Fight Back

by Anna Smith

  The door opened and one of the security guards stood there, his hair wet from the rain. He was holding an envelope in his hand.

  ‘Sorry, Kerry. This was pushed through the door of the gatehouse. Don’t know who did it, because the bell was rung and the person must have run away. But we’ll be able to see them on CCTV. I’ve got the boys looking at it now.’ He handed her the envelope, a little wet at the edges.

  ‘Thanks, Jim.’ She took it from him, and he turned and left.

  Kerry went across to the table and ripped open the pale cream envelope which was addressed to her. She pulled out a sheet of writing paper and read the scrawl.

  ‘I can help find the boy who has been kidnapped.’

  That was all. No name. Just a mobile phone number. Kerry didn’t know what to think, whether it was some kind of hoax, and why deliver the note to her address and not Marty or Joe Kane’s? Before she could stop herself she was punching in the number. A woman’s voice answered after three rings.

  ‘Hello?’ Kerry said.

  No answer.

  ‘This is Kerry Casey. This number was on a note pushed through my door. Who is this?’

  Silence.

  ‘Who is it? What’s going on? If you can help us find out where Finbar is, speak to me, for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘I think I can help.’ The voice was soft, sounded nervous.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I think I saw him being taken from a place last night. He was covered in a blanket.’

  Kerry’s gut was telling her this was some nutter.

  ‘What makes you think that a boy in a blanket being carried is Finbar Kane?’

  ‘Because I think I know someone who’s involved.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My . . . My boyfriend. He doesn’t know I saw this. I followed him. He’d kill me if he knew I was doing this.’

  Kerry’s mind was a blur. She had to keep this woman on the phone. She had to see her.

  ‘Can I meet you? Any time? Tonight if you want? Now?’

  ‘I don’t want cops. If this is the kidnapped boy, then I could get murdered for doing this.’

  ‘I’ll protect you. If you have information that is solid we need to act now. Where are you? I’ll come and meet you.’

  ‘I’m scared now.’

  Kerry had to keep her calm.

  ‘Listen. You came here and put the note through my door. You obviously want to help. You must be as disgusted and shocked as we all are by this kidnapping.’

  ‘I’ve got two weans. I’d die if something like this happened.’

  ‘Why give the note to me?’ Kerry asked. ‘Why not Marty Kane’s house, or office, or his son’s address?’

  ‘I was scared in case there were polis there. Maybe someone watching. I read in the paper yesterday some stuff that Marty Kane was the Casey family lawyer, and there was a hint that this might be connected. I didn’t know what to do, so I contacted you.’

  ‘You’ve done the right thing, er . . . What’s your name?

  ‘I can’t tell you my name. I’m scared.’

  ‘Can I see you now? Anywhere. Just say where.’

  There was a long pause. Then the girl spoke. ‘In the city centre. A fish and chip café. Top of Hope Street.’

  ‘Are you there now?’

  ‘No. But I will be in about twenty minutes. I’m on the bus.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there.’

  Kerry hung up, her mind in a turmoil. She called downstairs to ask for Eddie the chauffeur to bring the car round, then phoned Jack, told him briefly what was going on, and asked him to come with her for backup, just in case this was a trap.

  Chapter Ten

  Kerry saw Jack come through the gate with his four-by-four and climb out into the rain. Big Joe Brady was with him. Joe was a six foot two ex-boxer, built like a tank and with a face that you couldn’t mark with a pickaxe. There were tales that Brady was used for meting out beatings to people they needed to get fast answers from, and word was that he never failed. Jack knocked on the kitchen door and stepped inside, as Kerry was pulling on her coat.

  ‘Brady?’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Are you expecting trouble, Jack?’

  ‘You never know, Kerry. From what you tell me, we need to be careful this isn’t a trap. That’s the first point. The next is, whatever information this girl gives us, we might have to act on it straight away. That might involve paying one or two people a visit and getting some answers. Brady’s our man for that.’ He held open the door for Kerry. ‘But don’t worry. He’s not going to go into the café kicking tables over.’

