by Shaun Baines
The man pushed a pile of chips onto red. “Bet the house, my man. Bet the house.” His voice was thick with alcohol and he wore the sloppy grin of a drunk.
“Too rich for my blood,” Hilltop said, placing a single blue chip on the first twelve, though experience told him his conservatism wouldn’t last.
“I know what I’m talking about.” The man went to tap the side of his nose and missed. “The Daytons? The people who own this place? They’re going down. They won’t last another week.”
The next day, he called in sick, expecting someone to look for him. It was the first holiday he’d taken since Eisha was admitted. He was exhausted, but couldn’t rest. He sat in the hallway on a chair he’d dragged from the kitchen and waited for a knock on his door that never came.
Day turned into night and he paid a secret visit to Eisha. If the rumours were true, then he couldn’t allow this little girl to pay for his mistakes. Hilltop lowered the dosage on the medication and started a private record of her treatment. He’d use it as evidence in his defence, though he doubted it would protect his medical license. His best hope was to show that despite his crimes, he was still a professional.
When news of Ed Dayton’s death reached him, he knew he had been saved. He was free to be the doctor he had trained to be all those years ago, but he had to be careful. The Ward Sister was like a terrier when things looked wrong. Eisha needed to be weaned off the drugs, but he’d have to do it secretly.
For now, his most important task was to avoid Daniel Dayton, whose presence at the hospital was both a surprise and a worry. He remembered him from Eisha’s birth. Even as a young man, Daniel had scared him. It wasn’t just his temper that was unnerving. Training as a doctor, Hilltop had dissected many cadavers, but Daniel was the only person he knew who could cut a man open simply by looking at him. Hilltop’s guilt was written on his face and Daniel would recognise it instantly.
The muscles in his body stiffened. He’d have to keep moving or he’d never get off this garden bench. It was time for action.
He replenished the petrol in his chainsaw. Checking the chain was tight around the guide bar, he primed the pump. Hilltop pulled the starter and it started first time. He smiled to himself. His luck was changing for the better already.
Hilltop sawed through the lower branches, peppering himself in sweet smelling wood shavings. He wondered what his grandchild looked like. Did he have Brandon’s strong nose? His shaggy hair? He hoped to see a little of his wife in there too, as he did when he saw hurt in Brandon’s eyes.
He didn’t hear the squeak of his garden gate as it opened behind him and although Daniel’s approaching footsteps were heavy, the sound of the chainsaw drowned them out. Hilltop was oblivious until it was too late.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Standing on one leg, Bronson discreetly polished his shoe on the back of his trousers. He had spent the morning buffing them to a high shine, but after Scott ordered him to make a sweep of the garden, they were dirty again. He smoothed down his suit and sipped his lager, attempting to relax. This wasn’t the time to embarrass himself.
Five Oaks was filled with the clink of champagne flutes and music from a string quartet in the corner. No-one had told them they were seated on the site where Ed had crashed to his death. His body was still at the mortuary so Scott had organised a memorial. The hall housed top ranking criminals from all over the country. Mo Curley and Mr and Mrs Maguire huddled in a group of their own. The Glasgow contingent was represented by Smally and his Uncle Pete Joley. They had brought their mistresses in place of their wives and Bronson wondered if they were here to pay their respects or for the party. There were a few members of the Elephant boys, a large criminal fraternity from South London and several men and women from Liverpool.
Where other teenagers had grown up worshiping footballers or film stars, Bronson admired the people in this room. Like him, they had come from nothing, but by optimising their talent for violence, they had become living legends. One day, he hoped to himself. One day.
Smally caught Bronson staring at him. He whispered into his mistresses’ ear and she giggled, looking over her shoulder. Slapping her on the arse, Smally excused himself and approached.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Washington,” Bronson said, offering his hand. “Can I help you with anything?”
Smally looked down at Bronson’s out stretched hand while stuffing his own into his pocket. “Where are the toilets?” he asked.
Bronson pointed to a door and watched him waddle away.
