by KERRY BARNES
Now, he heard a different voice, an older man’s, with a cold, calculated tone. ‘What are you doing, Nurse?’
‘I was clearing everything away, as you asked.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘Yes, a minute ago.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, absolutely. His heart stopped.’
‘Take him to the incineration unit. He is expected.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied with confidence.
Liam desperately wanted to be sick, but he held his breath for all it was worth.
As soon as the door slammed shut, the nurse peeled back the sheet. ‘Listen. I have to get you out of here. Okay?’
Liam nodded and took a deep, painful breath. ‘Please, tell me what’s happened to me.’
‘Not now. Just be quiet.’
Liam knew he had to do as instructed; she was the only person right now on his side.
The nurse unstrapped his other arm, covered him back over, and just as she was about to wheel him out of the room, the door opened again. Liam heard a different voice.
‘Kirsten, you will have to take over from me next door. I need to make some calls. I will take the body to incineration.’
Dread washed over her, like a tidal wave.
‘No, I can’t. I think I have come down with a fever. My hands won’t stop shaking, and I feel so sick.’
‘Pull yourself together. I need to call home and …’
‘Your girlfriend?’ asked Kirsten to her nurse colleague.
‘You what?’ he replied.
‘I know what you’re up to, Grayson. You make up to me, but I’ve seen you with Nurse Halloway. What would your wife think, I wonder? Anyway, I feel ill. I can’t afford to make a mistake, and I know I will, if I go in there now. Like I said, I feel rough.’
Liam could sense the tension in the room, but, lying still, he held his breath.
‘You breathe a word, Kirsten, and I will …’
‘Grayson, please go back in there and leave me to be sick in peace. I won’t tell your wife.’
The door slammed shut, and Liam breathed deeply, in relief.
‘Prick,’ she said, under her breath, which gave Liam a great sense of relief, knowing that she was still in the room.
He heard the door open again and this time he was on the move. He had no idea where he was. It was quiet with just the sound of the trolley wheels as they trundled along. A sudden left turn and he could feel the speed pick up. The nurse had used the gurney to push through a set of double doors. The noise echoed. Faster she ran until Liam could feel every lump and bump. Underneath the white sheet, he could see the light and feel the change in the air temperature. They were outside.
When she removed the sheet from his face, he saw the clear blue sky. As he turned his head to the side, he saw the building half-buried into the steep rock face. The front was freshly bricked with glass doors, and a silver sign reflected the sun – Dash Plastic Surgery Clinic.
He craned his neck to look behind and saw the double doors from where he’d come. It was the delivery entrance. Christ, what had they done to him? To the left of him was a tall brick wall.
Wasting no time and breathing hard from pushing the gurney along the winding drive, Kirsten stopped for a rest behind the wall.
‘I need to get you away from here to a hospital. Wait here. Don’t try to move. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Liam trembled. He tried to move a little, but the pain was excruciating. He closed his eyes to the bright sunlight and prayed she would be able to pull this off without being caught. Every time he thought of a furnace, he felt nauseous. The minute seemed to stretch to hours as he lay there fraught with fear.
As soon as she returned, he relaxed a little and started to breathe more easily. Her voice was like a lullaby, a comfort blanket. ‘I need to get you dressed.’
She said it with great urgency. He was willing to do whatever she asked as long as she was saving his life. She proved to be a dab hand. First, she popped a sweatshirt over his head and pulled his arms through. Then, she put on some tracksuit bottoms, lifting his rear like she was dressing a baby. As Liam moved his arm, he wanted to laugh; maybe it was a reaction to overwhelming fear, but the sight of a bright-pink tracksuit was bizarre. The red cherry logo on the front might even have made him smile if he wasn’t in so much pain.
‘Sorry about the outfit. It’s all I have.’
Liam winked. At that moment, Kirsten’s heart melted. Guilt covered her like an invisible veil; how the hell could she have done this to such a sweet lad. Ugly he may be, but just that wink transformed his looks. He was charming enough. She was amazed at how he responded when most men would have been screaming in pain.
