Stone Rage

by J. D. Weston

  "It's just your way of grieving, Melody. It'll get easier over time."

  "How about the case?" asked Melody. "How do you see it playing out?"

  Harvey let the words float around inside his head for a few seconds. "Something doesn't add up, Melody."

  "You want to share that?"

  "I watched that guy yesterday be dragged into the cabin in the junkyard. I heard his screams, and then once they got the answers they wanted, I watched the two German Shepherds tear him apart."

  "Oh really, too much detail, Harvey."

  "Then I heard Luan Duri tell his two boys to take the bloke's head and deliver it back as a message."

  "Right?"

  "I was in the pub last night, and not a dicky bird was said about it."

  "Dicky bird?"

  "Sorry, Gerry slips out sometimes. No-one said anything. I even asked if the Albanians had retaliated and both Doug and Trev said they hadn't."

  "Oh god, I keep forgetting you're not up to speed on things. It feels like you've been on holiday or something," said Melody. "Frank and I have a theory that there are two local firms involved."

  "That's exactly what I was thinking."

  "Carnell hits the Albanians, they strike back at the other firm and repeat."

  "But who's the other firm?"

  "No-one knows. Whoever it is has some loyal men. It's like they make a point of not being on the radar."

  "So Bobby can expect a visit from both the Albanians and this other mob? Great," said Harvey.

  "Frank wants to let it play."

  "You what?"

  "He wants to let the local firms take care of the Albanians, and then we'll take care of the local firms."

  "There's going to be a lot of bloodshed."

  "In his view, that's just thinning the numbers for when we step in."

  "What does he want me to do?"

  "Hang in there, do what you can, report back more often than you are, and stay alive."

  Harvey nodded and stopped beside his bike.

  "And what do you want me to do?"

  Melody opened the door, and Boon jumped onto a blanket on the small back seat. She stepped closer to Harvey, reached up and put her arms around his waist. "I just want you to be careful."

  9

  Clash of the Titans

  "It's done, Luan," said Bardh. "I imagine right about now they will be discovering their friend."

  "Good, they will retaliate. It's in their blood. And when they do, we will be ready."

  "How many do we have?"

  "We have thirty good men coming here right now, and another forty spread out across North London in case they strike there."

  "Is thirty enough?" asked Bardh. "You saw what they did in the Jumping Jack."

  "Those men were not carrying AK-47s. Trust me, when the local firm strikes here, it'll be the last thing they do." Luan paused to light a cigarette. "The crusher will be busy tonight." He smiled a cruel smile that showed his stained teeth.

  "One of the men who escaped the fire is talking. He is in hospital still but able to talk. His skin has melted from his face, and his hair is gone. He is vigan now. A monster."

  "He doesn't need to concern himself with his future. He will be taken care of."

  "He spoke of one man, Luan. A dangerous man, far more talented than the other thugs."

  Luan looked up at the man from his desk in the cabin. "Tell me more."

  "He moved with precision, like a dancer. With each step, he will strike, and with each strike, he will kill."

  "You sound scared, Bardh. Where are your balls?"

  "I do not fear death, Luan, as you know. But we must destroy this man. He is trained. It was this man that took Aleksander, and if there is one man left standing at the end of this battle, it will be this man. He killed many of our men."

  "Do we have a name for this figure e dubluar?"

  "No, but if I am right, we will meet him soon. We have two men watching them, but until now, there has been no sign of this man."

  "Do they keep him locked in a cage?" Luan smiled.

  "He's special, Luan. He is a trophy."

  "Then I want him found, and I want his head brought to me." Luan paused to take a drag on his cigarette. "With his balls in his mouth."

  "Please, Lee," said Harvey. He was stood alone at the bar of the Pied Piper. Only the old man sat at the end of the bar where he always sat. The rest of the pub was empty.

  "Quiet one tonight, Gerry," said Lee.

  "Yeah, looks like it."

  "Usually spells trouble."

  Harvey didn't reply.

  Lee set the pint down on the bar and leaned forward to Harvey. "So what's your story? You're not a local boy, are you?"

