Stone Rage

by J. D. Weston

  The lights were on inside the cabin, but the blinds were pulled down. Harvey listened for the cries of the man being tortured but heard nothing above the rain hitting the metal roofs of the scrapped cars and splashing in the thick mud. A black Range Rover was parked outside the cabin alongside an old BMW, the only two working cars in the yard.

  The sky fell quickly to a cloudy dark night, almost in the blink of an eye. The lights inside the cabin stared like lifeless eyes in the night. A train rumbled past on the overhead tracks a hundred yards away, carrying commuters heading home from a long day in the office, reading books and newspapers, listening to music and thinking about dinner. It seemed funny to Harvey that none of the people on the train knew what was about to take place a few hundred feet away.

  The train's rumble faded away, and Harvey heard the first cry. The initial attack was always the worst, Harvey had found. The body isn't ready for it. It might be a finger chopped off with bolt cutters or it might be a toe. The methods generally get progressively worse, and the screams become less as the body's senses are numbed by the continuous attacks. Harvey typically preferred to use words to break a man; most men's minds were much weaker than their bodies. But if they refused, Harvey went straight for the ultimate pain. He wouldn't let the body become accustomed to small stabs of agony. It was far better to go straight in with the big guns.

  He thought about Aleksander. Harvey had been prepared to light the fire, but in the end, he hadn't needed to. What Bobby Bones did with him afterwards was up to him. Harvey had done what had been asked of him and left them to it. Chances are that Aleksander had fallen foul of Bobby's twisted mind, and was minus a few fingers before a bag was thrown over his head.

  A second cry sounded in the distance. It wasn't loud; it was muffled by the cabin walls and stacks of cars. But Harvey heard it clearly. It was a noise he'd heard a hundred times before.

  The door opened, and the blindfolded man was kicked out onto the mud behind the Range Rover. He was naked. Two men stepped down beside him, and one more stood at the doorway. An older man had one hand in the pocket of a long jacket; the other held a cigarette to his mouth.

  Harvey couldn't see what was happening, but he heard the words of the old man, spoken slowly and clearly. "Let him go."

  The two men bent and picked the man up from the mud then kicked him along the grimy track towards the gate. They laughed as he staggered blindly in the dirt. Even from forty metres away, Harvey could see that he'd soiled himself. The blindfolded man felt his way along the row of cars. He trod carefully, walking barefoot on broken glass and sharp, rusty metal car parts.

  Then the old man at the door whistled loudly. A few seconds later, two large German Shepherds came running from behind the cabin. The first saw the blindfolded man instantly and began to bound across the mud. The second was inches behind. The sound that followed was truly horrific. The snapping and snarling dogs made short work of the naked man, and after less than a minute, the screaming and crying fell silent. Only the sickening growls of the dogs tearing lumps of flesh from his body remained, along with the ever-present percussion of the rain on the metal roofs.

  "Call them off," said the older guy. "Take his head, and deliver it to our friends." He pulled a long drag of his cigarette and flicked it into the mud before turning and closing the cabin door.

  8

  Tiger Tiger

  "Here he is," said Trev when Harvey strolled through the door of the Pied Piper. "Where’ve you been? Playing football?"

  Harvey looked at his boots and pants. They were caked in mud.

  "Crazy day at work, Trev. How's tricks?" asked Harvey. "Please Lee." He caught the attention of the barman.

  "Not bad, Gerry. Crappy weather though. Took me bloody ages to get here."

  Harvey took the pint from Lee and turned to Trev. "Where's the boys?" he asked.

  "They're most likely on their way. Old Doug can't go a night without a drink, probably stuck in traffic."

  Harvey lowered his voice. "Any comeback?"

  "Nothing, mate," replied Trev. "Surprising really, but just goes to show what pussies they are." He took a big mouthful of his drink and nodded at Lee for a fresh pint.

  "Nothing?" asked Harvey. He leaned in closer to Trev. "We slaughtered them. Are you sure they haven't done anything?"

  "Positive, Gerry. What's up with you?"

  "Nothing's up. It's just, well, they're not really known for being forgiving, are they? I'm surprised this place is still standing to be honest."

