by Shaun Baines
Mosley stumbled forward. “I’m sorry, boss. It’s exactly the same at The Glitterball. No-one saw a thing. It’s like he wasn’t there. He didn’t speak to anyone and no-one spoke to him, except Scalper.”
Ed leaned forward. “And we all know what happened to him, don’t we?”
Casting his eyes to the floor, Mosely continued. “I went through the CCTV footage at the entrance. He stayed out of sight the whole time, but the rest of his gang weren’t so smart.”
He reached into his jacket, but instead of his favourite pink pills, he pulled out a sheaf of photographs and placed them in front of Ed. They were black and white and grainy, but Scalper’s assailants were clearly visible. He adjusted his jacket while he waited for a response.
Ed studied the images, his heart quickening. Finally, they had something to go on. He only had to find one of these men. After an hour in his secret room downstairs, they’d know everything they needed to about Fairbanks – location, weaknesses, inside fucking leg measurement. And then it would be Fairbanks’ turn in the wine cellar.
He smiled and Mosely’s face lit up. His desperation sickened Ed and he threw the photographs at him. Mosely scrambled to catch them, but they fluttered to the floor.
“They’re no good sitting on my desk,” Ed said. “Get them to the boys. I want those scumbags found.”
Mosely dropped to his hands and knees, stuffing the pictures into his jacket.
The fourth man in the room was Walter ‘Noodles’ Reeceman. He was as old as Ed, though the years were less kind. He had a stooped gait and his rounded shoulders looked like the carapace of a beetle. His skin was so pale, it was tinged blue and his long thin fingers twitched constantly. Wherever he went, he carried a battered leather briefcase he never opened in company.
Noodles thought his nickname came from the gangster played by Robert De Niro in Once Upon a Time in America. It confused him because he wasn’t a gangster. He was a barrister acting under the name Reeceman and Co. and working solely for the Dayton family. He advised on business matters and potential grey areas of the law, but the truth was no-one knew where his nickname came from. No-one really cared.
“What about you?” Ed asked, pointing his finger at Noodles. “You must have found something under those rocks you inhabit?”
Noodles gave him a thin lipped smile. “Following all we have found out here today, I have additional facts that might have a bearing on our current situation.”
Ed and Scott rolled their eyes while the barrister cleared his throat. “Firstly, I spoke to Liam Kircher, who hired Fairbanks to man the doors at Glitterball. He claims to have never met him and hired him purely on the strength of his CV, which he had received one month previously. This wouldn’t be his usual practice, but following a spate of resignations at Door to Door Securities Ltd, he was short staffed and needed individuals asap.”
“How long have we been short staffed?” Scott asked.
“I don’t deal with human resources,” said Noodles, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s my conclusion that Fairbanks threatened door staff into leaving to guarantee a place on the rota. Given he was smart enough to avoid the extensive security system at said club, I believe he was also smart enough to orchestrate such a manoeuvre.”
Ed rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand and sighed. “He’s had us under surveillance. Working in the shadows. Waiting for the right moment to strike and in all that time, we had no idea there was a bomb waiting to go off.”
Scott got to his feet. “We’re the fucking Daytons. He can’t do this to us.”
The room was silent in response. Ed avoided the glare in his son’s eyes while Noodles clicked his fingers together. With no-one willing to agree with him, Scott sat back down.
“I also spoke to DC Spencer,” Noodles said. “He didn’t want to talk at first. He’s intent on pursuing the ‘fresh start’ you granted him, Mr Dayton. Eventually, he informed me of a break in at the mortuary of Queen Anne’s Hospital. Someone took the fingers from the corpse of a homeless woman. There are no leads, but it is likely that these were the very same digits that made their way into the buffet at The Amen Corner.”
Ed slapped his hand on the desk. “But, why? I get that he’d want to make me look like a dick, but why do something like that?”
“Perhaps he was showing you how close he could get, like the attack on Scalper,” Noodles said.
