by Neil White
Mike glared at him and said, ‘If you ever lose a daughter, tell me what you would do. And if it’s something different, you’re no man.’
Jack looked along the wall and saw David Hoyle. He didn’t look so brash and confident anymore.
‘What’s wrong, David?’ Jack said, breathing hard. ‘Revenge for Angel too sweet for you?’
David Hoyle looked down.
‘You don’t want to be here, I can tell, David,’ Jack shouted. ‘You can end this.’
A hand gripped Jack’s hair and pulled it back. He grimaced with pain and heard the click of footsteps again. As his head was thrown forward, he saw Don Roberts standing in front of him.
‘Why did you come here?’ Don said.
‘To stop this,’ Jack said, between sharp breaths.
‘You should have stayed away. You’ve put me at risk,’ Don said. ‘I can’t allow that to happen.’
Jack looked around the group, looking for a sign that he wasn’t in danger, but everyone looked angry.
‘What, you’re going to kill me?’ Jack said.
Don didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked towards the man in the chair. When he got close, he pulled his fist back and punched him hard on the jaw. The man’s chin hung slack as blood spewed out of his mouth.
Jack looked towards David Hoyle. ‘How are you going to defend this?’ Jack shouted, before he felt the sharp sting of a slap across his face.
Hoyle just cast his eyes to the ground. He wasn’t enjoying this.
Jack looked back at Don. ‘How do you know it was him?’ Jack said. ‘What if you’re torturing an innocent man?’
Don shook his head. ‘But I’m not.’
‘The police don’t know who he is. What makes you so sure you’ve got it right?’
Don crouched down in front of Jack. ‘Let’s just say that at least one police officer knows who he is.’
‘What do you mean?’
Don grinned, although the brightness never got to his eyes. ‘A little birdie made a call,’ he said, and creaked back to his feet.
Jack closed his eyes. Rachel Mason. He had guessed right. She had been closest, pinned underneath him in that derelict factory. It all clicked into place. So she had recognised him but not told her colleagues. Rachel had chosen vengeance, not justice.
‘My girlfriend knows where I am,’ Jack blurted out.
Don turned round. ‘Why should I care?’
‘I told her that I was just checking it out,’ he lied. ‘And you know that she’s a detective on the case.’ Don’s eyes just widened for a moment, a hint of panic. ‘Had you forgotten?’ Jack nodded his head towards the front door. ‘You could check on my phone, except that you’ve smashed it.’
Don looked around at his men, as if he was suddenly unsure what to do.
Then he turned back and pointed to the prisoner. ‘We haven’t got much time,’ Don said. ‘Let’s finish it.’
Jack closed his eyes.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Carson waited outside Don’s house, looking down the road. Laura watched from inside the hallway, keeping Helen Roberts and Angel in sight.
‘Where the fuck are they?’ Carson hissed, pacing up and down.
‘We can’t stay much longer,’ Laura said.
Carson turned back to flash Laura a look that told her he knew exactly how urgent it was, but he was distracted by the flicker of blue lights on the houses opposite. He ran onto the road and waved his arms, and as the squad car pulled over at the side of the road, Carson pointed into the house. ‘Get them.’
Laura knew what he meant.
She went back into the living room and grabbed Helen Roberts by her arm. ‘You’re under arrest,’ she said, and yanked her towards the door. Her dog started to growl and then bark, but Laura ignored it, twisting Helen’s arm up her back.
‘What for?’ Helen shouted.
‘All the things that the inspector mentioned, so shut your mouth and get outside,’ Laura snapped in her ear. ‘You’re going to the station.’
Helen looked back at Angel, whose hand was over her mouth, and Helen started to say something, but Laura pushed her hard through the doorway, her shoulders banging against the door frame.
‘You’re hurting me,’ Helen said, her voice angry.
‘Tell your lawyer that,’ Laura said. ‘He might be in the next cell before morning.’
The uniformed officer walked towards the front door, a young male officer, uncertainty in his eyes, unclear as to why he was there.
