by KERRY BARNES
Once he returned to the office, he made his way over to the grandfather clock. He hated that clock. As he opened the front compartment, he felt for the device that he’d planted years ago. It was no longer there. Still, it had only been a useful tool to hear conversations taking place inside the office. Zara’s father would have been proud of that little spying device. Anything outside the room could not be heard. But the CCTV system he’d recently had installed for her was great if he wanted to see who was coming and going to the property. The installation engineers had connected an app to his phone so that he could see precisely what Zara would see. However, it wouldn’t serve him well anymore because Zara had his phone. His eyes scanned Izzy’s old desk and voila! There were his son’s car keys.
Wandering around aimlessly, winding himself up, a sudden thought crossed his mind. The basement. He’d never been down there, but he was aware, after his first encounter with Zara – when he’d given her a lift from the Old Kent Road to this miserable place – of her imprisonment there at the hands of Ismail and the Segals. As he walked along the hallway and past the kitchen, he could see a door to the left. Although to any unsuspecting visitor it resembled a cupboard, it was far more than that. Izzy’s architectural brain had conjured up a clever secret entrance to some stairs that led down to a suite of rooms deep below the main house.
He pulled the door open and peered at a wooden staircase. Listening to the silence, he slowly crept down until he could see a long stone corridor. At the end was a room that was made secure with a reinforced steel frame and heavy-duty metal bars. He wondered for a moment if Zara was inside there, hiding, and waiting to exact further revenge. Prudently, he held his gun pointed forward, knowing that just one shot to the head would be enough to kill her. As he reached the entrance, he noticed a chair abutting the door. She couldn’t be inside, he figured. But who would’ve pushed the chair against the door? It seemed odd as the bars allowed for easy viewing inside the cell.
At first, he saw what looked like a classy bedroom, with cabinets and a wall-mounted TV, but then, as his eyes scanned the room, he stiffened. On the bed lay a woman. She was on her back with her arms spreadeagled, and on the floor he noticed a pool of blood. He guessed the person couldn’t be Zara because this woman had two hands. And yet, from where he was standing, he couldn’t quite see who it was. Quickly, he climbed onto the chair and peered down. The shock of seeing who the person was caused him to lose his balance, resulting in the chair flying across the room. Gripping at the bars as he fell, he tore two fingernails and smashed his knee on the stone floor. There he remained, his breathing coming in fierce gasps, and the ensuing rage sending his body into convulsions. ‘Noooo!’ he yelled, at the top of his voice. It was Jackie, which could only mean that the body in that fire must have been that of his granddaughter. ‘Noooo! Oh my God! Oh my God!’
He retched three times before the contents of his stomach were empty. Leaning against the metal bars, his head a mess, he cried like he’d never done before. The image of the grotesque burned body wouldn’t leave his mind; it swirled around like a never-ending carousel. Smashing his head back and forth against the bars didn’t achieve anything more than cause physical pain, and yet it was nothing compared to the mental torment he now endured.
Someone would pay. He looked at his gun and suddenly realized there were no bullets left in his magazine. ‘Damn!’ he screamed as he smashed the gun on the floor. He needed at least four bullets for Zara, Mike, Ricky, and one for himself. There was no way anyone would take him alive. Yet he couldn’t go back to his mother’s house for his ammo – someone might be watching. He wiped his tired eyes and snotty nose, before taking a deep breath. Somewhere in this bloody great Devil’s castle, there would be a loaded gun, surely? he thought.
Chapter 12
Zara awoke to find Mike sitting upright on the edge of the bed. He was looking at a phone. She lifted her head and rested it on her hand. ‘What are you doing, Mikey?’
He turned around and gave her a gentle smile. ‘I’m going through Torvic’s phone to see if I can recognize any of the numbers.’
Zara pulled herself up and covered her naked body with the white sheet. ‘Let me see if I can.’
He handed her the phone and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll order some room service. I’ve texted Mum and Dad. They seem to be okay. They’re staying in some cottage out in the sticks. Dad reckons Mum wants to move to a farm.’
