by Kerry Kaya
“Tommy?” Rising from his chair, Mad Dog walked from behind his desk. “What are you looking for, lad?”
Pulling open the filing cabinet, Tommy rummaged around. “What weapons do we have on the premises?”
“What we always have, a few baseball bats behind the reception desk.” Mad Dog raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen Tommy in a mood like this for a long time. Not since his altercation with Dean Johnson.
Tommy kicked the cabinet closed. “I need more than that,” he spat.
“What do you need weapons for?” Cautiously, Mad Dog moved toward him. His arms were outstretched in a bid to calm the younger man down.
“The number of fucking firearms that have passed through my hands over the years, and all I’ve got is one poxy, cunting handgun to my name?” he growled, speaking to no one in particular.
“What’s happened, lad?”
Tommy averted his eyes. Shame flooded through him. How could he tell him about Jake? Where would he even start?
“Shall I give Jimmy a call?” Mad Dog asked, stooping down to pick up his mobile phone from the desk. “Why don’t we all have a little chat, and talk through whatever it is that’s bothering you?”
“No.” Tommy leapt forward and snatched the phone out of the elder man’s hand. “I can’t talk about it. Not to you, not to Jimmy, not to anyone.”
“Okay.” With his arms still outstretched, Mad Dog moved closer. He narrowed his eyes. It was so unlike Tommy not to want to involve Jimmy in his business. They were usually joined at the hip, and as thick as thieves. “What you need to do is calm down, lad.”
“Calm down?” Tommy gave a bitter laugh. “Calm fucking down? I’m gonna fucking kill them.” He began emptying out his pockets, placing his own mobile phone, car keys, loose change, and a packet of chewing gum down onto the desk.
Mad Dog watched the younger man closely. He knew that by emptying out his pockets that Tommy had to mean business. He wouldn’t turn up to a ruck with his pockets still full. “You should have left the phone at home,” he stated, nodding down at the device, hoping more than anything that his words would make Tommy see sense. “You know the old bill can trace the signal. Too many good men have been sent down, because of that one mistake.” He could see Tommy thinking it over and continued. “You need to think rationally, lad, not just for your sake, but for Stacey’s, your kids.”
Tommy stared down at the phone. “Yeah,” he finally answered. Mad Dog’s words were ringing true. Over the years, they had seen a lot of good friends banged up, all because they had made the same mistake of taking their mobile phones to jobs with them.
“Look,” Mad Dog said. “Why don’t you go home and sleep on it. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll think differently.”
“You don’t know what they’ve done.” Tommy shook his head. “I can’t, and won’t let this go.”
Mad Dog answered cautiously. “Is getting banged up the answer then, lad? Because we both know that’s what’ll happen if you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing tonight.”
Slumping down in the office chair that Mad Dog had vacated, Tommy rubbed his hand across his jaw. “No,” he answered. He swivelled in the seat, his head bowed. He felt physically sick; his stomach was tied up in knots. His boy, his Jake. How the fuck could this have happened? An image of his son as a little boy sprang to his mind, and he hastily swallowed down the lump that began to instantly form in his throat. He needed to bring Jake home, that’s what he needed to do. “Do you know the Underground Club?”
Mad Dog nodded his head. “I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. Me and you are gonna pay it a visit, right now, tonight.”
With his eyebrows raised, Mad Dog nodded his head for a second time.
Standing up, Tommy began gathering up his belongings. “No matter what we find there, I need you to keep schtum.” He looked up at the older man. “Can I trust you to do that?”
“Aye, lad, you should already know that.” Mad Dog pressed his lips together. It wasn’t his place to ask what it was they were likely to find. From the expression across Tommy’s face, he already knew it was going to be something bad, something unspeakable. He gathered up his jacket. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
* * *
As usual, the Underground Club was heaving with customers. The red table lamps and cigar smoke gave the room a hazy appearance. Feeling repulsed at the deprivation around him, Tommy entered through the doors, his eyes searching frantically around the room for his son.
