“Stop talking like a fanny,” said Battler, embarrassed. “Jesus H Christ, did you ever think that years ago when Frank Maguire was alive and we were enemies that one day we’d be sat here talking about the menopause?”
“No, I must confess it never crossed my mind. I find it difficult to believe we ever were enemies.”
The corner of Battler’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Me too.” He frowned at the road ahead. “Looks like we’re here so let’s drop all this fucking soppy talk.”
“Fine by me.”
They’d arrived in the town of Barnstaple - which was a ninety minute drive from Battler’s base in Torquay - to deal with the three muggers.
“I don’t like this,” said Battler as he brought the car to a halt on a leafy, residential street and switched off the engine. “There’s so many surrounding houses and judging by all the lights a lot of people are in.”
“Agreed. We can’t do it here. We need to wait for them to come out.”
“That could take all night.”
“Fortunately our informant told us they go to the pub every night at nine.”
Battler glanced at his watch. “Forty minutes,” he sighed.
“Could be worse.”
Battler just grunted and settled back in his seat for the wait.
Forty five minutes later Ryan said, “we’ve got movement,”
“They’re late,” huffed Battler, starting the engine.
Ryan felt sorry for the three men, they’d just pissed off Battler. That was never a good thing.
The three men wandered down the road, talking and laughing. There was nothing particularly unpleasant about them, nothing to indicate they were violent criminals. Fortunately Battler had run background checks and discovered all three had criminal records for a variety of offences, including breaking and entering, GBH and theft. A victim of one of their muggings had recognised them but they were far too terrified to go to the police, which was why they’d turned to the Laws, thinking they could help them.
“Let’s leave the car here and follow them,” said Ryan. “We can’t kerb crawl alongside them.”
“Yeah,” said Battler. “The pub can’t be far if they’re walking.”
They waited until the three men were at the other end of the street before getting out of the car and hurrying to follow, careful to keep their distance. The road they were on was busy during the day but at this time of night only the odd car passed, however there were still a lot of occupied houses and they were becoming concerned they would lose their chance before the men reached the pub.
Finally they turned onto a road that had a darkened park on one side and a bowling green and grounds on the other, all shut up for the night.
Ryan and Battler looked at each other and nodded before breaking into a jog, racing to catch up with the men while pulling black balaclavas over their faces. Ryan couldn’t help but admire Battler, who was in his fifties and, despite his advancing age and enormous size he easily kept pace with himself but Battler had always looked after himself, it was important in his line of work.
The three men didn’t even realise they were there until they were practically on top of them.
Hearing their footfalls, one of the men turned to face them, calling his friends’ attention to the danger. Battler steamed into him, the smaller, thinner man ricocheting off his big body, landing on a wall. Ryan punched the man on the left in the kidneys who dropped to the ground, gasping and shaking while the third swung at Battler, who leapt backwards, dodging the blow and slammed a massive fist into his face, knocking him out.
Ryan grabbed the one he’d punched in the kidneys, forced him to his knees and pressed a knife to his throat.
“We know all about your little antics, mugging old people and the helpless,” he hissed in the man’s ear, making his voice harsh and gruff so he wouldn’t be able to recognise it. “It stops now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” retorted the man.
“Of course you do.” He pressed the blade to the man’s cheek, so sharp it opened up a large gash. “Just so you know we’re serious,” added Ryan. “Next time it will be your throat. Do you understand? I said do you understand?” he snarled in the man’s ear when he remained silent, both furious and terrified as blood ran down his face.
“Yes,” he spat.
“Excellent,” said Ryan before punching him in the side of the face so hard he knocked him out.
Battler picked up the man who was flailing over the wall and lifted him so he stood on his tiptoes. “And what about you dickhead?”
The masked giant gripping him in one huge fist was enough to cow him. “We’ll knock it off, promise.”
“Good,” grunted Battler before tossing him aside. He looked down at the man Ryan had knocked out with disgust. “Is that it? Jesus, when is someone going to give us a real challenge?”
“You won’t find what you seek in fools like this,” said Ryan, pocketing the knife. “That’s why they mug women and the elderly, because they’re cowards and they’re weak.”
“Suppose,” he mumbled. “Well, job done. At least we can go home.”
“Yes,” sighed Ryan as they walked away.
“She’ll come round,” said Battler. “You’re the only man for Rachel.”
“I used to think so,” he said sadly.
Battler drove them back to Newton Abbot, dropping Ryan off at home.
“Good luck with Rach,” said Battler as he got out. “I hope it all works out.”
Ryan’s expression was grim. “Me too. Thanks for the advice Battler.”
“Don’t tell anyone, I don’t want people thinking I’m going soft.”
“After your performance tonight I don’t think that’s likely.”
Ryan closed the car door and watched Battler drive off, the car lights receding into the distance. He looked up at the house and sighed, feeling alone and a little lost.
Steeling himself, he walked inside and found Rachel where he’d left her, curled up on the couch with her book, a glass of wine in hand.
She looked up at him and smiled. “How did it go? Any problems?”
