“I persuaded them I hate McLaughlin as much as they do. One of them said something which suggests they know about Liam’s death. They also gave me his brother’s number. Apparently, he’s the business brains and tries to keep his big brother in check.”
“That’s good — he sounds like the one to speak to.”
“Yep.” Byron picked up the wooden spoon and prodded at the bubbling dish.
Adam took it off him. “Oi, non-players off the green. Go and make the call.”
Byron left the room, but returned ten minutes later, looking troubled.
“You took your time.” Adam lifted the spoon out of the pan. “Bad news?”
“Yes, but not what you think. The police have arrested three lads for the killing.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“They’ve admitted what they did but claim they all did it, including Philip.”
“Seriously? Who told you?”
“Kieran, Ritchie’s brother.”
Adam made a dismissive gesture. “He’s bound to say that.”
“I rang Samuel, and the police told him the same thing.”
Adam didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Byron. Samuel and Rebecca must be devastated.”
“They’re not the only ones.” Byron rubbed his temples. “Kieran also said there will be an appeal in the papers tomorrow, for Philip and Mugisa. McLaughlin must have a man inside the investigation.”
They both fell silent, lost in their thoughts until Adam said, “What did Kieran say about the trailer?”
“He said he’d talk to Ritchie, try to get him to back off. Kieran’s all business; he’s only interested in getting it back.”
“Who’s keen to get what back?” Philip walked in through the doorway.
“You hungry?” Adam gestured with the spoon.
“Bloody starving.”
“Five minutes.”
“Great. Can I use the phone, Adam?”
“As long as it’s not to call the girl in New Zealand.”
Philip smiled and left the room. The two men exchanged a look, wondering how much he’d heard. Once the police made an appeal Adam wasn’t sure he could continue to hide Philip. It was one thing keeping him out of McLaughlin’s clutches but this changed things.
Adam walked into the bar where he’d arranged to meet the rest of his Watch and found them in a noisy scrum.
“Adam! What time do you call this?” Mal tapped his wrist.
“It’s your round,” someone suggested.
“No, it’s my shout. What you having?” Reed’s voice rose above the clamour.
“No, Boss—”
“There’s no boss here tonight, Adam.”
“Sorry, Geoff. It’s your birthday, so let me get this.”
Geoff insisted, took his order and wandered off to the bar.
“It’s bloody posh in here,” someone observed.
“Yeah, but look at the totty.”
“Over there.” Mike pointed. “Bloody hell, that’s the copper from Sunday night. She fancied you, didn’t she, Adam?”
He glanced over and noticed the dark-haired beauty studying him. He smiled at her but couldn’t see her companion.
“Not sure, Mike.”
“Not sure she fancied you or not sure she’s the same one?” Mike grinned at him.
“Both.”
“Come on then, mate. Let’s ask her.”
He’d gone before Adam could object, so he followed in his wake. As they got nearer, Adam saw Siobhan and guessed from her smile she remembered him. Mike introduced them and proceeded to ignore them both, homing in on her companion.
“Sorry,” Adam said. “He’s like a force of nature.”
“Don’t worry; I’m with one of those.” They shared a conspiratorial smile.
Byron finished his call to Louisa and sat for a few moments with a hollowness in his chest. It was the longest they’d been apart since Lilly’s birth and thoughts of his nephew’s predicament added to his suffering. Not wanting to upset her, he hadn’t told Louisa the latest news. Although convinced Philip wasn’t guilty, he needed to talk to him about the other boys’ claims and what the Harris brothers had said. He walked into the hallway and called his nephew. The TV sounded from the living room, so he stuck his head in but Philip wasn’t in there. Byron frowned and headed upstairs towards Philip’s room.
“Philip?” he called again.
A gnawing sensation gripped his guts when he found the bedroom empty, his unease increasing as he checked the other rooms. On his way to check the garden, he discovered the back door unbolted. After searching the garden without success, he rushed back in and checked the cloakroom. Philip’s jacket wasn’t there. Bugger!
