One by One: A brutal, gritty revenge thriller that you won't be able to put down.

by Robert Enright

  The batting cage was a particular favourite, with groups of students lining up to prove to their peers that they could hit a small ball furthest. The eight cages separated the main structure like a perfectly sliced pizza, each one encasing the batter with mesh metal walls. The floors were padded and marked out so that unfortunate collisions with speeding balls could be avoided. Each batting area tailed off into a slope which funnelled the balls into the centre, each one rolling into a tray so that they could be fed into the automatic pitchers.

  Everything ran like clockwork.

  The sun beat down from a surprisingly cloudless sky and the only sound was that of metal bats colliding with rock solid balls.

  Lewis Drayton loved days like these.

  He smiled, taking in a deep lungful of the cool, fresh air into his tiny frame. He wore his usual blue ‘Golf in Class’ polo shirt, which fitted loosely over his wiry frame. He ran a bony hand through his greasy, thinning black hair as he looked up into the clear blue above.

  He could smell the money he was making from a day like this, knowing it would impress Curtis to see that he could run a business. Although his older brother always treated him with disdain, he knew Curtis wanted him to make something of himself. When Lewis ran distribution on the shipments of cocaine Curtis brought in, Lewis made sure to do him proud. Curtis had even seemed impressed when Lewis had killed Martin Stokes, the wannabe gangster who’d attempted to hijack a delivery. Lewis felt the pride from Curtis, and to some extent, from that brute Tommy, when he’d put a bullet between Martin’s eyes.

  He took a final pull on his cigarette, the smoke disappearing in the sun’s glare and he reacquainted his helmet with the top of his head.

  “So let me show you how this works then.”

  Lewis’s rasping voice befitted his rat-like appearance.

  His excitement was evident as he booted up the new ‘Pin Point Pitch’ system he’d just had installed. The top-of-the-line technology was the latest in a new range of equipment to train baseball players and was all the rage in Major League in America. The well-paying customer had requested to use the system, a request that was eagerly accepted by Lewis personally.

  The machine itself stood out from the other ball pitchers in the centre of the batting area, the metal slicker and shinier, giving off a more futuristic look. The cannon itself made less noise when loading the next hit and was attached to a mechanical sphere which allowed full motion. On the top of the barrel sat a laser scope which sent a thick red dot to the padding tied to the back of the cage behind the customer.

  “Now, if you look, with these directional arrows I can move the projection of the ball to whatever angle I want,” Lewis explained, fully confident in his knowledge. “So if you wanted a dipping ball I would aim it here.”

  He adjusted the angle, the light moving upwards across the mat as the customer watched, his muscular arms in front of him and his hands resting on the handle of the bat standing upright.

  “And then to give it the dip I adjust the speed to make it slightly slower.”

  Lewis turned a dial slightly. A small screen on the panel showed a coloured bar, which decreased in size. Lewis smiled.

  “Never turn it to full. Comes at you like a rocket.”

  His customer smiled and nodded casually, hoisting up the bat over his broad shoulders. Lewis couldn’t help but admire him. The man was good-looking, dark hair brushed to the side and his stubble neatly trimmed, clinging to his strong jaw. He was intrigued to see how hard the man could strike, the physique he possessed was very impressive. Rippling muscles that he knew he would never have, not on his slight, delicate skeleton. Lewis imagined the type of women that must throw themselves at the man and how they were probably a lot classier and prettier than the trashy, drug-addled women he had to pay for.

  This man’s life must be perfect, he thought.

  He smiled as the man adopted a solid stance and nodded for the shot. Lewis pressed the release button and the machine hummed into life.

  The warm beams of the sun beat against the back of Lucas’s neck and he was grateful that the weather had granted them a nice day. The helmet’s visor cast a shadow over his eyes and nose, blocking the sharp brightness of the sun. He gripped the metal bat in his hands, his biceps flexing and bulging under his t-shirt.

  How easy it would be to swing right now and take Lewis’s head off.