“Maybe he was just showing us how clever he is,” added Scott.
Noodles adjusted his shirt sleeves again, tugging more firmly than before. “It’s more likely he wanted to use the rumour mill against you. The fastest way to undermine authority is to damage a reputation. Once they begin, it’s like King Canute trying to hold back the tide.”
“What if this isn’t about us?” Scott asked. “What if it’s about Daniel? It was his party. His daughter is in hospital.”
Ed paced behind his desk, lost in a jumble of his thoughts. Fairbanks was mounting a clever campaign and had been for a while, right under their noses. He should be angry, but what alarmed him was that he wasn’t angry enough. There was a bottle of whisky in his desk drawer, but decided to wait until his men had left. He was at sea, bobbing in the middle of the ocean with something unknown swimming beneath and it unnerved him. Whisky couldn’t help him with that.
His men wanted a leader, a strong arm to steer them into conflict. Scott in particular ached for war. He always did, but this wasn’t Scott’s kind of problem. It wasn’t a doorstep shooting or back alley beating or any of the things his son excelled at. This required someone whose violence was measured and targeted; someone more like him.
He stopped pacing, fixing his men with a steely glare. “We have to find Daniel,” he said.
Scott jumped from the sofa. “I can deal with this.”
“You heard what I said, Scott.”
Picking up his briefcase, Noodles placed a hand on Scott’s arm. “Your father is correct. Daniel was always more calculated in his response with these types of things.”
Snatching his briefcase, Scott whacked it across the lawyer’s head, sending him sprawling. He emptied the contents over him as Noodles scrambled to his feet. Two apples and a sandwich fell out. Mosely sniggered, but fell quiet under Scott’s glare.
As his other son stormed out, Ed wondered where Daniel was hiding.
Chapter Nine
Daniel lay low behind a laurel bush at the side of the driveway. It had been his favourite place when playing hide and seek with his brother. There were scores of hiding places at Five Oaks, but for some reason, Scott never checked the most obvious. When his brother gave up his search, Daniel would linger and watch the birds flutter in and out of the laurel.
He was bigger now and his hiding place wasn’t as convenient. Leaves crunched under his feet as he searched for a more comfortable position. There was a string of cars parked outside his former home. Something was going on and he didn’t dare make his move while the house was so heavily occupied. Two hours passed before Mosely appeared through the front doors, his hand rummaging inside his jacket. He popped something in his mouth and climbed into his silver BMW 4 Series. The tyres sprayed gravel behind him as he sped down the driveway to his next meeting. A white faced Noodles appeared, climbing carefully into his BMW 5 Series. He didn’t start the engine for several minutes. When he did, he drove purposely to the exit. Scott’s military grade Hummer H1 Wagon sat idle. Daniel guessed he’d be next to appear, but after twenty minutes, he didn’t show.
Daniel shook the cramp from of his legs. It was time, he thought and crawled closer to the house.
There were two sentry guards posted by the entrance. He recognised one as Bronson. The other was called Bear, an overweight ex wrestler known for breaking people’s toes for fun. They were dangerous men. Bronson in particular never backed down in a fight. Daniel prepared to rush them, thinking the element of surprise might count for something when Monica stepped outside. He smiled instantly. She was exactly how he reme
mbered her and he half raised his hand to get her attention before forcing it into his pocket. She wore a golden summer dress, patterned with poppies and leaned into Bronson and Bear as she spoke.
Daniel couldn’t hear what she said, but they left their posts and walked down the driveway toward him. He dropped out of sight and held his breath. Their crunching footsteps grew louder as they approached.
“I wonder how much the poor cow knows,” Bear said.
“Best if she’s kept out of it. She doesn’t need to know about Fairbanks. It’s enough to give anyone nightmares.”
And then they passed, presumably off to patrol the fence line at Monica’s request.
Spencer had been telling the truth. The Daytons were in trouble. He’d presumed his father’s search for him was fuelled by anger over their last meeting, but now it smacked of desperation. He picked a fallen leaf from the ground and crushed it in his fist. He’d find out everything soon enough.
