by Lucy Wild
Then it began. I tried not to watch but even when I closed my eyes, the sounds were too loud to ignore. Each punch that landed felt as if it was hitting me with the same force, I winced alongside him. I felt his pain. Why had he come for me? Why had he not stayed away? How had he even found me?
"Drop the necklace," Mr Sharp said. "You don't deserve it. Drop it!"
I heard a roar of pain and opened my eyes to find his hands being forced into the roaring fire in the hearth. "Drop the necklace," Mr Sharp shouted.
"Stop," I called out. "Please, I'm begging you."
Louis looked surprised. It had been a long time since I'd begged for anything.
"See how much you upset her," Mr Sharp said, punching him again as the smell of burned flesh filled the air. The force of the blow bent him double.
John was gasping and wheezing, the flames still licking at his hands. He swung for Mr Sharp, his sleeve burning as it flew through the air.
Mr Sharp's shirt was hit by sparks which began to singe him through the fabric. He fell back, a guard frantically patting out the flames. John ran at him but before he could connect Louis had pulled out a gun and fired. The first shot missed, hitting the window and shattering the glass, sending a cold wind blowing into the penthouse. Louis fired again, this time hitting John in the shoulder, sending him spinning backwards.
The guards fell on him and he staggered back. Someone got a blow in under his chin and then he was on the edge of the window frame. Mr Sharp noticed what was happening in time to see a fist land on John's chin, sending him flying backwards into the air. "Don't let him go," he yelled.
I caught a last glimpse of John's face as he slipped from the edge of the window and fell from sight. His mouth was open and it might have been my imagination but it sounded as if he said, "Sorry," as he fell.
"No!" I cried as he vanished. What spark of hope there was inside me died in that moment. The one person who had ever cared for me was gone. They had killed him as they had killed my innocence.
Mr Sharp roared with anger, grabbing his own gun and firing. I winced, thinking he was shooting at me but I felt no pain. A figure slumped down to the floor. He had shot one of the guards. The man fell to the floor, looked more surprised than hurt. "I hadn't finished with him," Mr Sharp said. "Now get out, all of you, and take him with you." He pointed at the prone figure. "Louis, you told me no one knew about her. Care to revise that statement?"
"I am sorry, Mr Sharp. I was certain that-"
"No matter. As for you, be prepared for the bank transfer to be reduced by the value of one shirt burned, one carpet ruined, and one window smashed."
"Of course." Louis nodded, already backing towards the door. "Please accept my apology, I had no idea he would be so...aggressive."
"As for you," Mr Sharp said, looking at me. "It's time me and you got to know each other a little better."
THREE - JOHN
I left hospital with enough money for a single night in a bed and breakfast. I had been living on the streets before I found her, I had no desire to rush back.
The fisherman had given me the money. He had been to visit me once a week for the duration of my stay. Adrian, he had said his name was. Adrian, my only friend. Somehow he had made things more bearable, just talking to me. The doctors never had time. The police told me not to disappear. They wanted to continue asking me questions. I had no desire to answer.
Adrian had found out when I was going to be discharged. He had overheard two of the nurses talking. I'd been moved into a regular ward a week earlier. It had felt as if I'd been stuck in the ICU forever but it was no more than a couple of months according to the nurse I asked. I held onto the desire for revenge. That was what gave me strength. I knew two names. Mr Sharp and Louis. I would get them both. I didn't know how yet but I would do it. I would avenge her death and get them both.
I had plenty of time to think while I was recovering. I realised I'd been a fool to just walk in and expect to fight one man. I'd been naive. I needed to get better, then I needed to get stronger. Then I needed to think of a plan. Would he continue living there? Would the shots have disturbed the neighbours?
The place had looked expensive. Any trouble brewing would have been hushed up, I had no doubt. I'd seen what money could buy. It bought her after all.
It sickened me to think of what she'd been through. That chain around her ankle, like she was an animal, not a person. She had changed since I'd last seen her but that sparkling green in her eyes hadn't gone. Even after everything they'd done, that had remained until the end. It hurt like a dagger to the heart to think I'd never see those eyes again.
Adrian gave me enough money for one night somewhere, all he could spare. I took his money gratefully. I left the day before I was due to be discharged. I knew the police would be waiting for me. Better to just disappear. I couldn't get revenge if I ended up in custody.
I chose a cheap bed and breakfast, one cheap enough to not take names. It was in the East End, down a one way street between boarded up houses. Perfect for my needs.
I sat in my room and tried to work out my next step. In hospital, I'd spent so long thinking about revenge, I hadn't stopped to consider the best way to get there.
First, I needed a job. I needed to stay below the radar for now, get some money together, preferably enough to try and get myself a weapon. Then I could start tracking the two men.
Money first. Revenge later. I could steal. Mug maybe. But there was a risk of getting arrested and if I was linked to the patient now missing from the hospital, questions would be asked. Better to see if I could find a job somewhere.
Sleeping was difficult that night. I'd become used to the sounds of the ward, the beeps, the nurses talking, the patients coughing. Hearing a couple arguing through the tissue thin walls was a different experience. I lay with my eyes open staring at the ceiling, thinking about her.