  "We've had this conversation before, Lee."

  "Yeah, you told me to mind my own business." Lee stood upright and folded his arms. "You know how long I've been running this pub?"

  "I don't really care to be honest."

  "Fifteen years. Fifteen years stood here behind this bar. Can you imagine that?"

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "The things I've seen, blimey, if these walls could talk. People come and go, Gerry. Always have and always will."

  "I wish you'd go, and let me think."

  Lee ignored Harvey's comment and carried on talking at him. "There's always been trouble in these parts, you know? But it was always amicable. It was always done with a bit of dignity, know what I mean?"

  Harvey stared at the pub door. A car pulled in, and the headlights shone briefly through the glass.

  "Old school firms, now they had class, Gerry. Don't get me wrong, they'd cut your face off for looking at them the wrong way. But if you were on the right side of them, they'd take care of their own. It's not like that these days. It's every man for himself, dog eat dog. Sure, these boys all get along, they're on the same firm. But when push comes to shove, and someone has to go down, it'll be a scramble for the top and those at the bottom will be trodden on and forgotten."

  Car doors slammed, and men's voices could be heard outside.

  "Take my advice, Gerry. Don't get involved. You aren't the first one to get caught up in the bother, but get out while you can. You seem like a nice bloke, bit hard and a bit protective, that's fair. But do yourself a favour, turn away and don't look back."

  The doors burst open, and Doug, Trev and two others walked in. "Oy oy, Gerry, you're keen tonight."

  "How's it going, Doug? Trev?" Harvey shook the men's hands.

  "Yeah, not bad, Gerry," said Doug. "Please, Lee." He made a circle with his hand indicating that he wanted a round of beers for everyone.

  "What's new?" asked Harvey.

  "Oh, this and that, Gerry. The wife is still gorgeous, and the dog's breath smells. Actually, no, that's the wrong way round." Doug laughed at his own joke, slapped Harvey on the back, and picked up a beer from the bar. "And one for yourself, Lee, my old son."

  "Cheers, Doug," replied Lee.

  "Listen, Gerry, remember what I said last night? Bobby is coming down, he's got some news. Me and Trev reckon he's going to tell us what his plans are with the Albanians. I reckon we're going in hard, crack a few skulls."

  "Sounds like fun," said Harvey. "Any idea what time he's getting here?"

  "Any minute, mate. Just listen hard, and I'll talk to Dom to make sure word gets put his way, see if we can't get you a bit of work."

  "Nice one, Doug. Appreciate it."

  "No problem, mate."

  The door opened, and more men walked in. Hard types, thought Harvey. Shaved heads, tattoos, gold sovereign rings and not one piece of un-scarred skin on show. They looked like the men that John used to have working for him in the eighties, the men that would be hanging around the house when Harvey was a child. Doug nodded at them. Harvey looked away for two reasons. Nobody liked to be stared at when they walk into a pub, and there was a small chance one of them may recognise Harvey if they had worked for John at any point in their criminal careers.

&nb
sp; The TV was turned on and the football game was playing. Harvey pretended to be absorbed by it, but actually had no idea what was happening. He listened to the banter around him. He'd never learned how to deal with banter; he'd never been in the situation where allowing a man to insult you for any reason, even humour, was acceptable. Harvey had spent a large part of his life being invisible, barely existing. Anybody that had known him had known how dangerous he was and was highly unlikely to offer an insult, even in jest.

  The pub was getting fuller. Gradually over the next hour, more men filtered in, slapped friends on their backs and bought beers for everyone they knew then insulted them. Harvey sipped his pint and observed the play.

  When Bobby 'Bones' Carnell walked into the room, preceded by Dom, the bar fell virtually silent.

  Bobby walked to the bar where a scotch and soda was placed in front of him and a pint for Dom. The noise crept back up to its original volume.

  Harvey moved along to the end of the bar and stood behind a column in a relatively empty space. There was a small booth there that was hardly used. Harvey sat down with his back to the wall, which gave him a clear view of the front doors. He pulled his phone out and messaged Melody. BBC in PP. Will update.

