Diego: (Brighton Bad Boys 3)

by Tilly Delane

  I stand before him and contemplate my work for a moment.

  Chances are it wouldn’t stack up under actual scrutiny. Chances are, even with no fingerprints, I have left DNA all over the show, but Diego seemed pretty sure the police aren’t gonna look too hard into the circumstances of a double overdose up here.

  Against all instincts, I even give myself a moment to think on what I’ve just done. It seems the human thing to do.

  I come to the conclusion that it’s funny how far removed the idea of killing another human being is, only until you actually do it.

  Then it’s just another thing you can do in life.

  I guess, I hope, it all depends on who it is, though.

  Because I feel no remorse here.

  So I turn to find my next victim.

  Diego

  “I’m back,” she says into my earpiece and the relief I feel is second to none.

  I catch the guy’s eyes and see my feelings reflected in them.

  We heard a lot of what went on, and the viler Callum got, the more problems Silas and Rowan had keeping me from scaling the fucking site fencing.

  “You okay?” I ask heavily, while Silas and Rowan keep throwing sticks and conkers over the panels.

  On the other side, two dogs keep barking rabidly, and Cormac keeps telling us to stop and that he’s gonna come after us in a minute. He thinks we’re kids, having a laugh or something. He really is a dumb shit.

  “It’s done,” she says in our ears, and we know what that means. “R, move in, front door is open, make sure you wear all the kit. S, keep the idiot busy. I’m gonna come out and see if I can get him to call off the dogs,” she commands. “D, watch the live feed and tell me when I’ve got all the cameras.”

  I don’t like it. I want to be in there with her, fighting back to back. She is mine to protect. But I know Rowan is the better choice for the job. He’s the most lethal weapon we have. Other than the girl I’ve been sleeping with, apparently.

  “There may be some more cameras in the yard,” I remind her. “For the dogfights.”

  “Maybe,” she says, and I can hear the shrug in her voice. “It’s a risk I’ve got to take.”

  “I doubt it,” Rowan’s voice enters the comms as he turns away to grab the rest of his garb from the van. “If there were any, I’m sure they went off air when the dogs left. You worry too much, D.”

  “Shhh,” Kalina silences us. “I’m at the back door now.”

  She goes radio silent again. We’re already all wearing gloves, but now Rowan dons a balaclava to compliment the long sleeve turtleneck he changed into after we left waiting place one. Another one of Kalina’s attentions to detail, making sure none of his tattoos show in case there are more cameras. She is frighteningly good at this. She even picked out this line of trees on Google Maps that border onto the property, under which we have parked the van, and then she sent Grace up here in a hire car yesterday to make sure you could actually park here. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was just a way of keeping her involved without putting her in harm’s way. But by now I know Kalina’s simply that meticulous. My woman is fucking amazing.

  Under cover of the trees, Rowan moves like a shadow along the side of the site panels until he gets to the corner of the property. There he will be exposed to anyone driving past, but to our advantage you can see the traffic coming over the dirt road for miles in either direction. Rarely anyone ever drives up here. Today is no different. I watch him look out then disappear from view. I get back in the van, where we have the laptop and satellite phone set up with the stream of Piotr and Zoltan, muted. It’s weird to think that they are only maybe a hundred yards from where I am right now.

  I watch them, while I listen through my earphones to Kalina as she calls out to Cormac.

  Kalina

  “Hello?” I call out and start waving as soon as I get to the back door.

  I debate for a moment whether to take the earphone out of my ear again and take the gloves off, but I decide Cormac is too dumb to notice anyway.

  He and two viciously barking Dobermans are on the far side of the yard, the dogs brainlessly jumping up at the panels. Cormac is shielding his head with his hands from the stuff Silas keeps throwing over, too dim to move away. When he spots me, he looks flustered. I feel almost sorry for him. But then I remember that smile on his face when he presented me to Callum and the emotion vanishes into thin air.