‘We needed cuffs and a car with proper locks,’ Laura said, and pushed Helen towards him. ‘Take her with you.’
Carson walked past Laura and went into the house as the handcuffs snapped around Helen’s wrists. Laura followed him.
‘She’s gone now,’ Carson said to Angel. ‘I think we need to talk, don’t you?’
Angel began to nod, tears streaming down her face. She slumped backwards onto the sofa. ‘I’m scared,’ she said.
Laura pushed past Carson and kneeled down in front of Angel. ‘We need to stop David from helping them kill someone.’
Angel nodded again.
‘Where are they?’ Laura said.
Angel looked towards the window as shouting came from outside. It sounded like the uniform was struggling with Helen. Then she wiped away the tears.
‘I heard them talking. Don’s got premises, where he keeps his vans. They were taking him there.’
‘Did they say where?’
Angel shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ and then the tears started to flow again.
Laura got up and looked around the room. She was looking for something with Don’s business details on it. The room was just filled with gadgets and videos, with computer games stacked by the television. Then she saw them, a pile of papers on a shelf in the corner.
Laura went to them, and saw they were carbonated sheets filled out with vehicle details. Clamping tickets. There was a number and the name of the company, DR Security, emblazoned across the top. Underneath that there was an address. ‘We’ve got it,’ she said.
‘And what about me?’ Angel said.
‘You’re coming with us,’ Laura replied, and they all headed for Carson’s car outside.
Don Roberts went to the back of one of the vans and re-appeared holding a long tow-rope. He fashioned a noose at one end, his eyes on Jack, and then turned away to throw the rope over a roof beam. The noose dangled a few feet above the head of his prisoner.
‘Help me,’ Don barked at David Hoyle, who stayed silent and just shook his head. Don glared a look of disapproval. He had spotted Hoyle for what most lawyers were, tough with a pen, cruel with their actions, but they couldn’t cope when it didn’t stay clean.
One of Don’s muscle men stepped forward instead and kneeled down to untie the rope that bound the prisoner’s feet to the chair. When they came loose, he flopped forward, his hands behind his back, the only thing keeping him up.
‘Get him on the chair,’ Don said, his voice a growl now.
The goon hooked his arms under his prisoner’s and then hoisted him to his feet.
‘If you do it, you’ll die,’ Jack shouted.
The man looked up slowly, his mouth hanging slack, bloodied drool forming a tentacle on its way to the floor. He peered at Jack through his swollen lids and then put his head down.
Don stared at Jack, his expression a mix of rage and confusion, wondering why he cared.
‘He did it for Emma,’ Jack blurted out. When Don didn’t answer, he continued, ‘You remember her, don’t you, Don? Corley knows. Ask him.’ A look flashed between them. ‘The teenage girl you both abused all those years ago. No, not abused. Raped. Under age. Ringing any bells, Don? I never took you for a kiddy-fiddler.’
Don clenched his jaw and then said, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t I? Or maybe there were a few more? How many, Don? The one I spoke to seemed pretty certain. Emma she was called. And there’s something
else you don’t know: she had the baby. Didn’t Mike tell you all this?’
Don whirled around to Mike Corley. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘He told me before,’ Mike said.
‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘This isn’t some fucking cosy reunion,’ Mike snapped. ‘Once we’ve finished here, we go back to being cop and criminal. He’s got it all down on tape anyway. I just want him dead,’ and he pointed to the figure on the chair. ‘I don’t care what happens after that.’
Don clicked his fingers at one of his goons and pointed towards the door. ‘Check out his car for a tape machine.’ Then he walked over towards Jack, the click of his shoes louder now as everyone descended into silence. He stood over Jack, his fists clenched. ‘You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,’ he said, his voice trembling with anger.
Jack looked up, tried to gauge what Don would do. The iron was still plugged in, the orange light clicking on and off as it maintained its heat. Jack could feel the tension in the room. He had changed the dynamic, from the simple murder of someone who perhaps deserved it, to a scenario where someone could expose them and send them to prison. There were more people there than just Don and Mike though. If he could turn the others against them, maybe he could find a way out of this.