  Kerry walked past him out to the courtyard, and got into the front seat of the Jag, nodding to Brady who sat stony-faced in the back. He raised his chin in acknowledgement of her greeting, but stared straight ahead.

  ‘Howsit going, Eddie?’ she said to the chauffeur. ‘We’re going to Hope Street, a chip shop café place at the top of the street.’

  ‘Blue Lagoon,’ he said. ‘Good fish in there. Legend. But I don’t suppose we’re going for a fish tea.’

  ‘No,’ Kerry half smiled, ‘not tonight.’

  *

  Jack had done a quick walk past the café to make sure this woman who was supposed to be meeting Kerry was on her own. He came back to the car and told her he saw one girl, sitting at the back of the café. Kerry decided that must be her, and she got out of the car. As she walked through the door a blast of hot air and the smell of fried fish and chips hit her. An elderly couple sat eating at another table near the door. The staff looked up from the fryers, and Kerry glanced along the café to the back, where a young skinny girl was looking in her direction. She walked towards her.

  ‘Are you the girl who left me the note?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye. Are you Kerry?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She sat down.

  The girl looked shifty, nervy. Kerry leaned forward, bringing the letter out of her pocket and laying it flat on the table.

  ‘You want to tell me all about this? What’s your name, anyway?’

  She nodded. ‘Aye. But I’m scared. And it’s Donna.’

  ‘Not as scared as wee Finbar Kane is,’ Kerry said, ‘if that is who you saw.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ she said. ‘Well, as sure as I can be.’

  ‘How can you be that sure?’ Kerry asked.

  They sat for a moment, and Kerry watched as the woman fiddled nervously with a ring on her finger, and noticed her chewed nails and inflamed skin around the cuticles.

  ‘Right,’ Donna said. ‘I’m just going to tell you everything I know.’ She paused, but Kerry looked her in the eye and didn’t answer, so she went on. ‘My boyfriend – well the guy I live with. He’s a coke dealer. I’m leaving him. He did this.’ She turned her face so Kerry could see the fading bruise. ‘I’m getting out of there. Soon as I can. When I get enough money to get far away from him.’

  Kerry was suspicious straight away, but she urged her to go on.

  ‘So,’ Donna said. ‘Yesterday. I was watching the news and it came up about that wee boy, and Lenny – that’s my boyfriend’s name – took a flaky and made me switch it off. Then about ten minutes later I heard him talking on the phone in the other room. I listened hard and I could hear him saying he’d been paid two grand and he was only supposed to do a drive from the shopping mall. One drop, he said. But now he was being asked to drive to more places. He was bitching about it. And then I heard him saying that he’d just been watching it on the news. So it was then I decided that they must be talking about the same thing. The wee boy. I felt sick inside. I’ve got two weans. Imagine that I’m living with a fucker who could do that. For money.’

  ‘So what did you do next?’

  Kerry listened, watching Donna’s face for any clues as she recounted going to the warehouse with her friend Shona, and watching as Lenny and this guy went in and then somebody came out with the kid and then they drove him away.

  ‘I took photos,’ she said.

  Ke
rry’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

  ‘You took photos?’

  ‘Aye.’ She reached into her pocket and took the small camera out, then started to bring pictures up. ‘I took photos of everything I saw, then of the car driving away. I got the number plate in them.’

  This was almost too good to be true. She looked at the pictures and sure enough it seemed to be little feet with boots on wrapped in a blanket.

  ‘The kid was screaming, “I want my mummy!” It was terrible.’

  ‘Would you be able to take us to this warehouse?’

  ‘Aye,’ she shrugged, ‘I suppose so. It’s in Kinning Park, just over the other side of the river. I thought it would be shut last night, but it wasn’t. The lights were on and there were people in it, but the people carrying the wean came out a side door, so that might be separate.’

  ‘Can you come with us now?’

  She looked nervous, eyes down at the table.

  ‘There’s no time to waste on this, Donna. This information could be crucial, but we need to see what we can do about it.’ She paused for a moment, scanning her face. ‘Why didn’t you go to the police with this?’ Kerry knew the answer, but she wanted it to come from her.