The next morning, I was up early. I had nothing to pack. All I owned was the clothes I was wearing, given to me by Adrian, who accepted nothing in return. The only other thing in my possession was the necklace, deep in the pocket of my jeans. It was my link to her, the thing that kept me going, that stopped me answering the call of the river.
I spent all day looking for work. The only places willing to hire a fifteen year old wanted to see identification first. I had none. I tried one kitchen after another. Surely somewhere would take on someone able to do any amount of hours with no notice. But no, they wanted I.D. So I reached six o'clock in the evening with nothing to show for it. I was exhausted. I'd no idea how many miles I'd walked around the city but it was a lot.
I had places where I usually slept on the streets. The nearest was an underpass. There was a dual carriageway road, cars thundering overhead. Squeezing between two offices, I could get onto the dead space behind and there was a spot I regularly used. It wasn't warm but it was dry and it was private. No one else knew about it.
I headed in that direction, making my way towards the city centre. I stopped at every restaurant and takeaway on the way, asking if they had any work going. Again and again I was sent away.
I was just turning the corner near King's Cross when I heard a noise to my right. It had not long turned dark but the street lights gave enough glow for me to see a fight in progress.
There were three of them, half on the pavement, half on the road. A man in a suit was on the floor, taking the worst of it. The other two were trying to get his wallet off him but he wasn't giving it up easily. He lashed out with his hands, absorbing kicks to the chest that made me wince, reminding me of my own still healing ribs.
I could have walked on by. It was nothing to do with me. One of the men was pulling back his foot, ready to kick the prone figure in the head.
I sprinted over, shoving him backwards before he could land the blow. He fell over his companion, getting to his feet as the man in the suit did the same. I took a step forwards, my fists ready. The two men looked at us, the odds no longer so far in their favour. Witho
ut another word, they turned and ran, leaving us alone.
"Thanks," the man said, brushing himself down before spitting out a mouthful of blood. "City life, eh?"
"You all right?" I asked as he limped over to the railing on the pavement and leaned against it.
"I'm just peachy," he said. "But I could do with a drink. How about you?"
I nodded and he managed a smile through his split lip, heading up the steps towards a solid wooden door. "I think it's closed," I said, looking up at the sign. The Place.
"Lucky I have a key," he replied, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "Come on in."
Five minutes later we were sat at the bar of an empty nightclub. He had poured two generous glasses of vodka out, passing one to me before sipping at the other. "What's your name?" he asked.
"John. John Ward."
"Carl Brown. Owner of The Place. What do you think?"
I looked around me. "A bit quiet."
"We don't open on a Tuesday."
"You come in each week though, right?"
"Right. Why?"
"They will have known that."
"Excuse me?"
"Those two. They'd have known you were coming."
He was silent for a minute. "What line of work are you in, John?"
Looking older than my age played in my favour. "Actually, I'm looking at the minute."
"Fancy working for me?"
"Doing what."
"What you did tonight. Keeping an eye on things. Here, take my card and have a think about it. You did me a favour, John. I appreciate it." He held up his glass. "To crossing paths."
I finished my drink while he grabbed a napkin, pressing it to his lip which had yet to stop bleeding.
So stage one was complete. I had a job. Now onto stage two. Money. Then a weapon. Then revenge. Make them pay for what they did to her. I took another drink when it was offered. Then another.
FOUR - JOHN
"Fancy doing something for me?" Carl asked.
We were in his office in The Place. I'd been working for him for six months, sometimes behind the bar, mostly on the door, taking abuse from drunken city workers.
I sat opposite him, wondering why he'd called me in. Was it because of that guy I'd punched yesterday, the one who refused to walk away?
"Depends what it is," I said.
"I'm setting up a new club up north. I could use someone a bit handy. There might be some trouble up there while we're getting set up."
"You need a bouncer? Why not hire up there?"
"Not yet, maybe when we open. For now, I just need someone to keep an eye on things. I can't be everywhere at once."
"Where are we talking?"
"Edinburgh. Been north of the border before?"
"Can't say I have."
"You'll love it. All the haggis you can eat."
"How much?"
"Excuse me?"
"The pay. How much?"
He laughed. "That's a yes then."
I was on the train the next day. I had a wallet with my month's pay in it and some extra to help me find somewhere to stay in Edinburgh. In my pocket, next to the necklace, was a letter. "Address and number," Carl had said when he gave it to me. "Keep it on the down low for now. Don't want to let the competition know, do we?"
The trolley was rolling down the middle of the aisle, laden with crisps and cans of beer. "Anything for you, love?" the woman pushing it asked when she reached me.
"Vodka," I replied.
"Got any I.D?"
"Do I look underage?"
"That's not for me to say. I've got to ask everyone. Company rules."
I shook my head and waited for her to turn to the seats on the other side of the aisle. As soon as her eyes were off me, I darted a hand out to the trolley and grabbed the miniature bottle, slipping it straight into my coat pocket. By the time she looked back, I was staring out of the window, not a care in the world.
