by KERRY BARNES
‘Are you okay, bud?’ he asked, in a sympathetic tone, his heart beating a little less quickly now.
Willie’s voice was so loud that even Zara, who was across the room, heard it.
‘I’ve got me boy back! I’ve got him, Mike. He’s here with me right now!’
Mike leaped from the bed. ‘Fuck me, Willie. How is he? What happened? Is he all right?’
‘Yeah, yeah, well, not 100 per cent, but he’s alive. Some cunt’s removed his fucking kidney, though!’
Mike frowned and screwed his face up. Zara hurried over as Mike put Willie on loudspeaker.
‘Sorry, mate, what the fuck did you just say?’
‘Yeah, some bastard’s operated on him and taken out his kidney. I swear to God, I’m going to be operating on someone meself, without anaesthetic, when I get me hands on whoever did it. I’m taking him back to Terrence’s place. Liam’s sick, but I’ll get him sorted.’ Willie was out of breath with excitement and anger. His emotions, though, were bittersweet. ‘Oh my God, I can’t get me head around it all … But, he’s okay. Jesus, thank God!’
Mike’s whole body turned limp with relief. His eyes filled with plump tears. ‘Can I hear his voice?’
Liam was now tired and semiconscious, but he managed to answer. ‘I’m all right, Mikey …’
‘Aah, boy, you had us so worried …’ He choked on a sob trapped in his throat. ‘If I could wrap you lads in fucking cotton wool, I would.’
Even in his dopey state, Liam still managed to crack a joke. ‘Yeah, we’d look like three tampons.’
Torvic’s phone rang. Mike froze.
‘I love you, boy. Listen, I need to go. I’ll bell you later, yeah?’
‘No worries, Mikey.’
Mike ended the call and looked at Zara, who was now holding Torvic’s phone in her hand. ‘There’s no caller ID. It could be the nick. If it is, I bet it’s Ismail, the dirty bastard.’
Mike suddenly smiled. ‘Hand me the phone.’
‘No, I’ll answer it.’
Mike nodded, urging her to continue before the phone rang off.
‘Well, hello, Little Bean. I thought as much. You really underestimated me, didn’t you?’
There was a long pause as Ismail’s mouth suddenly dried up. He’d made the wrong decision – again. How the hell was his sister answering Torvic’s phone, unless she was working with him or she’d killed him? Realization stabbed him in the throat as he tried to think through either of those two possibilities.
‘Yes, I should imagine, Ismail, that you’re now in a state of confusion. How does my sister have Torvic’s phone, hmm? Yes, I can hear your fast breathing, Ismail. I suspect you are now shitting hot bricks, ain’t ya? Your tiny mind is frantically trying to work it out, and I bet, Ismail, you’re wondering what to do next. Am I right?’
The silence continued from his end. He could put the phone down and deny calling. After all, it would come up with caller ID unknown. There was the answer. Just put the phone down, Ismail, a voice was saying to him.
Zara stared at the screen as her brother rang off. ‘Now he will be bloody scared and far more likely to answer my questions.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Shall I make another call, Zara? This time he needs to be taught a lesson. You were fair. Ya gave him a chance, didn’t ya? But he must know now that that move will have consequences. So, let’s not delude him.’
‘You know what? A part of me actually believed he would call, out of a sense of sibling love. But I guess I was wrong. Do what you have to, Mikey. I’m done with him. For now, we can celebrate Willie’s news. I’m so pleased, I feel like crying with relief.’
Mike pulled her close to him and sat her on his lap. ‘Yeah, the best news ever about Liam.’ He sighed. ‘But as for your decision to give up on Ismail, I know how painful that was. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone … well, except Torvic. Now, let me make that call.’
Zara gave Mike a full-on, lingering kiss and then hopped up from his lap. ‘Go for it, babe.’
Chapter 13
Pacing the floor of his cell, Ismail was sweating buckets. He’d royally fucked up and knew damn well that she wouldn’t forgive him now. ‘Damn!’ He punched the wall, which hurt, and then he rested his forehead against the cold bricks, allowing the tears to roll down his face. He had to think quickly before he was set upon, and he knew that it wouldn’t be long. Wiping his eyes, he decided to head for the recreational area on the ground floor. Surely, he reasoned, no one would harm him in public view. He would just have to make sure he was surrounded by people. Either that or go to his personal officer. But, what could he say to him? No threat had actually been made – yet.