He realised he didn’t know enough about his nephew to make even a wild guess where he could have gone. Picking up the phone, he dialled, hoping his brother would answer.
“Hello.” Rebecca sounded like she was scarcely keeping herself under control.
He hesitated, unsure how to start. “Rebecca,” he said.
“Byron?” She sounded surprised and then asked, “Philip’s okay, isn’t he?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?” An edge of hysteria entered her voice.
“I mean, he’s gone.” Realising how it might sound he added, “He’s sneaked out.”
The silence stretched for several seconds until she said, “So where were you when this happened?” Her tone glacial.
“I…” He hesitated. “I was on the phone.”
“You’re supposed to be taking care of him.”
Byron’s shoulders tightened. “I was in the next room.”
She snorted. “Right, I’ll ring round his friends. I suggest you search the local area.” Her tone became brisk and business-like.
“Right, but can Samuel make the calls? I haven’t got wheels. I’ll start searching on foot, but can you come and collect me?” He gave her Adam’s address.
Philip approached the bowling pavilion and slowed to allow his breathing to settle down. The walk had taken longer than he’d anticipated and he’d run the last few hundred metres, hoping Jenna wouldn’t be too annoyed at having to wait. He reached the opening and hesitated, listening and letting his vision became accustomed to the inky darkness. A shoe scraped across the floor and he made out a darker shape.
His pulse jumped. “Jenna?”
“Philip.”
He rushed towards her. They embraced and stayed locked together. The cares of his last few days melted away. Philip could face anything with Jenna at his side.
The blow across his neck sent a tremor down his spine. He gasped and his eyes snapped open. Strong hands grabbed him from behind. Jenna’s scream sent a jolt through his heart and he wrestled out of his attacker’s grip. Once he freed his arms, he lashed out, trying to do serious damage to their assailants. His fist hit a head and his target grunted.
Shadows wrestled in the darkness where he’d left Jenna and a man with a high voice exclaimed, “Bitch!”
A blow hit Philip on the cheek and he swung an elbow, catching a ribcage. A high-pitched yelp from Jenna filled him with rage. Bellowing her name, he aimed a punch at the nearest figure, catching the man on the jaw and knocking him to the ground. Philip ignored the pain in his hand and went for the next one. He wouldn’t let these men hurt Jenna. Hot blood trickled down his neck.
A fist caught him on the cheek and he blinked and staggered. Someone grabbed his leg. He struck out with his other foot and grunted with satisfaction when it connected with something solid and fleshy. A yell told him he’d aimed well. He pulled his leg free, determined to get another one down and rescue Jenna.
The bulky shape of a man filled the opening to the pavilion and Philip charged at him. A cosh caught him behind the ear, scrambling his senses. His legs gave way. A second blow landed as he tried to regain control of his limbs. He crashed to the floor and, despite messages to break his fall, his arms failed him. His he
ad bounced and blackness enveloped him.
CHAPTER 21
The punishment for escape was death, but, not wanting to upset the Big Man, the officer decided on a lesser sentence. They beat The Boy with bull-hide whips and left him bleeding in the enclosure. The officer gave the girl to the men who had captured him as their reward.
The Boy eventually recovered from his injuries and, in time, thick, wormlike scars grew across his back. As further punishment, they returned him to the indoctrination classes with the newcomers. Almost broken by the betrayal, he stayed at the back of the class, taking little part in the lessons.
His will to survive endured and he grew strong again. He trusted no one but gradually learned how to get people to do what he wanted. The girl avoided him, ashamed of her treachery.
Byron watched Rebecca change gear, forcing the lever into position like she wanted to snap the hardened steel. Since she picked him up, she’d spoken three words: “Close the door.” Barely contained anger radiated from her. Although he understood her distress, it would be a long night if she didn’t ease up.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“The park.”
