by J. D. Weston
Harvey saw the familiar shape of a VW Transporter a hundred yards away in the car park of the supermarket. He could just make out the passenger door opening and a leg stepping down.
"Someone, give me a lift up with this, will you?"
"Who's that?" someone asked.
"I don't know, do I? I didn't stop to ask his name," said Harvey.
"We don't bloody want him in here."
"Yes, we do," said Dom from the passenger seat. "The boss will love that, nice work. Get him inside, and let's fuck off before the old bill turns up."
"Go, we're in," said Harvey once he'd pulled the doors closed. He sat with his feet on the Albanian's back and removed his knife from its sheave to clean it on a rag from the van floor.
"Holy shit, Gerry," said Doug. "Think we found us a new man, Dom."
The man in the passenger seat turned around. "Is that right?"
"Did you see that in there?" said Doug. "He stabbed some geezer in the throat, then without blinking turned and stabbed his mate in the chest." Doug whooped. "It was legendary."
"Did we lose anyone?" asked Harvey, ignoring the remarks.
"Yeah, two fellas down. They're in the back of the other van."
"Serious?"
"One had his face slashed, the other is unconscious," said Dom. "Why do you ask?"
"Just checking the odds. Thirty against fifteen, none of them are standing, and thirteen of us are. Plus, we got a prisoner." Harvey leaned into the corner of the van. "Pretty successful."
"Yeah, well, it'll be successful in a minute when the whole place goes up."
"What do you mean, Dom?" asked Doug.
"While we were in there doing the renovating, Charlie here made a few gas alterations. Didn't you, Charlie?" Dom turned to face the rear of the van and smiled in the darkness.
"I'd give it two minutes max. As soon as someone lights their next fag, it'll be game over," said Charlie. He was older than the rest of the men, smoked roll-ups and had a hard, weathered face.
Harvey hadn't known about the fire. He needed to text Melody in case she went inside, but couldn't risk it, being so close to the other guys in the van. He was shoulder to shoulder with the man next to him, who would easily see what Harvey was typing.
The van pulled to the side of the road and stopped. "Sit tight, lads," said the driver. "Let's wait for the fireworks."
The second van pulled up alongside the first, and all the men stared out the rear windows.
Nothing happened.
A car drove past the two vans heading towards the pub, and from the supermarket car park came the dark square shape of the VW. It stopped and waited for the car to pass, then moved on again. It had just passed the pub when the gas ignited.
"There he is," said Melody. "I know that swagger anywhere. What's he doing?" Melody opened the door and stepped down to get a clearer view.
"He's dragging someone behind him," said Reg.
"He's looking right at us," said Jackson. "He is a lunatic. If the Albanians come back out of that pub, he is toast."
"He's okay. Just hang back, give him some space and let him do his thing."
"They were only in there a couple of minutes. What do you think happened?" asked Jackson.
"Judging by the people that ran out, I'd say it kicked off pretty well, and by the looks of Harvey, the local firm came out on top," said Reg.
"That won't be the end of it. The Albanians won't take it lying down," said Melody. "Follow that second van, Jackson. If those injured locals are going to be in hospital for a while, it'd be a good place to catch up with them, get some answers. Let's go, Jackson, nice and slow."
Jackson pulled away, keeping the lights off until the vans were out of sight. They drove out the car park and onto the road beside the pub.
"Don't stop here, keep going," said Melody, just as the pub windows blew out, causing the van to rock to one side. "Go, go, go." Flames licked the roof of the van, shattered glass rained on the bodywork, and Reg's blacked-out windows lit up as they pulled out of the blast just in time.
Jackson floored the van and accelerated to the end of the road.
"What the hell was that?" said Reg.
"What way did they go?" asked Jackson.
"Harvey turned right according to LUCY."
They heard the sound of sirens in the distance. "Okay, let's ease up, get our bearings."
"I was not expecting that," said Jackson.
"You get to expect the unexpected when Harvey is involved," said Melody, grinning slightly.
