“Too excited to eat, huh?” Phil said, catching me pushing food around my plate. I looked up, startled, and forced a smile.
“Aye.”
“It’s okay to be nervous too, mate,” he said before shoving another mouthful of tikka masala in his mouth.
“What’ve I got to be nervous about with you here, eh?” I said, trying to keep the mood light. He chuckled.
“Nothing at all. I know all this like the back of my hand. It’s gonna be great.”
I choked down a bit more of my dinner before the time came for us to head off. I offered to drive the last little bit so that I could at least stop Phil’s hazardous driving from making me any tenser. Nervous wasn’t exactly the right word, but I was certainly wound tight, ready to react in a moment, and painfully alert. The adrenaline was humming through me, and it burnt off the tiredness that had begun to settle on me while we were in front of the crackling fire in the warm pub. I’d never felt more awake or more ready.
I was carrying a very basic phone, one without a camera or internet. Like the last fight, Phil had told me that smartphones weren’t allowed and would be confiscated off you at the entrance if you were carrying on. He didn’t say that cameras and recording devices were also forbidden, but it was blatantly obvious that they were. Only an idiot or a police officer would bring a camera to an illegal dog fight.
I kept my breathing even and a calm look on my face as we parked up in a muddy field, already half-full with haphazardly parked cars and slid our way over to the nearest barn. It was only barely lit up, and the moon was almost entirely obscured by clouds, so it was tough making our way over the icy, slushy mud in the near pitch-dark. Phil fell over twice, and I nearly did multiple times, but we made it over to the barn, Phil grumbling about the cold mud now caked onto his jeans. I commiserated with him whilst not really paying him any attention, too focused on taking in our surroundings and on where I was putting my feet.
I made my body language relaxed as we approached the three men stationed at the barn entrance. They all had shoulders broad enough to block the door all on their own, and they were all even taller than I was. Looks could be deceiving, but I didn’t think I could take on these guys hand-to-hand, even with the extra self-defence training. I could imagine being able to deal with one of them, maybe two, if I caught them by surprise, but I would definitely do better to run off. Threatening they might be, but I doubted any of them were runners.
Sizing them up mentally worked as a distraction as the blokes came forwards and thoroughly searched Phil and me. Despite a couple more people turning up and getting into the queue behind us, the guards took their time checking us over. I told myself that they were doing it with everyone, and they didn’t know anything was amiss with me, but my heart still raced.
“Coat off,” one of them ordered.
“Me?” I checked and got an impatient grunt in return.
I reluctantly pulled it off, shuddering as the icy wind cut right through my jumper and thermals. The guy who took my coat patted it down, and I made myself look away, not wanting to seem too concerned or to accidentally give away where the microphone and camera were by looking at them. Phil caught my gaze and rolled his eyes at me, his arms folded across his chest. His coat had been taken too, and I told myself repeatedly that everything was fine. They hadn’t found anything, and they wouldn’t find anything.
“Go in,” the bloke grunted at me, thrusting the coat at my chest before he turned to the next folks in line.
I strode forwards into the barn before they could change their minds, tugging my coat back on once I was inside. It was warmer in here but still nippy, considering it was a much bigger place than the last barn I’d been to, and it wasn’t yet half-full. The noise was already intense, though, with how it echoed around against the wooden walls, and I was already dreading how loud and stifling it would get once everyone was packed in here, yelling for blood.
“Awesome,” Phil said, moving to my side. He had a goofy grin on his face, and I had to grit my teeth to get my anger tamped down before I could respond. Unfortunately, Phil noticed my expression before I could blank my face, and he frowned.
“Hey, don’t take the search personally, dude. They always do that.”
I wanted to snap back, ‘How do you know?’ because he’d never come here before, but I only nodded. I spotted a rudimentary drinks bar at the north end of the building and jerked my head towards it.
“First drinks on me?” I offered, keen to take the attention off myself. Offering free alcohol had been a surefire way to get Phil on your side when we were youngsters together, and it worked just as well, if not better, now.
“As if I’d say no to that!” he grinned, slapping me on the back hard enough to make me cough before he headed through the milling crowd towards the drinks.
I trailed behind him, already wishing that I could fast-forward through this night to the drive home tomorrow. But I couldn’t afford to think like that when I needed to be absolutely on the ball, so I snapped my attention back to my surroundings and to Phil and made myself focus. Being careless or rushing at this point would be disastrous. I only had a few more hours to bear, and then, if I didn’t screw it up, this whole nightmare would be done with.
Phil called out to a group of men he recognised, and we made casual small talk for a while, the atmosphere of the barn hotting up as the numbers swelled. If I’d thought that the energy had been electric at the previous fight, it didn’t have anything on this place, which felt like it was thrumming even before the fights started. Two thousand years on, and we’re still setting animals on each other like in the Colosseum, I thought. And no doubt if it was legal to set tigers on gladiators, or pit dogs against a chained bear, this crowd would be there in a heartbeat.