“Don’t mind him, Charlie. He’s a prick.” Liz was at his side. She wore a shimmering silk dress with a matching scarf. He tried to ignore the way her clothes clung to her figure. She twirled an empty champagne flute by the stem.
“Can I get you another, Mrs Dayton?” he asked.
“I’m capable of getting my own booze and how many times do I have to tell you? It’s Liz.”
Bronson smiled awkwardly. Smally left the toilets, dusting away the tell-tale signs of cocaine from his nose and headed in their direction. He grinned at Liz, his fat cheeks wobbling as he leered at her body. “And how’s the beautiful widow?” he asked. “Not too sad, I hope. There’s plenty of ways I can cheer you up.”
She pushed her glass under his chins and forced him to look her in the eye. “Do they call you Smally because you’re short or because you have a tiny dick?”
Bronson snickered, trying to hide his laughter and a red faced Smally shot him a hard stare. “I think I will shake your hand now,” he said, grabbing Bronson’s. “I didn’t wash after taking a shit, but that won’t bother you, will it?”
Smally gave him a wink before returning to his date, who was already flirting with his uncle.
“When did drug dealers and pimps have such an inflated sense of their own worth?” Liz asked. “People like that have no respect. This is Ed’s funeral, for God’s sake.”
Suddenly, she was crying and Bronson pulled her into an embrace. She was taller than him and he was aware how close his face was to her breasts. He smelled her floral perfume. Her body trembled in grief and her arm snaked around his broad back to hold him closer. He moved away, handing her a handkerchief.
Ma Dayton stepped in between them, appearing in a puff of cigarette smoke.
“Apparently, our Scott is going to make an announcement.”
As she spoke, the music stopped and the eyes of the guests looked up at the second floor where the Office door opened. Scott and Monica walked out, arm in arm. He was dressed in a slim fitting dinner suit while Monica wore a sparkling gown of white that floated around her ankles. They descended the stairs, smiling and waving at the guests.
The atmosphere in the room changed. The mouths of the guests hung open. They were statues, like the marble ones Ed used to decorate the hall.
Scott stopped halfway down the stairs and placed a gentle kiss on Monica’s cheek.
“What are they bloody playing at?” Ma Dayton asked.
Liz tapped her finger against her glass while Ma Dayton puffed on her cigarette. They were acting like royalty, Bronson thought. Worse than that, they were acting like a couple. It was beyond disrespectful. It was an insult to a man who had yet to be buried.
Leaning into him for support, Liz’s eyes were transfixed on the drama playing out on the stairs.
Scott raised his hands, as if he were halting applause, though the room was bewildered into silence. He smiled and turned to Monica, who cleared her throat.
“Thank you for joining us on this sad occasion. I’m sure Ed would have been touched by your attendance.”
“As you know, these have been difficult times for the Daytons,” Scott said, “but we will rise above it. I can assure all our friends and business partners, our troubles are over. My father was a great man and will be missed by us all, but I’m in charge now. I have brokered a deal between ourselves and the crew that have supposedly been targeting us. By this time tomorrow, the Daytons will be back in power.”
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There was a ripple of applause, but it was less than heartfelt. Looking at the guests, Bronson saw disappointment, anger and jealousy. Some guests looked perturbed and others were uncomfortable, but they were all trying to work out how this affected their bottom line.
“What is he playing at?” asked Ma Dayton. She looked at Liz, but neither she nor Bronson had an answer.
Scott waved the clapping crowd quiet again. “And there’s more good news. This is a new beginning for all of us. As a celebration of that, I want to announce that Monica and I are getting married.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the whole room.
“You can’t,” shouted Liz.
“And we’re having a baby,” Scott continued. “As you can see, I am every bit of the man my father used to be. I have his power, his wealth and his wife. I don’t want your condolences and I don’t need your blessing. But I will have your respect.”
“It’s a disgrace,” Ma Dayton said, pushing through the crowd. “It’s incest. You’re disgusting. The pair of you. My son died not ten feet from where you’re standing.”
