Brotherhood

by David Beckler

  “So what are we supposed to do with him?”

  “Ritchie said to stick him in the storeroom and he’ll deal with him later.”

  At the mention of Liam’s uncle, Philip stomach lurched.

  “Why the fuck can’t he do it now?”

  “Do you want to ask him?”

  “Come on, lads. Let’s get him inside. Then some of us can enjoy the rest of the night.”

  Rough hands grabbed Philip’s legs and another pair lifted his torso. He had to find out what had happened to Jenna, and he struggled to free himself. Someone swore and the tip of a boot plunged into his back, crushing his right kidney. Unbearable pain spread through his torso, sending his muscles into spasm. Tears filled his eyes and, unable to open his mouth, he struggled to breathe. Then he expelled a mixture of tears and snot. His lungs fought to refill and he inhaled a mixture air and liquid through his nostrils. A voice broke through his agony. The man who’d hit Jenna.

  “I said, keep doing that and I’ll give you another one. Did you hear me?”

  The pain spread round his torso, a girdle of lava, but receded and he concentrated on breathing.

  “Did you fucking hear me?” The voice spat into his ear.

  Fearful of another blow Philip nodded and struggled to say yes. The sound came out a moan and the man laughed. A rushing filled Philip’s ears, almost making him forget the pain.

  His captors picked him up and carried him, each jarring step bringing more agony. He tried to think of anything other than his body. The nature of the sounds changed and he realised they’d carried him into a building. One of the men slipped and dropped him on the floor. A surge of pain made him black out.

  When he regained consciousness, the pain from his headache hit him followed by the agony from his kidney. Light attacked his eyes and he shut them. The tape covering his mouth had also gone and he moved his arms, surprised to find they were no longer bound.

  Moving gingerly, he attempted to sit up. Agony spread from his lower back and with a gasp, he froze. The pain receded, he tried again and, by degrees, he sat up and studied the room. Square, with bare brick walls it had just one opening. Under him lay a stained foam mattress placed on a wooden platform taking up the whole of the wall opposite the door. Reddish-brown stains covered the original pale finish of the concrete floor. Philip didn’t want to imagine what had caused these.

  Beside the door, a portable gas heater spluttered. The flames produced a faint orange glow but no heat. The bare bulb illuminating the room wasn’t much brighter. He shivered and noticed a blanket on the floor beside him. It must have fallen off and he reached for it. A piercing pain shot through his body and he became rigid, gasping and blinking away tears. The pain subsided and he took a few shallow breaths, careful to avoid sudden movement. Eventually, he began again and using his foot to reach for it, he recovered the blanket and covered himself.

  The effort exhausted him and he closed his eyes. If he stayed still, the pain became bearable, but he knew any movement would aggravate it. He ignored the pressure on his bladder and tried to empty his mind, desperate to get to sleep. The pain and growing fear he wouldn’t be rescued wouldn’t let him rest. Byron and Adam had no way of finding him.

  CHAPTER 22

  Many months later, they forgave The Boy and allowed him to re-join the trainee soldiers. He progressed rapidly and the day came for him to go on a raid. Excited and eager, the new recruits collected their weapons and climbed onto the vehicles. The Boy was as enthusiastic as they were, but he looked around the vehicle and realised many of them came from his own village. Was this significant or a coincidence?

  The Big Man led the raid and they travelled for several hours, before arriving at their destination at midday. The landmarks looked familiar and, as the village came into sight, he recognised the outcrop behind which the schoolhouse lay. None of his former school-friends noticed and all wore the expressions he had seen when others left the camp to go on raids.

  Around him, the others laid waste to the rebuilt village, attacking anyone they found. But, for The Boy, the raid brought back the memories of his own capture and he moved as if in a dream.

  Byron wasn’t sure going to McLaughlin’s flat was such a good idea. If he had snatched Philip, he wouldn’t take him there, but he couldn’t dissuade Rebecca.

  The car approached the roundabout onto the Mancunian Way and Rebecca braked. “How did you find him last time?”

  Surprised to be spoken to Byron said, “I had a description of where they’d taken Liam, so we looked for it, knowing Mugisa would probably take Philip there.”

