by KERRY BARNES
He wasted no time and hurried up the stairs. As soon as he unlocked the door, he was quite amazed to see Jackie looking a more fresh-faced thirty-eight-year-old; she was sitting upright at the end of the bed.
‘Right, Jackie, I’m taking you back home. First, though, I want you to sign some papers I have downstairs. I’ll call my dad’s solicitor to witness it.’
Jackie stared up at her husband, her mind now clear. The drugs were out of her system, and, for the first time in fifteen years, she was completely sober. ‘Do you mind if I have a shower and get dressed first?’
Mike was surprised by how more softly spoken she was. Her animalistic expressions and disgusting foul mouth had disappeared. He nodded. ‘Yes, a good idea. You do that, and I’ll make you some coffee.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘Actually, I would prefer tea.’
Without replying, he left the room.
Jackie couldn’t wait to get cleaned up. The sweat that had coated her body a hundred times left her smelling like a dirty fox. Her hair, hard and gritty, needed a damn good wash. She wondered if all of her clothes had been dumped years ago when she’d left.
The last room on the right was a spare room-cum-storeroom no one ever used. She stood in the doorway and looked. Nothing seemed to have changed at all, unlike the rest of the house, which had been updated. She remembered storing her old clothes in there but now wondered if any would fit.
She hurriedly pulled plastic boxes from under the bed, popped the lids, and looked down. The top outfit was a plain white shirt, with some designer logo on the pocket. Underneath that was a pair of black jeans. She smiled. She remembered why she’d thrown them into the box; it was because they were too big. Rummaging through, she found more clothes that would do for now, along with underwear and even old jewellery that for the moment looked lovely compared to the crap she had back at the caravan.
After a long hot bath, she got herself dressed and made her way downstairs. Mike handed her a cup of tea, and she followed him into the dining room.
‘How’s your face?’
Jackie was actually surprised at how little the scarring stood out. Initially, she thought she’d look like a victim of a Glasgow kiss, but, surprisingly, the swelling had gone down, the actual pink scar having thinned out. And given time, she thought it would fade into insignificance.
‘Yeah, not so bad.’
Mike was amused by how different Jackie was. She seemed resigned, almost ashamed.
‘So, you want me to sign the divorce papers?’
Mike laughed. ‘Of course I do, Jackie. I want you out of my life completely.’
She nodded calmly. ‘I don’t blame you. Okay, then, I’ll sign them.’
Mike wasn’t convinced that she was genuine, simply because she’d never been so in the past. Does a leopard really change its spots, he thought?
‘And I assume there’s a settlement? I mean, you don’t expect me to walk away with nothing, do you?’
He knew it: she was after money. But he’d already made provisions long before he had her brought to his house. ‘Yeah, you do walk away with something, although it’s meaningless really. You get to have your life.’
She didn’t expect any other answer. ‘Ha, that was predictable, Mike. So, I’m not entitled to anything then?’
Mike gulped back his drink. ‘Jackie, you bought your own house from the money you syphoned from me. You took away my son, and he’ll vouch for how you treated him. So, Jackie, be thankful, love, that, seriously, you’re still alive. So, when the solicitor arrives, just keep your mouth fucking shut and sign on the dotted line.’
She grinned then. ‘And what if I don’t?’
‘I’m not going to spell it out because I don’t have the fucking time or the crayons to explain it to you.’
‘Okay, fair enough. It was worth a try, I suppose.’
Mike shook his head in annoyance. ‘And, by the way. Those bags of cocaine you had, I flushed them down the toilet.’
Jackie smiled sweetly. ‘Good. I needed to get off that shit. Oh, and it’s not cocaine, it’s called Flakka. It’s bleedin’ vile, evil stuff. Anyway, I guess you did me a right favour locking me up or I would still be selling my arse to buy the next hit.’
Her words came out of left field. Mike suddenly turned cold. ‘Flakka, you said?’
‘Yeah, why? What do you really care, Mike?’
‘Who supplied you with that shit?’
