by Conrad Jones
31
He parked up in the centre of Trearddur Bay village which consisted of a Spar shop and a Chinese restaurant called the Imperial Palace on one side of the road and a minimarket called Trearddur Stores, which had a small cafe attached to it on the opposite side. They were the only shops for miles and locals and tourists alike used them religiously. Unless a tourist was exceptionally organised and brought everything that they would need, they would have no choice but to visit them at some stage of their visit.
He was tasked with finding the Evans family. All he knew was that they were in the bay in a house which was for sale. He had toured around all night looking for properties that might fit the bill but it was a pointless exercise. The recession had hit the bay as hard as anywhere and there were dozens of properties for sale at any one time.
If he was going to find where the Evans family were holed up, then all he needed to do was sit near the shops and wait. The search of the Evans house in Liverpool had shown that the recycling bin was crammed full of extra strength lager tins and vodka bottles. Someone had a drink problem and sooner or later they would come and buy it from the only place around. When they did, he would follow them back to where they were staying; all the little rats in one trap. When Eddie Farrell found out where they were staying he would be very grateful to whoever found them; very grateful indeed. He flicked through Bryn Evans’s Facebook pictures and waited.
32
Tucker felt a bone shuddering impact rock the building and the vibrations ran through his bones. The deafening sound of carbon fibre splintering and glass shattering reverberated through the building. As the noise subsided the sound of a diesel engine roaring filled his head. Fresh air rushed into the garage and the flames seemed to dissipate upwards away from him. He felt strong hands grabbing at him, lifting him from the floor. He sucked clean cool air into his lungs and slapped at his smouldering clothes with his hands.
“Get up, boss!” the truck driver shouted as he dragged him towards the gaping hole in the wall. Debris littered the scene where the tractor unit had reversed through the garage wall. “I saw someone locking you in, figured that you might need some help. Where is Tommy?”
“Over there somewhere,” Tucker croaked. He coughed and staggered towards the lorry cab. “Grab him. I can hear sirens coming.”
The lorry driver picked his way through the rubble and stopped when he heard groaning. Beneath a sheet of corrugated plastic he found the charred figure of Tommy Tucker, his face blackened, hair singed and clothes smouldering. Tommy coughed as he dragged him up. He put his arm over his shoulder and carried him towards the truck.
“Give me a hand. He weighs a ton. Pull him up,” he shouted to Tucker as he pushed him from below. They manhandled him into one of the passenger seats and slammed the door closed. The cool breeze soothed the burns on their skin. The driver ran around the cab and climbed into the driver’s seat. He pushed the gear lever into first and pulled the truck forward out of the building, taking a large section of wall with it. Plastic panels clattered on the road outside. He looked behind him and stopped. Tucker’s men staggered from the wrecked building through the jagged hole in the wall, some carrying others.
“The cops are on the way. Get away from here and regroup at the factory,” the driver shouted to them. Some looked like they would make it to their vehicles and some didn’t. He put his foot down, drove the truck towards the canal and steered it onto an access road behind the chop shop before heading in the opposite direction to where the police were coming from. He opened the windows to allow the smell of burning hair and clothes out. The Tuckers were slumped in the passenger seats, eyes closed, mouths open, skin reddened and blistered. Their hair frazzled and gone in places, weeping bald patches spotted their scalps. He shook his head as he picked up speed. Joseph Tucker had a very bad temper and he didn’t fancy being in the firing line when he recovered. Whoever had set him up needed to make sure that they were a long way away when he came to.
33
Eddie Farrell woke up with a thick head and a sore throat. On his arrival home he had given Eddie Junior specific instructions about finding the Evans family and then locked himself away in his study where he self-medicated himself with a bottle of bourbon. He checked his watch, glad that he hadn’t missed much of the day. There was much to do. The smell of bacon cooking drifted to him and he could hear the sound of the blender whirring, Junior making his breakfast protein shake. He was always on his weights early, pouring protein down his throat and shoving nandrolone up his arse. Size and mass translated to power and respect on the streets and Junior was obsessed with power. Everything seemed quite normal except that his youngest son was dead, his head caved in with a brick. He picked up his phone and checked his messages. One in particular interested him and he pressed the call back button.
“Hello, Eddie,” the voice answered, sounding pleased to hear from him. “I heard you were back. I’m so sorry to hear about Anthony. Such sad news.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Eddie replied with a yawn. There was going to be a lot of heartfelt words of sympathy to deal with. He couldn’t cope with people trying to be nice but he knew their intentions were good. “I picked up your message about the Evans family. Have you had any joy?”
“Not yet,” Harry said as he watched the shops from his car. “I had a drive around for a few hours last night. There are dozens of places for sale. I’ve decided to try a different tactic.”
“Such as?”