  “S, stop throwing stuff,” I whisper into the mic-earphone, and seconds later, Silas seems to have followed my instruction.

  Cormac takes his hands away from his head, and his eyes dart back and forth between me and the dogs, still barking at the panel, as if he can’t decide what to do next.

  I can feel Rowan approach in the darkness of the house behind me.

  I lift a hand and leave it in the air, hoping he’ll understand the gesture. He does and stops.

  I start walking slowly towards Cormac and the dogs. One of them catches my movement, stops barking at the panel and turns to bare its teeth at me. That’s when Cormac springs into action. He grabs the snarling dog’s collar with one hand and the jumping one’s with the other then drags them away to a kennel next to where I’m standing. They stop barking as soon as he manhandles them across the yard like big soft toys. They yelp as he throws them in the cage, one after the other, and bolts it shut.

  “You shouldn’t be out here, boy,” he says slowly when he turns back to me, frowning. “Where is Callum?”

  “Toilet,” I say and then inspiration hits me. “He says there is an old air raid shelter here. Says you would show it to me, and he’d come out in a bit.”

  Cormac’s eyes light up at that. It’s almost sad, how relieved he is at an instruction he thinks he understands.

  “Come with me,” he says happily, and beckons me towards what looks like an old hay barn, open to the front, and full of machinery clutter.

  There are old tractor wheels here, some big rusty parts that clearly come from miscellaneous farming vehicles, piles of rubble, the chassis of an old Ford transit. It’s the same chaos as in their living room but in big particles.

  I follow Cormac inside, safe in the knowledge that Rowan is somewhere not far behind me, that Diego is listening to every word, that Silas is ready to spring into action and that Raven is waiting in a hire car, about two miles in the opposite direction, all ready to move at my word.

  I have to trust that Diego understands what is going on and that he’ll let Rowan know to stay put, until I’m with the boys.

  It’s an odd feeling, this being part of a web. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I realise this could be addictive.

  Cormac and I get to an old cart, literally an old cart that you would put a horse in front, and Cormac lifts the shafts up and pushes it back a few metres. Below it, there is a hatch, secured with an iron bar through two ground anchors and one anchor on the hatch door. It looks crude but effective.

  “Wow,” I say for Diego’s benefit. “An air raid shelter in a barn. In the ground. That’s so cool.”

  Cormac smiles his satisfied little smile again as he leans down and slides the bar out then opens the hatch.

  “Go on,” he says and points down.

  I come closer and look down. There is a fixed iron ladder, leading down at least two and a half metres. If I was really Jakub, and if I didn’t know what was coming, I’d be suspicious at the fact there are lights on down there, and at the stench of a chemical toilet hitting my nostrils. But I’m not Jakub, and Cormac is an idiot. So I get on my knees and begin to descend.

  “Cool,” I say. “Down I go.”

  Cormac follows me as soon as I’ve cleared enough of the rungs. I hear the dogs barking again and realise that Rowan must be on the move.

  My guys have impeccable timing.

  “Oh. I didn’t realise you were coming down with me,” I say up to Cormac, as much for Diego’s benefit as to distract Cormac from the barking.

  But he doesn’t even seem to n
otice them. He’s too busy chuckling, pleased with himself again.

  For a moment, I wonder if Callum ever gave him treats for being a good boy.

  I hear the boys before I see them, because I’m concentrating on Cormac’s feet above me and on not getting accidentally kicked in my already broken nose.

  I hear gasps, no more, before Zoltan starts quietly keening. I know it’s him, even without looking, because the chorus coming from his mouth is an endless repeat of nem.

  Hungarian for ‘no’.

  I finally look across to them, just before my feet hit the concrete floor.

  They’re naked, Zoltan is standing in front of the bed, looking at me, shaking his head violently, and hiding Piotr behind him.

  I smile at him and put a finger to my lips, but he can’t see me.

  He’s focused completely on Cormac, coming down behind me.