Just as he was about to leave his cell, a huge prisoner, as large as a bear, appeared in the doorway. His name was Joel, an ex-boxer from Hackney. If he hadn’t murdered his trainer for doing him out of ten grand, he could quite conceivably have become cruiserweight champion of Great Britain.
Ismail couldn’t have squeezed past the man even if he’d wanted to because he took up the whole doorframe. He looked a throwback to the Neanderthal age with his flat nose, thick forehead, and black hairs covering his huge hands. And that vacant expression – he looked like the lights were on but no one was at home.
Ismail stood rooted to the spot, absolutely terrified. This was it – game over. His heart beat furiously, and his palms were dripping. How the hell would he talk his way out of this? By Christ, though, he would if he could. But the size of the man’s fists told him that one punch to his head and he wouldn’t wake up in a normal state, if he even woke up at all.
‘Sit!’ came the harsh voice from the muscular monster.
Ismail retreated and instantly sat on the bed.
‘Right, this is what’s gonna ’appen. I’ll ask the questions. You will answer truthfully. Ya see, some of the questions, I already know the answers to, so, any lies, and, well, let me see …’ he said, as he looked Ismail over and grinned. ‘You already look like a rat who was dragged through the cat flap, so finishing you off won’t take much effort.’
Ismail could feel and hear his teeth literally chattering. That was a first: he’d never been so shit-scared in all his life. He nodded and swallowed hard.
‘Good. So, this should be a piece of piss. Question one. How do you know Torvic?’
Ismail flicked his eyes to the right and paused. ‘Er, well …’
The crack to the side of the head was so fast, Ismail didn’t see it coming, but he certainly felt it, as his head hit the metal bedstead. He tried to sit up straight to compose himself, but that thump had left his ears ringing, and stomach acid began to rise to the back of his throat. Glancing up at the man, he saw absolutely no expression. His interrogator looked impassively at him, like a cobra, just biding his time to strike again. An ice-cold shiver ran down Ismail’s spine. He felt he was an inch away from death.
‘I can tell when someone’s gonna lie. Ya see, I may look a thick bugger to someone like you, who was born with a silver spoon in ya mouth, by the looks of ya, but I’ve studied psychology and body language, so, let’s try again, shall we? And, my friend – a warning. That was just a little slap, so the next time you lie to me or try to lie to me, I’ll knock you into the wall so hard that your ugly face will be on back to fucking front. And if that don’t work’ – Joel bent down and lifted his tracksuit bottoms to reveal a knife tied to his leg – ‘I’ll cut ya tongue out, and you’ll have to write the answers on a piece of paper. Got it, ’ave ya?’
Ismail nodded.
‘Good boy. So, let’s try again. How do you know Torvic?’
‘He offered me a partnership in his business for information about my father.’
‘Right, now you listen to me. I don’t want the fucking basics. I want every last detail. Got me?’
Ismail licked his dry lips as he wrung out his sweaty palms. ‘He wanted the names of all my father’s suppliers and buyers and the details of the restaurants, the clubs, and the arcades. And he also wa
nted to know where my sister, Zara, was. So, I told him she was down in the basement of my late father’s house. Torvic paid me every time I gave him information about her. But I couldn’t tell him everything about the business because I couldn’t find out where my father kept his ledger, so I told him only what I knew.’
‘Where does Torvic live?’
Ismail hesitated. It cost him dearly. The next moment, a lightning blow knocked two of his teeth clean out of his mouth. The blood tasted vile, and this time he didn’t just feel sick, he threw up on the floor. Gasping for air, he stuttered, ‘N-n-o-o, okay, pl-please, I’ll tell you. I-I just needed time to remember his address, I swear.’
‘One, two …’
‘I don’t know the number, but it’s on Church Road, a red front door, a detached house in Sundridge in Kent.’
‘No, not that address. He has another one,’ said Joel. He’d been told that there were possibly other addresses.
