay looked away from him in disgust, “I can’t see shit out there,” he muttered, “what was it anyway?”
“What was what?”
“The car, what car did you have?”
“Well, you know, I was young, didn’t have enough money for my own car.”
“Don't tell me you used your mum’s car to smash Sticky Sarah around and have a load of dirty of pervs stand around-”
“No, no, no, I never,” Said Les, “ I have got some decency,”
“So who’s car was it?”
“I don't bloody know do I,”
“You nicked it?”
“Yeah, of course I did, had a different one each week. I learned to drive in a nicked motor, my old man taught me.”
“You what?” said Jay, “Your old man taught you to drive in a stolen car?”
“Yeah, he didn't know it was stolen, I told him I’d borrowed it off a mate,”
“What if he got caught? How would you explain that?”
“Behave, Jay, I was fifteen years old, I didn’t know any better.”
“You’re something else, you know that?”
Les laughed, “It’s been a good old life, Jay. Had some great times I have.”
“Don't get all teary on me now,”
“No, you know what I mean, don't you ever wonder?”
“Wonder what?”
“You know, if you died, have you done all the things you wanted to do?”
“I done most of them, Les,” Said Jay, there’s a few things still on the list though, one day I’ll get around to ticking them off.”
“Whats that then?”
“Well, I might see if Sticky Sarah is still around and see if she fancies a bunk up while some old perv knocks one out,”
Both side windows exploded sending glass all over the two men. Big hands reached in and dragged the two men through the car windows. Les pulled a knife and slashed blindly at the two huge men who pinned him down on the grass. One of the men, a bald man with tattoos on his face, held Les’ throat tightly and the other stopped his knife hand waving around by standing
on his arm. A large knee came down onto Les’ chest and one by one, each of the fingers that held the knife were wrenched up, bent backwards and broken.
Les screamed in pain, he struggled, but it was useless against the size and weight of the man on top of him. Eventually the last finger was snapped back like a twig and the knife was taken from him.
The smaller of the two bald men that pinned him down held the knife curiously. He turned it in his hands, put the point in Les’ eye, and slowly pushed down until the blade entered Les’ brain and he fell silent.
Jay was the other side of the car. Strong arms held him against the Jaguars sleek paintwork. No words were spoken. Jay stopped struggling.
A tall, willowy man in a long overcoat stepped from the darkness into the pale moonlight. Jay could barely make out the features of his face, but saw the glint of a scar that ran from the man’s eye to his mouth, through his lips and down his chin to his throat.
The man gave a gesture to the men that stood beside Les’ body to open the car boot. The two men opened the boot and removed the sports holdall that contained the four kilos of cocaine. They checked it and returned the nod to the boss.
Jay stared up at the man and spat.
“You will take a message to your boss.”
“Fuck you, send a letter.”
One of the men holding Jay landed a huge fist on Jay’s nose. Jay felt the bone break and tasted blood almost immediately.
“I am a reasonable man, but I am a businessman. It seems like your boss and I are in the same business. Competition.”
“So run a sale or something, isn’t that what business men do?”
“It’s an option,” The man replied, “But I prefer not to cut profits for the sake of a few easy sales. I prefer to cut the competition.” The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a long fillet knife. He flexed the blade and ran his finger along the thin steel.
“You will deliver the message for me?” asked the man.
“I’ll tell him some ugly bloke from some shit stink part of Europe wants his balls cut off,” said Jay, “how does that sound, wanker?”
“Hold him,” the man said calmly.
The two men either side of Jay grabbed his hair and held him tight. The man in the coat stepped forward and ran the side of the blade across Jay’s nose. Then with one hand, he pulled Jay’s ear out from his head, and with the other, sliced through the tissue and gristle in two neat, clean slices. Jay screamed and struggled against the two much larger men, but couldn’t move. Spit flew from gritted teeth and his eyes were clamped shut as he fought the searing pain. He felt the man pull on his other ear, dull and hard. He felt the blade touch his skin, sharp. Then he felt nothing but the burn of where his ears once were.
“Make sure he doesn’t lose those, he may need them one day.” Said the man in the coat as wiped the blood from the blade onto Jay’s jacket.