  It’s only when Cormac prods me hard with the iron bar in his hand, to push me further into the room, that I realise he took it with him. And that I shouldn’t have stopped to smile.

  I stumble and fall forwards, onto the ground, rolling just in time to avoid hitting my already bruised face. I hold my arms in front of it, expecting more hits. The earpiece has come out of my ear in the fall, but I can faintly hear Diego’s voice through the speaker as he shouts at the top of his lungs.

  Diego

  We’ve listened to every word Kalina has said and Rowan is closing in now.

  I know he’s nearly there, but it doesn’t change the fact that my heart stops dead when I see Kalina being pushed into the picture. The boys were standing by the foot end of the bed, Zoltan hiding the little guy behind him, and saying something over and over again that I couldn’t hear, because I muted them to listen to Kalina, when I see her drop into the picture and roll, shielding her face with her arms. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. I curse her for improvising. We can’t have her show her face. All the makeup and disguise in the world won’t help her if the cameras pick up her biometrics.

  The people will find her and kill her.

  Silas looks across from behind the steering wheel and curses. He feels as fucked off with having been relegated to the sidelines as I do.

  “Cover your face!” I shout into my mic, hoping it’ll reach her, despite the fact that we can see the earphone on the floor next to her.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse, shutting my eyes.

  Until Silas’ hand darts across and touches my arm.

  “She heard you,” he says, and I watch in wonder as my girlfriend gets to her knees, still hiding her face from the cameras, and pulls the balaclava she was always supposed to be wearing for this part from her pocket, to pull it over her head.

  A big, fleshy hand enters the shot and picks up her earphone, but it doesn’t get very far as its owner, Cormac O’Brien, suddenly stumbles into full view.

  Kalina

  I heard him. Not through the earphones but in my head.

  Cover your face.

  I was in full range of the cameras.

  So I hid my face in my chest, fished the balaclava from my pocket and pulled it over my head.

  As soon as it’s on, I turn to look at Rowan. He’s kicked Cormac further into the room and is holding him in a chokehold now. Cormac passes out without much of a fight, and Rowan nods to me. My cue to go around and kill the cameras.

  We’re back on track.

  Well, almost.

  Cormac shouldn’t have been down here, but we’ll deal with that in a bit.

  I scan the room and clock every little black ball dotted around. I pluck one by one off the walls and bring them to Rowan to crush under his foot and then sweep up the evidence to store in my pockets.

  The boys just watch us, unmoving, petrified.

  When I’ve plucked all the side cameras off the walls, I point at the ceiling.

  There are more eyes up there.

  Rowan looks at me then at the unconscious Cormac.

  I shake my head. I’m not administering his injection until all the cameras are killed, the boys are out of here and Cormac’s back in the house.

  Rowan shrugs and beckons Zoltan over.

  Z

  I have no idea what’s happening.

  At first, I thought they’d brought me another. That they were going to take Guppi and kill him or, worse, that the ròka would take him for himself. I was ready to kill the óriás when he pushed his baton into the new kid.

  But then another guy came down the ladder. A huge guy. Taller than the óriás and all muscle under his tight long sleeve turtleneck, face hidden by a balaclava, carrying a set of bolt cutters. He swung them at the óriás’ head then caught him as he swayed and got him in a chokehold.

  And suddenly the new boy was wearing a balaclava, too.

  The big guy choked the óriás until the óriás flopped down on the floor. And the new boy started going around, taking the cameras off the walls. The big guy got up, pointing the bolt cutters at the unconscious óriás’ neck, while the new boy brought him camera after camera to stamp on.

  He crushed them under his foot, as if they were nothing. As if we could have done that all along, squashed them like bugs.

  Now the big guy is waving me over.

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave Guppi.

  But then Guppi pushes me in the back and whispers, “Go.”

  So I go over to the óriás and the big guy in the balaclava.

  He gives me the bolt cutters and beckons me close to him, so his mouth under the fabric is by my ear.