“I’m parked in the village watching the shops. There are only two and I can see both. They’ll come along sooner or later and when they do I’ll let you know where they are.”
“Good work, Harry. What about the little bastard who killed my Anthony?”
“I had a word with big Barney. You remember him, did a twenty stretch for shooting Irish Tony.”
“Of course I do,” Eddie half smiled. “I haven’t seen him for years.”
“Barney works for the probation service now. He passed all his exams inside. He’s been straight for years,” Harry chuckled. “Well, sort of straight if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Well he has the lists of who is serving time, where they are and what they have done and guess what?”
“I’m not in the mood for guessing games, Harry,” Eddie said biting his thumb nail to the skin. “Please just get to the point.”
“Sorry, Eddie, I know I go on a bit. The long and short of it is that Ginger Frank’s son Gary and three of his mates are in Altcourse. I’ve had a word with one of the screws that we know and they’ll be on the lookout for our matey boy Evans. He won’t be able to hide in there.”
“Nice one, Harry. I owe you one.” Eddie smiled. “You let me know when you find the rest of them.”
“I will do, Eddie. You take care.”
The line went dead and Eddie felt better. At least things were in motion. Anthony was the intelligent son, well balanced with a good sense of humour. He was the one that would have taken over the businesses with Junior by his side as his enforcer. Losing him was like losing his purpose in life. Junior didn’t have the brains to run things. Violence was his answer to everything and that would be his downfall in the end. The threat of violence was a powerful tool but Junior couldn’t tell where to draw the line. He would piss off the wrong person and wind up dead. The truth was that Eddie didn’t think that Junior would be able to hold his own in a rumble. He confused size and strength with being able to fight but the two didn’t always go hand in hand. Eddie had met men of less than ten stone who would destroy bigger men, no matter how much they could lift. Losing Anthony would change his long term plans. He would need to rethink things but all that would come in good time. His mobile began to buzz and he rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen. Victor Karpov. Victor rarely called him directly. He used his representatives to communicate. It made it harder for the law to listen in or to trace and also made it easier to filter the bullshit. Obviously some thing
s needed to be said directly to the person concerned. He never called directly unless he was pissed off about something. Eddie took a deep breath and answered.
“Victor,” he said with his voice full of sleep, “nice to hear from you.”
“Eddie, how are you feeling?”
“I am as well as can be expected.”
“You have my deepest condolences, Eddie. I cannot imagine what you’re going through.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you home from your trip?”
“Yes,” Eddie nodded. “I arrived last night.”
“Good, good. I am glad that you arrived home safely. This will be a difficult time for you,” Victor sounded sincere but his tone changed quickly. “Tell me, Eddie have you heard from Yuri or Mikel?”
“Not since I left Ko Lanta, why?” Eddie asked feigning concern.
“Were they okay when you left them?”
“They were fine. What has happened?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said flatly. “I have been trying to get hold of them but they’re not answering their mobiles. They’re probably in a black spot.”
“It was a nightmare getting a signal out there, even in the hotel.”
“I know, Mikel complained about it a few times.”
“They might be travelling between islands.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m just thinking aloud.”
“Did they mention moving on?”
“They’re always talking about moving on, especially Yuri,” Eddie lied. “That man can’t sit still for five minutes before he wants to see what is around the corner. Have you checked with the hotel reception?”
“Of course.”
“Is their luggage still there?”
“Yes, but it has been packed up as if they’re ready to leave.”
“Sounds like they’re moving islands. They mentioned taking a fast boat and having the cases sent on after. Some of the fast boats don’t have the room for luggage.”
“I see,” Victor said. “Where did they say that they were going?”
“They didn’t say specifically,” Eddie lied. “We were always chatting about the other islands along the Andaman coast. They could have gone to any of them. They’ll be in touch when they can get a signal. I wouldn’t worry for now.”
“You’re right. It is probably nothing to worry about,” Victor agreed reluctantly. “Have you had chance to speak to Nikolai yet?”
“No.”
“You need to,” Victor said. He paused. “There have been developments with our last acquisition. We have some problems.”
“Tucker’s zombie shipment?”
“Yes. We have a situation but it isn’t for discussion on the telephone,” Victor said paranoid about phone taps. “I think you should call Nikolai and get up to speed as soon as you can. We’re going to need your help.”
“Okay, I’ll call him before I leave but I’m going to be busy for the next few days at least.”
“Of course you’re going to be busy,” Victor remained calm. “I understand that but please call Nikolai and speak to him.”
“I’ll try him before I leave. I’m going to arrange things for my son this morning so I’m going to be tied up most of the day.”
“Yes, of course you will. Will the authorities release his body so soon?”
“Not until they’re ready but as the case is clear cut it shouldn’t be too long before they do. I can arrange for an undertaker to prepare things for when they do release him. I have a large family and I need to speak to them all.”