Jay’s knees had given way, his weight was easily supported by the two men. They dropped him to the floor face first, then kicked him to roll him over. Jay pulled his hands to head, but his wounds was too tender to touch, blood had ran across his face into his eyes. He felt his arms being tugged outward. Then felt a sharp point in the palm of his hand. He glared helplessly through the sticky blood to see one of the large men with a cordless drill. Then he felt the screw tear through his tendons, fixing one of his ears to his open hand with a long, gold coloured screw.
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A Note from the Author
The Stone Cold Thriller series is set in East London and Essex and features places from my own childhood.
While many of the buildings, pubs and streets are fictitious, some of the more prominent locations in the series are borne from my own life experience and are as accurate as my memory allows.
My family are from Theydon Bois, where John Cartwright’s house is located. In fact, my parents lived in the great house before I was born, renting a room off the wealthy owner.
The headquarters building is based on the same road as my first flat in Silvertown, opposite London’s City Airport.
In the first book, Stone Cold, the location of the first murder was in fact in the same building as my first job.
While the locations may offer an insight into my own childhood, and early working years, the characters are all fictitious. I recently handed the first draft of book one, Stone Cold to some family members and discovered that John Cartwright is, in fact, the name of my great-grandfather. I hope that he wasn’t into the things the character John Cartwright is, and if he was, I’d like to know where the money went.
Stone Fall features many of the places and areas that I worked in my younger days. I worked mostly in construction, which always ended with a group of us heading to the nearest pub, but only to wash the dust from our throats you understand.
East London is a vibrant place, full of characters, and whilst the Stone Cold series is fiction, many of the characters personalities are based on the colourful met during my time there.
I do hope you’ve enjoyed the series so far, but more than that, I hope you’ve grown to feel for Harvey and the other characters, and if you’ve come this far, perhaps you’ll come a little further and see how the next part of Harvey’s story unfolds. I wish I could tell you, I’m itching to just blurt it out. But hey, where’s the fun in that?
J.D.Weston
To learn more about J.D.Weston
www.jdweston.com
[email protected]
Also By J.D.Weston.
The Stone Cold Thriller Series.
Book 1 - Stone Cold.
Book 2 - Stone Fury
Book 3 - Stone Fall
Book 4 - Stone Rage
The Alaskan Adventure
Where the Mountains Kiss the Sun
From the Ocean to the Stream
.
Stone Cold
Book One of the Stone Cold Thriller series
One priceless set of diamonds. Three of London's ruthless east end crime families. One very angry assassin with a hit list.
Harvey Stone has questions that someone will answer. Who killed his parents and why? Who raped and killed his sister? And why are his closest allies hiding the truth.
When Harvey is asked to kill east London's biggest crime boss in return for one name on his list, there is only one answer.
Can Harvey survive the gang war, untangle the web of deceit and uncover the truth behind his sisters death?
Stone Cold is the first book in the Stone Cold thriller series.
Unlock the Stone Cold Thriller Series with the first book, Stone Cold.
Stone Fury
Book Two of the Stone Cold Thriller series
The lives of twelve young girls are being sold. The seller is on Harvey Stone's list.
When ex-hitman Harvey Stone learns of an human trafficking ring taking place in his old stomping ground, he is sickened. But when he learns the name of the person running the show, an opportunity arises to cross one more name of his list.
Can Harvey save the ill-fated girls, and serve justice to those who are most deserved?
Stone Fury is the second book in the Stone Cold thriller series.
If you enjoy fast-paced adventure, gritty vigilante stories and no-nonsense heroes, then you'll love J.D.Weston's brand new Thriller Series.
Buy Stone Fury now to read the next part of Harvey's puzzle.
Stone Fall
Book Three of the Stone Cold Thriller series
One evil terrorist with a plan to change the face of London. One missing child, and one priceless jade Buddha. Only Harvey Stone and his team of organised crime specialists can prevent disaster.
When Harvey and the team intercept a heist to rob a priceless jade Buddha, little did they know they would be uncovering a terrorist attack on London's St Paul's Cathedral, and a shocking hostage scenario.