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

by Robert Enright

  “Do you realise the mistake you’ve made by messing with my family? Do you?” Curtis threatened, as he laid the phone down on the table surrounded by him and his siblings.

  “I'm fully aware of what I’m doing, Curtis. It's YOU who hasn’t realised the mistake YOU’VE made by messing with mine.”

  The calmness of Lucas's voice caused the brothers to trade concerned looks, the lack of fear completely new to them. Curtis tried to wrestle it from the mysterious voice.

  “Fuck you!”

  No response.

  “This is my fucking city! Every fucking street, every fucking building, every fucking person. Do you really think you’ll survive the next twenty four hours after killing a member of my family?”

  “Members.”

  The word stopped Curtis in his tracks. Tommy stared at his older brother.

  “What?”

  “Members, Curtis. Members.”

  Lucas walked a few steps forward, bursting from the shadows and into the light surrounding the blood splattered desk. Harry lay still, a memory of the world.

  “If you’re calling to speak to Harry, I wouldn't hold your breath.”

  “If you’ve done anything to my brother, I swear...'

  “I killed him. Just like I killed Lewis.”

  Both of Curtis's fists crashed against the table, the phone rattling on top. Matt sat quietly on one of the elevated stools, the smoke from his cigarette dancing up towards the bright lights. Tommy stood solemnly to the side, his mammoth arms folded across his broad chest.

  “But he told me everything I needed to know, Curtis. Before he choked on his own blood, he told me all about you. About Tommy and Matt.”

  The two brothers looked at each other, acknowledging the threat. Veins were screaming against the skin on Curtis's temples.

  “About Ashley.”

  “Don't you fucking threaten my sister.”

  “Oh it's not a threat, Curtis. It's a long way past that.”

  Curtis snatched up the phone, his hand shaking through a mixture of fear and anger. Matt stubbed his cigarette out on the table and dropped it to the floor. It rolled into the pieces of the broken phone.

  “If you want what’s left of Harry, I just activated his Phone Finder. Modern technology really is incredible nowadays.”

  Curtis looked at Tommy, who nodded, indicating his understanding of the application. Lucas continued.

  “I'm sure you’ll recognise the address, Curtis. My wife's blood is still on the floor.”

  “You're in a very dangerous place, my friend,” Curtis warned, trying to calm the shakiness in his voice.

  “You have no idea. You are going to regret ever laying a finger on my wife. All of you.”

  Lucas's mouth pulled into an infuriated scowl, his nostrils flaring up with rage. His free hand rested loosely in the pocket of his jeans, fingers wrapped around the wedding ring he held so dear.

  “I'm coming for you all.”

  He squeezed the ring, remembering the beauty he’d once held in his arms. Remembering how she’d been taken from him.

  “One by one.”

  Lucas disconnected the call and gently threw it onto the blood-soaked body before him. He pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders and took a final look at the carnage he’d caused. His heart ached knowing that Helen had once been here.

  He strode out of the light, into the darkness of the room. The door opened and then moments later, sent a violent slam echoing around the estate.

  The line went dead and Curtis walked away from the phone, his hands pressed against his head in frustration. It was a foreign feeling to not feel in control and he took calming breaths as he pulled his eyes shut. Tommy ended the call on his phone, slipping the device back into his pocket. Matt flicked the butt of his cigarette to the floor and pushed himself off the chair, smoke drifting up around him. He strode to the door silently.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Curtis didn’t move, his voice resonating as if from a statue.

  “Back to my life. Just stay the fuck out of it!”

  Before any response was thrown, Matt unlocked the glass door and threw it open. He’d disappeared into the dark of the wet night before it even closed.

  Curtis rubbed his temples, extending every effort to stay calm.

  “I swear to God one of these days I’m going to kill him!”

  “Matt’s his own man, always has been. But unless we deal with the problem at hand, you might not even have to.”

  Curtis spun, his eyes open, shooting daggers at his brother. Tommy’s calm demeanour stoked fires of anger within him.

  “You think I’m going to let this guy lay another finger on a member of this family?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? Did you even listen to this guy?” Curtis gestured wildly with flailing arms.

  “Yes I did. And do you know what I realised, Curtis?” Tommy waited, not expecting a response. “He was calm.”

  Curtis looked at his hulking sibling, awaiting further elaboration. Tommy obliged.

  “This isn’t some idiot stepping out of his comfort zone. This is a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows what we did.” Tommy shook his head. “He is going for the throat, Curtis. He won’t stop and that’s why he’s calm. He knows he can’t afford to not be.”

  “So what do we do?” It surprised Tommy to see his brother so distraught now they were alone. The lights of the room burnt down on them both.

  “Well I’m going to call Ashley, let her know what’s going on. Hopefully she can find out where this is with the police tomorrow, there’s no way this won’t be priority number one by the morning.”

  “Just make sure she’s safe. I want ten people shadowing her at all times until this is over.”

  “No problem.” Tommy replied reassuringly.

  Curtis’s shoulders hunched forward and he took a few slow steps towards his brother. He patted him on the side of his enormous bicep before trudging towards the door to his office. He looked at the shattered shards of phone on the floor, his head down.