  Lucas refrained, looking at the runt of a man who was eagerly playing with his new toy. Lewis was completely oblivious as to who was standing a mere five feet away from him.

  He imagined the man grabbing Helen, his dirty, spider-like hands on her.

  The cannon shunted, and with a release of pleasure it shot a ball up into the air, spinning as it dipped towards Lucas. He steadied his feet and in one fluid motion swung the bat. The clonk of metal on metal was satisfying and the ball sailed over the machinery and crashed against the metal on the other side of the cage.

  It felt good.

  Lewis applauded. He had no idea who his customer was.

  That would change soon enough.

  The evening brought with it a cool breeze, the gentle wind softly ushering in the darkness. The street lights had only recently been activated, the bulbs humming as they started their night’s work.

  The Bentley turned off the main road, engine purring with quality.

  Tommy Drayton clicked off the indicator, one hand resting on the wheel while smoothly navigating through a small amount of traffic. A muscular arm rested on his knee, a stiff, bruised hand lying on top of the gear stick.

  His knuckles were slightly purple and felt sore, each blow to Dilip Parmer’s defenceless face contributing to the pain.

  In the back seat sat Curtis Drayton, his crisp, tailor-made suit fitting him well. He sat with his leg casually resting over the other and looked out of the window, watching his hunting ground flash past the window. He could sense the fear within the city, how the passers-by would quiver if they knew who was sitting in the back of the car as it sped by. Dilip was in hospital, a fractured jaw and cheekbone the most visible of the damage that Tommy had inflicted. The brutal repetition of the body shots had also left the poor man with severe internal bleeding. It could have been much worse and that was the reason why Curtis never let Tommy too far off his leash.

  It was also the reason why he was slightly weary of his younger brother at times. He knew Tommy didn’t always approve of his behaviour, but he knew his place in the hierarchy. Curtis trusted him and he knew Tommy appreciated all Curtis had done to keep their dad away from him. But the size of his brother and the talent he possessed with violence always made Curtis slightly nervous.

  As the car glided up the street, Tommy stared at the car ahead. He imagined Helen sitting in the passenger seat, the husband she had mentioned driving, while they discussed holiday plans. Maybe a child or two in the back, a family who loved each other and shared a life together.

  Not anymore.

  Because of Tommy and his family.

  “Something bothering you, Thomas?”

  Tommy snapped back into the present to see Curtis observing him in the rear-view mirror with those piercing black eyes burning a hole through his own. Tommy looked away, ahead to the road before him.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t give me that. What’s the matter?”

  Curtis adjusted his position on the comfortable leather chairs, his stare still locked on his hulking brother.

  “I’ve just been thinking, Curtis.”

  “People do that from time to time.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about things. About the things we've done and the things we do.”

  Tommy looked into the rear-view mirror, his brother shifting in his seat. His voice sounded as agitated as he looked.

  “Please, Thomas. Enlighten me.”

  “I suppose, Curtis, I just feel bad about what happened to Helen.”

  “Helen?”

  “Yes, Helen!” Tommy felt sick, his
brother not even registering that poor woman whose life he’d ended. “The woman from a few weeks back.'

  “Oh her,” Curtis said disinterestedly. “She was good - didn’t cry as much as the others.”

  “Yeah, well sometimes I just think that you needlessly go too far, you know?

  “No, I don’t know. Are you worried about something?”

  'Not at all. I just think we have enough now. We have all the money we could need, businesses all over the city, property all over the country. I mean, hell, you have the police shitting their pants the second your name is mentioned. Isn’t that enough?”

  Curtis shook his head, arching forward and looking into his lap. Tommy felt better for speaking out, the worry of a reaction diminishing. The lights ahead turned to red and Tommy rolled the Bentley to an effortless stop.

  Curtis instantly leant forward, planting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and pulling him hard against the leather seat. Before Tommy could react, Curtis pulled his pristine 9mm Beretta up, the barrel pressing hard against Tommy’s temple. The lights from the outside street lights reflected off the metal barrel, illuminating Curtis’s face which was twisted into a furious scowl.