  "Maybe they got wind it was Bobby behind the attack, Gerry. Maybe they're busy running away."

  "No, Trev. One thing I can guarantee you is that right now, they are not running away."

  The door burst open, and a burst of fresh, cold wind hit Harvey. Doug and two other men walked in and closed the door behind them.

  "Alright, lads?" said Doug, as he sauntered over to Harvey and Trev. "Blimey, it's brass bloody monkeys out there." He undid the buttons on his three-quarter-length leather coat and pulled off his scarf. "Please Lee," said Doug, catching the barman before he sat back down. "Here, Trev, you don't realise but you are standing next to a legend."

  Trev looked around him with a confused look on his face. "Where? All I see is your ugly mug and this fella."

  "You muppet. This fella here, Gerry." Doug slapped Harvey in the chest. "He's a nutcase, Trev." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "He had that fat Albanian singing in about ten minutes flat." Doug leaned away and took a long swig of his beer. "Ah, I needed that."

  "What did he do?" asked Trev, and then turned to Harvey. "What did you do then, Gerry?"

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "Don't tell me. You look like a nasty bastard with that stare thing you've got going on. I reckon you pulled out his nails or something?"

  "Nope," said Doug. "Try again."

  Harvey remained impassive as the conversation turned into a game. It wasn't a game, it was people's lives, and could easily be either one of them when the investigation came to an end. Harvey had given thought to the case, and how it would actually be closed off. He'd need to wipe himself off every memory that knew his true identity. When the time came, either he had to step out of it or clean up those who saw him turn. There was no chance he'd be stepping away, but he'd need to keep the cleaning to a minimum. These people clearly had big mouths. Most of them would need to be closed for good.

  "Alright." Trev studied Harvey. "If he didn't pull his nails, I'd say genitalia?"

  "What?" said Doug. "That's schoolboy stuff."

  "Well, I don't know. There's a thousand ways to get someone to talk."

  "One last go," said Doug.

  "Okay. I'm guessing Bobby was there?"

  "Yeah, he enjoyed it very much."

  "I reckon Gerry here peeled the skin off him, his legs, I'd say?"

  "Nope, none of the above, Trev, my old mate," said Doug, looking at Harvey proudly. "You want to know?"

  "Go on then, enlighten me."

  "He spoke to him."

  "You what?"

  "Words, Trev. That's all he did was talk to him, had the fucking bloke in tears, even pissed all over the floor."

  "Behave, Doug," said Trev. He turned to Harvey. "Is that right, Gerry?'

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "You hard bastard," said Trev. "Always the quiet ones, Doug."

  "You ever done that sort of thing before, Gerry? I mean, it didn't look like your first time."

  "First time, Doug. I must be a natural or something."

  "No way was that your first time, Gerry. I've seen a few men get information out of someone, and never in my life have I seen someone so afraid of a man's word. It was electric, Trev. You could have cut the atmosphere with a spoon, mate."

  "Are we ready for a surprise attack from the Albanians?" asked Harvey, changing the subject.

  "What? They won't come nowhere near us now, mate. They know who we are and they're scared."

  "Is that right?" asked Harvey. "Did the
y look scared to you?"

  "Not really. But that was the heat of the moment, wasn't it?"

  "Do you really think they'll let this go?" asked Harvey. "Are we going in for another go?"

  "Yeah, I think Bobby is setting something up, a final kick up the arse. Why's that? You want in?" asked Trev.

  Harvey turned to Trev. He eyed him and studied his gaunt face with its weak jawline. "Of course I want in. I want to finish what we started. I'm not going to be happily sitting here with a pint waiting for the Albanian mafia to recollect itself, storm in here and clean up. Now's the time to hit them."

  "You're keen," said Doug.

  "Yeah, well," said Harvey, "if there's one thing I hate more than a liar, it's a bully." Harvey turned and sank his beer. "Please, Lee."

  "Well, the boss will be pleased to hear it," said Doug. "He'll be here soon, so be sure to voice your opinion why don't you."

  "If he asks, I'll tell him."