  “You think I’m scared don’t you?”

  Tommy didn’t answer as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. Curtis turned, his face interrogating Tommy as it landed on him.

  “No. You think I deserve this.”

  “It was only a matter of time before something came back on us.”

  Curtis only stared at him, the emotional weight of the evening visibly taking its toll on him. Tommy returned the look, the phone ready to dial in his hand.

  “This man has killed members of our family, Curtis. I won’t let that go.”

  Tommy’s voice was direct and full of purpose, a promise of vengeance that seemed to awaken Curtis from his fearful shell.

  “Good.”

  Curtis nodded and then straightened the tie that hung loosely from his shirt collar. He stomped over to the door, wrenched it open with one twist of the handle. Before he ascended the stairs, Tommy, holding the phone to his ear, called after him.

  “Just remember, Curtis. We killed a member of his too.”

  The park within the metal fences of Soho Square was dark, the street lights turned off and the gates closed. Near the white pavilion, a sneaky homeless man shuffled across the muddy grass to a bench, ready to lie a drunken head down for a horrible night’s sleep.

  The wind swept through the grounds, rain coating everything in a fresh, wet skin.

  The stone face of the King Charles II statue was drenched, droplets careering down its smooth cheeks like unstoppable tears. The black world around it dulled the look of the statue, no longer the stark white which it appeared in daylight. The only light filtering in from a few street lights outside the fence parameter.

  Lucas stared up at the statue, the rain wetting his hair and the wind blowing it in any direction it chose. He wanted to feel something, some sort of judgement for the horrors he had created that evening. The pain he had put those men through.
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  He thought he would find it in the eyes of a statue that meant so much to him.

  His fist swung gently by his side, squeezing the golden circle that had once lived on his wife’s finger.

  He closed his eyes, his mind thumbing through its archives until it settled on their first date.

  The two of them were standing where he was now, the rain falling just as heavily but warmer.

  Maybe it had been just as cold, only Helen’s presence had made the temperature irrelevant. Her voice was soft, almost angelic.

  “I don’t care how much trouble I get in to, Lucas. It’s my life.”

  He’d always loved her stubbornness, even more so when reflecting upon it.

  “It’s your career though, Helen. You don’t want to throw that away for a waste like me.”

  “You’re not a waste!”

  Her face was beautiful, even in anger. The rain fell on them, neither feeling anything except the birth of their love.

  “And if I have to leave my job, move to another hospital in another town then I will.”

  Lucas smiled, remembering the words. How much she’d meant them.

  “As long as you come with me.”

  Lucas had looked at her, shocked that she could feel that on their first date. She would always say, the six months she’d spent with him before their first date was when she’d fell in love with him.

  When she’d saved him.

  “You can’t do that.” Lucas replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I love you, Lucas.”

  The words had shaken Lucas, even though the years had passed and they’d got married. Hearing her say those words for the first time, her declaration of love dancing over raindrops, suddenly reminded him of what he was avenging.

  “I love you, too.”

  She'd taken a few steps and then had pushed herself up on her toes. Their lips had locked for the first time, an act that would happen daily but would never waver in passion.

  They stood and kissed, the rain falling around them.

  The statue of King Charles II had witnessed it all.

  Lucas slowly opened his eyes and felt the rain on his face. Drops ran down from his hair, some even scattering down the back of his jumper, trickling down his defined back.

  He took a few deep breaths, controlling his heartbreak as he stood in the spot where it had all began.

  Suddenly, the angelic voice ghosted across the air behind him.

  “What have you done, Lucas?”

  Lucas stared straight ahead, tightening his mouth to stop himself from responding. He told himself she wasn’t there, that she wasn’t real.

  “Lucas. Look at me.”

  Lucas took a moment and turned. His eyes squinted in the onslaught of rain, peering through at what appeared to be the love of his life. Only it wasn’t quite, her gown floating against the arc of the wind, her hair smudging into the light that surrounded her.

  It was almost Helen.

  But not complete.

  Her eyes clung to him, not once stopping to blink. She reached out an arm, no true definition to the fingers at the end of the hand she put to his cheek.

  “I miss you, Helen.” Lucas knew he was saying it to himself.

  “I miss you, too.” The words didn’t feel authentic, instead feeling like they’d come from a previous memory.

  The pair stood for a moment, as they’d done all those years ago. Charles II bore witness once again.

  “You have to stop this, Lucas.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to.” Her voice sounded broken, the words not resonating as loudly. The rain echoed off the ground like chattering teeth. “Otherwise they’ll come for you.”

  Lucas closed his eyes, wishing, beyond anything, that he could feel the hand she’d raised to him. Feel her fingers on his face just one last time. His fist squeezed tightly, encasing her wedding ring in his fingers

  “Then I will kill them.”

  Lucas opened his eyes, the rain falling in the dark around him.

  He stood alone.

  An extract from ‘Life on the Beat: Memoirs of a thirty year police officer.’ by Paul Fletcher.

  I’ll never forget that moment.

  The words of Officer Shah rang through my police radio, my evening companion, and hung in the air alongside the multiple clouds of cigarette smoke and stench of whiskey.