He waited in vain for her to continue. “Why?”
Rebecca’s lips formed a thin line. “The girls said he comes here with Jenna. She’s also missing; Samuel rang Philip’s friends.”
“Which park?” That’s what Philip must be up to, meeting his girlfriend, the sly fox. Byron’s concern eased and he smiled.
“This one.” The headlights picked out a set of wrought iron gates ahead of them. Despite the hour, the gates lay open. “And I see nothing amusing.”
“Rebecca, I know you’re angry with me, but—” He saw the blue lights before she did. “Over there.”
Rebecca accelerated into the park, ignoring the speed limit posted at the entrance. Once in the park, they could see an ambulance and two police cars clustered around the pavilion. The hollowness in Byron’s chest deepened and Rebecca slowed as they neared the emergency vehicles. A figure detached itself from the tableau and came towards them, waving its arms. Rebecca stopped the car and got out.
“Sorry, lady. You can’t come in here. The park’s closed.”
She ignored him and brushed past, heading for the ambulance. The bewildered park keeper followed, but Byron grabbed him.
“Sorry, mate. She’s looking for her son. He came here with his girlfriend.”
The man pointed to the further of the police cars. “They’re over there.”
“Rebecca!” Byron shouted. “He’s in the car.”
He pointed to the vehicle and she jogged to it, opening the passenger door. A surprised constable looked up from her notebook.
“I’m looking for Philip, my son,” Rebecca said.
The officer gestured to the rear seat where a couple in their thirties sat. “These folk found a young girl. They were just giving me a statement—”
“What about my son?”
“Sorry,” the woman said.
“The girl’s in the ambulance.” The constable started to describe Jenna, but Rebecca rushed towards the vehicle.
“Philip?” she called, peering past the paramedic stowing the back step.
“Mrs Mason!” Jenna cried out.
Rebecca clambered into the ambulance and put her arms around the pale and frightened girl. Byron attempted to follow her but one of the policemen intercepted him.
“Officer, we’re looking for her son. He’s tall, about this height.” Byron held a hand out at the level of his hairline.
The officer’s expression changed. “The girl said they took her boyfriend. It sounds like your lad. I’m sorry, sir.”
Byron’s stomach did a somersault. Rebecca must have received the same news from Jenna and she stumbled out of the vehicle, her eyes unfocussed.
She looked at Byron. “You bastard. If you hadn’t…”
He waited, at a loss for words. For a second he thought Rebecca would break down, but she took a deep breath and recovered herself.
“We must find him.”
Byron nodded and addressed the constable. “How many were there?”
“Sorry, sir?”
“You said ‘they’ took him.”
“Right. The girl said three—” The constable bit his lip seeming to regret giving Byron this information. “Detectives are on the way,” he continued. “They’ll want a word with you, sir.” The constable spoke to Rebecca in a more sympathetic voice. “We’ll find your son, madam. Don’t worry.”
Rebecca ignored this attempt at reassurance and jogged to her car.
Byron followed and opened the passenger door. “Shouldn’t we stay and speak to the police?”
“You’ve changed your tune.” The engine roared into life. “Are you coming, or do I have to do this on my own?”
Siobhan gave directions and Adam drove. She’d fancied him from seeing him at the fire and she’d enjoyed his company, but she wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship yet. He pulled up outside her flat and they sat in the car for an awkward moment before both spoke.
They laughed and Adam said, “You first.”
“I was going to say — do you want a coffee?”
He nodded and she led the way, heart tripping. At the door she hesitated, key in the lock, before opening it. What are you playing at Siobhan Quinn? You hardly know him!
She slammed the door and took his jacket. “Do you take milk and sugar?” she asked, eager to fill the awkward silence.
“Just milk.”
She showed him into the lounge, putting on a low lamp and apologising for the odour of paint which still lingered. While the kettle boiled, she stepped into the bathroom and brushed her teeth before returning with the drinks.
