Brotherhood

by David Beckler

  The voice of the man who’d hit Jenna cut through his torpor and he shuddered. He took a few seconds to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Why the hell had he returned? A key turned in the door, and it slammed open. He jumped. Three figures crowded in the opening. Their leader possessed sharp features and the physique of one of those morons who spend all day in the gym. He gave Philip a nasty grin but his beady eyes didn’t smile.

  “If it isn’t Sir Galahad. How’s the kidneys?” He laughed.

  Philip wanted to tell him where to go but couldn’t speak. Did he just want to torment him or were they taking him away? The men dragged him to his feet and he tried to control his fear. The pain made him gasp and his legs gave way but the men held him up and secured his arms. Someone wound a strip of tape round his mouth, cutting off his protests.

  “Shall I blindfold him, Lenny?” the man with the tape asked.

  “Not yet, I want him to see everything.” Lenny thrust his grinning face into Philip’s, giving him a blast of his stale breath. “Struggle and I’ll do your other kidney.” He prodded Philip in the chest.

  Fear paralysed Philip. He remembered the noise Jenna made when the man hit her and his anger returned. He wouldn’t show him how terrified he was.

  “Right, boys,” Lenny said. “Bring him out, it’s time we ended this.”

  He left the room and the others dragged Philip out. Their leader waited by the door and Philip saw the pistol in his hand. Despite his resolve, his legs weakened. The men holding him stopped. His knees shook and he sensed movement behind him. A large hand gripped the back of his neck and cold steel touched his ear. The barrel of the pistol dug into the side of his head.

  “On your knees, fucker.” The hand pushed him down and the hammer clicked. Philip’s bladder loosened.

  Once the police arrived at Siobhan’s flat and she assured him she’d be fine, Adam left her, returning home to find an agitated Byron waiting for him.

  “I thought something had happened to you?”

  “Sorry.” Adam explained what had occurred. “I found a folder at her flat and recognised one of the buildings.” He described the stencilled warning on the shutter.

  “There was one in the office we searched.”

  “Was there? I didn’t notice but I’ve seen it somewhere else in the last few days.” Adam produced a notepad and listed where he’d been in the past week. Had he seen it at the chemical incident? The memory of the car fire and the two thugs who arrived hit him like a blow. He told Byron, and making sure they took the crowbars, they set off.

  As they rounded the bend leading to the disused rope works, Adam recognised it but instead of finding it empty, security lights blazed from the eaves. An SUV stood on the gravel car park outside the main entrance. Adam drove past — they would be seen if they approached. Once out of sight, he parked.

  “Mal’s a twitcher,” he said. “See if there’s anything in the glove compartment.”

  Byron rummaged under a couple of bird books and produced a pair of compact binoculars. “Mal comes up trumps again.”

  They trotted to a group of trees from where they could see the factory. Byron studied the building through the field glasses. The first rays of the morning sun attacked the twilight.

  “Could it be this one?” Adam peered at the building six hundred metres away, unable to make out much detail.

  “It looks promising,” Byron said. “Apart from the lights, they’ve got security cameras on the front and all the openings look secure.”

  Adam couldn’t remember security lights. They hadn’t come on when they’d dealt with the car fire. “What do you want to do? I could ring the doorbell and say I’m lost. If it’s someone innocent we move on?”

  “Hmmm. Risky. Let’s keep watch.”

  Adam wanted to see for himself but let Byron continue with his narrative and peered into the darkness. The front door opened and a man came out carrying a television. He walked to the car and placed it on the rear seat. Another man came out holding a box.

  “Looks like they’re moving out,” Byron said, passing the glasses to Adam.

  They continued watching as the men carried on loading the back seat with items. Adam scanned the building for signs of weakness but they’d not found any when they’d been called out for the fire. The cameras didn’t cover the sides, but even there, they’d struggle to get in.

  Adam lowered the glasses. “What do you want to do if they leave?”

  “I don’t think they’d leave unless it’s empty, so we have to follow them.” Byron made a gesture of helplessness. “We haven’t got the resources to split up.”

  Adam agreed then he noticed the two men reappear at the door. He raised the glasses. The men struggled to carry a large item wrapped in plastic sheeting, its shape unmistakeable. A body. His insides grew icy.

  “Byron.” He returned the binoculars.

  Byron peered through the eyepieces and focussed on the two men. “We’re going in now.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Mugisa refused to capitulate and, although wounded, overpowered his bigger opponent. Breathing hard over the body of his fallen foe, he listened. The sounds of fighting had ceased and his soldiers were defeated. Shouts from his enemies told him they’d seen him.

  He slipped into the forest and ran, pursued by the sounds of his enemies. Many hours later, the hunters, following the trail of blood he left, caught up with him, and too weak to fight, they captured him.

  His desire to live remained undiminished and after many days on the edge of death, he awoke. The found himself in a large and well-organised prison camp. His fellow inmates were, like him, former child soldiers, snatched back from their abductors. Fed well and treated with unexpected kindness, he recovered.