  “Somebody has killed Lewis Drayton.”

  Suddenly, the world around me became very real. I’d lived an existence ever since my beloved Susan had left me, but not one that I could ever truly recall. I would eat meals I couldn't taste and iron shirts out of habit. I would encase myself in my work, not wanting to exist in a world without her.

  Suddenly, that world became apparent.

  I knew the moment those words had filtered through, I was in a world where people experience a variety of pains and agonies, all of which were unique. Those words spoke to me because I knew exactly what had happened.

  Lucas had killed Lewis Drayton.

  Murdered him in cold blood.

  And how did I feel?

  Not a day goes by that I don't wish that a physical manifestation of cancer would appear in this world, so I could corner it in a room and batter it to death for the lives it has taken. Not just my dear Susan, but the life where I exist as a father and a grandfather that was snatched away from me.

  Every single person who has lost someone will know that feeling.

  That desire to be able to hold the responsible party to their actions and beat them into submission. I would do it gladly.

  Alas, the horror that took my wife and stole my means of existence is a prolonged evil. An evil that this world will one day, hopefully conquer. To this world, my wife is just another number on a long list claimed by that destructive force.

  Lucas knew exactly who was responsible and made them face the devastation they’d caused. Whilst my colleagues danced around in a wild panic at the news of the death of Lewis Drayton, Lucas rampaged through Drayton territory and claimed another.

  How did I feel about it?

  Numb.

  Because I knew, when I’d looked into his eyes when they’d buried his wife that this had been coming. In hindsight, I should have warned the police, or at least made them aware of what I knew about Lucas.

  How his mind worked.

  The things he’d done.

  But all I could think about was how badly I wanted to face cancer in a fist fight and I kept my mouth closed. Lucas was a good man and had had his life ripped from him.

  He deserved to have his vengeance.

  Lucas suddenly went straight to the top of the Metropolitan Police's most wanted list. Interviews were held with close friends and work colleagues from the quaint village where he and Helen had lived happily. It truly is a beautiful town, however ever since the war between Lucas and the Draytons, a dark cloud hovers over it.

  I myself had the pleasure of interviewing Alex, Lucas's best friend and trainer. He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.

  “They loved each other dearly.”

  “I haven't seen Lucas since the funeral.”

  “He couldn't possibly have done this.”

  I believed every word he’d said apart from that last sentence. His eyes betrayed him.

  He knew what I knew.

  Lucas was more than capable of committing those atrocities that night in London, where Drayton blood washed over the streets and their numbers diminished.

  He would prove it again, just twenty four hours later.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Starling sat in the far corner of the back row of chairs, the cheap plastic offering no support for his back. His hair sat scruffily on his head, his face dark with stubble. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a large gulp of hot, black coffee, hoping to battle the exhaustion. The dark bags under his eyes countered his attempt.

  Other officers filtered into the conference room, the rows of chairs filling up wi
th his bemused and shocked colleagues. He noticed Officer Boulder as he walked in, nodding a silent hello. Officer McCarthy hobbled in, his usual smile replaced with a look of horror and Starling knew he’d been told of the night before. Those who had just started their shifts were murmuring their disbelief.

  “Who the hell would kill a Drayton?”

  “It has to be a gang attack.”

  “He beat up six men.”

  Starling closed his eyes and let his head tilt back. It had been a night verging on the unbelievable and he longed for Annette. He had tried to picture her blonde hair as she snuggled into him on the sofa, her eyes locked on an episode of America's Next Top Model. How soft it was when he ran his fingers through it, how beautiful it smelt when she’d just washed it.

  His nose began to twitch, almost as if she were next to him then and there.

  She had messaged him earlier, apologetically telling him she had a family crisis to attend to with the brother he was yet to meet. After the night he’d just had, Starling wasn't looking forward to getting into an empty bed.

  Starling was interrupted by the ground-shaking stomps of Sgt. Bailey as he stormed through the door, his broad shoulders demanding a walkway which his officers provided. Starling opened his eyes, immediately noticing the urgency in the usually stern-faced Sergeant. The whispers and murmurs died down as Bailey made it to the front of the room, the board behind him still displaying the beautiful smile of Helen Cole. Starling wondered why.

  Paul Fletcher quietly walked to the front too, standing awkwardly to the side of the room as Bailey rubbed his strong jaw with a powerful hand.

  “Right let's cut to the chase. For those who are still here from the night before, you know what's happening. To those who have just arrived, listen up.”

  The room went silent, a sea of eyes fixed forwards.

  “Last night, Lewis and Harry Drayton were both murdered in two separate attacks. I'm not going to sugar-coat it; whoever did it, wanted to make them suffer.” Bailey let the room scribble down notes, a number of pencils scratching on several pads. “Now so far, we have reason to believe that these events are linked. Evidence suggests it was one man. CCTV at ‘The Hive’ nightclub shows the suspect easily fighting through Harry Drayton's security before Harry himself was abducted. He turned up ninety minutes later with several fingers missing and a chisel through his throat. Before that, Lewis received an army of baseballs to several points of his body before being decapitated by an avalanche of them.”