‘If you like fucking children, that’s your business,’ Jack said. ‘Does it make him much worse than you?’
Jack felt a burst of pain as Don punched him. His jaw went slack and blood spewed onto the floor, and he coughed a tooth onto the concrete. He took some deep breaths through his nose and looked at Don again. ‘She had a bouncing baby boy, but she had to give him away. She couldn’t give him a proper life, because she was just a child herself, but babies get bigger, and eventually they grow up.’
Jack nodded towards Don’s prisoner. ‘Say hello to your son.’
Don swallowed.
‘Although you’ve already acquainted yourself,’ Jack continued, ‘because you’ve just had your son tied to a chair.’
Don looked back to the bloodied figure by the chair, his face filled with confusion now, and then at Mike Corley, who was ashen.
‘He was adopted,’ Jack said. ‘Emma doesn’t know whose child it is. Maybe it’s your son, Mike. Are you going to save him? His real name is Shane. Say hello.’
‘This is bullshit,’ Don said, but his tone was unconvincing.
Jack shook his head slowly and then pointed towards the prisoner. ‘Ask him.’
Don followed his gaze, and the prisoner looked around the room, his face screwed up with pain, and then he started to nod. He tried to say something, but blood speckled his chin. Then he lifted his head and tried again.
‘I fucked up your daughters like you both fucked up my mother,’ he said, and then he started to cackle.
Don marched over and gripped him by the shirt. He hoisted him onto the chair, his rage giving him extra strength, so that his head was level with the noose. Don hesitated, just for a moment, but when Shane started to grin, Don reached for the noose and wrapped it around Shane’s neck. Don stepped back.
Shane was standing on the chair, his hands still tied behind his back. Don reached forward with his foot until it rested on the edge of the chair, ready to kick it over. He looked back at Jack, and then back at Shane. He seemed to be having second thoughts, as if he had seen something in Shane, a recognition of his own flesh.
But Jack was wrong.
Don moved away and walked quickly to his office. When he returned, he was holding a baseball bat. He tossed it to Mike Corley, who weighed it in his hand for a moment, and then Mike strode towards Shane, who was twisting his body, waiting for the blow. Mike pulled the bat back, ready for a swing. When he got within striking distance, he swung hard, the bat aiming right between Shane’s legs.
Shane groaned in pain and then vomited onto the floor, the splash onto the concrete making someone retch behind Jack. Shane slumped forward, his neck straining in the noose, his feet just staying on the chair, taking his weight, so that he was being twirled in an arc before he was able to straighten himself.
Jack got up, ready to rush forward, not prepared to watch any more, but Mike turned back to him and swung the bat at his thigh.
Jack screamed in agony. He went to the floor and almost passed out with the pain.
‘Get another chair, and some more rope,’ Don shouted. There were the sounds of movement. Hands lifted Jack under his arms and hoisted him to his feet.
Jack shouted out when his foot hit the floor, but still he was dragged forward. As he opened his eyes, Jack saw another chair, just a foot away from Shane’s. Jack looked up and saw that another rope had been hooked over a beam, so that a noose hung down. He tried to struggle, but the pain was excruciating every time he moved his leg and so he couldn’t resist when he was lifted onto the chair.
Jack tried to move his head so that they couldn’t put the noose over it, but someone gave his hair a yank. His yelp was quietened by the coarseness of the rope as it went tight around his neck, a slip knot at the back jamming tight.
Sweat gathered around the rope, and Jack struggled to swallow. His arms were still pulled back, but he felt something go around them. More rope. His hands were bound now. He couldn’t pull off the noose. Images rushed through his brain. Laura. Bobby. His parents. Dolby. He saw a front page headline: Local Reporter Dead.
Jack’s leg was sending sharp jabs of pain through his body, making him sag, but every time he dipped, just looking for a way of taking the weight off it, the rope carved into his neck a little more, so that he had to force himself to stand.