What was it about violence that made people so frenetic? I wondered sourly. Even with legal sports like boxing and MMA, the suspense that came with the anticipation of violence seemed to turn spectators bloodthirsty.
Even as I didn’t much want to, Phil was eager to be close to the action when the fights kicked off. We secured seats and sat there, me listening to Phil talk excitedly about anything that came into his head whilst I made encouraging noises and tried not to look like I wanted very badly to set fire to this place. The only positive to this whole thing was that I didn’t see anybody here who looked like they were attending against their will, no young women serving drinks or hanging off older men’s arms here.
That was a relief, though I worried about where those young people were and whether they were alright. I couldn’t do anything more to help them than what I was already doing. That and hoping that bringing this lot down would help the police locate and rescue the trafficking victims.
I was almost grateful when the fights finally started, though seeing the dogs being brought out into the ring turned my stomach. Whilst the night kicked off with the same short, brutal fights as last time, these dogs were all obviously juvenile, even to my inexperienced eyes. Some of them looked a little older than puppies, and it was especially sickening to see them injured, seized by bigger dogs and thrown across the ring.
I flinched at one such impact, the sound of the small body hitting wood audible despite the noise and frenzied cheering. Phil seemed to notice my twitch and glanced sideways.
“You’re not getting squeamish on me, are you?” he yelled in my ear, shouting over the noise.
“No! I just haven’t seen… that before,” I waved vaguely at the ring, and Phil rolled his eyes at me.
“You’ll get used to it, mate,” he assured me.
I don’t want to get used to it, I thought bitterly but forced a smile, anyway. I wouldn’t have to pretend much longer now. I looked down at the surviving puppies, many of them shivering with their tail between their legs, looking like they wanted to be literally anywhere else, and silently promised them that I would get them out if I possibly could. As if it’d heard me, one dog looked directly up at me as it was being towed out of the arena, an
d my heart hurt for the poor thing.
The fights went on, getting longer and bloodier as the night went on. The dogs’ owners waded in to use the break stick on their animals, prising their jaws open with the thick wood to get them to let go. Phil fetched us a drink in the middle, and I gratefully accepted, downing the warm beer. I couldn’t afford to get inebriated, but one drink to take the edge off this awfulness was exactly what I needed right now.
Another fight started, and my throat went thick when I saw the dog involved. From that distance, I couldn’t be positive, but it looked a hell of a lot like Brian’s pet dog, Fido. The poor Staffy was shaking and, though he was a big dog, he didn’t look like a fighter. Still, when he was shoved forwards by his handler, he gave as good as he got, and I felt ill watching. I badly wanted Brian’s dog to win, and yet I hated that a friendly pet dog had been turned into a fighter, brutalised into violence. The other dog’s high-pitched whine of pain when Fido went for its neck made me wince and turn away. They dragged Fido off the poor thing, and I released a breath of relief. New dogs were brought in and set on each other, and the whole disgusting thing started up again.
To take my mind off things, I did my level best to make sure that the camera fixed to the front of my coat was facing towards the dog ring and staying steady as much as I could. When we mixed with others, I tried to ensure that their faces would be caught on camera, feeling a vindictive pleasure at the thought. I angled the microphone towards Phil, too, whenever we were talking, especially about the fight. Any remaining dregs of sympathy or fondness I had left for him had completely evaporated, and all I wanted was to get what I needed and get out of here.
“Dammit, I was so sure of that one,” Phil muttered after he lost his bet on a bulky, white Staffy. The animal’s fur was stained pink as it was led, limping away. It was lucky to survive at all, and I willed it to hang on until the police and animal charities arrived here.
“Maybe next one, eh?” I said absently, patting his shoulder.
“Aren’t you gonna put any money down?” He elbowed me in the side none too gently. “Mr Big Accountant has to have some spare cash, right?”
I coughed out an awkward laugh. “Sure. Why not?”
I didn’t care about the hundred I dropped on the bets because the money would all be seized by the police. If anything, it felt like betting on my success, on making sure that this place got shut down and pulled to pieces by the police. I found a genuine smile as I tucked my paper ticket away, imagining the ring taken down and the barn boarded up.
“Mitchell!” a deep voice called out. It was loud and attention-grabbing enough to make several people nearby turn around, and my heart sank slightly when I saw who it was.
“Matt, hi!” I said, plastering a friendly expression on my face.
Matt didn’t look so pleased to see me, his face fixed into an expression I couldn’t read, but I didn’t like it. There was a hardness to his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, and it put me on edge.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said flatly, glancing me up and down. “How d'you get in?”
“We got an invite, didn’t we, Dee?” Phil answered for me, though Matt’s eyes never left mine.