  "Don't just wait for him to ask, tell him what you just said, Gerry." Doug put his arm around Harvey's shoulder and walked him away from the others. "Listen, a geezer like you could do well with Bobby. He's solid, right? Been around for donkey's, hasn't he?" Doug stopped them both by the jukebox beside the washrooms. "What you doing for work, Gerry?"

  "I'm just helping a mate out at the minute."

  "That's code for unemployed, Gerry. You can't kid a kidder. Look at yourself, mate. Now, look at me. If a bird walks through that door right now, who's she going to take home? You in your dirty clobber, or me with my nice clean shoes and Armani jeans? Me, of course. Birds don't want to have to bath a bloke before she drags him into bed."

  "What are you saying, Doug? It sounds to me like you're trying to push me into something here." Harvey let Gerry take control. The Harvey inside would have dragged the bloke outside and broken his arm just for touching him let alone insulting him.

  "Easy, Gerry, no insult meant, mate. But you could do a lot worse than get a job with Bobby. He'll sort you out. You want me to have a word, or what?"

  Harvey pondered on the question. Doug had played right into his hands.

  "Yeah, alright then. What's involved? What's the pay like?"

  "Gerry, mate, don't worry. You will be paid handsomely, and won't have to do much more than what you've done for him in the past couple of days. And if it's me that puts a word in, he's bound to agree. Did you see how impressed he was with what you did the other night?"

  "Not really."

  "Trust me, Gerry mate, you'll be fine. Look at you. I see loads of blokes come and go, and honestly, I can't remember the last time someone like you come along. You were made for this type of thing. I can't believe you've never done it before. Mate, you're a tiger, Gerry, a bloody tiger."

  "Who's Dom then?"

  "Dom? Oh, he's alright. He does all Bobby's legwork. Hard bloke, he earns well from Bobby."

  "You reckon he'll be alright with it?"

  "Mate, Bobby has got a boner in his pocket for people like you. Don't worry about Dom."

  "What's he planning?"

  "Who?"

  "Bobby. You said he was planning something. What's he got in mind?"

  "I'm not sure. I'm not privy to that kind of information until it's go time. Know what I mean?"

  "Alright. When's he coming?"

  "He's coming tomorrow night. Come down, have a word, he'll probably make you an offer on a job. Do well, and he'll give you more work. Keep your nose clean, and he'll have you on the payroll, doing his collecting or something."

  "Alright, Doug. Thanks, mate. I'll be here tomorrow. I best be off now though, she's doing my nut in. Last thing I need is for her to walk in here tomorrow gobbing off when Bobby is here."

  "Yeah, no worries. Take it easy, Gerry."

  Harvey turned and opened the door. A stiff, cold wind blew around the pub, and all eyes fell on Harvey. He stepped out and heard Doug call after him. "Oy, Gerry." Harvey span around and saw Doug leaning out the pub doors. "Remember, you're a tiger, mate. A bloody tiger."

  "He's got a big mouth, Melody," said Harvey. "Big mouths are dangerous in my experience. He means well but doesn't know when to shut up sometimes."

  "Invincible gangster syndrome?"

  "I think so. It's like they glorify the thing, the lifestyle, the violence, and for what? Easy money? That's all these people want is easy money and a sense of entitlement. Like because they're hard, they're somehow better than most. It's hard to keep my mouth shut sometimes, but Gerry plays along. He's a rookie, right?"

  "Right."

  Harvey threw the ball for Boon, who bounded across the grass and misjudged the ball's bounce. It bounced over him, and he caught it on the second drop before running back towards Harvey. The pair were walking through the open fields of Wanstead Flats. It was a large open area with a few small lakes and plenty of space to make sure they weren't overheard or seen.

  The Flats were where Harvey had chosen to draw out Al Sayan, the terrorist who had rigged three black cabs with explosives six months previously. He had targeted the team, notably Harvey. So Harvey had gone to the largest open space close to the city and waited for Al Sayan to show his face. If Al Sayan had decided to try and kill Harvey in an explosion, the collateral would have been minimal.

  "How's he doing?" asked Harvey.