  “How did you know where they took Liam?”

  Byron didn’t want to tell her but it would come out. “Philip took him there.”

  “No!” Rebecca gasped and blinked away tears. “So, what the police said…”

  “Philip didn’t kill Liam. He just got him there. The others did the killing.”

  “Yes, but the police said they all did it.”

  “These other lads are protecting their own skins. If they all say Philip helped kill Liam, it destroys his credibility as a witness.”

  “But they’ve already confessed.”

  Byron’s thoughts had followed the same path. “They’re probably punishing him. That’s how Mugisa works, and he’s their leader.”

  Rebecca looked stricken and Byron searched in vain for words to comfort her. She slowed as they reached the block containing McLaughlin’s flat and Byron focussed on what they could expect. Five minutes later, they stood at the concierge’s desk, frustrated by the uniformed functionary behind it. He insisted McLaughlin wasn’t home and wouldn’t let them pass.

  “Can we just check?” Rebecca said, but the man shook his head.

  Byron realised they’d not get anywhere and made his way to the exit. Rebecca snorted and pushed past him. As she snatched the door open, the man said, “You might find him at his club, on Mosley Street.”

  Byron thanked him. Apart from asking him if he knew the place, Rebecca didn’t speak until they arrived at their destination. The premises hosted a nightclub and casino and the pavement outside thronged with revellers waiting to go in. Rebecca pulled up on the pavement and he opened the door.

  “I’ll go in. You’d better wait in the car.”

  He slammed the door before she could object. They were dealing with dangerous men and he didn’t want her getting in the way. His pulse raced as he approached the entrance, bypassing the queue. People muttered, but he ignored them and none dared object. Three heavies scrutinised him as he approached and their body language told him they recognised him as a threat.

  He approached the leader, a fat-necked man with a shaved head. “I’m looking for Ritchie.”

  “Who shall I say you are?” The man’s elocution didn’t match his appearance.

  “Byron Mason. I’ve got a message for him.”

  The man’s eyes widened when he heard the name and he disappeared into the club. The other bouncers studied Byron with a mixture of wariness and aggression. Footsteps sounded behind him and Rebecca arrived. He considered telling her to go back but her expression told him she wouldn’t listen. He thought she was going to storm the last place, but that wasn’t the way to deal with these people, not unless you possessed superior forces.

  The man returned, accompanied by another, equally large, and with the pumped-up upper body of a steroid user. Someone had clouted him on the nose and a large graze disfigured his forehead. He wasn’t one of the men who’d tried to invade his brother’s home, but Byron already knew McLaughlin had a big crew. Was he one of the men Adam flattened at the warehouse?

  “Yeah — you got a message for Mr McLaughlin?” the newcomer asked in a nasal, high-pitched voice.

  “I have to deliver it in person.” Byron stared at him.

  The man’s jaw muscles bunched and he stood for a few seconds before gesturing to the doorman to let them pass.

  The smell of tobacco and alcohol enveloped them. He led the
m through a smart bar area with shiny black flooring and plenty of chrome and mirrors. The place heaved with a young and smartly-dressed crowd, exuberant but well-behaved. Byron guessed troublemakers weren’t tolerated.

  Steroid-man led them to a booth in an alcove where McLaughlin held court. Several champagne bottles littered the table and the man sipped from a martini glass. The crowd around him fell silent and studied Byron and Rebecca. McLaughlin dismissed most of them with a gesture, and the two visitors faced him and three heavies. Steroid-man and one other flanked them but Byron ignored them and focussed on their boss.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the family of Liam’s killer. Come to give me your condolences?” McLaughlin drawled.

  In the ensuing silence, Byron stared until McLaughlin looked uncomfortable.

  “Okay, give me your message and fuck off. We’re trying to have a good time.”

  “Where’s my son?” Rebecca demanded.

  “How should I know? I’m not your son’s keeper.” McLaughlin smirked and one of the men beside him giggled. Rebecca glared at the man who reddened and shuffled his feet. “Maybe he’s out shagging his girlfriend.”