  Harvey watched the dynamics of the firm. He knew that Bobby had more men than those in the pub. These were just the core, Bobby's most loyal men. There were about forty of them in total, plus maybe the same again not in attendance.

  Harvey saw more headlights pull into the car park, four cars, judging by the waves of light that shone through the opaque glass windows. Harvey finished his drink and sat with an empty glass.

  He watched the doors open, and six men walked in. They were all big guys with leather jackets, stony stares, and matching scars. The room fell silent. From where Harvey was sat, he could see Dom push himself off the bar where he'd been leaning and stride through the centre of Bobby's men.

  "Is there a problem, boys?"

  The new men stood silently either side of the door, three per side.

  "Are you fucking deaf or something?"

  The room was deathly silent. Lee flicked the TV off and led the old man around the bar out of harm's way. He limped around carrying his pint and disappeared into the back function room.

  Then two things happened that shocked Harvey.

  The door opened again, and before Harvey had even seen who it was, he saw the heads of Bobby's men tilt backwards to look at the giant man. One massive leg came into view, and then the barrel chest and thick jaw of Adeo Parrish. Harvey was transfixed. He was hidden in the shadows and couldn't be seen by the big man. Adeo was Julios' brother. Harvey had only met him six months previously during a strange series of events in which their paths had crossed. Adeo had been Stimson's bodyguard during the terrorist attack that had killed Denver and nearly killed Harvey. Adeo was the only one to have gotten away and would recognise Harvey if he saw him.

  Harvey ran through his options. He was in a pub with more than fifty men between him and the doors, all of whom would slaughter Harvey if they found out he was working with the police and wasn't actually called Gerry.

  He could take them on, but he knew that the odds were stacked heavily against him. He could shoot his way out, not a brilliant solution by any means. As he only had a magazine of fifteen in his Sig P226, he wouldn't get halfway through the firm before someone got lucky. Or he could hang onto every little bit of hope he could conjure up. But Harvey wasn't feeling lucky.

  Adeo stepped to one side of the doors. His mass seemed to fill the room. The doors opened once more, and as if in slow motion, all eyes fell back to the door. A shiny brogue stepped through, and then the calm, confident swagger of John Cartwright.

  He stopped and let the door bang shut behind him. Then, in the thick, gruff but articulate tone that Harvey remembered so well, he said, "Which one of you is Bobby Carnell?"

  "I am. Who's asking?"

  Bobby's reply sounded light, weak and dulcet compared to the harsh grumble of John Cartwright's cacophonous voice.

  "Do I really need to answer that?" replied John.

  "Cartwright?"

  "Mr Cartwright to you."

  "And to what do we owe the pleasure, Mr Cartwright?" said Bobby, trying to sound large and confident in front of his men.

  "Thought we'd have a chat. You can get your pets to stand down. We haven't come looking for a tear up," said John. "Yet."

  The two men eyed each other with distrust. Harvey saw the men in Bobby's ranks discreetly sliding coshes and knives out of their waistbands.

  "Alright, boys," said Bobby. "Stand down."

  He turned back to John. "It's most irregular for men like you and me to step into another man's pub. But, seeing as you're here, let's keep it civil. What’re you drinking?"

  "I'll take a brandy, Remy Martin. Three ice cubes. No more, no less."

  Lee heard the order and began to pour the drink. The two men moved towards the bar, and Bobby's guys opened up the room. Men still drank, but nobody dared talk. Everyone was on high alert, waiting for a move from one of Cartwright's men.

  "So, what's the topic, Mr Cartwright?" asked Bobby. "What exactly is it we're discussing?"

  "Ginger?" called Cartwright.

  A bald man with a red-haired goatee beard stepped away from the door and walked up to John. John nodded at him. Ginger pulled a canvass bag with a drawstring up and sat it on the bar. He began to pull the strings open.

  The front ranks closed in, but John Cartwright held his hand up. "Easy, boys, calm down. It's not a weapon."