“Did you want biscuits?” she asked, passing him a mug of coffee.
He smiled and shook his head. Their fingers brushed and he put his mug down, reaching for her hand. Her skin tingled and she let him take it, stroking the smooth callouses on his palm as he leant towards her.
He kissed her. They separated, smiling, and she knelt between his knees and he took her chin in his other hand. They kissed again and she moved her hand onto his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. Laughing, he copied her, struggling with the small buttons on her blouse. The shrill ringing of the phone cut through the sounds of their breathing.
“Feck.” She eased his head away. “Sorry, Adam. I need to take this.”
She scrambled to her feet and rushed out to the living room, reaching the phone before it stopped ringing.
“Chief Inspector Quinn,” she said, trying to control her breathing.
“Sorry to disturb you, Chief Inspector. We’ve a reported kidnapping of a suspect in your case. Philip Mason, aged seventeen. Jenna Young, his girlfriend, reported the attack.”
She concentrated on the call and her earlier mood evaporated. “What happened?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sofa.
“The lad was with his girlfriend and she says three or four men jumped them.” He gave her a précis of Jenna’s statement.
“Have we informed the parents?”
“Detectives are at his parents’ house now.”
“Okay, I’ll meet them there.” Siobhan hesitated before making her request, aware of Eddy’s exhausted state. “Can you ask Sergeant Arkwright to join me?”
She ended the call and sat for a moment, her mind churning until she shivered. She grabbed a jacket from the hall stand and returned in to the bedroom to find Adam buttoning up.
“Duty calls?” he asked, not hiding his disappointment.
“I’ll have to go. I’m sorry.” Despite her frustration her mind had already focussed on the incident.
“So am I.” He grinned. “Nice jacket.”
She’d picked his up and embarrassed, she slipped out of it, becoming suddenly self-conscious. Once she’d grabbed her own, they walked to the car together.
“I’m really sorry, Adam.” She leant forward to peck him on the cheek, but
he moved so their lips met in a prolonged kiss before she broke away.
Breathless, she searched for her car then remembered she’d left it at work.
“Adam, can you give me a lift?” she asked, annoyed at herself for not getting Eddy to pick her up.
“No problem, where to?”
She told him. “You okay, Adam? You’ve gone very pale.”
“Come on, let’s go.” He rushed to his car.
Mugisa studied the low building and shivered. Despite the many layers of clothing he wore, the cold seeped into his muscles. He’d watched Jenna’s house for two hours when the men turned up in their big car. They’d not seen him and he waited until Jenna left the house and they followed her. He quickly realised from their behaviour they were not very disciplined. This wasn’t a trained fighting force, and he felt better about his chances against them.
At the park, he’d followed them. The men were clumsy as a herd of cattle, but the girl didn’t hear them tracking her. They hid in the bushes until Philip ran past them and Mugisa stayed in the shadows, waiting to discover what they intended to do.
When he saw them come out with the unconscious figure, he rushed back to his car and waited. He’d followed them and watched from a distance as they delivered their prisoner.
He waited for the second car to leave before approaching the building, knowing there were now only two men guarding Philip. The single-storey structure looked like an old factory. Avoiding the front, where he’d noticed security lights, he walked round it, checking the openings. The only useable doorway was at the front, and heavy metal bars protected all the windows. He peered into these but years of grime meant he could see nothing through them.
Mugisa knew he must act soon, before the others came back. He returned to his car and retrieved his spare machete.
Philip regained consciousness in the boot of a car. Whoever put him here had tied his feet together and his arms behind his back. Sticky tape covered his eyes and mouth. He breathed in through his nose, inhaling the odour of damp carpet and exhaust fumes.
The memory of Jenna’s cry made him forget his own pain. He vowed to take retribution on the man who’d hit her. The car stopped and the engine died. Doors slammed and men spoke. Then a rush of cold air and the voices became louder.
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