  Rebecca lunged at McLaughlin, but Byron checked her. “You’re scum,” she spat and shook off Byron’s hand.

  Byron leant into McLaughlin. “We know you’ve got Philip,” he said, in a quiet voice. “Let him go unharmed and I’ll return your trailer.”

  At the mention of the trailer, the faces of McLaughlin’s men changed. The impassive masks they’d worn so far showed naked anger for the first time. Rebecca recoiled from the two men who flanked them but Byron gave her a reassuring smile. McLaughlin grew bright red and he clenched his fists.

  Byron realised Kieran hadn’t relayed his earlier message to his brother. McLaughlin glared, barely in control of his anger. Byron waited for what seemed like minutes, waiting for McLaughlin’s next move. He could hear himself breathing and the blood rushing round his head.

  Raucous laughter from a nearby table broke the spell. McLaughlin must have realised there were too many witnesses. Byron recognised his opportunity and gripping Rebecca’s arm, strode for the exit. The two men flanking them moved aside to let them pass and the other guests parted, making way for them. He’d expected her to at least resist but she let him lead her out. Outside on the pavement, she pushed his hand away and stopped.

  Byron, aware the danger was far from over, grabbed her elbow. “Keep walking,” he said, speeding up until they reached the car. “Let’s go.”

  He pushed her towards the driver’s door and walked around the car as Rebecca fumbled for the keys. As he scanned his surroundings she started the engine, and he leapt in, checking behind as they drove away. Byron considered his options. McLaughlin’s reaction suggested he wouldn’t listen to reason but if he calmed down…

  Once away from the bustle of Moseley Street Rebecca said, “What was that about a trailer?”

  “You don’t need to know.”

  “We’re talking about my son’s life here.”

  Byron looked away. “I borrowed a lorry full of his gear.”

  She didn’t respond for a few seconds. “You’re seriously telling me that, while you should have been taking care of my son, you went out stealing?”

  “I wasn’t stealing.”

  “Oh yeah? What do you call it then?”

  Byron shifted in his seat. “I thought if we could make McLaughlin back off…”

  “That worked, didn’t it?”

  Byron opened his mouth to respond but said nothing.

  “And who’s the ‘we’? Your friend Adam? And Philip?” Her voice rose.

  “No, Philip was safe at Adam’s.”

  “Thank, God! At least you didn’t make him an accessory.” She paused and a lightbulb seemed to illuminate. “That’s where you were when I rang. You left Philip alone.”

  “No, we left one of Adam’s friends guarding him. He was probably safer than if he’d been with us.”

  “That’s not saying much.”

  Byron accepted the rebuke and they drove on in silence, her hands gripping the steering wheel like she wanted to crush it.

  “Did McLaughlin take my son to get revenge?” she demanded.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “The man who steals from a mad psychopath calls me stupid.”

  “McLaughlin obviously planned the kidnapping a while back. He tried before, if you remember.”

  Rebecca didn’t say anything and they sat in uncomfortable silence. Despite his retort Byron feared she might be right, and he’d run out of ideas of where they could find Philip.

  Byron considered his options as Rebecca drove them to her house. McLaughlin must have another hideaway but how would he find it? Several police cars and two unmarked vehicles lined the road outside the house. Rebecca manoeuvred round them and approached her drive. The officer guarding the house recognised her but saw Byron and stopped her.

  Rebecca wound down her window. “This is my brother-in-law, officer.”

  “Have you got any ID, sir?” he spoke across her.

  “Are you serious?” she demanded.

  “It’s not a problem.” Byron retrieved his driving licence and handed it to the officer. “At least he’s doing his job.”

  The man noted the details before returning the licence and Rebecca parked on the drive. The downstairs lights blazed and Byron followed her to the front door. Her daughters besieged her, emitting shrill cries. She hugged them, uttering reassuring words. Byron edged past her and Samuel gave him an interrogative glance, but he shook his head.

  A petite woman with strawberry blond hair and fine features stood behind Samuel, alongside a big bulky man a couple of inches shorter than Byron. His cropped hair and broken nose gave him the appearance of a thug, but Byron noted an alert intelligence. Coppers.

