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

by Robert Enright

  The love of his life had been murdered in cold blood.

  He discarded the bottle of vodka sitting on his coffee table and headed straight to the bathroom. He shaved and showered, wanting to look every bit the policeman that he knew he was. He’d promised to protect people to ensure those who broke the law were brought to justice.

  He’d believed in those words ever since the day he’d uttered them with his hand over a bible, swearing himself into the police force before a room full of strangers and a very proud father.

  Now he would reinforce them one more time.

  He pulled on his uniform, feeling incomplete without the police badge he’d discarded in his emotional turmoil. Bailey would take him back, he was sure of it. They may not see eye to eye, but he was a damn good officer. The Metropolitan Police needed good officers.

  He strapped on his stab-proof vest, realising that his lack of sleep and food had made him weaker and that the vest hung heavier than before. He would pull himself out of it. He would get himself back on track and it would all begin tonight.

  He left his flat and pulled away in his car within minutes.

  Tonight would be the night that he stopped Lucas Cole.

  As he drove towards Brixton, he tried to remove the cold, dead eyes of Annette staring up at him from the floor of her office. She’d had the vacant look of someone who’d been erased from the world.

  He gripped the wheel in anger until his knuckles shone white.

  A few hours passed, the sun had retired for the night and now rain fell along Brixton High Street, illuminated by the bright moon overlooking the world. He glanced at the clock.

  Eleven o'clock.

  He sat with his eyes transfixed on the street ahead, the pavement clear and the only building with any signs of life was the 'Odds On' betting shop. Although closed, the lights still burnt behind the windows.

  Starling ran a hand through his blonde hair and then clicked on his radio. He listened to the voices of his colleagues, all of them out on their respective beats, a few reports of a fight breaking out in a nearby pub.

  A car pulled into up to the curb a few spaces behind him. He stared into the rear view mirror, his fingers turning the volume dial of his radio until he sat in silence.

  All he could hear was the rain clattering against the body of his car.

  The door opened in the reflection and Starling felt a jolt of rage as if he was struck with a cattle prod.

  Lucas Cole stepped out and onto the street.

  He looked up and down the road, looking for signs of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Starling recognised him immediately, remembering how powerful the man had looked when he’d barged into the hospital a few weeks back, his life and loved one fading away within minutes.

  Before sympathy settled in, he envisaged Annette begging to this man before he’d thrown her to her death.

  Lucas crossed the empty road, his footsteps splashing through small puddles in the uneven tarmac. Starling slowly opened the door to his car, ensuring he made no noise to alert Lucas, who was striding towards the door of the Drayton property. He slunk along the side of his car and then lightly jogged across the road, keeping his footsteps light even in his hulking police boots. He stopped as he approached the cars in front of the shop, as Lucas approached the glass door.

  “Lucas Cole!”

  The man spun on the spot, locking eyes on Starling. He recognised him, something that Starling was hoping for.

  “You’re under arrest.”

  “I remember you.”

  “Put your hands on your head and face the wall.”

  “You were at the hospital. You were the one who found her.”

  “I said put your hands on your head and face the fucking wall!”

  Lucas took a few steps nearer the cars that separated them and Starling reached towards his belt, his hand clasping the CS Spray he was obliged to carry.

  The street was eerily quiet. Only the sound of the rain and the distant traffic could be heard as the two men stared at each other.

  “This has got nothing to do with you.”

  Click.

  Lucas stood dead still at the unmistakeable sound of the gun safety latch being removed. A moment later, he felt the cold, hard steel of a gun pressing against the back of his head.

  “Easy does it.”

  Tommy Drayton held the gun in a firm, strong grip at the end of an outstretched arm. His muscles pulled his polo shirt tight, his finger resting gently on the trigger. Lucas stood still, a realisation of defeat spreading across his face.

  Starling thought he would enjoy it more.

  “Let's get inside, shall we? We'll catch our death out here.”