"You find that funny?" said Jackson. "I swear my eyebrows singed through the glass."
Melody laughed. "Relax, they just answered our questions."
"What questions?"
"Are we onto the right firm and will there be a retaliation?"
"A retaliation? The Albanians won't take this lying down. If there wasn't a war already, there is definitely one now."
"Good, we'll catch them faster," said Melody.
"And what if more people die?"
"Nobody wants that, Jackson."
"What about if Harvey is killed?"
"Don't talk like that."
"It's a possibility, Melody, not a wish."
"Harvey can take care of himself. Anyway, the question isn't about Harvey getting killed, it's about stopping innocent people dying as a result of the violence. Why the interest in Harvey?"
"There's no interest, Melody. I'm just being the caring team member."
"Well, how about we let Harvey do what he's good at, and we do our jobs and find him."
"Looks like they're heading back to East Ham," said Reg from the rear.
"Cheers, Reg," said Jackson. "Listen, Melody, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have overstepped the mark. I-"
"You didn't overstep the mark, Jackson. We're all a bit sensitive right now. We lost a good man a while back."
"Yeah, I get that. No hard feelings?"
"Whatever," said Melody. "Don't think too much on it."
"There's a great bagel shop near here, my treat."
"Ah," said Reg, "you've struck gold there, Jackson. Even Melody can't refuse a salt beef bagel."
Melody turned and smiled at Reg, then at Jackson. "Okay, but no more talk of-"
"Scout’s honour," said Jackson, holding up his fingers in a scout salute.
"What about Harvey and his white van men?"
"Keep an eye on his location. We can't do much more than that. Besides," said Melody, "what's he going to do, torture the man? It's not the dark ages."
6
The Beast’s Touch
The Albanian hung by his bound wrists from a meat hook, swinging beside cow legs in the rear of Dave the Butcher's shop. He’d been stripped naked, and the break in his arms was visible against his skin; his body weight was pulling the break further apart, and the man's face was wrought with agony.
Dom, Doug and Harvey stood beside him.
"What a fat piece of crap," said Doug. "What’re we going to do with him?"
Harvey was silent.
"We'll save him for the boss," said Dom. "He'll love this."
"Should I go, or what?" said Harvey.
"Go? Why go?" said Dom. "The boss will be over the bloody moon, mate. You just got yourself a job. No, Gerry, you're staying, mate."
A car door slammed a dull thud in the distance and footsteps approached. Harvey heard the door creak open but remained with his eyes on the Albanian.
"Well, well, well," said Bobby 'Bones' Carnell. "What do we have here?"
"He hasn't said anything yet, Bobby," said Dom. "We thought we'd let you have the first go on him."
"First go, eh?" said Bobby. "Whose idea was it to bring him back here?"
The three were silent, then Dom spoke up. "Gerry here dragged him out the pub. I brought him here. Was that wrong, Bobby?"
"Wrong? Why would that be wrong? What we have here is a little talking parrot, and boy, are we going to make him sing. Right, where are the tools?"
"Wh
at do you need, Bobby?" asked Doug.
"Pliers," said Bobby, "to start with. Actually, no, scrub that, Doug." Bobby turned to Harvey. "Gerry, isn't it?"
Harvey didn't reply. He just leaned on the wall with his arms folded.
"Dom tells me you're a bit of a hard nut."
"You should have seen him in there, Bobby," said Doug.
"Anyone can take a few men down, Doug. You just need big balls. Have you got big balls, Gerry?"
Harvey didn't reply.
"Tell you what, Gerry, why don't you get this fat waste of skin to tell us who and where his boss is?" He paused to look at Harvey's reaction. "Reckon you can do that? Let's see what you're made of."
Harvey pushed off the wall and walked towards the Albanian, whose eyes opened wide when he looked at Harvey's expression. Harvey stood in front of him. He blocked out Dom, Doug and Bobby Bones. It was just Harvey and the Albanian in the huge slaughterhouse.
"Do you have a name?" asked Harvey in a dull, flat tone.