He watched Monica skip to the jetty by the lake. The water was grey and choppy, the waves whipped by a wind turning them to froth, but she didn’t appear to feel the cold. She had her back to him, her dress dancing around her legs and seemed content to watch the water. Daniel doubted she knew how many bodies were under the surface.
There was movement from the house and Scott emerged, following Monica’s path to the lake. He took her into his arms. His shoulders quaked. He looked to be crying. They stayed in the clinch until Scott’s hands slowly snaked around the small of Monica’s back, his fingertips massaging her buttocks. Something was said and Monica twisted out of Scott’s grip. Her fists were clenched and Scott wiped his eyes clear. He watched her flee back to the house, his shoulders slumped. A sudden wind tore at his clothing and Scott turned to the lake, hands jammed in his pockets. Daniel wanted to see if he would throw himself in, but he didn’t have time.
Keeping low and out of sight of the cameras, Daniel ran to the house. He leapt up the front steps and skidded to a halt in the great hall, the first room that greeted his father’s guests at Five Oaks. A spiralling oak staircase curled to the second floor and a labyrinth of rooms and corridors beyond. It had been built from a tree in the grounds felled by a lightning strike. There were marble statues of nymphs and goddesses and oil paintings of kings and princes. A five foot wide crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, cleaned annually by specialist contractors so friends could admire its sparkle on every visit.
Monica sat on the first step of the stairway, hugging the newel post for comfort. Her mouth dropped when he entered and she got to her feet. Leaving the stairs, Monica jogged toward him, smiling the way she had when she had announced her engagement to his father. Daniel placed his hands on her shoulders, spinning her violently around and clamped a hand over her mouth. She stamped on his foot, sending pain up his leg and he fought to control her. Writhing and kicking, she clawed at his arm.
“Stop struggling,” he whispered in her ear.
But Monica wouldn’t. She slammed the back of her head into his chest. She pushed one way and pulled another, drawing from an endless well of energy. How long would it take Bronson and Bear to complete their inspection of the grounds? He dragged her to the front doors and kicked them shut. Releasing her, he locked them inside.
Monica spun on her heels, anger in her face, then confusion, then hurt. Monica slapped him hard. He lurched and she rushed at him, wrapping him in her arms and burying her head in his chest. He gently pulled her from him, wishing the embrace could last. When her open smile was met by his hard stare, she lowered her head.
“All I have to do is scream,” she said.
“I hope you don’t.”
She looked up the staircase to the second floor. “If you’re here to hurt your Dad, I will. I swear it. They’ll get you before you get anywhere near him.”
“You still love him?”
Monica nodded. “Ever since he came into the restaurant.”
It was her first night as a waitress in Ed’s new restaurant called Spaced. His father was unusually drunk and demanding, shouting at the staff so that they became too afraid to serve him. Monica, her hands shaking with nerves, brought out his first dish, accidentally spilling it on his lap. Ed erupted in a drunken fury, firing her instantly and threatening much worse. Daniel led Monica into the kitchen and told her to remain there while he calmed his father down. He was amazed when she came marching back out with a glass of white wine and threw it into Ed’s lap.
“That’s to take the stain out of your trousers, you knob,” she said.
Daniel laughed while his father fumed, leading him away before Ed could do any more damage, but Monica kept her job and received a bouquet of spring flowers the next day. She received many more after that and Ed spent more time and money in that restaurant than he ever saw as profit.
Seeing Monica for the first time in nine months, Daniel recounted a thousand tender memories.
“I need you to get out,” he said, but Monica stood her ground, her face set like stone. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want to be caught either.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“There was a time you would have done exactly the same.”
“A lot of things seem to have changed since then. What were you doing by the lake with Scott?”
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her face flushing with shame. “You don’t know anything.”