“Table for two is it, gents?” Candy C fluttered his long eyelashes. Quickly, he eyed up the two men. They looked as though they had money, and a lot of money at that, and his smile grew even wider at the prospect of a nice little tip at the end of the night.
Leaning into Tommy’s ear, Mad Dog spoke privately, his voice taking on an incredulous tone. “What the fuck are we doing here, lad? Do you even realise what sort of place this is?”
Tommy ignored the question. He gave Candy C a cold stare, doing nothing to hide the disgust he felt. “I’m looking for someone,” he finally answered, when the man made it clear he had no intentions of moving away from their side.
Candy C was all smiles. “And what is it you’re looking for? We accommodate all tastes. Nothing, and I mean nothing,” he said, giving Tommy a knowing wink, “is off limits here.”
The hand that shot out and grabbed Candy C around his throat, knocked him off balance. “I’m looking for my son, you no good fucking bastard. You ever try to imply that I’m like one of these nonces in here again, and I’ll break your fucking neck with my bare hands. Am I making myself understood?”
Landing in a heap on the floor, Candy C rubbed at his throat as he gasped for air. “I didn’t know,” he stuttered, looking up at Tommy, his eyes wide. Wishing now that he’d never approached the two men, he scrambled to his feet and fled as fast as his impossibly high-heeled, thigh length PVC boots allowed him to, toward the safety of the changing rooms.
* * *
“What’s up with you?” Sadie’s eyes were wide. Sat in front of the large mirror, he’d been about to spread a layer of foundation across his cheeks, when Candy C had burst in. “You look like you’ve just seen a bloody ghost.”
“Some nutter out there.” Still rubbing at his neck, Candy C took a seat. “Some fucking nutcase looking for his son. Look at what he’s done to my bloody neck,” he complained, as he moved his head from side to side to study a series of red finger prints either side of his Adams apple in the gilt mirror.
Sadie could feel the blood drain from his face. An ice-cold shiver ran down his spine. “What does he look like?” he asked with baited breath.
Candy C lit a cigarette. “Who, the nutcase?”
“Yes,” Sadie nodded his head.
“Tall, dark haired, good looking.” He blew the smoke out noisily. “I thought me bleeding luck had changed. Looks like he’s got a few bob an’ all.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, to emphasize his point. “Fucking nutter,” he shouted loudly.
Sadie remained silent. So, they had finally come looking for the boy then? He chewed on his lip and looked toward the door, half expecting Tommy Carter to burst in at any moment. “Was he alone?”
“Nah, he had some old geezer with him.” Candy C followed Sadie’s eye-line and looked toward the door. “This place is starting to get dangerous,” he said, stabbing the cigarette in Sadie’s direction.
Once again, Sadie nodded his head. Candy C had no idea of just how much danger they were all in. He knew the Carters, knew Mad Dog Harris, and more importantly, he knew what they were capable of. The little taster that Candy C had been given, was nothing whatsoever compared to the violence Tommy Carter was capable of.
Chapter 9
Wearing a pair of sunglasses, Bethany Johnson sat in her sports car, watching the comings and goings of Tommy’s house. As a red Nissan Micra made its way out of the wrought iron gates, Bethany pushed the glasses up on top of her head, so she co
uld get a better view of the occupant. It was the girl, Tommy’s daughter.
She stared intently toward Karen. Other than her hair, which was a light shade of brown, she was all Carter. Bethany screwed up her face. How she hated the Carters. They had brought her nothing but misery. She watched through her rear-view mirror as the car headed off down the road, and grasping hold of the door handle, she flung it open and climbed out. Walking quickly, she crossed the road and came to stand outside the wrought iron gates.
She looked up at the double fronted house. A snarl was spread across her face and her green eyes filled with jealousy. It should have been her house, not Stacey Carter’s. Tommy should have been her husband. It should have been her waving him off to work each and every morning.