‘So this is it?’ Jack said, grimacing, gasping. ‘You’re going to kill us both? For what? Finding out? Is that all it takes?’
Don grabbed the bat back from Mike Corley and stepped towards Jack. He swung the bat in a lazy arc. Jack braced himself for another blow, unable to defend himself this time. But there was no pain, no hard strike with the bat. When Jack opened his eyes, Don was smirking.
‘No,’ Don said, his voice low. ‘I’m not going to kill you both. You’re going to do it.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Jack said, confused.
Don pointed towards Shane. ‘If I kick his chair away, I’ll kick your chair too. He is revenge. You’re just expedient, because I’m not having a witness.’ Then he raised his eyebrows. ‘But there is another way.’
Jack swallowed, it was more difficult than before. He tried bravado. ‘Enlighten me,’ he said.
Don prodded Shane, who looked like he was fighting to stay conscious, with the tip of the baseball bat. ‘You kick his chair away and you survive.’
‘Explain. I don’t understand.’
‘It’s quite simple. The easiest way to protect yourself is to make your enemy your ally. Take this monster on the chair next to you.’
‘Don’t you feel anything, that he might be your son?’ Jack said.
Don jabbed Shane again, this time in the groin. ‘He’s not my son. He’s nothing, and within five minutes, he’ll be dead. And so will you be if you don’t kick his chair away.’
‘I’m not like you. Why should I do it?’
‘Because it will make you his killer,’ Don said, with relish. ‘With my career choices, you get to know a bit about the law, and I know one thing: you have no defence to murder if you kick that chair. The law doesn’t allow you to be a coward. Isn’t that right, David?’ And he looked towards David Hoyle.
David Hoyle didn’t say anything.
‘Hoyle!’ Don shouted. ‘Give this fucker some legal advice.’
Hoyle nodded slowly. When he spoke, it came out with a stammer.
‘H-h-he’s right. You would call it duress, where you did what you did because you were under threat, but it doesn’t count if you kill someone.’
Don grinned malevolently. ‘You see, it’s fucking genius. The law won’t let you kill someone else to save yourself, because that would be a coward’s charter, but it’s the only choice you’ve got. If
you kick his chair away, you live. You won’t tell anyone, because if you do you’ll spend your life in prison, and I don’t think you like that idea. But if you don’t, and there’s a fucking time limit on this, then I kick both, and you’ll be buried on the moors with him.’
Jack looked upwards. He noticed the cobwebs on the steel roof beams, and the pinpricks of stars through a skylight. Was that to be his last view? He listened out for the sound of sirens, hoping that Laura had followed the same thought process that he had, but all he could hear was the tap-tap of Don’s shoes. His mind flashed through his life, with images of his father, strong and silent, and the warmth of his mother. Friends. Past girlfriends. All rushing through his head like a flickbook, and as he recognised them, all those people who would judge him, he knew that there was only one thing he would do.
He knew what he was going to do, and his lip trembled as he realised that it might be the last thing he would ever say. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how it would feel when the chair shifted underneath him, as the tow-rope gripped tightly around his neck and he felt the swing of his body.
It didn’t make him change his mind.
He opened his eyes and glared at Don Roberts. ‘You might be a murderer, Don, but I’m not. Go fuck yourself.’
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Carson had called up more marked cars and they were clearing the way with sirens and lights. The blue flashes were bright between the buildings as they raced through the suburban streets.
‘You need to stay in the car when we get there,’ Carson shouted to Angel.
She nodded but didn’t say anything. Her fear seemed to have sobered her up, and now she was grim-faced in the back of the car.
‘How certain are you about this?’
‘I heard them talking outside,’ Angel said. ‘They had that pervert tied up in the back of the car, and they were discussing where to take him.’
Laura turned around. ‘Why did David get involved? It’s a step too far for him.’
‘Because Don wanted him there,’ Angel said. ‘I told David not to go, and he didn’t want to, but he does everything Don asks, because he’s too frightened to say no. You were right, I was at Don’s house so that hard-faced bitch could keep an eye on me.’