  Tommy slowly walked to the side, the gun pressed to Lucas's skull as he turned around. Two other men stood either side of the door, one of them pointing a snub-nosed shotgun directly at Lucas's stomach. The other, looking vigilantly up and down the street, held a Beretta in his hands. As Lucas took small, careful steps towards the door, the lookout leant forward and opened the glass door. The man holding the shotgun went first, carefully walking backwards into the shop, his gun locked on Lucas with every step.

  Lucas entered, the bright lights causing him to squint uncomfortably, but he gradually adjusted. Four large tables, each flanked by long-legged stools inside a rather elegantly decorated shop. Large screens were mounted on the wall. Tommy entered behind, his hand steady as he held the gun, guiding Lucas in. Starling then hurried in behind, rain water dripping from his Met vest. The lookout took one last glimpse and then shut the door, locking it in place and then operating the control box to bring down the shutter.

  Within moments, the world was shut out.

  A moment later, Lucas felt a sharp pain emanating from the back of his skull, as Tommy clubbed him with the butt of the gun.

  His world went dark before he hit the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  The irritating pain of someone slapping his face brought Lucas back to reality. Another firm palm connected with his face and his eyes opened. He was leaning forward, his arms held back behind him as he felt two separate pairs of hands clasped on either arm. Mark and Banner stood behind him, locking his arms in place.

  “Wake up, sunshine.”

  Lucas lifted his head, to be greeted by a playful smile from Tommy Drayton. The man had the stature and swagger of someone who knew how to handle himself, fitting Harry's description of him perfectly. Lucas didn't have to wait long to discover how powerful he was as Tommy clobbered his stomach with a vicious uppercut from his mighty right hand.

  Lucas felt the air leave his body and his shattered ribs jingle. He heaved and Tommy grabbed his hair and lifted his head with a hard tug of his hair.

  “That was for killing my sister.”

  “Enough, Tommy!”

  The voice made Lucas's stomach turn. He’d heard it over the phone, screaming vile threats with an uncontrollable rage. He saw the smart, well-polished shoes step into view and, as he raised his head, his vision climbed up the tailor-made suit until he locked eyes with Curtis. They were black, emitting an evil Lucas would have only reserved for the devil. His short, thin hair was neatly brushed and his smile was one of a victor.

  Lucas tried to lunge for him, but he was held in place. Banner even twisted his arm, the tendons in his shoulder stretched almost to breaking point. Lucas succumbed, staring at the man who’d raped and murdered his wife.

  “Well, well, well, Lucas Cole. Just the man I've been looking for.”

  Curtis calmly stood a few feet away, not even attempting to hide the smugness of his victory. He slowly removed his blazer and rested it on the nearby desk.

  “What was it I told you?”

  Before Lucas was allowed to answer the rhetorical question, the two captors pulled Lucas's arms back to straighten him. Curtis threw a violent right hook, his fist colliding with Lucas's jaw with a thunderous crack.

  “Oh yeah. I told you that I’d get you, didn't I? A
nd what would I be if I wasn't a man of my word?”

  He swung another punch, sending a spray of blood shooting from Lucas's mouth. His two henchmen locked him in place, refusing to remove him from the punishment. Tommy stood calmly, arms folded. Starling looked around nervously, every moment only adding to the regret he was now starting to feel.

  Curtis then hammered a hard punch straight into Lucas's rib cage, his detached bones thumping around inside his body. He coughed, more blood splattering the floor, but he did not make a sound.

  Curtis scowled, slowly removing his expensive, gold cufflinks and rolling his shirt sleeves up his arm. Lucas closed his eyes, his resignation of failure etching away at him.

  “See, Lucas, I know what the world is like. People want to make out that you can find happiness in this place; that you can walk through it with the sun shining and the birds chirping. But you and I know the truth, don't we?”