  “What the fuck has got into you?”

  “Get that gun off me. Now!”

  “Do you know how we keep all of those things, Tommy? Do you? Or how I acquired them in the first place? And how I have given you the fucking life that you have?”

  Curtis leaned in, his breath hot against Tommy’s face. The younger brother sat stiffly, the opening of the gun pressing into his skin. Curtis leaned in, his immaculate teeth gritted around his words.

  “Fear, Thomas. Fear.”

  “I am not scared of you, Curtis.”

  “You fucking should be.”

  “Why? Are you going to kill me? Go ahead.”

  Curtis chuckled, disengaging the safety of the gun with a click that seemed to echo in the caverns of their tension. Tommy braced himself, his face a blank canvas.

  No indications of fear.

  “If I wanted you dead, Thomas, you would be. But I would never do it myself. You are my brother and you know that nothing means more to me than family. I don’t like Lewis or Harry and Ashley and Matt piss me off from time to time. But I love them. Like I love you.”

  “Then why have you got a gun against me head?”

  “To make my point clear. You can have all the money and all the things it can buy. You can have love and respect, Thomas. But fear is the greatest power a man can have.”

  Curtis slowly pulled the gun away, the barrel leaving an indentation in Tommy’s skin. The big man turned slowly and looked his demonic older brother in his dark, evil eyes. Curtis smiled.

  “When you are feared Thomas, you become a different entity entirely.”

  Tommy held his brother’s stare but refused to share his grin. Curtis slowly leant back into his seat, slipping the Beretta into the inside of his blazer. He adjusted his cufflinks, thinking about how Lewis should be locking up soon and would undoubtedly want to stop by to boast about the day’s intake.

  The Bentley cruised through the humid streets of London. Tommy kept his eyes on the road and Curtis prepared himself for an inevitable appearance from Lewis later that evening.

  It had been a busy day.

  Lewis had sent a few of the young Sales Assistants home early, even Nancy, who had rebuked his advances a week ago. They had all worked hard but he wanted to be alone to count the takings.

  The numbers looked good.

  He placed the money into secure ziplock bags, before locking them in the safe. He imagined how good the scotch would taste in Curtis's office later, his elder brother finally showing him some respect and acceptance.

  He shut down the computer, flicked off the lights and closed the office door.

  He casually strolled across the open plan shop, the tills all clear of papers and clutter and of the clubs and bats standing proudly in their display cases.

  He whistled a tune he couldn't place, his feet echoing around the empty space as he approached the door. The keys spinning in his hand jingled out of tune.

  He turned off the lights, pulled open the entrance door, and stepped out into a warm spring night. He breathed in, tasting the fresh air.

  He closed his eyes for a second.

  He thought of the years of abuse he’d taken from Curtis, of being made to feel every bit of the runt he was physically.

  He thought of how glad he was he’d never remembered his Dad; the stories he’d been told of how the man had knocked around his mother, striking her with big, powerful fists.

  He thought of all the things Curtis had made him do, all the tasks and challenges he’d thrown at Lewis just to make Lewis prove his worth.

  He was finally there.

  He was a successful businessman now.

  He inhaled the air again expansively, and gently patted his trouser pockets for his cigarettes and opened his eyes.

  Lewis stumbled backwards slightly, coming face to face with the muscular customer from earlier in the day. The man’s well-developed physique, the one Lewis had been admiring earlier, was now encased in an expensive-looking leather jacket over a fitted navy jumper. The messy hair had been brushed, the short fringe neatly swept to one side.

  The smile had gone.

  The eyes were cold.

  The face was emotionless.

  Before Lewis could say a word, or even move, Lucas dived forward, driving a pinpoint knee to Lewis's mid-section with incredible force. As Lewis hunched over, Lucas drove the point of his elbow to the back of Lewis's skull, driving the bone just under the curve and sending Lewis into a sea of darkness.