Zara smiled. She began to scroll through the contacts list, but then her expression changed, her forehead now crinkled as she tilted her head to the side.
‘What is it, love?’ Mike said, with the hotel receiver in his hand.
Slowly turning her head to him, a look of concern was clearly evident on her face. ‘This is Ismail’s number. Well, at least it used to be. Why the fuck would Torvic have had my brother’s number?’
Mike frowned as he put the receiver down. ‘You have to be kidding me! Your brother in bed with Torvic? That makes no sense.’
She glared at the number again. ‘Well, it’s definitely his.’
Her eyes narrowed as she tried to think back to a time or a place that would have connected Torvic with Ismail. Guy Segal had had her locked away to take over her business. Ismail had demanded she must be kept alive, even though the slimy shit was controlled by Guy Segal. So where did Torvic fit into all of this? She searched her mind for any clues but could think of nothing to explain the connection.
‘Well, Zara, your brother was one underhanded son of a bitch. Perhaps he’d planned at some stage to double-cross the Segals by working with Torvic, but that all blew up in his face, and he didn’t do it. And, let’s be honest here, not many people knew about you. Who knew you were kept locked away, and, apart from us, who else knew you’d been freed? Ismail is on remand, and the incident wasn’t broadcast on the news. It’s odd, though, because Torvic turned up when you went to your father’s jeweller’s place. I don’t think he found you by chance. I reckon the bastard had been following you all the time, waiting for the right moment, like when you were at your most vulnerable after the fight with that Lennon geezer.’
Hearing that made Zara’s stomach churn. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of it? For five years that jeweller’s had been more or less empty. So, then, it follows that Torvic wouldn’t have been hovering around for all that time. He would have assumed that someone else had bought it and left it vacant. He wouldn’t have known I was back on the streets unless, that is, someone had told him. So, the question is who?’
Mike sighed. ‘Well, it’s either my brother or yours who informed Torvic.’
Zara got up from the bed and pulled the towelling robe around herself. ‘Eric?’
Mike looked uneasy. ‘To tell ya the truth, he’s been on my mind, and as much as he’s been a bastard, something about him doesn’t add up. Torvic had Eric’s phone, and initially, I assumed my brother was with him, but when I woke up this morning, I had a dark feeling.’
Standing face-to-face with Mike, she gripped his left arm. ‘You think Torvic’s killed him, don’t ya?’
He nodded. ‘I know Eric. If he was with Torvic, he would’ve answered his phone or shouted out something, but …’ – he pulled away and sat on the bed – ‘I think he’s dead.’ Looking up, he said, ‘I’m gonna go to his house, see if he’s been home. I’ve called him twenty times this morning and he ain’t answering. Something stinks.’
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
He shook his head. ‘Please, Zara, stay here. Be safe, and then at least I won’t have you on my mind.’
She stood in between his legs and placed her hand around his head, pulling him to her stomach. ‘I love you, Mikey Regan. Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t face losing you.’
He undid her robe and kissed her navel. ‘I’ll be careful, ’course I will. Just stay here.’
‘And Ismail?’ she asked.
‘I can get blood out of a stone, but it’s your call, Zara. He’s your brother.’
>
Zara pulled away and walked to the window. She opened the lock and flung the window as wide as it would go.
Mike watched her. For years he’d loved her. After all the shit they’d both been through, they should now be looking to the future, planning a wedding and enjoying life. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and swallowed the emotion trapped in his throat. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was terrified, not for himself but for Zara and Ricky. A man like Torvic would be true to his word – of that, he was dead certain. Gazing at the contours of her neat, slim figure, he felt the urge to pull her back to bed and keep her wrapped in his arms, safe and secure. But she wasn’t the type to want to be smothered with a safety blanket; perhaps that was part of the reason he loved her so much. A cold shiver ran up his spine; he had to kill Torvic or he would never rest.
As Zara leaned her head out of the window, he suddenly realized what she was doing. ‘I thought you’d given up.’