  Curtis took a step forward and propelled his whole body weight into his next strike. Lucas's head snapped back on the impact, his nose a broken mess. His legs weakened slightly and the two men held him in place as he slumped forward. The blood dripped slowly to the floor.

  Starling watched on, wishing he could retract the worst decision he’d ever made.

  “Life hands people shit from the start. I know all about your life, what happened when you were younger. The bullying, the beatings, the poor little tyke who just needed a cuddle. Seriously, I was touched.”

  He nodded to the henchmen who, once again, held Lucas steady. Then strengthened their grip as he slumped forward again after another hate-filled fist connected with his hard stomach.

  “Nobody cared, right? They didn't when I had the same fucking hand dealt to me. But do you know what makes us different, Lucas?”

  Lucas coughed, feeling blood filling up his mouth. He spat it on the floor, right in the direction of a snarling Curtis. His words were quiet, but he looked Curtis straight in the eye.

  “I don't need to rape women to feel like a man.”

  Lucas closed his eyes in preparation, knowing that the next fist was imminent. He was right, and Curtis struck him with his final punch, breaking a few of his knuckles on Lucas's jaw.

  The man swung, almost unconscious in the arms of the two henchmen. Tommy hadn't even flinched, watching intently from his spot against the counter. Starling could feel himself shaking, his vengeance had clouded his judgement and now he was watching a man get beaten to death, knowing his life would never be the same again. Curtis, his hand swelling by the second, slowly paced in front of his fallen nemesis.

  “The difference between us, you piece of shit, is that I embraced it and played my hand perfectly. I used it to take control of this fucking city. All you did was hide behind doors until you relied on someone to take you out of it.”

  Curtis turned and nodded to Tommy, who stepped away from the counter. Lucas, with blood trickling from above his eye joining the mass dripping from his nose, hung from the hands behind him. He heard the man's footsteps.

  “You're not the only one in the room who has lost their partner, Lucas.” Curtis pulled Lucas's head up by his hair, lifting his eye line towards Starling, the nervous looking Police Officer who’d ambushed him earlier. “Ashley was his girlfriend. He wanted to make sure you also got what was coming.”

  Curtis turned towards Starling, his fingers still roughly latched onto Lucas's hair.

  “You want to give him a few?”

  Starling looked anxiously around the room, shaking his head. He could feel vomit trying to escape his body, tunnelling its way up his throat but he managed to stop the flow before it reached freedom.

  Curtis shrugged and let go of Lucas, his head feebly flopping forward again. Blood dripped from his facial wounds onto the tiles below.

  “You killed three of my brothers, Lucas.”

  Tommy approached Curtis and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. From it, he pulled the large, vicious blade that had ended Helen's life. He handed it to Curtis.

  “You killed my little sister.”

  Curtis spoke through gritted teeth as he clasped his fingers tightly around the blade's handle. He took a few steps towards the blood-stained man who had done so much damage to his family.

  “I know Helen meant the world to you, Lucas. She was your reason for everything. Your control. I'm sure you have been poring through memories, remembering everything about her.”

  Curtis leant forward, his mouth next to Lucas's ear. He swung weakly.

  “Thing is, mate, I don't even remember what colour her fucking hair was.”

  Curtis lunged forward.

  A burning sensation roared from Lucas's side, as the knife ripped through his skin. The blade pushed in as Curtis held it with as much force as he could. Blood began to seep around the blade and Lucas gritted his teeth, refusing to give Curtis the satisfaction of his pain.

  He breathed heavily, counting down the moments in his head until he could see Helen again.

  Starling watched on in horror. Curtis's eyes were wide and filled with a crazed delight. Lucas wobbled in the grip of the two men, his face a beaten mess, his shirt stained with blood.

  Curtis pulled his arm back, revealing the knife that was now red and dripping with Lucas's blood. Blood oozed from Lucas's side and he dropped to his knees. Mark and Banner relinquished their holds, slowly stepping away as the blood trickled out onto the floor.

