by Jamie Raven
Danny had never really liked Bishop, but then he didn’t like any of the men who worked for him. Bishop was the worst of a bad bunch of villains and scoundrels, the type of guys he would have steered clear of if he’d followed an honest path in life.
He wondered what Megan had seen in him. Was it just that she’d fancied a bit of rough? Sex with a man who probably scared her if truth be told? Or was it more than that? Had she actually had feelings for him?
Danny remembered now that they had spent quite a bit of time alone together, when Bishop had acted as her bodyguard on shopping trips and functions that Danny couldn’t get to. He wondered how many times they’d sneaked off to hotels or to his flat to have sex.
‘I never did trust that demented fucker,’ his father had said after Danny told him earlier what was happening. ‘He made my flesh crawl whenever I looked at him.’
It was Callum who had pleaded with Danny to do whatever it took to save Beth Chambers.
‘Even if it means paying the bastard off,’ he’d said. ‘Whether you like it or not she’s my daughter and I don’t want to go to my grave knowing we abandoned her to that lunatic.’
Danny had promised Callum that he would do what he could and he’d meant it. His father had been wrong to have kept things from him all these years, but he still loved the man.
And if Callum did only have six more months to live then it was probably the last thing that Danny would ever be able to do for him.
Danny had considered getting a team of tooled-up lads to follow him to Southampton. He only hadn’t because he feared it would turn out to be a wild goose chase.
He was approaching the city now and he still hadn’t heard from Cain. That could only mean he’d had no success in finding out where Bishop had gone.
Years ago Danny would have been able to call on the local firms for help. Since then the faces he’d known had either died or retired. These days the foreign gangs were running things. The Poles and Asians dominated the drugs trade and other rackets all along the south coast, and Danny had had very little to do with them.
So as he pulled off the motorway and entered Southampton he was at a loss and wondered if he had made a mistake by coming down here without really thinking.
He was no stranger to the city, and knew his way around. He’d owned a cottage in the nearby New Forest where he and Megan had spent quite a few weekends. They had come into the city centre to shop and visit the casinos.
Tonight the city was cold and relatively quiet. The rain had held off and the moon sat full in a cloudless sky.
Danny drove around for a bit and called Cain a couple of times, but all he got was a recorded message.
He was feeling pissed off and anxious, and beginning to believe that in the end he’d be forced to wire the money to Bishop’s offshore account even though there was no guarantee he would let Beth go.
He decided to stop for a drink and headed for the waterfront and a hotel he knew close to the docks. It was almost eleven when he pulled into the car park. One hour to midnight and Bishop’s deadline.
His mouth felt dry and pasty and he was looking forward to something strong and cold at the bar. He was just about to get out of the car when his mobile rang. It was Cain.
‘What the fuck has taken you so long to get back to me?’ he said.
Cain’s voice was so low he could barely hear him.
‘Listen, Danny. I’ve been tied up and couldn’t use my phone. But I’ve just managed to talk to a car hire firm in Camberwell. They rented out a white Transit van to one Frankie Bishop.’
‘Jesus, Ethan. You did good.’
‘Not only that. The vehicle’s equipped with a GPS tracker and they’ve given me its exact location.’
55
Beth Chambers
I watched Frankie Bishop as he paced up and down the kitchen. He was restless and angry, and he kept looking at his watch.
He had also placed two mobile phones on the kitchen table. Only one of them was switched on; this he kept checking, presumably to find out if Shapiro had sent the money to his account.
‘What time is it?’ I said.
He looked at me with chilling coldness and I noticed that the wound to his mouth had opened up slightly and a small drop of blood was poised to spill out.
‘It’s just gone eleven,’ he said. ‘Your brother is cutting it fine.’
My brother! Jesus. If it hadn’t been so scary it would have been funny. This time yesterday I didn’t have a brother – or rather a half-brother – and now my life was in his hands. But even though I kept telling myself to have faith, I just didn’t believe he would come to my rescue. There was no good reason why he should. He must still view me as a threat despite Callum’s crude attempt at bringing about a ‘truce’.
And what Bishop had told me had made me even more of a threat. I now knew that Shapiro had got Bishop to kill Peter Kline in order to protect himself. I also knew that he had got my ex-husband – a serving police officer in the Met – to go along for the ride.
So I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t prefer to see me dead. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about me going to the police and turning it all into a front-page story for The Post.
The clock was ticking and the fear was thick inside me. I was shivering and sobbing uncontrollably.
Bishop was ignoring me now. It was as though I wasn’t in the room with him. He continued to walk around, his attention switching between his phone and his watch.
I’d given up begging him to let me go because he had threatened to put duct tape over my mouth if I didn’t shut up. Instead I focused on praying he’d let me live for Rosie’s sake. I was growing increasingly fearful that I would never see my beloved daughter again. It would be left to my mother to bring her up. I wouldn’t see her in a school uniform or a wedding dress. I wouldn’t be there to protect her in a world that was becoming more dangerous by the day. And it was all my fault. I had pushed things too far, taken too many risks, ignored all the warnings.