Ensuring the smoke went out of the window, to prevent activating the smoke alarm, she replied, ‘This? It’s just a figment of your imagination.’
He smiled to himself but was quickly drawn back to reality. ‘So, your brother, then?’
She took another long drag. ‘Yes, I know. It’s just, he’s still my brother.’
She tried to picture Ismail’s face when he’d watched her when she was behind those bars. Her main feeling then had been one of hatred, but that was because she’d been trapped and helpless. Then she visualized his face when her hand had been severed and the look of terror when he’d realized what Tracey Harman and Benjamin Segal had done. He was so shocked and had screamed, ‘No!’ So, she concluded, for all his underhanded moves, she had seen by his reaction that he’d never known they were going to go that far. Perhaps inside, despite her knowing he was weak and he’d played dirty in order to take her place as head of the family, he still felt something for her.
She spun around and faced Mike. ‘Can you get your men on the inside to give him a message without hurting him?’
Mike rolled his eyes. ‘Zara, after everything, I don’t believe a few words from you will get him to spew out the information we need.’
She smiled. ‘You may be right, but you don’t know how my brother’s mind works. With him, it’s always been about power. He’s never had it, not really, so you need to imagine that if he thinks he can gain it now, he may just talk.’
‘Okay, then. We’ll do it your way. What’s the message?’
‘It’s this: I underestimated you, Little Bean. You still owe me, but now I need your help to take down the Regans.’
Mike raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised but nevertheless impressed once again by Zara’s cunning mind. ‘Clever, Zara, very clever. But how do we know Torvic hasn’t been in touch?’
Zara grinned. ‘Torvic wouldn’t be interested in Ismail anymore. He would’ve used the little snitch, so I can’t see how he would need him now. Torvic would’ve already bled him dry.’
‘Okay, I’ll call my man and tell him there are to be no threats or violence, just a gentle word. And you’ll know if Ismail buys into it, if he calls you. I’ll give my man your number, and then we’ll know, yeah? Or, if he decides not to play ball and calls Torvic …’ – he smiled and held up the phone – ‘well, babe, we have his phone.’
She nodded deliberately, still in thought. ‘Right, then. Call your man.’
‘Yeah, okay. Er … “Little Bean”? What’s that all about?’
‘He’ll know the message is from me. I called him that when we were young. It’s an affectionate term. I used to say, “One day, Little Bean, you’ll grow into a stalk where you can reach the clouds and be whoever you want to be.”’
She took one last drag and watched the cigarette butt fall from the window to the ground.
Mike stared at her. ‘You loved him, didn’t ya?’
She remained fixated on the fag butt and sighed heavily. ‘Yeah, I did. I helped bring him up after our mother died. I guess I babied him too. But I was just looking out for him. You know, fighting his battles, beating up the kids at school if they bullied him, and stuff like that. That’s why I was so gutted when he turned on me.’
‘I’ll make that call, babe.’
* * *
The sound in the distance was soothing. It was like a gentle melody, a feeling of being wrapped in warmth, which was so comforting. Then, suddenly, it became real and not at all dreamlike. The voice was louder, and now the surrounding muffled tones became very real.
Liam opened his eyes to another bright room; only, this time, he wasn’t looking up at a circular silver light. He experienced a rush of memories; it was like a team of galloping horses that shot through his mind. The operation, the nurse who rescued him, the pain – it sent him into a panic. He instantly lifted his hands to feel if they were free, and as he did, he saw the cannula in his arm.
The sweet melodic voice came from the nurse, who tried to calm him by gently lowering his arms.
‘Hey, it’s okay. You’re in a hospital bed, so you’re safe.’
As he met her eyes, he lowered his arms and relaxed. She looked to be about thirty years old and she was dressed in a starched uniform. Her Spanish accent was comforting and reassuring.
‘You came in here very poorly. We have tried to find out who you are. What’s your name?’