With one last glance at the house, Bethany walked back to her car. It was almost time for the second phase of her plan to be put into place—almost time for Stacey Carter to feel the pain that she herself had lived with all of her adult life. A wicked grin spread its way across her face. She could barely contain her excitement. Oh, Stacey would feel it, all right. She was only sorry that she wouldn’t be there to watch the smug grin wiped off of the other woman’s face.
* * *
“So, are you going to tell me what that was all about yesterday?”
Tommy shook his head. It was unlike him to have a lie in, but feeling mentally drained, he’d awoken late. He jumped out of bed and padded across the bedroom toward the en suite and flicked on the shower.
“Tommy, don’t cut me out, please.”
With a sigh, Tommy placed his hands on the adjacent wall and leaned his weight against the tiles, his head bowed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Stace,” he called out. “I’ve already told you that.”
Sitting up in bed, Stacey frowned. “Was it something to do with our Jake?”
Tommy closed his eyes. He could feel his stomach begin to churn once again. “No.” The lie easily tripped off of his tongue. After a thorough search of the club, he and Mad Dog had reluctantly left empty handed. “It was nothing to do with Jake.”
“Are you still looking for him? It’s been over a week now, Tommy.”
“Of course, I am.” Tommy squeezed his eyes shut tighter, before plastering a smile across his face and walking back into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask me that? You should already know that I won’t stop until I find him.”
He planted a kiss on his wife’s lips and returned to the bathroom. The smile slipped from his face. It was true he wouldn’t stop, now that he knew exactly what it was his son was involved in. He wouldn’t stop, until he’d brought Jake home and then destroyed everything and everyone involved in his son’s downfall.
* * *
Karen’s stomach was churning as she parked her car outside Jack’s house. She’d already spotted his car as she turned into the tree-lined avenue where he lived, and so knew with a certainty that he was home. With a final glance at her appearance in the rear-view mirror, she pinched her cheeks to give them a rosy glow and opened the car door.
Dressed in a short black dress teemed with a cropped denim jacket, she knew she looked good. Her long legs were bare and tanned, and she had sprayed just the right amount of perfume on her wrists.
Taking a deep breath, Karen walked down the path. She paused before knocking on the door, giving herself a few moments to compose her thoughts. Finally, she was ready, and after exhaling loudly, she rapped the brass knocker.
After an age, the door was opened. Unable to read his expression, Karen gave a wide smile and her heart beat wildly at the sight of him standing before her. “I …” Nerves began to get the better of her, and her voice faltered. “I waited a week,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’ve given you space. What’s going on, Jack?”
“Go home, Karen,” he sighed.
Stunned, Karen’s mouth fell open. “No,” she said, her voice beginning to rise. “I deserve more of an explanation than that.” She stood with her hands on her hips, as her inherited Carter attitude came to the fore. She pushed past him and walked through to the lounge. Spinning around, she faced him. “You can’t just cut me out of your life like this without at least giving me some idea of what I did wrong. Am I supposed to just accept that it’s over between us?” she implored.
“Yes.” He turned his head away, not wanting to look at her.
Her eyes narrowed. Karen moved toward him. “It was my dad, wasn’t it? He said or did something to you?” she asked, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m not scared of him, Jack. He’ll just have to accept that we’re together, and if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose me.”
When he remained silent, Karen looked around her. She glanced down at the dining table. A scrap of paper had been left on the wooden surface with the words, Unit nine, Calcutta Road, Tilbury, scrawled across it.
His hand reached out and snatching up the piece of paper he shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, then turned his back to her once again. “Your dad did nothing.”
“Then I don’t understand.” Karen threw up her arms. “Why did you stop contacting me? What are you so afraid of, Jack?
“Your uncle.”