Jackie sensed the urgency in his voice. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’
He glared with his nostrils flared. Jackie read the signs: she’d always been able to read him like a book. Still, there was upside for her, if she played her cards right. If he wanted this information, he could sodding well pay for it. Softly, softly, catchee monkey, she thought. She would play it cool.
‘Because, Jackie, I wanna know, and you’re gonna fucking tell me. Now!’
She sipped her tea slowly, knowing every second was ramping up his anger. ‘I don’t wanna say, Mike. I don’t want to think about it again. I’m clean now, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.’
In a flash, he gripped her arm. ‘Oh, no, it fucking ain’t. Who supplied you?’
She tried to shake him off. Now she had the measure of him, she thought she would box clever.
‘Mike, I know that after I sign those papers, you’ll have everything, and I’ll end up back in that shit-hole of a caravan. You’ll live in this beautiful home with our son, and I’ll have fuck all. So, if you want something from me, then be decent. Give me something in return.’
Mike let go of her wrist and leaned back in his chair. He had to hand it to her. She played the game well. But then, he thought, she’d learned from a great mentor. ‘Fair enough.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll pay you for information. How about that? Five grand for starters, then?’
She thought she had him: hook, line, and sinker. ‘Make it ten grand, and we have a deal.’
He nodded. ‘Fine by me. Now, who the hell supplied you?’
‘He’s called Leon Khouri.’
Mike held back any expression on his face: he knew who Leon Khouri was, and he also knew the man was dead. ‘And how do you know about him?’
‘I want twelve grand now for that bit of info.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, okay. Go on.’
‘Wait up! Let’s see the wonga, Mike.’
Mike sighed deeply, but the expression wasn’t so severe as before. He looked at Jackie with a measure of respect. He opened the concealed lid of a footstool and grabbed a wad of notes, much to her surprise. She’d never known about that hiding place and could’ve kicked herself.
‘Tatum asked me to visit Leon to pick up some drugs for him. It was for someone called Dez Weller. He’s a seriously dangerous bloke, by the way. Anyway, I was supposed to pass it on, during a prison visit . . . ’ She realized she’d just let her mouth run away with her, and if she mentioned that it was their son who was supposed to take the drugs from her, then Mike would go spare.
Mike was taking it all in. Dez, his archenemy, dealing that shit inside, wound him right up, but he kept a deadpan face.
‘Do you have this Leon’s address or pick-up place?’
‘Fifteen grand, Mike.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, yeah, sure.’ While he moved over the next tranche, he asked, ‘What’s the man’s address?’
‘It’s in my bag, on the back of one of my court summonses, I think.’
Mike shot up from his seat and pulled her bag out from behind the bar area. He didn’t behave like a gentleman and hand it to her, so she could rummage through it. He merely tipped the contents out. There on the floor was the court summons. ‘Right, thank you. Now, who was this Leon working for or with? And before you say twenty grand, I agree. I’ll give ya twenty grand for that information.’
Jackie studied him like a gamekeeper would a poacher. With narrowed eyes, she folded her arms before replying. ‘Twenty-five grand!’
Mike gritted his teeth. He had to admire Jackie,
but this was a piss-take of Olympic proportions. ‘Fuck off, Jackie. Twenty grand and no more.’ He had to be believable.
She looked at him with an imperious stare, until he broke away from her gaze and added more to her increasing pile. Not a bad day’s work, she thought.
‘Right, all I know is the man that Leon is scared of is a guy called the Governor. I didn’t see his face, but I did get a glimpse of him when I was spaced out. Leon gave me the shit to try, and not being used to drugs . . . ’
Mike rolled his eyes.
‘No, seriously, Mike, I drink and I’ve smoked weed but nothing hard-core. Anyway, I was as high as a kite, and the next minute, I sort of came out of a trancelike thing, and I could hear this man’s voice. It was deep and gruff – a bit like yours. Anyway, I opened me eyes and saw the back of him. He’s a big fella, like you, with cropped hair, like yours . . . ’ She paused and frowned. ‘’Ere, it wasn’t you, was it?’