She popped a baseball hat on his head, put on sunglasses to cover his eyes, and quickly shoved a note in his tracksuit bottoms.
‘This is going to be so hard, but please try to walk with me. I will bear most of your weight, but I have to get you just down the road. If I park outside the clinic, the camera will see us. At the moment, love, we are out of view.’
‘I’ll do me best.’
Kirsten noticed that Liam was staring at her; in fact, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She knew then that his survival right now was all down to her. As she tried to sit him up, he yelled, ‘Aah, fuck, it hurts.’
‘I know it’s going to be tough, but it will be far worse if we don’t get away, like now.’
Those words made Liam go into flight mode; he bit back the pain, placed an arm around her shoulders, and slid from the gurney onto his feet. At first, as his legs took his weight, he buckled, but Kirsten held him upright.
‘Come on, you can do this,’ she said, encouraging him.
With a deep breath, he held back the screams that wanted to escape and staggered along with her. Every step he took was like a knife thrust in his side, but he soldiered on until they were standing by a dusty red car. She opened the back door and helped him inside. Once the door was shut, he lay down, and for a moment, he lost consciousness.
He finally came to as Kirsten began tugging him to get him into a sitting position to help him out of the car. Dazed and light-headed, he allowed her to help him to his feet. She turned him around and seated him in a wheelchair.
He could hear the panic rising in her voice, as she said, ‘Please, love, stay with me. Come on, you can do this. Stay with … Oh my God! Not now! Please don’t die!’
As the light began to fade, it looked to Kirsten that her patient had too.
Liam tried to hold on to the feeling of her hands gently stroking his cheek, but the world was closing in, as his body lost its fight to survive.
Chapter 10
As soon as Eric turned the key in the lock and pushed his way in, he knew something was wrong. The musty odour of sweat and stale air hit him. Being a man who took pride in his appearance and who was forever bathing and splashing copious amounts of aftershave on his body, he was sensitive to his own home smelling of nothing less than rose, honeysuckle, and jasmine.
As if his world had turned into slow motion, he heard the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked and felt the breath from the man he feared most. He froze – too afraid to look to his left.
‘Now you’re fucked,’ came the unmistakable voice.
Unable to move, Eric stared ahead, waiting for the bullet, and hoped it would be quick.
Torvic, however, wasn’t going to let him off that easily – not in a million years. One bullet through the head wasn’t punishment enough; that wasn’t sweet revenge, and it wasn’t going to happen.
‘You, of all the motherfucking bastards, double-crossed me. If I ever made a bad mistake, it was trusting you, ya cunt,’ growled Torvic, through clenched teeth.
Eric was defenceless. There were no words or excuses he could even attempt to use to get himself out of the deep crap he was now in.
‘How could I have been so blinded, unless, of course, you had a sudden change of heart? What was it, eh? Was it
Zara’s soft words of forgiveness, or her masterly skills in manipulation perhaps?’ He paused. ‘Come on, then! Tell me!’ he screamed, making Eric jump.
Eric turned to face Torvic. He had just locked eyes with the Devil. With a bristly stubble and brown rings shadowing his eyes, Torvic appeared incensed. Eric could see the tiredness in his face, but there was an unmistakable rage written across it, and he guessed that the man was only able to keep going on adrenaline alone.
If he made an attempt to attack him, then Torvic would shoot him on the spot. It would then be over. There would be no torture. But the problem was his brain just wouldn’t function as he thought it should. He was looking desperately around the room, hoping for some kind of miracle to extract him from this nightmare scenario. But he couldn’t fucking move! His legs seemed almost paralysed as if they were glued to the floor. He then realized that his survival instincts were telling him not to risk a bullet and to wait for events to unfold, however unpleasant those would be. His impulses were trying to keep him alive. So, no way was he going to do anything rash. And he certainly wasn’t going to beg and plead or even cry out with some feeble excuse. He was a Regan, for Christ’s sake. He did have some pride!
‘It was nothing to do with Zara.’