I tried to blink away the tears, but they kept on coming, along with waves of nausea. My mind was spinning with things I wanted to say but what was the point in saying them since no one was listening?
Bishop stepped in front of me suddenly, his damaged lips twisted into a predatory smile.
‘It’s looking to me as though your new brother has decided you’re not worth a million quid,’ he said.
A million! It sounded like a ridiculous amount of money to demand. Was any life worth that? I wasn’t sure. Then again my head was in no fit state to dwell on it.
‘It’s not too late,’ I said, my voice distorted by the sobs that racked my body. ‘Please let me go back to my family.’
Something dark crept into his eyes and the veins in his neck stood to attention.
‘You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit,’ he said. ‘Ain’t you ever wondered why they call me “The Nutter”?’
I lost all hope then and the breath rushed out of me. I shut my eyes. Tried to force my mind back into the past, to before my life was torn apart. Instead I found myself staring into the future. At Rosie’s tear-soaked face. At a headstone with my name on it. At my own obituary on an inside page of The Post.
These images twisted me up inside and made me feel like I was going to faint.
Then something happened that pulled me back from the brink. It was a sound.
The sound of a doorbell ringing.
56
Danny Shapiro
It was ten minutes to midnight when Danny rang the bell to the house that he assumed was owned by Frankie Bishop. There was a white Transit van on the gravel driveway and lights on in a couple of the downstairs rooms.
It had taken him over forty minutes to find the place because he had made a couple of wrong turns. He’d parked outside on the road in a position where the BMW couldn’t be seen from the two-storey property. There were houses on either side separated by tall hedges.
Before approaching the fr
ont door he’d had to quickly decide how he was going to play it. With no time to call for help, he had no option but to go it alone and hope that Beth Chambers was not only inside but also still alive.
He’d crept around the outside of the house to get his bearings and to find out what he was up against. At the back he’d been able to peer into the kitchen through a narrow gap in the venetian blinds. That was when he’d seen them both: Beth tied to a chair and Bishop standing next to her with his back to the window.
Beth had looked to be in a bad way, her body rigid, her face teary and swollen.
His first instinct had been to throw open the back door and storm into the kitchen, catching Bishop off guard. But when he’d gently moved the door handle he’d discovered it was locked. He then considered shooting Bishop through the window, but he was moving around and the risk of hitting Beth was too great.
It had made him realise that with time running out there was only one way to gain access to the house and that was through the front door.
As he waited for Bishop to answer it he had no way of knowing how the bastard was going to react. The only thing he was certain of was that he was about to put his life on the line for a woman who had been trying to get him arrested. If that wasn’t the height of madness then he didn’t know what was.
He stood back so that Bishop would have a clear view of him through the peephole. The Glock was in his back pocket and he was poised to reach for it at the first opportunity.
‘Open up, Frankie,’ he shouted. ‘It’s me, Danny. And I’m by myself.’
Bishop was quick to respond by shouting out. ‘There’s no way you would have come here without arming yourself, Danny. So take out whatever weapon you’ve got and drop it behind you. And don’t fuck me around by saying you’re not tooled up.’
Danny took out the Glock, held it up, threw it onto the driveway.
‘Now hold up your hands,’ Bishop demanded.
Danny did as he was told and the door was wrenched open. There Bishop stood with a revolver in his hand, probably the one he had taken from the shooter Danny had sent to kill him.
‘How the fuck did you find this place?’ he demanded to know, his eyes ablaze with violent fury.
‘With Cain’s help,’ Danny said. ‘There’s a GPS tracker in the van.’
Bishop shook his head. ‘I should have thought of that. And I’m sure I would have if I hadn’t been in such a fucking hurry.’
He looked beyond Danny, his eyes searching the darkness.
‘I came alone,’ Danny said. ‘Didn’t have the location until a few minutes ago. Let me in and we can talk.’
‘I tried to talk earlier,’ Bishop said. ‘But we moved way beyond that when you sent that amateur prat to kill me.’
‘So what do you expect me to do then, Frankie? Go back to London?’
Bishop thought about it for all of ten seconds. Then he waved Danny inside.
‘Go through to the kitchen,’ he said.
When Beth Chambers saw him her jaw dropped and she squinted through tear-filled eyes.
‘My God,’ she shrieked.
Her face was ghostly white and her body was shaking violently. Danny actually felt sorry for her and this surprised him.
‘How touching,’ Bishop said. ‘A family fucking reunion.’
He pushed the muzzle of the gun into Danny’s back and told him to move towards where Beth was tied to the chair.
‘There are only a couple of minutes to go to the deadline, Danny,’ he said. ‘When I last checked you still hadn’t wired over the money.’
‘Did you really expect me to?’
‘Well, if you don’t, this little lady dies on the stroke of midnight.’
Danny shook his head. ‘You were never going to let her go and we both know it. No matter how much money I gave you.’
Bishop bared his teeth and raised the gun, pointing it at Beth.
‘So you won’t mind if I blow her fucking head off?’
‘I don’t think you’re that stupid, Frankie,’ Danny said. ‘For one thing the neighbours would call the filth and for another you’d lose the only bit of leverage you’ve got.’