“Ah, that will be very difficult for you,” Victor sounded genuine. “My thoughts will be with you. Family is important at times of sorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“I wonder, did Yuri have a chat with you before you left Thailand about your...” he paused, stuck for the word to use, “response to Anthony’s death?”
“Yes, we spoke.” Eddie had ice in his voice.
“I assume from your tone that it was a difficult conversation?”
“It wasn’t difficult for me,” Eddie said calmly. “Yuri asked me not to go after my son’s killer and I told him to go and fuck himself.”
“I see,” Victor cleared his throat uncomfortably. There was a painful silence. “Your reaction is only to be expected under the circumstances. I understand what you have to do.”
“Good,” Eddie said casually. “Then we don’t have a problem then, do we?”
“No we don’t but I do need your response to be low key, Eddie.” he paused but there was no response from Eddie. “I’m sure that you can see where I’m coming from.” Another pause. “I understand that you want to see this man dead but I would appreciate it if nobody knows that he is dead.” he waited a few seconds, “be professional and make him disappear without too much fuss. You know what I’m saying.”
“I know what you’re saying.”
“Good. Then I can count on you to do the right thing. I don’t want any more attention from the police.”
“I will do my best, Victor.”
“Your best has always been good enough for me, Eddie.”
“That is all that I can promise right now,” Eddie said calmly. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep his word. His gut instinct was to leave pieces of Evans and his family all across the city. He wanted their heads on spikes outside the town hall but he also needed to keep Victor Karpov off his back. It was time to part with the Karpovs completely but he needed to manage his exit cleverly. “I will keep our business priorities top of mind.”
“Thank you. That is all I can ask.”
“As long as you realise that I will be pursuing him with everything that I have at hand.”
“Of course you will. I understand. Speak to Nicolai, will you?”
“I will do. I’ll call him when we get off the phone.”
“Thank you, Eddie and good luck later on. I do not envy your position at all. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Victor.”
“And if you hear from Yuri or Mikel, you will let me know won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Goodbye, Eddie, please let me know about the funeral arrangements.”
“I will. Thanks again.” Eddie hung up and swung his legs out of bed. He pulled on black tracksuit pants and a grey jumper and walked to the bedroom door. The handle felt cool to touch. He opened the door and padded barefoot down the stairs. The aroma of bacon grew more intense. He walked into the kitchen and headed for the coffee pot. Junior looked up from the frying pan and smiled thinly trying to gauge his father’s mood.
“I’ve made you a bacon butty. Do you want sauce on it?”
“Brown please, son.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Shite to be honest,” Eddie grunted. “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the guts. It doesn’t feel real does it?”
“No. I can’t believe it,” Junior said plating up. “I’ve sent Harry after the Evans family. I thought he was the best for the job.”
“He is,” Eddie nodded. “You’ve done well, son. I want them in boxes. Every fucking one of them.”
Eddie opened the cupboard to get the sweeteners. As he touched the handle his mobile buzzed again. He swore under his breath and looked at the screen. Nikolai Karpov. Junior put a bacon sandwich in front of him and Eddie took a big bite before he answered the call, angered that Victor had obviously told him to call immediately.
“Nikolai, what a surprise,” Eddie said sarcastically.
“How was your trip home?” Nikolai ignored the barb.
“My trip was fine. I’m back safe and sound and I’m eating my breakfast. What do you want, Nikolai?”
“Things have become a little complicated. We need to talk.”
“Things like what?”
“We’ve had to pull out of the garage temporarily,” Nikolai sounded irritated. “We had a visit last night.”
“A visit from who?�
� Eddie was mildly interested. He took another mouthful of bacon.
“Tucker.”
“Tucker?” Eddie nearly choked. “Was the shipment gone?”
“Of course.”
“It didn’t take him long to work out who had it. How the fucking hell did Tucker find out about the garage?”
“One of the Johnsons escaped. He must have told him.”
“Escaped?”
“Yes.”
“The plan was that the Johnsons ripped off the container and you would make sure that they didn’t have the chance to blab, so what happened?” Eddie said, chewing loudly.
“There was a hiccup.”
“Hiccup?” Eddie scoffed. “You mean you fucked up and let one of them get away.”
“He jumped through the office window and climbed out of the roof,” Nikolai explained. “No one could have seen that happening not even you, Eddie.”
“Fair play to him,” Eddie said sounding impressed. “So he escaped and then told Tucker where his container was.”
“Yes.”
“Has he surfaced yet?”
“No.”
“What happened to the other brother?”
“It’s a long story. We’ll talk about it later.”
“I’m going to be busy later. You’ll have to sort it out yourself for a few days. You have my men at your disposal.”