A sickly giggle, like a girl’s voice, left Torvic’s lips. ‘Oh, come on, Eric. You’re obsessed with the woman.’ He laughed again. ‘I can see why, though. She would put all you men to shame. You’re a joke, really. You’re pathetic. A woman having so much power, I’m surprised one of you hasn’t done her in already.’
Eric smirked and looked the dishevelled man up and down. ‘You never did, though, Torvic, did ya? And you had plenty of chances, alone in her home with her. But the thing is, you didn’t, and that makes you as pathetic as us.’
Torvic flared his nostrils and grimaced. ‘Shut up!’
Eric smiled sarcastically.
‘The truth hurts, eh, Torvic?’
‘I said, shut the fuck up!’
They remained with their eyes not budging from each other.
‘You could’ve had it all, Eric – the money, a partnership, any bit of skirt you fancied – but you switched sides, and that intrigues me. So why did ya do it?’
Eric protruded his lower lip and raised his eyebrows. ‘You were deluded, and for a man that could outsmart the Filth – even the special operations team – you somehow never questioned me.’
As Torvic’s breathing increased, Eric sensed he was hitting a nerve and winding the man up. Under normal circumstances, anyone wielding a gun becomes extremely dangerous when anger builds. However, Eric knew that Torvic wouldn’t kill him cleanly, not when he was so irate. He knew so much about the man – more than anyone else did, in fact.
He watched the man falter and considered how the hell he was still standing. He had to give Torvic some credit. He’d been awake now for forty-eight hours. He’d seen his sons tortured and murdered and watched his granddaughter’s expression of horror as a bottle of acid was held ready to pour all over her head to burn her face off.
In that moment, Torvic could almost read his mind. Eric was upright, fresh as a daisy, with not even a crease in his shirt. But what was so galling was Eric’s body language. The lack of nervousness made Torvic angry.
‘Move!’ Torvic demanded.
Eric stepped forward, towards the lounge.
‘Go in and sit down. We’re going to have a talk: you, me, and my gun.’
Eric then realized that he’d been proved correct: Torvic was tired. With himself sitting down, it meant that Torvic would do likewise and take the weight off his weary bones. And the man was weary, that was for sure. A far cry from the person he’d met a year ago. A genius at manipulation, he had the gift of the gab and the presence to pull it off.
Eric, although nervous, was revelling inside. He wondered how long it would be before Torvic would show himself as the old man he indeed was. How many hours would it take to strip back the layers until he could be exposed for his age and vulnerability?
Staying awake when the mind and the body were desperate for sleep, was a colossal ask of anyone – not least a man in his sixties. That act in itself, although self-inflicted, was an act of torture. All Torvic’s negative thoughts, all the personal slights to his reputation, gnawed away at him as they pierced his brain, like a thousand needles, consuming vital energy.
Torvic realized that he must stay focused and remain one step ahead of Eric. It was tough going when he knew he was suffering from bouts of delusion brought on by exhaustion and drugs. Using every last bit of stamina, he tried to remain standing, poised and in control, and not appear like the madman who Eric very probably thought he was. But a wave of tiredness forced him to sit down.
‘Tell me one thing, Eric. What made you change your mind? I can make your death quick … but you need to tell me.’
Eric now felt he could breathe a little easier. He had a hold over Torvic. He had something Torvic wanted – answers – and he knew the man was desperate for them. Whatever was going through the man’s crazy brain, Eric was going to use Torvic’s need to have him confess in order to stall the bastard long enough in the hope that he would eventually let his guard down.
‘What I’m gonna tell you is a story, Torvic.’
Angered by the calm, confident tone in Eric’s voice, Torvic growled, ‘Cut the crap. Get to the last line of the chapter. I wanna know why you switched sides.’
‘Well, it won’t make sense unless I start from the beginning.’
‘What the fuck is this? Fucking Listen with Mother? I don’t think so … Just spit it out.’
Eric loosened his tie and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. ‘Like I said, it won’t make sense otherwise.’