  Donna looked furtively around her and leaned forward.

  ‘Money. I need money. To leave that bastard Lenny. To get back to my weans. I want to start again.’

  ‘You a coke addict?’

  ‘Was. I go to meetings now. I’m finished with that.’

  It occurred to Kerry that this might be a set-up by a clever junkie to stage a few images and get some money. Not many junkies would have the nous to take a camera with them on a finding mission. But people watched a lot of television these days, and they were more clued up than before. Her gut instinct told her this was genuine, though, and she’d learned to trust her gut.

  ‘I’ve got a car outside. I want you to come with us now.’

  ‘Will I get sorted? I mean, money-wise?’

  ‘You’ll get sorted,’ Kerry said firmly.

  She stood up, and watched Donna get to her feet: skinny waist, thin coat and ripped jeans. She was waiflike, with a face that should be pretty, but was drawn and old beyond her years.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Kerry said.

  They were at the warehouse within ten minutes, and they sat while she pointed to exactly where she had seen the people coming out. On the way there, once Kerry showed Jack the camera shot of the car and its number plate, he made a call to someone and told them to get an address for the plate. Kerry knew there were several police contacts who enjoyed bungs from the Caseys and were more than willing to help with stuff like this. The call came back in a few minutes with an address. Jack made another call and instructed someone to go to the address and get the owner of the car. Kerry heard him telling them to take him to a scrapyard and hold him there until they arrived.

  ‘Let’s go inside and talk to the owner,’ Jack said, more to Brady than to Kerry. ‘It’s a Pakistani cash-and-carry this place, so whoever owns it must know something.’

  ‘You think they’re about to tell you?’ Kerry asked.

  ‘Oh they’ll tell us,’ Jack said, as he and Brady got out of the car.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Kerry said.

  ‘Are you sure you want to?’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes,’ Kerry said, not sure at all that she wanted to, but she felt she should. ‘Donna, you stay here for a few minutes with Eddie. We’ll be back shortly. Don’t go anywhere.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Kerry kept a couple of steps behind Jack and Brady as they marched up to the warehouse main door and pushed in through the swing door. She followed them. Inside there were tall stacks of carpets, household goods, everything from beds to toiletries to small bits of furniture in aisles that seemed to go on for ever. It was freezing and damp and there were no shoppers in – only a few Pakistani men who seemed to be working, moving stuff from aisle to aisle in trolleys.

  ‘Where’s your boss?’ Jack said curtly to a teenage boy loading a trolley.

  ‘Up there. In his office.’

  They looked along and could see a large window with a Venetian blind half up, and a heavy-set Pakistani man standing up and on the phone. Kerry tried to keep up as Jack and Brady strode towards the door. Then she stopped as they burst in the office and the Pakistani man dropped the phone. Jack went across to the desk and put the receiver back on the hook as Brady closed the blinds. Then Brady stepped forward and stood so close to the Pakistani man he was tight up against the wall.

  ‘You better start talking, son,’ Jack said.

  ‘What? What is this? I have no money here. Look. No safe. Nothing.’

  ‘We don’t want your money,’ Jack said as Brady grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

  Jack stood in front of him.

  ‘You had the wee boy in here. Finbar Kane. The kidnapped boy.’

  The man shook his head.

  ‘Listen, son. You’ve got five seconds to tell me everything, names, the lot, or my friend here will cut your heart out and stuff it in your fucking mouth. Five . . . four . . .’

  The man nodded furiously, and Brady released his grip, but pulled out a knife and held it to his throat, poking into his flesh.

  ‘Please! I have a family,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Fuck your family! You won’t have a family either if you don’t talk.’

  ‘Please. I tell you.’

  ‘Who brought the kid here?’

  ‘It was . . . It was . . . Sinc . . . Billy Sinclair. I . . . I owe him a lot of money. He told me he needs my back room for something. I didn’t know it was a boy, a child. I promise. I didn’t know until they came and brought the child. Please, I am a father and grandfather. I am shocked. I want to tell police, but Sinc says he will murder my whole family. It was only for one night, he promised.’ He started to cry. ‘Then I saw on the news, that a boy has been kidnapped and I am terrified. Because he is in my warehouse. I want to tell police, but I am afraid.’