  “Good morning, Mrs Mason,” the woman said. “As I’ve just said to your husband, we’ll do everything we can to find Philip.”

  Rebecca broke free of her daughters’ embrace. “Thank you, Chief Inspector.”

  The policewoman regarded him with green eyes. “You must be Byron Mason.”

  Byron couldn’t remember ever meeting her. “Sorry, do I know you?”

  “Your brother told me you were with his wife. I’m Chief Inspector Quinn and this is Sergeant Arkwright.” Her gaze bored into him.

  Byron shook hands with both officers.

  “Mr Mason,” she addressed Samuel, glancing at his daughters. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

  Rebecca took the hint. “You two better get off to bed, it’s way past bedtime. Go on, I’ll be right up.”

  Samuel led them into his study and Byron brought up the rear, closing the door behind him.

  Quinn addressed Rebecca, her tone brisk. “Can you tell me what you were doing at the park?”

  “Searching for Philip.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he went missing.” Rebecca’s voice rose.

  Byron understood the policewoman. “I told them he was missing, Chief Inspector. Philip was staying with me and I noticed he’d gone, so I told his parents.”

  “And how come your nephew stayed with you but his parents didn’t know about it?”

  “Because I didn’t tell them.”

  The Chief Inspector’s expression belied her delicate appearance. “I’ll need a statement from you Mr Mason. Where did you and Philip stay? Your brother says you’re up from London.”

  Byron wouldn’t drop Adam in it. “With a friend, but he knows nothing about what happened.”

  “I’ll overlook the fact you shielded a suspect in a murder case for now, but I will deal with it later. Right now, finding Philip is the priority. Can you tell me where you’ve been since you spoke to my colleagues in the park?”

  “We went to speak to Ritchie McLaughlin.”

  “That’s brave, Mr Mason. Mr McLaughlin has a reputation. Can you tell me why you went to see him and to what effect?”

  “I th
ink he took Philip, but he denies it.”

  “Why would he take Philip?”

  Both Rebecca and Samuel looked uncomfortable at the direction of the questioning, but Byron detected sympathy in Arkwright’s demeanour. “He believes Philip had something to do with his nephew Liam’s death. He came here on Monday night to snatch Philip but failed, and he tried again tonight.”

  Siobhan studied Philip’s parents. “When you reported this incident to my colleagues in Didsbury, you didn’t mention he’d attempted to take your son.”

  Rebecca looked sheepish but didn’t reply.

  “I’ll need a statement from you, this time the truth.” She transferred her attention to Byron. “And anyone else who was here.”

  “Chief Inspector, shouldn’t you concentrate on finding Philip, not what happened a few nights ago?” Rebecca said, returning to her normal spikiness.

  “I agree, Mrs Mason. But I need evidence if I’m to investigate Mr McLaughlin. The fact he tried before is a good reason to suspect him.”

  Rebecca seemed to accept this.

  Siobhan continued, “Now, when you saw him tonight, did he look like he’d just taken part in a kidnapping?”

  “Point made, Chief Inspector,” Byron conceded. “But he’ll have sent his minions. In fact, he looked like he’d been working on an alibi.”

  “I’ll send someone to take your statements,” Siobhan said to Rebecca. “Mr Mason, I need to know where you hid Philip and the names of anyone else involved.”

  Byron considered refusing, but suspected she’d give him a hard time, and he couldn’t afford to be out of action until they found Philip.

  CHAPTER 23

  Since the first raid, some of the men from the village remained close by and they soon arrived. The warning shout from the drivers alerted the raiders. Seizing the few children they had so far subdued, they made for their vehicles, but the villagers saw this and intercepted them.

  The Boy recognised their adversaries, including his father and one of his brothers. Believing him dead, neither recognised him and, in the ensuing battle, his father suffered severe wounds. The Boy, cornered by a former neighbour, attacked the man whose son he’d grown up with. The man recognised his son’s playmate and called his name as he fell. Shocked at hearing his name, The Boy paused but the man’s expression of contempt shamed him and he turned away.