  One night, new people came, Europeans amongst them, and questioned him. When they asked if he wanted to go home, he didn’t know the answer. It was a question he’d avoided for many years. That night he dreamt of his childhood and took it as a sign. They took him home in the back of a white Land Cruiser.

  Byron ran towards the car, imagining having to tell Philip’s parents and sisters he was dead. As he opened the door, he heard a familiar whine followed by a thud. A bullet hit the inside of the door.

  “Incoming!” he shouted and leapt into the passenger seat. His adrenaline levels, already elevated, rose further.

  Crouched low in the driver’s seat, Adam started the engine and the car leapt forward, moving erratically to disrupt the aim of the shooter. “He’s down.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  Adam studied the rear-view mirror. “He must have slipped.”

  Byron checked through the rear windscreen and could make out a shape on the ground, now well out pistol of range. The euphoria of surviving the close escape made his blood fizz. “They must have a perimeter guard.”

  “I don’t think he’s with McLaughlin’s lot — he’s black,” Adam said. “Do you think your old friend employs ethnic minorities?”

  Byron couldn’t remember McLaughlin having any friends who weren’t white but he couldn’t worry about who’d shot at him now. He reached into the back of the car and retrieved the two crowbars, gripping one and placing the second in the foot well. It seemed to take an age to reach the car park. The two men carrying the body had almost reached their car. Struggling with their heavy load, they didn’t react to the approaching vehicle until it was less than eighty metres away.

  The one holding the legs acted first. He dropped his end of the load and ran for the front door. The other one seemed too intent on berating his companion to notice them. Ten paces from him, Byron threw his door open and leapt out. He needed to make sure he didn’t lose his balance on the gravel when he landed. The shock as he hit the ground travelled up to his skull, jarring his teeth. His legs moved too fast as he ran to stop himself falling.

  The man dropped the body and faced him. His hand flew into his jacket. Byron took another two steps, over-striding as he fought to control his balance. The
dark metal of an automatic appeared in the man’s hand. Byron hit him with the crowbar, snapping both bones in his forearm. With a cry of pain, he dropped the pistol. Byron snatched it up and checked on Adam.

  Adam had left the car and stood over a man’s body. From the man’s screams it didn’t sound as if he would give them trouble. Byron checked him over, making sure he wasn’t carrying another weapon.

  Adam left his victim moaning on the ground and charged into the building. Byron followed, pistol to the fore. He took a few seconds to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights. He’d entered a large room which would have once been the reception area. Adam slipped through a door on the left. Byron checked the next one. The body odour and smell of fast food told him the men had spent time here.

  Byron returned to the reception as Adam reappeared, cradling a shotgun pistol. “There’s a cell through there where they must have kept him.”

  Byron didn’t want to think about what had happened to Philip. They finished the search and met at the entrance. He stepped out and scanned the darkness for the man who’d taken a shot at them before walking over to the two men who lay groaning on the gravel.

  The one Adam had dealt with looked in a bad way. He’d broken his femur but luckily for him his thigh hadn’t swollen up, meaning he hadn’t damaged his femoral artery. Byron saw his other leg and winced. The remains of his kneecap shone white through his shredded jeans. The black plastic-covered body lay near the back of the men’s vehicle.

  Byron walked to it on stiff legs and stared.

  Adam took a deep breath before walking over to the bundle. “Come on, mate, let me do it.”

  Byron’s expression made Adam fear what he’d do to the two men. He handed Byron the shotgun and crouched beside the bundle. Byron stared into the distance. Adam’s stomach flipped over as he peeled the sheets of black polythene away from the head. He’d recognised the marks of dried blood on the floor of the cell he’d discovered, glad he’d found it and not Byron. His hands trembled as he peeled off another layer. He saw the hair first. Thank God. He continued until the face of a dead stranger lay exposed. He released a breath he didn’t realise he’d held.

  “It’s not him,” he said.

  Byron grunted like someone had punched him in the gut, but you couldn’t mistake his relief. Adam studied the corpse, a blond-haired white man of about thirty. A gash in his neck showed how he’d died. Caused by a wide blade, like a machete, the edges of the wound gaped. The identity of the man who’d shot at them became clear and Adam scanned the edge of the pool of brightness created by the security lighting.

  “What time did this happen?” Byron demanded.

  The one with the smashed knee winced. “Last night, about ten.”

  “Did you see who did it?”

  “I saw a big black lad out here, messing with the car.”

  Adam folded the sheeting over the dead man’s face and straightened as Byron continued his questioning. “That why you moved Philip?”

  Neither man spoke.

  “Where did they take him?”

  Again neither man responded. Byron walked towards the nearest and reached for the man’s knee. Long before he made contact, he let out a terrified shriek.

  “Okay. I’ll tell you,” he said, panting with fear. “They’ve taken him to a flat in Kersal.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that. What’s the address?”

  “I don’t know it.”

  Byron prodded the knee with the toe of his boot.

  The man screamed.

  Adam felt sick.

  The man gasped for breath. “Please, Lenny didn’t tell me.” Fear made his voice rise. “You have to believe me.”

  The second man found his voice. “They hadn’t decided,” he said. “Lenny said he’d choose when they got there. Ritchie’s got loads of flats over there.”