  "Boon? Yeah, he's good. He's a good fit for the team, you know? Reg loves him, and he's getting to know Jackson. I think he's a little wary of Frank, but the old man dotes on him. He mostly sits by my feet in headquarters."

  Boon, the dog, had belonged to a man that Al Sayan had killed on the banks of the River Thames. It had been a long investigation, and ultimately, Harvey had pulled the Afghani terrorist off Tower Bridge into the water. They'd both been whisked away by the current and floated for miles downstream. When they eventually beached out in Essex, the dog walker had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harvey had stopped Al Sayan and taken the dog, rather than leave him on his own. The dog had been named Boon by Harvey, who then gave him to Melody as a present.

  "So, what's the plan here?" asked Melody. "What happens next?"

  "Doug the mouth thinks he can get me a job with Bobby Carnell."

  "Okay, so a career move for Gerry," said Melody. "Does Frank know?" She smiled up at Harvey.

  "Not really a career move, but Gerry is scratching for work and Carnell likes what Gerry does, so go figure."

  "And once you're inside?"

  "Well, once I'm inside and trusted, it'll be easier to start going in wearing a wire. Then we'll have enough on him to take him down clean."

  "How long do you think that'll take?"

  "Not sure, but things are moving. All this booze is killing me. I'm supposed to go the Pied Piper tonight to talk to him. Doug will make the suggestion and Bobby will give me a job or two to test me."

  "Oh for god's sake, Harvey. You're going to get yourself in too deep."

  "Relax, I know what I'm doing. I've lived and breathed this stuff all my life. I'm more experienced than Bobby's boys."

  "But Gerry isn't. How's the legend holding up?"

  "Simple. Gerry is out of work, not afraid to get his hands dirty, and can look after himself."

  "What if they ask too many questions?"

  "All part of the profile, Melody. Gerry doesn't tolerate questions, and they won't push him. They've seen what he's capable of."

  "Need I ask?"

  "Best not to, Melody."

  "I saw, you know?"

  "You saw what?"

  "I saw you drag that man from the pub and load him into the van."

  "Yeah, why didn't you stop to help me lift him?"

  Melody laughed. "Oh, you know, I wasn't dressed for it."

  "Is that right?" replied Harvey. "I thought you were goners when that pub blew. None of us had any idea that had been done."

  "Worried, were you?"

  "Thought we'd killed you when I saw the van come round the corner. It was like slow motion."

  "I hear co
ncern in your voice."

  "Of course I was concerned, Melody. Imagine the grief I would have got from Frank."

  Melody elbowed Harvey. "You'd have been sad, and you know it."

  "Yeah, you're right. Who would I tell all my troubles to if you were dead?"

  "You don't really tell me your troubles, Harvey. You don't really tell me anything. It's okay, I get it. I understand why you don't open up."

  "What do you mean? This is me opening up."

  "You want to know something?" asked Melody.

  "Go on."

  "When that pub blew, it felt like the whole van was in a ball of flame."

  "That's pretty much what it looked like too."

  "I loved it."

  "You what?"

  "Honestly, Jackson thinks I'm crazy. I laughed, it was exhilarating."

  "You hung from a plane without a parachute six months ago, and you think that was exhilarating?"

  "I think I was just pleased to be alive. But it was funny to see the look on Jackson's face."

  "Yeah, welcome to the team, Jackson."

  They walked slowly, and Melody kicked the grass. The earth was soft from the previous day's downpour, and both their boots were soaked.

  "You think about him much?" asked Melody.

  Harvey knew Melody was referring to Denver, their teammate and friend who was killed by Al Sayan. "Yeah, I do as it happens. He was a nice bloke. You?"

  "Every time I look at Jackson."

  "Does Jackson seem out of place?"

  "I'm not sure if it's because we're used to seeing Denver there, or, I don't know. But every time Jackson slides out from under the van, I expect Denver to grin at me."

  "Time will tell, Melody. Think of the good stuff."

  "I don't want to think about any of it, to be honest. I don't want to be reminded of Denver every time I look at Jackson. Is that wrong?"