Ismail blinked and wiped his bloody mouth. ‘Please, wait. I’m trying to remember. There is another place he goes to. I followed him once. Er, it’s in Crockenhill. There’s a row of cottages with a back entrance and a garage with a green door. Fuck, fuck.’ Ismail was now panicking so much, his brain couldn’t process anything anymore. ‘I’m really trying to remember. Please …’
Joel held off, knowing that the man was desperately trying to recall what he knew. And he was fully aware that if he whacked him again then he may not get any more information.
‘Tylers Green is the place. Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know the number, but the garage door is green. It’s the only one in use. It’s down an alleyway behind the house.’
His eyes squinted, expecting another smack, but Joel merely grinned, showing his chipped tooth. ‘You do know that I can snap you in half if I suspect you’re lying? It may not be today. It could be tomorrow or even next week,’ taunted Joel.
Ismail nodded. ‘I swear, I’m telling the truth.’
‘One more question … for now, that is. What were Torvic’s plans for Zara and the Regans?’
With a deep frown, Ismail said, ‘Zara? What do you mean?’
‘Is he intending to kill her?’
‘Kill her?’ asked Ismail, now very surprised.
‘Fuck me, is there an echo in ’ere? Yes, Ismail. Is Torvic likely to kill her?’
‘No, not at all. He wouldn’t, never. He loves her.’
Joel was on the point of raising his hand again, but Ismail pre-empted his move.
‘That’s why she was kept alive for all those years, because he wanted it that way. I stopped Guy Segal from ending her life, or she would’ve been dead within a month.’ He knew he had to spill the beans or he was a dead man. In any case, he reasoned, who cared if he grassed up anyone now. The money, which he’d accumulated from working for Torvic, meant nothing if he ended up murdered or he was left in jail to rot. ‘He paid me to convince Guy and Benjamin to keep her alive. I would’ve let her die myself, but I didn’t.’
All the time Ismail was talking, Joel was becoming more and more interested in what he was hearing. He had plenty of time while in prison to satisfy his intellect, which just seemed to grow exponentially, the more he read. He had already taken an Open University BA (Honours) degree in Criminology and Psychology and was in his second year of a master’s. He loved questioning anything put to him, and he had an analytical mind, which perhaps stemmed from his boxing days, so all the things that Ismail was telling him were giving him pause for thought.
First up, was what would Zara do with the information he’d extracted from this slimy jerk-off? He’d already asked the questions given to him by Mike, but now something else was intriguing him.
‘In what way did he love her?’
‘He wanted her for himself.’ Ismail smirked, innocently.
Now Joel was even more captivated. In fact, he was morbidly curious. ‘Why?’
‘Because she was the image of our mother, and he wanted her, but my father beat him to it. So, now he wants my sister.’
Joel flared his nostrils and protruded his jaw. The thought that Ismail would let some old fella go after his sister made him livid because he had a sister and no way would he allow anyone to touch a hair on her head and live. ‘The sick bastard.’
‘No, I don’t mean he wants her like that. I mean—’
Joel was too sickened to let Ismail finish his sentence. ‘You’re a real weasel, ain’t ya? You’d sell out anyone if it meant you could earn a few quid. Ya know what they said? They told me at first not to hurt you but just keep you in check and get information that they requested. But, later, they changed their minds. And it’s a good thing an’ all, now I know what you’re about. But, to be honest, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Ya see, me, I have me own rules and a mind that is me own. Sometimes, I can see things that others can’t: it’s called wisdom. As I see it, you’re taking up oxygen that really you ain’t entitled to. I’m gonna go and make a call, but watch ya back, Ismail, ’cos … well, just ’cos.’ He winked, grinned, and left.
Ismail tried to relax his shoulders before taking a deep breath, allowing his head to fall back against the brick wall. He didn’t know what was worse – a quick death here and now, or forever looking over his shoulders and constantly fighting his worst nightmares.
* * *
As the front door opened, Lance was on his feet, gun in hand. As soon as the others realized it was Willie and Liam, they rushed to help.
Poppy suddenly became alive.