As Torvic, in a fit of fury, jumped up from his seat, Eric clocked him stumble. The man was drained.
‘Start fucking talking, Eric, or I’ll make your demise a little nastier and more painful and unbearable than any others I’ve had the pleasure of finishing off.’
Eric took a deep breath. ‘It’s all about leapfrog. Not that I see myself as a fucking frog but—’
‘For fuck’s sake! Get on with it!’ Torvic bellowed, as he paced the floor.
‘Ya know, me brother was always top dog. Everyone listened to him. Me mum, me dad, the lads, and Zara. She, I guess, was the final nail in the coffin. I wanted her. For years I loved that woman, and there was Mike, with all his charisma, his take-no-shit attitude, whisking her off, right under my nose.’
Torvic sighed and sat down again.
‘You wouldn’t understand though, would you, because you’ve never loved anyone, have ya? Not even your own flesh and blood. Well, apart from your granddaughter, that is.’
‘Just get on with it or I’ll finish your story with a fucking bullet.’
‘Anyway, Zara turned her nose up at me and went running into Mike’s arms. That was like a sword in my heart. Mike had won again.’
‘Sounds to me like a jealous brother,’ mocked Torvic.
Eric curled his lip. ‘Yeah, ya got that right. I had every reason to be.’
He looked over at Torvic, who still appeared on edge, but at least he was sitting quite comfortably in the cushioned chair. It was the one that he himself always seemed to doze off in.
‘I fucked off when Mike got banged up. Everyone was running around trying to find Ricky. I knew where he was, though. I sussed that out early doors, but I kept me mouth shut. So, Torvic, you might think you’re the Devil, but I can be too. Anyway, there was nothing left for me. Zara then disappeared, and so I fucked off. I wanted to mould myself into the complete opposite of Mike the gangster, the hard bastard, the villain. I couldn’t be him, or even live in his shadow anymore, so I tried to go straight. I started a business in Spain growing food – specialist food – such as snails and mushrooms.’
Torvic had switched off. He fumbled around in his pocket, still holding the gun in the other hand.
Eric watched as Torvic pulled ou
t a small clear bag containing a white powder. He decided to stop talking and glared as Torvic poured some of it onto the back of his hand and coarsely snort every last bit.
‘Christ, you’re hooked on that shit as well, ain’t ya? You, Torvic, have gone down in my estimation.’
Torvic wiped his nose, using his jacket sleeves. ‘Don’t be a prick, Eric. This ain’t Flakka. It’s the best cocaine money can buy. I wouldn’t stoop that low.’
Eric nodded. He might have known. But what was interesting was the fact that by snorting a livener, Torvic was exposing his weakness – he was flagging. Eric would play him for all it was worth. For such a long time, everyone had assumed that he was the slower brother, the weaker son, the less appealing friend. They should never have done that. Not even Torvic, the man who had everyone shitting hot bricks.
‘Now, Eric, get back to telling me why you double-crossed me before I get bored with your fairy stories and plant a bullet right between your eyeballs.’
‘Oh, Torvic, you won’t be bored. In fact, I think you’ll want to order in pizza and popcorn and make a night of it.’
‘Your face will look like pizza unless you get to the point.’ Torvic had livened up; at this point, he was extremely dangerous. He was cocaine-fuelled and angry: both were a recipe for recklessness.
‘So, I was in Spain, and to be frank, I was bored shitless. I couldn’t go straight. I had to have a purpose. Shit, me brother was fucking right again. So, I came back to England. I decided to lie low for a bit. I kept away from the manor, but I kept me ear to the ground. Funny, because I was hoping that I would be the man that would find Zara. You know, to be her knight in shining armour. I dreamed that she’d fall into my arms, and we could start something special. And it might have happened. But, fate played its hand. Almost as soon as I rescued Zara, Mike had found Ricky, and it was all one big soppy reunion. Mike proposed, and that was it. I didn’t get a second look.’
‘Aw, my heart bleeds.’ Torvic smiled. ‘Now, get the fuck on with it!’