Monica broke into a run for the staircase. Daniel pursued, catching her easily. He lifted her off the floor, carrying her on his hip while his hand covered her mouth again. Opening the door to a large storage cupboard, he threw her inside. She slid along the floor and came to a rest at the far end. Monica opened her mouth to scream. Daniel slammed the door shut, barricading it with a statue of the goddess Athena.
He felt bad, but he had a plan and he intended on fulfilling it.
Daniel took the stairs two at a time. He knew where to go. Everyone called it the Office and no-one stepped inside without an invitation. But the Office was more than a room. It was the centre of a spider’s web whose strands spanned the globe. Engineered over decades, Daniel’s father had placed himself in the middle of a criminal enterprise that included thousands of players.
The door was covered in padded, black leather with studs arranged in a diamond formation. As heavy as it was, it opened easily on well-oiled hinges and Daniel slipped inside.
Ed sat behind his desk, his head in his hands. Although he was handsome, worry had aged him. It brought Daniel no comfort to see how low his father had sunk, but neither did he feel any sympathy.
Sensing a change in the room, Ed lifted his head and Daniel absorbed the information emanating from his father. Reddening of skin. Raised chin. Arched eyebrows. Relaxed jaw. Open posture. He saw the shock and the relief, but he was surprised to notice how much his father still loved him.
Standing from his desk, Ed opened his arms. “You’re back,” he said with a wide grin.
In four large bounds, Daniel covered the distance from the door to his father, drawing out a Heckler and Koch VP70 gun from his inside pocket. It was a gun he had taken to Scotland; a gun he had kept for the sole purpose of killing his father should the need ever arise.
He levelled it at Ed’s forehead. “Who hurt my daughter?”
Chapter Ten
Standing on the shores of the River Tyne, Fairbanks cast another line into the slow moving current of an eddy. He had insisted on renting a warehouse in the town of Wylam so he could fish in peace. It was eight miles west of Newcastle, close enough for his raids on the Dayton empire, far enough away for some perspective. The sun was high, warming his pale skin and catching the ripples in the water. Trees lined the shore. The sound of the nearby motorway was masked by the flowing of the river. He was isolated and it calmed him down.
His red and white float bobbed merrily, but the bait underneath went unnoticed. He wound in his line and cast a little further out. He heard the snap of twigs behind him and he was joined
by an elderly dog walker and his Labrador.
“Nice cast,” the old man said. He was balding with a protruding nose and large ears. When he smiled, his teeth were straight and white. Fairbanks assumed they were dentures. He stood by Fairbank’s side, his dog sitting obediently by his and admired the two perch lying dead on the ground.
“Looks like they’re biting today, son.”
Fairbanks nodded, but kept his eyes on the float. “Would you like to take them? I don’t really like fish.”
The old man scooped them up with a groan, stuffing them into the pockets of his wax jacket. “Why are you fishing then if you don’t like fish?”
“I like knowing that because of me something is dead.” He glanced at the shocked expression on the man’s face. “I like your dog though. What’s he called?”
“It’s my daughter’s dog,” the old man said by way of an answer, taking a step back.
The float was almost out of sight when Fairbanks reeled it in. “I wasn’t allowed a dog when I was young. My father was a drunk. He would drink bottles of beer all day and spend the evening throwing them at me.”
“That’s an awful way to grow up.”
Fairbanks shrugged, pulling his line out of the water and lying his rod on the shore. “I left when I was ten. Took my books and as many sandwiches as I could carry. I thought life on the streets had to be better than a life ducking behind sofas. And in a weird way, it was. Even when the paedophiles got me.”
The old man dropped the perch back on the ground. “I’m sorry to hear that. I really am. I better be going, though. It doesn’t seem right for me to take these. Look after yourself, son.”
Fairbanks produced a fish knife, plunging it into the belly of the perch. The old man watched as he slit it open and reached inside for its guts, tugging them free. He offered them to the Labrador who sniffed them and gulped them down in two hungry bites.
“You didn’t tell me the name of your dog,” he said, as the animal licked his fingers clean.