Mike took a deep breath. ‘Watch it, Jackie. Don’t be a div.’
The knock at the door killed their conversation stone-dead. It was Brandon Miles, his father’s solicitor. A tall and immaculately dressed man in his late sixties, he’d been the family’s lawyer for decades. Armed with a briefcase and a broad smile, he shook Mike’s hand. ‘Good to see you, Mike. How are you? How’s Ricky?’
‘Yeah, he’s on the mend, Brandon. He should be home very soon. I think the whole incident has had us in bits. I’ll be glad when he’s home and giving me cheek.’
Miles followed Mike through into the dining room, where he locked eyes with Jackie. He’d met her once before at a family gathering and had never thought much of her then. He nodded without a smile and sat opposite her.
He pulled a pen from his top pocket and looked up at Mike. ‘So, do you have the papers?’
Mike smiled. ‘Oh yes, ready and waiting.’
He turned to the side cabinet and retrieved the envelope. Then he slid out the documents and placed them in front of Jackie. ‘Sign there and there.’
She took the pen proffered by Miles and paused, just for effect.
Miles’s eyes bored into hers, but he didn’t say a word. Then he gave Mike a sly wink.
Jackie scribbled her name on all the relevant parts.
Miles pulled out another form for her to sign. ‘And this one too, please,’ he said.
She snatched it from him and signed where the crosses were shown, without reading it. Miles took all the papers and signed as the witness. As soon as he popped them in his briefcase, he then smiled and chuckled, still staring at the woman.
‘’Ere, what’s so funny?’ she spat.
Miles shook his head, still grinning. ‘I love it when I feel like I have taken a small part in revenge. You hurt this family so much, and we all stood back, unable to help, but at least I can walk out of this house knowing that there is nothing you can ever do now to hurt them. You have signed the divorce papers and any claim you have to anything Mike has. You didn’t even read what was in the divorce petition that you signed your name to. Lying, kidnapping your son, stealing, coercion, and fraud. So, Miss Menaces, if you ever try to make a complaint to the police or any authority about Mike, I will show them all the papers and statements that you’ve just signed.’
Jackie’s eyes widened in shock. ‘But you’re a solicitor. You can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I am a solicitor, which means I can do exactly that, and I just have.’
Mike had his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing.
‘Mike, you didn’t need to do that. I wasn’t gonna con you out of money.’
Jackie’s face was a picture. Both men couldn’t stop grinning as they high-fived each other. For her part, Jackie realized she’d just been played. Although she’d had a good pay day, the thought of blackmailing Mike would have been so much sweeter.
Mike’s expression changed and with a scowl he said, ‘No, Jackie, you’re right, there. You won’t ever con me again.’ He forced a fake laugh. ‘Jesus, twenty-five grand, Jackie? As if I would ever give you a penny? In fact, I wouldn’t give you the shit off my shoe. Now, get out!’
Her face was a picture of pure shock. She made a stupid attempt to grab the money but was forcefully pushed away by Mike. ‘Get out of ’ere, Jackie, while you can still walk.’
As she steadied herself, her eyes took on the dark, evil glare that had always cast a dark shadow. ‘You bastard, Mike. You fucking bastard. I will—’
She stopped in mid flow when she saw his jaw tighten and his chest inflate. He was so big, one clump from him would knock her into next door, and the look on the solicitor’s face told her he wouldn’t prevent the situation either. She was hated, and if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t surprised. She snatched her bag from the floor, scooped up the contents that were scattered, and made her way to the front door.
Mike was on her heels, making sure she didn’t nick anything on the way out.
‘Mike, I don’t have money for the cab fare.’
Mike opened the door and glared. He didn’t even bother to answer her.
Once he’d slammed the door behind her, he turned to Miles. ‘Thanks for that. I don’t trust her.’
Miles nodded. ‘No, neither do I, and your gut telling you she wouldn’t read the details in the documents proved spot-on. Now you can wash your hands of her. It was good to see you, Mike. I’m so pleased Ricky’s out of the woods. Keep in touch.’