  “Lenny? The soprano steroid user?”

  “That’s him.”

  “What’s his address?”

  “You what?” The man looked puzzled.

  “Lenny’s address. We want it,” Byron said.

  “I don’t know it.”

  Byron swung his toe. The man with the ruined knee screamed before passing out. Byron walked over to the other one, standing over him as the man licked his lips and looked at Adam imploringly. Adam ignored the hollowness in his chest and stared back.

  The man looked around in panic. “We don’t know, you have to believe me.”

  Byron reached for his shattered forearm.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.”

  Ten minutes later, they possessed a list of addresses, including Lenny’s home and those of the two men with him. The one with the ruined knee regained consciousness and screamed when they attempted to pick him up, so they left him in the car park. They locked the other in the cell which Philip had once occupied, before taking the men’s mobiles and smashing the phone in the building.

  As they drove towards Lenny’s home, Adam cleared his throat. “We should tell the police what we’ve found. This is too big for two of us, especially if we have to search all the blocks of flats.”

  Byron stared out of the windscreen. “Yeah, you’re right.” He took out his phone.

  Adam retrieved Siobhan’s card from his jacket and handed it to Byron.

  “She gave you a business card then?”

  Byron dialled the number, putting the phone on speaker.

  “DCI Quinn,” Siobhan answered on the second ring, sounding tired.

  “Hello, DCI Quinn, Byron Mason here.”

  “How did you get my number?” she snapped.

  “It’s on the card you gave my brother.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She paused. “I’m in the middle of something. How can I help you?”

  “We’ve found the place where they were holding Philip—”

  “What do you mean ‘were holding’? Have you released him?”

  “Unfortunately not. They’ve moved him and we’re not sure where to. Apparently, Ritchie’s got some flats in a block in Kersal where they’ve taken him. They kept him in an old factory and if you go there, you might find clues we missed. There’s also a dead man and couple of McLaughlin’s men there.”

  “Who’s the dead man?”

  “I think it’s one of McLaughlin’s men. Two of them were removing the body when we arrived and it looks like Mugisa’s work. The two men have minor injuries, so you’ll need an ambulance for both of them.” Byron gave her the address and ended the call before she could press him further.

  He put the phone away and Adam started the car. They left the main road and he noticed a car keeping track with them.

  “We’ve got company,” he announced.

  “McLaughlin?”

  “I don’t think so. This looks like a banger, so it could be a coincidence, but best not take chances.” Adam changed down two gears and the engine growled. After four rapid changes of direction along the side-streets, he lost the tail. “False alarm,” he announced and returned to the main road, to continue on their way.

  “Adam.” Byron sounded uncomfortable. “What if these guys aren’t home?”

  “You’ve got an idea?” Adam dismissed the growing feeling of dread.

  “If we don’t know the address of the right flat, we’d have to search all of them and when we do, they’ll realise what we’re up to. They’ll do something to Philip unless we hit the right one first time.”

  “We won’t have to check all the blocks,” Adam protested. “They’ll have their cars and I’m betting they’ll stand out.”

  “So we get the right block but we still have to find the right flat.”

  “What do you suggest?” Adam didn’t want to hear the answer.

  “We make them tell us, or better still, release Philip in an exchange.”

  Adam saw Byron’s determination. Taking the families of these men to make them release Philip was a legitimate tactic, but he wasn’t sure he had the stomach for it, or for the consequences. Not
anymore.

  “If it’s the only way…” He felt numb, making those men in the car park talk was bad enough. What Byron planned was another step.

  “I’ll do it alone.” Byron held up his hand to cut off Adam’s protest. “No discussion, he’s my nephew.”

  They were almost there. Adam left the main road and drove down a side street. He parked and pointed to a house across the road. “That’s it.” His heart shrank. The small hatchback with child seats in the rear wasn’t the type of car one of McLaughlin’s men would drive.

  Byron took off his seatbelt and opened the door.

  “Hang on,” Adam said.

  The door opened and a young woman came out, backing out of the door and dragging a pushchair behind her. Two small boys followed on foot and she straightened the pushchair before strapping the smaller of the boys into it. Byron watched for a few seconds, his expression unreadable.

  Siobhan and her team arrived in convoy and she recognised the building from the folder Eddy had given her — the one she’d stopped Adam looking at. A surge of anger at him made her clench her fists but she pushed it away and focussed on the two bodies laid out in the car park.

  “Bloody hell!” Eddy said.

  “Pull up, we don’t want to contaminate the scene.” Siobhan reviewed the procedures. She got out and signalled to the others to do the same. As they approached the bodies, she considered Eddy’s comments about Byron.

  One of the prone figures moved and sat up. “Fucking hell, I thought you were never coming, you bastards.”

  “Hello, Gary. Lovely to see you,” Eddy replied. “Shall I check the other one, Boss?”

  “Yes please.” She briefed the rest of the team. “Search the building for any more casualties. There should be one more, and don’t take any chances while you’re doing it.” She crouched beside him. “Gary, what happened?” She examined his injuries. The sight of his knee made her nauseous.