Monica clasped her hands together, a smile frozen on her face. “I’m so glad you could be here.”
“Shut up, Nanna,” Scott said, “and stop smoking in my fucking house.”
Spitting her cigarette to the floor, Ma Dayton waved her fists. “If my Ed were alive today, he’d tear you two to pieces. How dare you trash his good name? There was always something wrong with you, Scott. And you,” she shouted, steering her attention to Monica. “You’re nothing but a money grabbing hussy.”
All eyes were on Ma Dayton, except for Bronson’s. His were on Daniel as he entered the hall carrying a plastic bag. He walked calmly through the crowd and found a space at its centre. Bronson’s instinct was to rush forward, to stop Daniel doing whatever it was he’d come here to do, but his feet were like lead.
And if Daniel was here to kill his brother, Bronson wasn’t sure he wanted to stop him anyway.
“It was Scott. It was Scott,” Liz repeated in a whisper.
Ma Dayton lit another cigarette. “Is this how you grieve, lad? Is this how you repay your father for his sacrifices? Mark my words. The devil will come for you one day.”
Daniel launched the bag into the air. Scott and Monica saw it first, ducking as it sailed above their heads, landing behind them on the stairs. Ma Dayton stopped shouting to watch the bag bounce down the stairs, trundling by the happy couples’ legs before it spilled its contents on the floor. A bloody head rolled free, resting at Ma Dayton’s feet. The milky, lifeless eyes of Dr Hilltop looked at the crowd, his face contorted in a final scream.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The crowd ran for the exits. There were cries and screams. People fell under one another’s shoes, unheeded and trampled on by the desperate. Bronson elbowed his way through, leading Liz by the hand. She stumbled, toppling off her high heels. He swept her up before she sank and carried her to the main doors. “Get out of here,” he said. “Don’t come back.”
Liz ran down the steps, fumbling in her handbag for her car keys. Bronson fought to get back into the hall. It was harder going against the tide. Using his shoulders, he barged his way in.
Ma Dayton stood screaming, her arms pressed to her side, attempting to make herself a smaller target. Outside, car engines fired into life. Launching into the churning crowd, Bronson grappled his way forward, pulling Ma Dayton to safety. He held her tightly as he looked at the main doors. They were blocked by people clambering over one another. He saw Smally inching his bulk to freedom. There was no sign of his date.
He dragged Ma Dayton toward the throng, kicking and punching anyone in his way. Mr and Mrs Maguire scrambled ahead of him. He reached out and used Mr Maguire’s shirt collar to yank him backwards and onto the floor. Mrs Maguire was too focused on her own escape to notice. Bronson used her as a battering ram and broke through the jam at the door. They all fell forward until they were free and tasted fresh air.
Bronson and Ma Dayton hurried down the outside steps. Liz was trapped in a bottle neck of cars and he marched the elderly woman to the passenger side of her car.
“Can you take her home?” he asked, opening the door.
Ma Dayton was white with shock. She didn’t even have a cigarette in her mouth. He threw her into the car and slammed the door behind her, running back into the hall.
The guests were gone. Scott and Monica were frozen on the staircase. Daniel prowled the hall, his eyes fixed on theirs, his muscles bunched and primed for attack. He looked rabid and Bronson knew whatever happened next, he couldn’t take Daniel down on his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw No Neck approaching softly. A cowering Noodles used a statue for cover.
The head of Dr Hilltop lay where it fell, the flesh of his neck wound dry and grey.
Monica ran her hands through her hair, her eyes wide and manic. “What have you done?”
Daniel stopped pacing the floor and looked at her. “Why don’t you ask your fiancé?”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Bronson.
All eyes were on Scott. His conviviality had left with the fleeing crowd. His face was as still as ice, a cruel sneer on his lips. He pulled on his tie, leaving it to hang loose over a crisp white shirt.
“Poor Dr Hilltop. So close to retirement,” he said.