As Mike opened the front door again to see Miles out, he noticed Jackie hanging around by the gate. He pulled a twenty-pound note from his pocket. ‘Brandon, do me a favour and give this to her, will ya? She’s making my property look untidy.’
Miles got into his sports car and drove towards the gate where he lowered the window and dropped the twenty-pound note on the ground.
Mike laughed as Jackie chased after it, the wind blowing it further and further away from her.
***
Two hours later, Mike, Willie, and Staffie pulled into a dusty drive that led up to Leon Khouri’s cottage.
‘This doesn’t look much like a druggie’s den, more like a fucking quaint farmhouse,’ said Willie, as he gazed around the area.
‘Looks can be deceptive,’ remarked Staffie.
‘Yeah, you’re right there. Look at me. I might be ugly on the outside, but I’m proper handsome on the inside.’
Staffie laughed. ‘Shame you can’t turn yaself inside out, then.’
‘Cor, after that curry last night, I reckon I fucking did.’
Mike remained quiet, not listening to the men’s bantering tones; he was planning his next move, now hell-bent on finding the men who’d hurt his son.
What they couldn’t see, of course, were the two off-road bikes behind the cottage.
Willie got out first and lit up a cigarette as he leaned against the car. Staffie hopped out next and stared at the face of the building; no lights were on, no smoke was visible, and there was no noise evident.
‘I think it may be empty!’
Mike closed his car door. ‘Well, lads, let’s find out, shall we?’
Willie pushed himself away from the Porsche and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Remember, looks can be deceptive.’ He pulled a gun from the back of his belt and giggled like a madman.
Staffie shook his head. ‘Seriously, Willie, you need to look in the mirror, mate. You resemble that bloke out of The Shining.’
Willie nodded and laughed. ‘Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.’
Mike was silent as he approached the front door. He leaned sideways against it and listened.
From the corner of Staffie’s eye, he saw a curtain twitch and suddenly shouted. ‘Duck!’
Mike was the first to lower his head. Willie, however, didn’t. Instead, he went into reckless mode and was about to charge at the front door with his full body weight.
In a flash, Mike pulled him back. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘What did ya think I was goin’ to do?’
&
nbsp; ‘On my say-so, dickhead. You’re too flaming reckless!’
Willie felt himself blush. ‘Sorry, Mikey.’
Mike rolled his eyes and then winked, feeling somewhat guilty he’d been so harsh. ‘All right. After three, you and me.’ He turned to Staffie, who was crouching down by the car, and flicked his head to join them.
After the count of three, Mike lifted his foot, and with one almighty bang, the door came off its hinges and crashed down into an open-plan room. They piled in, wielding guns, with Staffie behind them. Inside, it was almost completely dark, due to the heavy curtains across the window.
Their eyes were instantly drawn to two scruffy figures, standing near a sofa. As they became more accustomed to the gloom, they saw each of them raise their hands above their heads.
Willie, wide-eyed, looked at Mike and pulled a face that said, ‘Fuck. How did we get this so wrong?’ He looked at the staircase, and, without a plan, he tore up the stairs and ran into each of the three bedrooms and the bathroom. To his amazement, there were so many beds crammed into each room that not even a fifty-pence piece would fit between them. More shockingly, however, was the bloodied bathroom. Deciding not to hang about, he hurtled back down the stairs.
Mike and Staffie stood motionless, pointing their guns. They only let out a breath when they heard Willie come charging down the stairs.
‘Well?’ demanded Mike.
‘It looks like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs ’ave moved in, but there’s no sign of Snow White and the only dwarfs are Itchy and Scratchy.’ He pointed to the two tatty-looking men.
‘Anything else, Walt Disney?’ asked Staffie, with a quizzical expression.
‘Yeah. It looks like the Brothers Grimm have been here too. The bathroom’s covered in claret.’
‘Who are you?’ bellowed Mike, as he turned to the men.
‘Please, we don’t want no trouble,’ one of them replied, in a strong Polish accent.