  The Drayton body hit the ground, limp and lifeless. Lewis's face collided hard with the pavement, blood running from the top of his forehead, dripping down a motionless face.

  Lucas scanned the deserted car park, the only sound being that of the few cars driving on the main road beyond the hill.

  Lucas reached under Lewis's arms and dragged the limp body back through the doors, before locking the world out behind him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The sun beat down on that day eight years ago, illuminating the incredible grounds of the Milner Estate gardens. The flowers were in full bloom, a mixture of blue, red and orange exploding effervescently in the green walls of the enclosing hedges. Birds flittered between the well-trimmed oak trees, serenading the world with their high-pitched songs. The recently cut grass emitted that fresh smell that’s hard to describe. A few rabbits hopped around on one of the nearby greens, while a water fountain shot water into the air behind them.

  Lucas stood with his hands in the pockets of his expensive, rented trousers. His neatly polished shoes planted firmly on the soft, green ground and he peered out at the beauty around him.

  Patricia and Graham Bennett, his soon-to-be in-laws had spared no expense for their eldest daughter’s wedding, the money saved from Graham's well-paid job as a civil engineer. They’d welcomed Lucas into their family, once they had got over the initial reaction and subsequent changes that it caused.

  Graham had told him at the modest stag-do that Alex threw for him...

  “The only thing a father ever wants for his daughter, is for her to find a man who will look after her. Keep her safe.”

  The drunken slap on the shoulder accompanying it gave Lucas all the confirmation he needed that her parents were happy with the decision Helen's heart had made.

  The magnificent Milner Estate stood proudly within its beautiful surroundings, the substantial stone structure shooting up into blue skies. The windows were bigger than Lucas himself, the glass thick and spotless. Once belonging to a wealthy earl many years ago, it had been maintained through the generations and was now a wonderful attraction for weekend venturers.

  On the other side of the stately home, a grand lake shimmered under sunshine, geese and ducks chasing each other in circles and hassling visitors for bread. The Milner Trust, set up decades ago by the
philanthropic family, ensured that the acres of woodland surrounding the entire estate were well maintained and safe from destruction.

  The place was a secret paradise.

  A soft breeze filtered through, whistling inside Lucas's blazer. He adjusted his tie, the expensive suit hanging on his frame well, although he always felt uncomfortable in smart attire. He never felt he belonged in it.

  Upstairs, in one of the guest rooms, Helen was having the finishing touches done to her hair, so much longer all those years ago.

  It cascaded down from her head in large, blonde curls, like a waterfall overlapping itself several times over. Her make-up was modest, but done to the highest standard by the artist her parents had hired.

  The dress, white with silver trim, hugged her figure tightly, her curves displayed wonderfully by the design. The train glided down, dragging behind her wherever she went like a ghostly shadow.

  She looked like an angel.

  Lucas's angel.

  That was all he could think of when he turned to see her, her arm linked to her father’s, nerves betraying her as she tried to walk confidently. The small room had been decorated with white lilies, Helen's favourite flower, fountaining from colourful vases atop small pillars. Rows of cushioned chairs lined both sides of the aisle, all laid out in meticulous symmetry. Many of the guests were there for Helen, family members and friends from days gone by, and all dressed for the occasion with not a hair out of place. Lucas's work colleagues were there too, sitting next to their own wives. The string quartet at the back of the room played effortlessly, their rendition of Helen's favourite piece of classical music weaving bird-like between the few gasps that the crowd gave at Helen's beauty.

  Her eyes were fixed on Lucas.

  He stood proudly at the front, his hands resting in front of him, his back straight and powerful shoulders tense. He shook Graham's hand as they arrived at the front, the father's eyes watering with pride and sadness at letting his little girl go for the final time.

  Helen held Lucas's hand as they turned to face the minister and she squeezed it tightly throughout the entire ceremony. They spoke their vows to each other, Helen's voice breaking with happiness as she declared her love and devotion for the man before her. A tear formed that Lucas reached out and tenderly removed.