Scott stepped down the staircase, standing in front of his brother. He shrugged off his jacket and let it slip to the floor. It fell over Hilltop’s dismembered head and hid its anguish from view. Tugging out his gold cufflinks, he threw them to one side and rolled up his sleeves. Daniel raised his fists and Bronson swallowed hard. No Neck stepped back.
“For the record, I was against you coming back at all,” Scott said. They circled each other, two Titans ready to clash. “But there’s nothing like a good, old fashioned tragedy to bring a family together.”
“Did you do it?” Daniel asked, lowering his guard.
“It’s what Dad wanted and what Dad wanted, I made sure he got.”
“And they call me the idiot? There was one thing he wanted above all else, but I wouldn’t give it to him.”
Scott paused, a quizzical look on his face and waited for an explanation.
“I never told you why I left, did I?” Daniel said.
Bronson’s heart clenched like a fist in his chest. What the hell was going on?
Daniel met everyone’s gaze. His fury crackled off him like static, but there was a sadness in the lines around his eyes. No, not sadness, thought Bronson. Resignation, as if the secret he’d hoped to keep was being forced into the open.
“I know why,” Scott said, opening his arms to the room. “We all know why. You’re a coward and cowards have no place calling themselves a Dayton.”
He took a step forward, crushing a champagne glass under his foot.
Daniel allowed him to get as close as he dared and pointed a finger at his brother. “I left because Dad wanted you dead. He wanted me to kill you and take over the family when he was gone.”
Scott’s eyes tightened and what little blood was in his face drained away. “You’re lying.”
Daniel shook his head. “We had it all. The money. The infamy. Why would I walk away from that? It was because of you. He made you as indifferent to human suffering as the fucking moon. I’ve done my fair share of evil, but he went too far with you. You were his atom bomb, something that couldn’t be stopped once it exploded.”
“And you were his favourite?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t care. He saw something else in me,” Daniel said. “Someone who could manipulate people in ways he never could with us.”
The blood in Bronson’s ears thudded loudly. He was dizzy. He glanced at the spot where he’d found Ed’s destroyed body, his organs spilling onto the floor, steam rising as they cooled in the air. He remembered his sorrow and desolation. His world spun out of control and it was happening again right where it had happened before. The ground was shaki
ng beneath him. Lifting his fingers to his cheek, it twitched and went still.
Scott took another step closer to Daniel and gave a hollow laugh. “Now I understand why you’re spinning these lies. Dad’s dead and you want to step into his shoes, is that it? I’m not good enough.”
Daniel looked away and Bronson saw he’d made a mistake. Scott swung an almighty fist. There was a sound like someone striking a timpani drum and Daniel was lifted off his feet. Bronson and No Neck rushed forward and pinned Daniel where he fell.
“I know he loved you more,” Scott said. “It didn’t matter you were thicker than shit as long as you had your gift. I was glad when you left. Finally, I’d have him all to himself. I could prove myself.”
“Our whole lives were leading up to that point, Scott. Like we were graduating from gladiator school. He only wanted the strongest. If I managed to kill you, he’d made the right decision. If you killed me, then he’d been wrong and you were the right man for the job. He’d sacrifice a son simply to ensure his empire survived. I had to disappear, don’t you see? He would never have left us alone. One of us had to go.”
Jesus Christ, thought Bronson. He’s telling the truth. About all of it. Releasing his hold, he sat back on his heels and searched Daniel’s face. No Neck held firm, looking at him in panic, but Bronson didn’t care. He was watching the destruction of a world he believed in. The family he served, the men he loved, were nothing but animals.
Daniel lay on the floor, looking up at his brother. “You brought me here, Scott. You’re going to pay for what you did to my daughter.”
“Who’s going to make me do that? You?” Scott asked through a sneer before turning to Bronson. “Get him upstairs.”
The twitch in his cheek jerked rapidly, returning to its irregular beat while its owner remained stationery. “What did he do to Eisha?”