Liam stared, trying to recollect and then process the most recent events of what had happened to him. But they were all a blur. All he knew was that one minute he was cooking steaks, and then the next, he was grabbed from behind. At some point, he remembered, he’d woken up in excruciating pain, with a harsh man’s voice telling the nurse basically to let him die. He then recalled the nurse running along, pushing him out of the hospital or clinic, or whatever the fuck that place was. He couldn’t trust anyone. Feeling so confused, all he wanted was his dad.
‘Please, can I use the phone?’
The nurse moved the patient’s hair from his eyes. ‘Of course, er …’
Liam knew she was fishing for a name, but until he’d spoken with his father, he was going to stay schtum. ‘Please, I need to make a call. Please help me.’
The nurse looked behind her towards the glass cubicle door.
Liam followed her eyeline and noticed two doctors standing outside. He didn’t recognize either of them. ‘Where am I?’
‘You are in the Hospital General de Alicante. Do you know what happened to you?’
‘Please, just get me a phone or I will walk to one myself.’
‘Okay, I will get one for you. Please try not to move for the moment. We had to give you a blood transfusion and antibiotics. We also had to do an emergency operation to stop the internal bleeding.’ She waited for a reaction, but the young man didn’t respond. She tried again. ‘We checked your blood against the live donor register, but there seems to be no patient on that list with your blood type or description. We had to inform the authorities, so someone will come soon to ask you questions.’
Liam narrowed his eyes, totally oblivious as to what the hell she was on about. ‘What? Police?’
‘Don’t worry for now. I’ll return shortly.’
Liam stared through the window at the doctor who appeared to be doing likewise. He sensed that the look wasn’t friendly. Was he getting paranoid now? But then, he had so many questions. His first one was obvious enough: who did what to him?
He continued to watch as the doctor slipped into his room and closed the door behind him. He was a tall, heavily built man with silver streaks at the sides of his dark-brown hair. He guessed the man was in his late fifties. His body language was very self-assured, and, in a way, it reminded him of his dad. He could scare the shit out of anyone, if the need was there, and this guy appeared to be no different.
Liam expected all hospital doctors to have some kind of sympathetic bedside manner, but this situation was definitely not normal.
The doctor didn’t smile or speak; instead, he gave Liam an odd look before h
e pulled a syringe from his pocket.
To any unsuspecting person, Liam may have looked like a bit of an oaf, but that was not the case. On the contrary, Liam could be a clever and hard fucker when he’d the mind to be. But what concerned him was the fact that the doctor was approaching with a hypodermic needle in his hand. And with no gentle words of explanation from the man, the circumstances seemed sinister, to say the least.
Liam felt his adrenaline surging; unlike before, he didn’t feel pain, and, at that moment, he wondered just how much strength he had in him.
‘Er, what ya doing, mate?’ asked Liam, as he tried to sit himself up.
‘I am topping up your antibiotics.’
Instantly, Liam recognized the man’s harsh and lord-like tone. It was the same person who’d said, ‘Leave him. He’ll bleed out eventually.’
As the doctor grabbed his arm, Liam pulled it away. However, the doctor seized it again, this time holding it firmly. He was about to insert the needle into Liam’s vein, when Liam, who was left-handed, swung his fist and caught the doctor clean on the chin, knocking him backwards.
‘Get the fuck off me, you!’
In horror, the doctor looked around to see if anyone was witnessing the altercation before he went in to grab Liam again. But he was stunned with the young lad’s ability to use such force to push him away.
‘I said, get off me!’
‘Look, you need this, so stop fighting, young man.’
Liam realized that although he was still groggy, he had to stop the doctor. Shaking his head to try to stay awake, he knew he had to prevent that needle from going in his arm. ‘I hate fucking needles, so fuck off!’
The doctor then grinned. ‘Aah, okay. Is that why you hit me?’
Liam was now pushing his way up the bed and glaring at the man with a cold stare. ‘Yes, of course. Why else? Look, please, mate, er, I mean, Doc. Don’t put that needle in my arm.’
The doctor backed off. ‘So, do you know what happened to you?’