The man eyed him. Beads of sweat had begun to form on his temple.
"One more time, and then I'll get to work," said Harvey. "Name."
Harvey walked behind the man. There were scars across his back, long, deep, and thick, like he'd been whipped a long time ago. His right calf featured the flat white scar of a deep burn. Harvey had seen scars like that before. It was the type of scar that gave a sense of empathetical pain just by looking at the twisted and melted flesh.
The man rattled off a long garbled sentence in Albanian, and then said, "Aleksander."
"Aleksander? You look like an Aleksander." Harvey turned to Dom. "Do we have any wood?"
"Wood? What do you want wood for?"
"An old pallet or something. Can I get some wood, please?"
Dom followed the chain of command and turned to Doug, who left the room.
"You understand English, Aleksander?"
Aleksander didn't reply.
Harvey completed his tour of the Albanian and returned to stand in front of him. "English, Aleksander?"
Aleksander nodded. His angry eyes had softened, giving a window of weakness for Harvey to reach into.
Harvey hated every minute of the charade. It wasn't the first time he'd tortured somebody. But in the past, his victims had deserved every second of the ordeal. Aleksander was just a villain, same as Dom and Doug. Harvey didn't care if Aleksander lived or died, or any of them. He didn't care if the man spoke or not, but he had to make the man talk. This was an opportunity for Gerry to impress Bobby Bones. Getting Aleksander to inform on his boss would ingratiate Gerry into the boss' good books and then maybe he could put a stop to everything, and get back to the team.
Harvey thought about how he missed his team. He'd never done that before.
"Are your family here, Aleksander? In London?"
Aleksander shook his head. "No."
"Are they in Albania?"
He nodded. "Yes, Albania, yes."
"And are you sending them money?"
He nodded again. "Yes, my mother and my sister."
"And your father?"
"He is dead," spat Aleksander. "He is traitor."
"So if you stop sending money home, what will happen to your mother and your sister?"
Aleksander didn't reply.
Doug came back into the room dragging two heavy wooden pallets. He let them fall to the floor.
"Can you break them up, please, Doug?" said Harvey. "I'm going to get a little campfire going to keep Aleksander warm."
Aleksander's eyes widened again.
"Do you like fire, Aleksander?"
Aleksander shivered with fear, and sweat began to run from his bald head down his unshaven face.
"You've been burned before, haven't you?" asked Harvey. "I saw the scar. Who did that?"
Aleksander didn't reply.
"Looks nasty." Harvey gauged the big man to be in his early forties. "Kosovo, right?"
Aleksander's eyes darted to Harvey's.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"I saw the whip marks on your back too. You're a bad man, Aleksander, aren't you?"
"Fuck you."
Doug had smashed one of the pallets into firewood and stood back to watch the show. Bobby and Dom were enthralled by Harvey's calm composure, and the effect he was having on Aleksander.
"The thing is," began Harvey, as he bent down to pick up a few pieces of wood, "the Serbs weren't really organised enough, were they?" Harvey bent and began to arrange the wood. "I mean, they certainly weren't organised enough to capture one of the Albanian army and torture him unless, of course, you were a high ranking officer. But if you don't mind me saying, Aleksander, you haven't really got officer qualities, have you?"
"You know nothing," said Aleksander.
"No, those wounds on your back weren't done by the Serbs, were they?" said Harvey, ignoring the comment. Harvey had learned over the years that momentum, building up tension and leaning on sore points was the key to getting somebody to talk. Harvey hadn't been trained to evoke information from a captive, he'd taught himself. Some men broke easily and disappointed Harvey. It may have taken weeks for Harvey to practise his mantra of patience, planning and execution, only to eventually capture the sex offender he'd been targeting and have him confess within a few minutes. Harvey preferred the chase. He found that the longer the tension built up, the more information could be sought. The deeper the confession.