  “Cut yourself loose,” he rumbles. “And watch him.”

  His voice is like thunder in the distance, rattling me through and through, but I’m not afraid. For the first time in a long time, I feel calm. And safe.

  Then he leaves me to guard the óriás and goes over to the new kid. He crouches down and the new kid clambers onto his shoulders. They stand up and the new kid reaches out to the ceiling to pluck the rest of the cameras down. With shaking hands, I do as the big guy said and get purchase on my chain with the bolt cutters, but I’m too weak. The link holds, with a small kink in it.

  I am about to try again while they’re still getting the last eye, the one above the bed, when the óriás sputters to life.

  I look at him as he starts to come to, and I don’t think.

  I toss the bolt cutters away, sink to my knees, push his head up, wrap my chain around his neck and pull.

  Diego

  I watch the cameras go out one by one.

  The last one comes down from the ceiling, above the boys’ bed, and the very last thing I see is a close up of a pair of fake green eyes pulling them down.

  For a moment, I wonder, how many people are tuned in right now, how many degenerate bastards are watching this.

  The minute all the connections are cut, I panic.

  I have no visual and Kalina hasn’t put her mic back on since it came off.

  I wait for what seems like minutes with bated breath.

  And then Rowan’s voice rumbles in my ear.

  “Hey, dickhead,” he says. “Are we off air?”

  “Completely black,” I answer.

  “Great,” he says. “Got a slight change of plan. Bear with, stay put.”

  Then he goes silent.

  Kalina

  We don’t realise what Zoltan has done until the last camera is toast.

  I stare at Cormac’s body, lost.

  This is so far off the plan, I have no idea what to do with this. He was supposed to die upstairs, in more or less the same fashion as his brother. With a little help from Rowan to hold him down.

  I shake myself and look away from the problem, to Zoltan and Piotr.

  Once he’d finished killing Cormac, Zoltan fleeced Cormac’s corpse for the key to his shackles, found it, undid them and then went straight back to the bed to cuddle Piotr. He is holding him tight now, looking at us as if we were aliens.

  “Who are you? What do you want? Where is
the ròka?” he finally asks.

  “We’re here to get you out,” I say.

  “You police?” Piotr asks.

  I hear a tinny noise from somewhere, and realise that my earpiece is still on the floor and that Diego is shouting at us. Rowan prods me.

  “Diego is going apeshit in my ear, go put your earpiece back in before he bursts my drum,” he says, and I go to pick it up and wrestle it under my balaclava.

  “I’m back,” I say as soon as I’ve got one earphone back in my ear, holding the mic end in front of my mouth. I don’t know how well they can hear me through the cloth.

  “About fucking time,” Diego says, and I know he can hear me well enough. “What’s going on?”

  “Second one is down,” Rowan answers in my stead.

  “Tell S to do his thing and R2 to move and pick up the boys,” I take over, and turn to Piotr and Zoltan. “No. We’re not police. Your parents hired me to find you,” I say in Polish to Piotr, and then switch to English when I see Zoltan tense up. “We can’t trust the police. We can’t involve any of the authorities. The people who watched you...”

  I stop there, because I don’t know if they know what the cameras were for, but they both nod and I get from their eyes that they absolutely knew.

  “They are very powerful,” I finish.

  “They pay the police?” Piotr asks, and I nod. “Will they arrest Zet?” he asks, looking at Cormac.

  “Why would they arrest the boys?” Diego asks, confused.

  “I’ll explain later,” I say to the man in my ear, and then address Piotr again.

  “Not if I can help it,” I answer him and look to Rowan.

  “Where is the ròka?” Zoltan asks again. “The other one,” he adds urgently, and I realise he means Callum.

  I draw a finger across my throat to indicate Callum’s fate to them.

  Zoltan looks to Rowan. Rowan shakes his head and juts his chin out at me. Zoltan squints at me, as if really seeing me for the first time. I guess realising that you have murder in common will do that.