  Curtis proudly stepped back, handing the knife back to his brother. He began to slide back into his blazer as he turned to Tommy.

  “Take him downstairs and get rid of him.”

  “In my gym?”

  “Yes, in your fucking gym. I have business to attend to.” He nodded his head in the direction Starling, who cautiously watched the two brothers.

  “What the hell do you want me to do with him?” Tommy looked at the dying man, crumpled on his knees before them.

  “Whatever you want. I've done my part.”

  Tommy shook his head in frustration, before treading through the blood towards Lucas. He slid the knife into his back pocket and then reached down with his massive arms and pulled the fading Lucas to his feet. Lucas groggily stood, feeling the life pouring from him as the blood trickled from his stab wound, staining his jeans red.

  Starling swallowed the vomit that had snuck up his throat, knowing he needed to remain calm and just get out of the shop. Everyone else seemed completely unmoved as Lucas was marched to the door.

  Curtis straightened his tie and then stepped in front of Lucas one last time. He reached out, placing two fingers under Lucas's blood stained chin and gently lifted his face up. He looked into his increasingly vacant eyes.

  “Look at you. You're pathetic.”

  Curtis smirked at Tommy who pushed the crestfallen Lucas forward. He hobbled towards the door, his hand pressed firmly against his side, the gun Tommy held prodding against his leather clad spine. Each step was harder than the last and he felt the fight leaving him with each passing second.

  He had let Helen and Alex down.

  Mark pushed open the door to the gym and Tommy forced Lucas through it, the beaten avenger leaning against the wooden bannister as he disappeared down the wooden stair case. Tommy followed behind and Mark closed the door.

  For a few moments, the only noise that could be heard was the decreasing echo of their footsteps. Then silence.

  Curtis lit a cigarette and triumphantly blew the smoke into the shop. It floated around the room like a cloud, hovering over the drips of blood leading from the door and back to the small puddle which had already fallen from Lucas. Curtis watched as Mark and Banner sat at the other desk, the latter lighting a cigarette as Mark began shuffling a deck of cards they’d been tossing back and forth earlier that evening.

  They had done well tonight and with the rebuilding job Curtis had on his hands, he ring fenced them as being integral.

  Tommy had been right. He had lost his grip. People would question how hard his grip was on the b
ollocks of London, especially as one man had managed to rip a hole through his empire and leave four of his family members facing a trip to the after-life.

  As ironic as it was, considering he had just consigned Lucas to death, he was exactly the type of man Curtis would have wanted by his side.

  He shook the image from his mind and took another long drag on his cigarette, the ash tumbling lightly to the floor.

  His eyes locked onto those of Starling, who looked pale and increasingly uncomfortable.

  Curtis enjoyed it.

  “So,” he said, approaching Starling, doing his best to present himself as intimidating. “You're the one who was fucking my sister, eh?”

  Starling looked up, surprised by the question and was met with a firm stare from the head of the Drayton household. He mumbled nervously, trying hard not to show his fear despite the display of unrelenting brutality he’d just witnessed.

  Curtis shrugged, hurrying him along.

  “Well?”

  “I-I-I loved her.”

  “Aww.” Completely insincere. “That's sweet.”

  Curtis dropped the cigarette to the floor and stamped on it, crushing the flaming embers into the laminate flooring.

  “I really did!” Starling said, painfully.

  “Did you ever wonder why she never told you who she was?”

  Curtis walked over to the bench again, picking up his cigarettes and lighting another one, enjoying the harsh, burning sensation as it clipped the back of his throat. He shook his empty glass in Mark's direction, turning away as the young man obliged and raced up to his office for a refill. Curtis then pulled out his custom designed Beretta from the inside of his blazer, holding it up to the light before returning it.

  Starling wasn't sure if it was all a show for him, for him to witness what he was now expected to become.

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. For a pig you ain't half shit at the whole listening thing.”