“No, it went like clockwork.” He sat beside her. “I’d like to talk to you though.”
She put aside the book and placed her wine glass on the coffee table. “About what?”
“I know what’s wrong with you and it’s nothing to do with tiredness.”
She frowned and shook her head. “No, you can’t.”
“I do and it’s okay, it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me.”
“What doesn’t?” she said suspiciously.
“Your menopause.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “My what?”
“Every woman goes through it and if you’re going through it a bit earlier then what does it matter? At least you won’t have to put up with periods anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“I won’t think any the less of you, you’re still my Rachel, the woman I love and adore. We’ve already decided not to have any more children anyway, so it makes no difference.”
“Ryan, I am not going through the menopause.”
“It’s alright, you don’t need to live in denial. We can face it together.”
She shook her head. “I am not in denial. Read my lips - I am not going through the menopause.”
“You’re not?”
“No, everything is still running like clockwork in that department.”
“Oh,” he said, surprised to find he was disappointed. “But it explained so much.”
“Explained what?”
“Your moods, lack of libido, they’re all symptoms.”
“Oh I see. So if a woman says she’s a bit tired then it must be something to do with her reproductive cycle, is that it?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I thought you were different from those pillocks who think a woman must be having a period if she gets angry.”
�
��I am not one of those cavemen.”
“You sound like one.”
“Where are you going?” he said when she got to her feet.
“To bed. I’m tired.”
“Surprise surprise,” he muttered as she stormed out. “I’m going to kick Battler’s arse,” he sighed, dragging his hands through his hair.
CHAPTER 12
Ryan woke up in a foul mood the next morning after spending the night lying beside a cold pair of shoulders. Again. At least Rachel seemed to have forgiven him for putting his foot in it the night before because she greeted him with a peck on the lips when he got up to find her already up and cooking pancakes for breakfast. But he’d noticed she’d been quick to rise before he’d woken so he wouldn’t have the chance to hit on her, hence his foul mood. He seemed even further from discovering what was wrong with her than he had the night before.
Consequently when Detective Inspector Ashley Boyle of the Devon and Cornwall Police turned up on his doorstep looking grim, Ryan wasn’t in the mood for him.
“What do you want?” he said flatly.
“I think you know,” said Ashley with a meaningful look.
“I have no idea.”
“Three men were found beaten up in Barnstaple.”
“And?”
“It was you.”
“Do you have any evidence to back up such an accusation?”
“No.” Ashley broke into a smile. “I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Excuse me?”
“We knew they were responsible but we couldn’t get any evidence. All our witnesses were too afraid of them to testify. However, now it’s common knowledge one of them is in hospital.”
“Oh yes?” said Ryan casually, refusing to commit to anything.
“They were punched in the kidneys by something the doctor said had the impact of a charging rhino. He’ll be fine but he needed some treatment. Anyway, since that news got round the manor three witnesses have stepped forward, giving us everything we needed to search his house. We found several items taken from the victims. When he was confronted by that he soon ratted out his friends. We’re confident of a conviction.”
“Excellent news but it really was nothing to do with me.”
“There are very few people around here who can punch with the impact of a charging rhino.” He appeared thoughtful. “Although technically rhinos can’t punch because they don’t have hands so they can’t make a fist.”
“Would you please come to the point Ashley? I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”
“Sorry. Anyway, at first I didn’t think this vigilante business of yours was a good idea but you’ve actually done some good.”
At this moment Rachel walked out of the kitchen and smiled. “Hello Ashley. You’re just in time for pancakes if you want to join us?”
He nodded. “Yes thanks, I missed breakfast this morning.”
Ryan tried not to sigh out loud as Ashley walked inside, removing his policeman’s cap.
He joined them at the breakfast bar in the kitchen and tucked into the pile of pancakes Rachel put before him with gusto while Ryan poured out tea for them all.
“Good grief, that was fast,” said Rachel as she placed pancakes for herself and Ryan on the table. “I’ve only just finished cooking ours.”
“I was starving. That’ll teach me to go out before having breakfast.” He leaned back on his stool and patted his stomach. “That’ll set me up for the day. Thank you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you any more,” she said. “The batter I have left is for the kids, when they eventually decide to get up.”
“Not to worry, I’ve had plenty. Actually I’m glad they’re still in bed because I want to say that despite the good you’ve done with your vigilantism…”
Rachel glanced uncertainly at Ryan.
“Ashley seems to be under the impression that we’re secret seekers of justice,” Ryan explained with an amused smile. “Like cheap cartoon characters.”
“I know I’ll never get you to admit it,” said Ashley. “You’re both far too smart for that but I must caution you against it. This sort of thing has a habit of backfiring on the perpetrators.”
“That’s very interesting but nothing to do with us,” said Ryan.
Ashley laughed and shook his head. “You have everything anyone could want. I would hate to see you lose it all because of your thrill-seeking.”
“I can assure you Ashley,” said Rachel. “After our lives in Manchester all we want now is to live quietly.”
“I wish that were true,” he said a little sadly. “Know what I think?”