‘Liam, oh my goodness,’ she cried, as she bent over the wheelchair and cupped his pale face. ‘What happened to you? I was so … Oh my … Well, at least you’re safe.’
She looked at Willie, who was fascinated by how much this pretty young woman fussed over his son. He was no fool; although he adored Liam, he was also aware that Liam wasn’t at the top of the list in the looks department, rather like himself.
Liam gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Poppy, babe, I’m fine. I’m just a kidney short of a full mixed grill.’
She chuckled at his humour, along with everyone else.
Lance looked at Willie and raised his brow, as if to ask what had happened, but Willie shook his head; he wasn’t going to talk about it in front of the kids.
‘Right, boy, let’s get you into bed and have a read of all these tablets before I give you an overdose.’ He held up a large bag and then shook it. It sounded like a baby’s rattle.
‘Oh, I can do that, Mr Ritz. I’m quite good with medicine. I studied it for a while before beginning my media course,’ said Poppy, eager to help.
Willie ruffled her hair. He wasn’t used to young women, only boys.
‘Well, there you go. He’s all yours, Nurse Nightingale. Arty, help me get him up the stairs and into bed, will ya?’
Arty was still pale, the shock over the last few days having affected his appetite, and the lack of food making him feel listless and frightened for his mate.
‘Ya gave us a right shock, Liam, ya little fucker.’ He sighed.
Liam grinned. ‘Not as much as me, Art. Jesus, they were gonna throw me into an incinerator. I was fucking shitting meself.’ He turned to Poppy. ‘Mind you, I gave the doctor a left hook, the cheeky bastard. He was gonna inject me to finish me off.’
Arty then laughed, but mainly through relief. ‘Well, you can’t kill the living dead, now can ya?’
Liam was on the point of laughing but he was in too much pain.
‘Fuck off, Arty. You’re gonna burst me stitches.’
Arty grabbed Liam’s hand and squeezed it.
‘It’s good to have you back, mate. I missed having someone to take the piss out of.’
‘All right, but no steak and kidney pie jokes.’
The commotion downstairs brought Ricky out of his doze and he moved into a sitting position. His headache had cleared, and he felt so much better. The laughter he heard was uplifting. There hadn’t even been a chuckle over the last few days. Slowly, he got to his feet and stea
died himself to make his way downstairs, but as soon as he reached the landing, he froze momentarily, as he saw Willie and Arty carrying someone in a pink tracksuit up the stairs. This couldn’t be happening, right? he thought. But when he blinked twice, he realized that this was no apparition but one of his best mates there in front of him.
‘Liam, oh my God. You ain’t dead, then! What the fuck ’appened?’
Liam, with his arms around both men’s shoulders, smiled at Ricky.
‘I’m all right, Ricky. I’m just a little lighter, that’s all, mate.’
Ricky watched as suddenly Liam went very pale.
His body became a dead weight. Lance, who had followed the men up the stairs, knew then that Liam was fainting.
‘Quick, Willie, get him on the bed.’ Liam was rushed along the landing and gently lowered onto a bed in one of the many bedrooms in this oversized villa.
Ricky watched in horror, thinking the worst, but then Liam’s eyes blinked and finally opened.
‘I need a drink,’ he muttered.
Poppy was just behind the men, holding the bag of tablets and a large glass of water. She ushered everyone away. Willie smiled as ‘Miss Nightingale’ lifted Liam’s head and made him sip the drink. She removed three different tablets from the packets and popped them on his tongue. ‘Swallow, Liam.’
He did as he was told, and then she took his hand and pinched the skin, much to everyone’s curiosity.
‘He’s dehydrated. That’s the problem,’ she said to everyone. ‘He needs more fluid. Liam, drink more, please.’
‘Yes, nurse.’ He winked in good humour, but the pallor of his skin gave everyone a fright.
Terrence phoned his private doctor to call in and check out Liam and Ricky. They’d both been through horrendous ordeals, and he knew it was really his responsibility to keep them safe and well.
Arty decided finally to spruce himself up, instead of staying in the same tracksuit, which was so unlike him. Lance, Willie, and Terrence sat around the oval table, while the girls rested in the lounge.