That gave Bishop something to think about and hesitation flashed in his eyes.
Danny turned to Beth and said, ‘Are you all right?’
She looked up at him, and for the first time he saw something of his father in her face. They had the same square jawline and high cheekbones; the same generous lips.
‘I’ve been better,’ she said, then frowned. ‘Why did you come here?’
He shrugged. ‘Callum told me to. He’s suddenly come over all concerned about the daughter he never told me about.’
‘That’s enough,’ Bishop broke in. Then to Danny, he said, ‘You being here changes nothing. I still want the money. It’s a small price to pay to get rid of me.’
Danny’s mind was racing. He didn’t have a plan so he needed to buy some time to come up with one. As things stood he didn’t stand a chance of getting the drop on Bishop. They were too far apart and Bishop would be ready to respond to any sudden movement.
Danny looked around the kitchen. ‘I knew you had a place down this way, but I didn’t realise it was so big.’
‘We all need a bolthole, Danny. Somewhere to go when shit happens. You have yours and this is mine.’
‘I think it’s pretty good,’ Danny said. ‘Worth a few quid, I reckon.’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn what you think. All I care about is getting the money I’m due. So use your phone now to get it transferred to the account I gave you. Then I’ll leave you both here and fuck off. And if you can’t persuade the bitch not to go to the Old Bill then that’s your problem. I’ll be long gone by then.’
Danny stared into Bishop’s eyes and wondered if he could trust him. Suddenly the money wasn’t an issue. A million quid didn’t seem a lot if it meant that nobody died and Bishop walked away. It wasn’t as if he would even miss it since it was just sitting there in one of the firm’s offshore bank accounts.
But would Bishop keep his word? Or would he kill one or both of them once the money was transferred?
All the years they had worked together counted for nothing now, Danny realised. What they had done to each other had made them enemies. There was no going back to how it was because the damage was done. There was no more trust between them.
‘Be sensible, Danny,’ Bishop said. ‘One way or another I’ll get you to move the cash. You know what I’m capable of. If you want blood and tears then try dicking me around.’
Danny looked at Beth. Her eyes were full of anguish, her breath shallow and rapid.
His father’s words echoed in his head: Do whatever it takes to save her, son.
He realised then that only one course of action lay open to him. If he and Beth were going to survive this then transferring the money would be a huge mistake. Instead he would have to somehow take Bishop down. There was no way he could trust the man to stick to his end of the bargain. He feared that once Bishop had the money he’d make them suffer for what had happened to him. And Danny knew that he’d take great pleasure in it too. Hurting people was his raison d’être. He had told Danny once that he preferred it to sex.
‘So what’s it to be, Danny?’ Bishop said. ‘Are we going to do this or what?’
Danny sucked in his top lip and nodded. ‘You haven’t given me any choice. I’ll transfer the money as long as you just go and I never have to see you again.’
‘It’s a deal,’ Bishop said.
That was the easy part, Danny thought. Now he had to work out how to disarm the man.
‘There’s one problem,’ he said. ‘I left my phone on the hands-free mount in the car.’
Bishop’s eyes narrowed. ‘That sounds like bullshit to me.’
‘Well, it’s not. I need to go and get it. You can come with me or trust me to go by myself. The car’s parked on the road.’
‘Take off your jacket and throw it over here,’ B
ishop snapped. ‘I should have searched it before now anyway.’
Danny cursed under his breath. His intention had been to get Bishop to accompany him outside where he’d hoped to be able to turn things around. Now Bishop was about to discover that Danny’s phone was in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.
He took it off anyway, playing for time again, and then on impulse decided that this was probably the only opportunity he was going to get to make his move.
Bishop was standing about eight feet away from him and he was holding out his free hand.
But Danny took aim at the other hand – the one that held the gun – and then lobbed the jacket as hard as he could. At the same time he let out a howling shout and threw himself forward.
It was a bold but clumsy move. The jacket did catch Bishop by surprise as it struck his hand.
And it did prompt him to swear out loud.
But it didn’t stop him pulling the trigger before Danny reached him.
57
Beth Chambers
The sound of the shot was actually muffled by the jacket that landed on top of the gun. It was loud enough to blast my eardrums but I doubted that the neighbours would have heard it.
The bullet must have missed Danny’s head by a whisker as he charged into Frankie Bishop. It ended up crashing into the fridge door on the other side of the room.
The gun fell onto the kitchen tiles as the two men slammed against the back door.
I watched in horrified disbelief while trying desperately to shake myself free of the chair. But the zip-ties were pulled tight and were cutting into my wrists and ankle.
A cry erupted from Danny’s mouth as he took a savage punch to the side of his head. He dropped onto one knee and Bishop kicked him in the back, sending him flying forward onto his face.
‘This time you ain’t got Cain to save your fucking arse,’ Bishop bellowed.
He stamped on Danny’s head and then stepped over him to pick up the gun.
He had to move past me to get to it and I instinctively kicked out with my left foot. He tripped over and fell against the table. But he recovered quickly and snapped his head towards me.