"The Serbs weren't known for that type of thing, Aleksander, they were fighting a war. But the Albanians? Well, you guys have always been partial to a bit of violence, right? But why would the Albanians do something like this to their own? Unless, of course, you were absconding?" Harvey looked Aleksander in the eye. "Is that it, Aleksander? Did you run away like a frightened little boy?" Harvey let the man absorb his words before he spoke again. "You were captured by your own, weren't you? Big men capturing a frightened little boy."
Harvey stepped to the side of the room where a large roll of tissue paper stood on its end beside a sink, presumably for the butcher to dry his hands after he'd washed them. He pulled off a long stream of paper and rolled it into a ball.
"They hurt you, didn't they?" asked Harvey. "They hurt you so badly, you hate them now." Harvey bent to stuff the paper beneath the pile of wood, which lay beneath Aleksander's feet.
"In fact, you've never been back, have you?" Harvey stood. "I don't think you've seen your mother or your sister in all this time." Harvey paused to read Alexander's pained expression. "I'm right, aren't I? They're trapped there because you ran away, and you're stuck here because you're a coward." Harvey found a box of matches on the tiled window ledge. He opened the box and stopped, poised to strike the match.
"Tell me, Aleksander, are you going to be a coward now, or are you going to face your fears?"
"I will tell you nothing," spat the Albanian.
"You're shaking, Aleksander," said Harvey slowly and coldly. "That's the fear. When did you last shake like this? Was it when you ran away from the battle? Or was it when you ran away from your captors?"
Harvey struck the match.
I long thin stream of urine came involuntarily from Aleksander.
"There it is," said Harvey. "No-one can stop the fear when it bites." Harvey held the match up in front of Aleksander. "There's just two things we need to know, and then all of this can stop, Aleksander."
"Aleksander's eyes were squinted, his lip had begun to tremble, and he hung his head as far back as he could.
"Who's your boss?" said Harvey. The match burned out, and he dropped it to the floor. "It's okay, we have a full box."
"Stop," said Aleksander. His voice had risen an octave, and the fear had shaken his rough tone.
"No, Aleksander, I will not stop."
Harvey struck another match.
"Who's your boss?"
"Ah," gasped Aleksander.
"Don't cry, little boy. I know you're frightened, but tell me, and then all of this will be over."
"Aleksander, I won't waste this match."
"Luan."
"Ah, Luan. There we go." Harvey blew on the match, and the flame extinguished, leaving only smoke. Harvey dropped the match to the floor and pulled a fresh one out.
"Last name, Aleksander." Harvey sat the tip of the match on the paper.
Aleksander's head rolled forward, and tears fell from his fat face.
"Are those tears of shame, Aleksander?" asked Harvey. "No need for shame, you're just following your path and your daddy's path. He was a traitor too, wasn't he?"
Harvey lit the third match.
"Last name. Last chance."
Aleksander didn't reply.
Harvey waved the flame under Aleksander's face. The man's head sat bolt upright.
"I said, last name?"
"Duri," said Aleksander quietly, and dejected.
Harvey puffed the match out and dropped it to the tiled floor. He pulled another one from the box and sat the tip on the striking paper again.
"Okay, last question," said Harvey. "Where do we find him?"
Aleksander didn't respond.
"So now you have two options, Aleksander. Option one." Harvey made sure he caught Aleksander's eye. "You tell me where I can find him, and you die a quick, clean death. There's honour in there, somewhere."
Aleksander didn't respond.
"Option two, and I don't like this one myself, Aleksander, but if you don't tell me where I can find him, I'll burn you alive." Harvey held his finger up. "And not only will I burn you alive, but I'll carry on looking, and when I do find Luan Duri, I'll make sure he knows that you informed, and I'll make sure your mother and your sister are punished back in whatever mud hole they live in."
Harvey moved closer and whispered to Aleksander. "How does that sound?"
"We seem to have a problem here, and I want solutions."
"They came out of nowhere, boss," said Ginger. "Too many for us to take on."
"Too many for you to take on? What are you, mice?"
"No, boss, Trig and me only just got away. They just burst into the club and pulled out knives and bats."