  Ginger opened the drawstring and reached inside. He lifted his hand and pulled the bag away from the bottom to reveal a man's severed head. He dumped it on the bar in front of Bobby.

  "Cheers, Ginger," said John, and Ginger moved back to his place by the door.

  "Pretty," said Bobby and gestured with his head at the one that sat on the bar looking at him.

  "One of my men," said John.

  "Well? Isn't he looking for it or something?" replied Bobby. "I understand, John, that you are a grandfather in this world. I know you've been around since the good old days. But you know what? That makes this even worse." Bobby took a swig of his drink. "You come in here unannounced with half a dozen armed men." Bobby stared at each of the six men by the doors. "You're all carrying, aren't you?" Nobody replied. Bobby turned back to John. "They're all carrying, right?"

  John gave a small shrug.

  "And you bring this goon," said Bobby, gesturing at Adeo who stood far above any man in the pub. "What are you feeding him? Horses?" Bobby took another mouthful of his drink and gestured at Lee to pour another. "So you can see my problem, John. This is borderline taking liberties, mate."

  "Considering this is your turf, I'll disregard your tone with me that once. But mark my words, Bobby Carnell, if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll cut you down myself." John spoke calmly and easily, unafraid even though heavily outnumbered. Harvey looked on with familiar admiration for John's control and presence. The man was born to do what he did.

  John Cartwright had been missing for two years since he'd made a deal with Harvey. The deal was that Harvey was to kill the number one rival crime family. Their leader, Terry Thomson, was one of the most feared criminals Harvey had ever known. His habit of feeding live people to his pet two-hundred-and-fifty-pound hogs had been common knowledge in the organised crime world. In return for the kill, Harvey would receive the name of the man that raped his sister, the first name on Harvey's list. John had left Harvey to do what he needed to do and hadn't been seen since.

  Until now.

  "The reason I'm here, Carnell, is simple. A little birdie tells me you've been having trouble with the Albanians?" John swirled the three ice cubes in his glass.

  "Nothing we can't handle," replied Bobby. "Isn't that right, boys?"

  A dull chorus of agreements emanated from the group of men.

  "Is that right?" said John. He cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow.
/>   "We've got them on the run, haven't heard anything from them in days. All mouth, no trousers I believe is the expression."

  "Is that right?" said John again. "Has it ever occurred to you that they aren't very bright, Carnell? One English bloke is the same as the next English bloke."

  "What do you mean?"

  John nodded at the gruesome head on the bar. "You think that just fell off, do you?"

  "No."

  "How do you think it happened to come apart from the rest of him?"

  Bobby sighed. "Albanians?"

  "Correct, Carnell. Malcolm here was kidnapped from outside one of my pubs, taken somewhere and decapitated."

  "Yeah but-"

  "Do not interrupt me, Bobby Carnell, when I am talking."

  Harvey had strong memories of John's hatred of being interrupted and recognised the structure of the sentence.

  "I also lost a good man, and a dear friend, when the Albanians jumped their motor. They cut the other man's ears off, Bobby. Also, my number two, a very loyal man, Bobby, was blown up outside the hospital. And finally, I lost one of my clubs and seven more men. One of my favourite clubs, Bobby." He paused to take a drink then nodded at Lee for another. "Now you tell me what exactly you are going to do about it because it seems like every time you and your band of merry men here attack the Albanians, it is me who is taking the flack for it. And you know, I can strike back, Bobby. I could destroy them and you. But I value my men, they're loyal. So why should they put their lives on the line for something that you did, Bobby? Answer me that."

  "We didn't know they were going after you, John," said Bobby quietly. "Sorry about your men." Bobby looked around the room at all the faces. He knew them all by name; he respected all of them.

  "How would you have known?" said John. "But you do now, so tell me what the answer is."

  "Seems to me like the Albanians have wronged us both, John."

  "I'd agree with that statement."

  "So we both owe them."

  John nodded.

  "Why don't we team up? I've got seventy or eighty men. You can pull that together I'm sure. Let's finish it."

  John nodded again. "Who's your best man?"