“My uncle?” Karen raised her eyebrows. “My Uncle Jimmy?” She gave a little laugh. Surely not; surely it couldn’t have been her Uncle Jimmy. He was lovely, kind-hearted. Too nice for his own good, she’d heard her dad say about her uncle, on more than one occasion.
He shook his head.
Karen’s forehead furrowed. “Then which one?” she asked. With five uncles on her father’s side alone, it could have been any one of them.
Again, he remained silent.
“Tell me which one, Jack. Which one threatened you?”
“My name isn’t Jack, it’s Cameron.” He turned his face toward her and looked her in the eyes, watching her reaction closely. “And nobody has threatened me.”
“What?” Karen’s eyes widened. “What do you mean your name is Cameron? You told me your name was Jack. I don’t understand.” She shook her head at this new revelation.
Cameron took a step forward. “Your Uncle Gary.”
“What about him? My Uncle Gary and my dad don’t even get on. If it was him who threatened you, then I’ll just tell my dad to have a word with him, and …”
“Nobody threatened me, Kal. I’ve already told you that.” He cut her off, giving a little shake of his head and sighed. “Your Uncle Gary,” he paused trying to find the right words. “He’s … he’s my dad.”
“No.” Karen gave a high-pitched laugh. “Don’t be so ridiculous. My uncle doesn’t have any children.” Her mind began to race. She could recall her uncle’s ramblings about having a son, but she’d always assumed it was just talk, his deluded mind playing tricks on him.
“Yes, he does. I’m the Carter family’s best kept secret, apparently.”
“No.” She slapped her hand across her mouth as realisation took hold. “That would make us … and you’ve known all along.” She gasped as tears sprang to her eyes. “All this time, you knew,” she pointed her finger toward him. “All this time, you knew we were …” She screwed up her face and began to back away from him. “… Cousins?”
Shamefaced, Cameron looked to the floor. “I didn’t want to do it, Kal. They made me; it was all their idea.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her toward him. He had to make her understand. “That’s the truth, honest. The last thing I ever wanted to do, was hurt anyone, especially you,” he said, lowering his voice.
Struggling to break free, Karen sped out of the room. Blinded by her tears, she fumbled to open the front door. “Stay away from me,” she warned as she ran down the path toward her car. “Just stay the hell away from me.”
* * *
Bringing her car to a halt on the gravelled driveway, Karen climbed out. She placed her hands on the open door and looked up at her childhood home. Everything made sense to her now. Her dad must have found out about Jack, Cameron, or whatever he called himself, being Gary’s son.
No wonder he’d forbidden her to see him again.
She wiped her fingertips underneath her eyes, smearing away dark smudges of mascara, and with a forced smile across her face, she walked toward the house.
Before she could even take her key out of her handbag, the door opened, and her father stepped out.
“You okay, darling?” Tommy asked, not expecting an answer from his daughter.
Much to his surprise, Karen jumped into his arms. She snuggled in close, savouring the familiar scent of his cologne; it was somewhat comforting. “I’m so sorry, Dad,” she said, burying her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry for being such a cow bag to you.”
“Hey, what’s all this?” Tommy gently lifted his daughter’s face up toward him.
“I’ve been such a bitch,” she sniffed. “The things I’ve said to you.” She felt ashamed of herself and let out a strangled sob. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, come here,” Tommy said, noting her red-rimmed eyes. “There’s no need to apologise, you should already know that. There is nothing you could ever do or say that I would not forgive.” He pulled her closer and narrowed his eyes. “Now what’s with all the tears, eh? Has someone hurt you?”
She shook her head vehemently. How could she even utter the words out loud? How could she tell her father about the way Jack had duped her? How, like a fool, she’d believed what they’d had was real. “It’s nothing, Daddy. I just wanted you to know that I love you.”
“And I love you, too, baby girl.” He gave her a wide smile and watched with a light heart as she went inside the house, before making his own way across the driveway to his car.
* * *
“Tommy,” Stacey called out at hearing the front door close.