  ‘Is the boy hurt?’ Jack asked.

  ‘No. I see him only one time. They were with him all the time. But he is crying. He stayed only one overnight. They took him earlier on.’ He sniffed. ‘Please don’t kill me.’

  Jack turned to Kerry, then back to the man.

  ‘If you tell anyone that we were here, then I will find out, and I will come back and shoot you. Do you understand? Are we clear?’

  He nodded furiously. ‘Nobody. I speak to nobody. I promise. The boy is gone now. I just want to go home to my family.’

  ‘You do that, son. Go home now. Close this place for the night and go home.’

  Brady took his knife from the man’s throat and put it back in his jacket. Jack nodded to Kerry and they walked out of the office and down the aisle to the exit. As they got into the car, Jack turned to Kerry.

  ‘Fucking hell. I wanted to kill the bastard.’

  ‘Me too,’ Kerry said. ‘He must be in hock to this Sinc for a lot of money to have to agree to something like that. Who’s Sinc?’

  ‘He’s a fucking polecat. But he’ll be a dead polecat before the night is out.’

  ‘Kerry. I want to get this place torched. You okay with that? Not right now, in case it raises any suspicions with the kidnappers. But as soon as this is over, we torch it.’

  She pictured little Finbar Kane, sobbing and lonely and scared. That the warehouse was someone’s livelihood, a family with children and needs, then flashed across Kerry’s conscience.

  ‘No, Jack.’ She shook her head, pushing down the anger she felt. ‘We’re better than that. We’re not going to sink to their level.’

  Jack’s mobile rang when he got into the car and he answered it.

  ‘Fine. We’ll be there in fifteen.’

  Kerry sat in the front, stunned into silence by what she had witnessed in the past minutes. She decided not even to ask where they were going next.

  *

  Kerry had no idea what this scrapyard was
or even if they owned it, but as they drove through the potholes and puddles to the far end of the place she could see a Portakabin with a light on, and two cars outside it. Jack and Brady were opening the doors by the time the car drew to a halt. Kerry glanced at Eddie from the corner of her eye, who gave a shrug. Donna sat still, looking terrified. Then Kerry stepped out of the car, avoiding the huge puddle. Jack and Brady were already at the door and pushing it open by the time she was at the bottom of the small wooden stair of the Portakabin. Inside, she stopped in the doorway and stifled a gasp. A man with his face covered in blood was sat on a chair, his hands tied behind his back. Two burly shaven-head men stood over him, one of them with his knuckles bloodied. Kerry was certain she would have remembered these guys if she’d ever encountered them, but she hadn’t. She stood as Jack went across and stood over him. The guy with the bloodied knuckles shook his head.

  ‘Saying nothing. Won’t even admit to driving the car.’

  ‘What’s the prick’s name?’

  ‘Rab Bolton. Says he deals a bit of coke but that’s all.’

  Jack nodded to the minder, and he punched the man’s face again. It jerked back and blood spattered across the room. He looked as if he was going to pass out. His head slumped onto his chest. Jack went across and lifted his head up by the hair, glaring down at him.

  ‘Rab. Listen to me. This is not going to end well for you.’

  The man blinked away blood and sniffed, but shook his head.

  ‘We have a picture of your car, Rab. Of you, driving the car earlier. It’s just stupid to deny you were there. You’re only making it worse for yourself. All you have to do is tell me where you took the boy, then you can go. The boys will even drop you at the hospital. Just tell us where.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Jack leaned closer to him.

  ‘Rab. These boys are going to kill you if you don’t tell us.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ he blurted through the blood bubbling from his swollen lips. ‘I’m a fucking dead man anyway.’

  ‘Well you’ve nothing to lose then.’ He paused. ‘Tell me. Why the fuck did you get involved in this, Rab? You’re a coke dealer. You don’t need to be shifting weans for cunts who steal them. What the fuck, man! Have you no fucking shame?’