After she'd passed into the next carriage, I dug the bottle out and unscrewed the lid, downing the contents in one. The Place had given me a taste for vodka, it helped quieten the despair that still lurked within me, that whispered from the dark any time I stopped concentrating.
The journey seemed to take forever but finally, we reached Edinburgh. I stepped off the train and headed for the exit, stopping on the way to open the envelope. Inside was the address. Seventeen, Castle Street.
I called into the newsagent, finding an A to Z and flicking through it. Castle Street wasn't too far and I made it in twenty minutes. I frowned when I reached it though. Fifteen was a bakery and there was nineteen, a hair salon. Between had to be seventeen but it wasn't a house. It was a bank. The National Bank.
I looked at the letter again. That wasn't a phone number. It was an account number. What was Carl playing at?
I pushed open the door to the bank and headed inside. There was a counter across from me with two people waiting in a queue. I joined the back and when I made it to the front, I held out the letter. "Can I help?" the woman asked.
I passed her the letter. "I'm not sure."
She looked down at her computer, typing quickly. "Mr Ward," she said, looking up. "Your new card has arrived. If you could just pop your finger on the scanner."
"No can do," I replied, holding up my scarred hand.
"I see." The standard look of disgust. "Just bear with me."
She picked up a phone and talked quietly into it. "If you'd take a seat," she said after hanging up. "Someone will be out to see you shortly."
I sat in one of the blue armchairs by the window, ignoring the magazines on the table in front of me. What was Carl doing? Was this one of his jokes? In the time I'd been working for him, he had a tendency to give people half his plans and leave them to work out the rest. I'd seen enough to know he was getting up to some dodgy things. Some of it was standard, watering down the drinks, taking cut backs from the drugs sold on the premises. But some of it was more hush hush, things I wasn't privy to. Maybe this was one of those.
"Mr Ward?" a voice said, causing me to look up. There was a black man in his forties looking back at me. In his right hand was a leather briefcase. "I'm the manager, call me Wes. Would you come this way?"
I followed him as he pushed open the door to a small office.
"Take a seat," he said, pushing the door closed behind me. "I'll just close the blinds, give us some privacy."
He sat down opposite, putting the briefcase on the desk. "I must say, it's a new one on me. Carl said I'd be able to tell when you arrived and he was right."
I said nothing, waiting to find out what was going on.
"No fingerprint he said and for the life of me I couldn't work out what he meant but here you are. Forgive me but can I ask how it happened?"
"Fire."
"I see. Well, that makes sense. Here's your card. We've preloaded it with a thousand which should see you through your first month at least. I've included two hundred in cash, consider it a welcoming gift. In the case is I.D and everything else you might need for the job."
"Sorry, what job exactly?"
"All in the letter, Mr Ward. I'll give you a minute, shall I?"
He stood up and crossed to the door, closing it behind him and leaving me alone. I opened the briefcase and found a letter addressed to me. I read it twice.
It was clearly some sort of test. I just hoped I was up to it. It seemed simple enough. Carl wanted to buy a building to set up his nightclub. The owner was holding out for more money. I was to go see the owner and persuade him to sell then head back to the bank to tell Wes it was done. There was a knife in the briefcase beside a passport in my name, date of birth making me nineteen. I got the picture. Do this and I would prove myself. I'd also get paid five thousand. More than enough to get a weapon and head back to London. What happened after that didn't matter.
The door to the office opened and the manager looked in at me as I was packing everything back into the briefcase. "Everything to your satisfaction, Mr Ward?"<
br />
"Yes," I said, accepting his hand and shaking it firmly. "Thank you for your time, Wes."
It took another look at an A to Z to find the address. I carried the briefcase under my arm. Once I got to the right street, I left the case hidden inside a hedge. There was the house in front of me. A light was on downstairs. He was clearly at home.
Frank Delaney. Fifty-three. Old enough to be scared when someone like me thrust a knife into his face. That was the way to do it. Quick. Tell him to accept the offer then go before he even had a good look at my face. So much for plans.
I tried the front door. It was unlocked. I headed inside as quietly as I could. Before I was even over the threshold, he had a hand on me. "So he sends a boy to do a man's job," he said, pulling me into the house and kicking the door closed.
I had the knife in my hand but he kicked it away. I was shoved back against the wall, getting my first look at the man I'd come to threaten. He was taller than me.
He landed the first punch, catching me on the jaw. As it hit, he laughed and that got to me. It reminded me of Rebecca, of the way they'd laughed when I tried to save her. The laugh rang around my head and I felt my fist clenching. I caught sight of his shadow as he closed in. I swung my fist and caught him by surprise.
The blow struck him on the cheek and his head jolted sideways. My hand stung but I ignored it. Before he could react, I got two more punches in and he started to stagger. The laugh had gone but I could still hear it in my head, the laugh and Rebecca shouting, "No," as I fell from the window.
He hit me again but I didn't care. Even when he got hold of the knife, I didn't care. I let it catch my cheek while I ran at him, my head down. I got him in the midriff, sending the air from his lungs.
He got a single glancing blow with the knife to my back but then he was down and my feet went in hard. "Sell up," I said as I pulled back and kicked again.