“Highly doubtful,” said Ryan, taking a sip of tea.
“You’re trying to atone for all the bad things you’ve done.”
Outwardly Ryan didn’t show a reaction, he was far too in control of himself for that but inwardly he was a little stunned by Ashley’s deductions. He hadn’t thought a police officer capable of such insight. He’d always known he and Rachel and Battler and Bruiser too hadn’t got involved in vigilantism because they disliked the quiet life. On the contrary they adored how peaceful their lives were now. They all knew that the freshness of their new lives had made them see in startling clarity the lives they’d led before and now they wanted to atone for them.
He glanced at Rachel and he could read her so well he knew she was thinking exactly the same thing.
Ashley got to his feet with a smile, pleased with himself, glad he’d given them something to think about. “Right, I’d better get back to it before I’m missed. Thanks for the pancakes, they certainly hit the spot. I’ll see myself out, please don’t disturb your breakfast for me.”
“Too late,” muttered Ryan as Ashley left. “But I think he was right, as much as I hate to admit it.”
Rachel nodded, looking a little sad. “Yes, me too. I think that’s exactly why we’re doing it. Probably Battler and Bruiser too.”
“Although they do enjoy the rush as well,” he said with a smile.
“As do we, there’s no denying it. Me and Danny did a similar thing in Manchester, helping out those who needed it and in the end it paid off big style. Everyone rallied round when I got arrested and the alibi they gave me got me out of prison.”
“Yes I remember, so it can be extremely useful too.”
“That’s one thing Ashley didn’t think of,” said Rachel. “It’s a good form of protection.”
“Yes and one day we may need it.”
Leah listened outside the kitchen door, drinking all of this in. She knew more than her parents thought about her family’s past, thanks to studying newspaper articles and listening to the stories her friends told her that they’d overheard their parents discussing. Plus there were all the things she’d observed over the years. Of course she’d suspected her mum and dad were behind all the recent vigilante attacks but now this confirmed it for her and it had given her a great idea.
Jules entered the house carrying Cara, sheltering her from the pounding rain. Once safely inside she shut the front door and locked it.
“Raining cats and dogs out there,” said Jules, making Cara giggle as she helped her remove her coat and shoes.
Cara’s first day at nursery had gone very well. She was a sociable little thing and enjoyed the company of other children. Plus she’d charmed all the staff with her smile. Unfortunately she’d got a little overexcited and had wet her pants in the car on the way home, so Jules took her upstairs to clean her up.
“What do you want for snack honey?” Jules asked her as she cleaned her up and put her into fresh clothes. “Fruit or cereal?”
“Nana,” cried the little girl, clapping her hands together.
“Banana it is.”
Jules picked her up and froze when she stepped out onto the landing. Overtly everything seemed normal but the atmosphere was all wrong. She remained absolutely still, straining to listen. When there was the slight creak of a floorboard downstairs she retreated down the hall. It wasn’t Jackson, h
e was training at the gym and wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours at least.
Turning, she headed back into Cara’s room. The little girl had picked up on her mum’s unease and was looking up at her with huge, scared eyes.
“You just wait here and play with your toys honey,” said Jules, placing her on the floor. “Mummy will be right back.”
“Mummy,” called Cara when Jules got to her feet.
Jules picked her up for a cuddle. “I won’t be long sweetheart, promise. Be a good girl for Mummy.”
Cara blinked up at her with her big blue eyes and nodded.
“You are such a good girl. I love you so much,” said Jules, kissing her.
She held onto her a moment longer before putting her back down to play. “Here you go, play with Mr Piggly, you love him.”
Cara beamed and hugged the cuddly pink pig to her.
“You’ll sit here and be really quiet for Mummy, won’t you?”
Cara’s smile fell and she nodded seriously.
Normally Jules wouldn’t dream of leaving her unsupervised but she had no choice. Someone was in the house. If it was anyone innocent they would have made themselves known by now. Besides, years of working as an assassin had finely honed her instincts. She knew when danger was near.
Jules took out her phone and hesitated, almost calling Jackson before changing her mind and calling Mikey instead. There was no way she was going to put Jackson in danger but danger was Mikey’s speciality.
“Someone’s in my house,” she whispered, the second he answered.
‘What? Who?’
“Don’t know. I need you.”
‘On my way.’
That made her feel a bit better and she hung up.
“Back in a minute sweetie,” she said, cuddling Cara again, not wanting to leave her alone but knowing she had no choice. Whoever it was wasn’t going to get near her daughter.
She hurried into her bedroom, moving as silently as a cat, quietly sliding open her fitted wardrobe door and pulling back the carpet to reveal a panel cut into the floor. Inside the panel were hidden Jules’s trademark knives, the handle of each one carved into a snake to match the huge snake tattoo covering half her body. Red jewels marked out the snakes’ eyes. With practiced speed she strapped the sheaths to her wrists then took out the taser and - after being careful to close up the hole in the floor and replace everything as it was - she headed out of the bedroom, pausing to check in on Cara, who was quietly playing.
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