“Aye. An invite,” I repeated.
I met Matt’s gaze and felt in my gut that something was wrong, my heart jumping in my chest. I resisted the urge to glance around the barn for an exit, but I badly wanted to. When I’d met Matt at his house that time, I’d instinctively felt that he was so much more dangerous than Phil, coiled up and calculating like a snake. Phil was more of a bull, blundering and obvious when he was angry, with no subtlety and little menace. He could be dangerous, but at least you’d see it coming.
“I expect you used your dad’s name to get you in,” Matt said. There was a definite sneer to his voice now, and even Phil picked up on it, stiffening next to me.
“Why shouldn’t he?” Phil challenged.
Matt fixed me with a black glare. “Aaron would spit on you if he saw you now,” he said.
My breath caught in my chest, and I froze up, even as my gut was screaming at me to run. Matt’s demeanour was so completely different from when I’d met him before that he had to know something. And if he revealed what he knew here, in front of every person here I was trying to send to jail, I was as good as dead. I swallowed thickly and fought to keep my expression blank.
“You think you know better than me what he’d want?” I said, mostly stalling for time.
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Matt snapped, looking like he very much wanted to bash my face in. Despite his age, he was a big bloke, and I had to make myself hold my ground. If I showed any weakness, I knew he’d pounce on it.
“You don’t know anything,” I spat out, grabbing Phil’s arm and twisting away.
It wasn’t a good idea to put my back to the threat, that had been practically lesson one of self-defence, but I needed to scan the barn for exits, and this was the only way I could think to manage it. I was still trying to play it off that I was angry at Matt’s insults and not that I was terrified he was about to expose me.
If there had been any doubt that he knew something before, I was dead certain now, and I reached into my pocket. There was a shortcut on the chunky phone in my pocket that, when I pressed the right buttons, would call into Hewford and tell them that I was in immediate danger. Keira had set the tech up, and I’d practised pressing the buttons with the phone in my pocket multiple times, so it felt too easy to do it now.
The phone didn’t make a noise once I’d sent the call for help out, but I had to trust that it had worked. Rashford and Ross had both warned me at the start of this that if something went pear-shaped while I was undercover, they couldn’t promise to get there in time. I hoped to hell that they’d be able to send someone before this took a turn for the worse, but I knew that right now, I had only myself to count on.
“Jeez, what’s got him so wound up?” Phil grumbled as I urged him away. He had a few choice words for Matt, and I could only agree as I searched the barn for an escape route.
The barn was completely packed now, and my heart sunk as I looked around. There was only one small door in and out, and it was closed, the two security guards stationed right in front of it. I’d never get out that way, and as full of people as this place was, I didn’t think I was getting anywhere fast.
“I wasn’t done talking to you,” Matt growled from behind me, grabbing my coat and almost pulling me over with how hard he yanked it.
“I don’t have anything left to say to you,” I snarled back, snapping the edge of my hand down hard on his wrist, forcing him to release my coat. He glowered at me, leaning towards me with bright fury in his eyes.
“You’re a trai-” he started.
I swore silently and threw my arm out, straight and fast. The hard tips of my fingers dug straight into his gullet, hard enough to make my whole hand throb. Matt reeled back, clutching his neck and choking as he stared at me with wide, livid eyes.
Already we were attracting attention, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d have before the crowd realised what was going on and descended on me like a pack of starving hyenas.
“Come on,” I hissed at Phil, pulling him with me as I beelined for the rudimentary toilets at the back of the barn.
I kept him with me because it looked better to have two men forcing their way through the crowd, more like we were heading somewhere with determination rather than a lone runaway looking for an exit. I twisted back to look at Matt and saw that he was still grasping his next, his lips trying to shape words but unable to get the air in. I didn’t know if I’d done permanent damage to his neck, and at this point, I didn’t care. If he shouted out that I was a traitor like he’d been about to, I wasn’t going to leave this building alive.
“What’s his problem? Where are we going?” Phil demanded as I yanked him along behind me.
“He’s got a beef with me over nothing,” I told him as we pushed through the crowd.
“Wh
at over? I didn’t know you even knew him!” Phil said before dragging his arm out of my grip. “Seriously, Dee, tell me what the hell is going on! Matt Hartley isn’t a guy you mess around with. He’s-”
“I know he’s bad news! He was a mate of my dad’s, but he clearly hates me. We need to get out of here.”
I tried to take hold of his arm again, but he pulled back. I was more than ready to just leave him behind; I didn’t need his cover as much as I needed to just get the hell out of here.
“No, come on! I’m not missing the rest-”
“Whatever. Get lost, then,” I snapped at him.
I strode away, elbowing my way through the crowd and leaving a number of disgruntled men in my way. These people were all immoral jerks at best or hardened criminals at worst, and before, I would’ve been worried about so much as accidentally bumping into one of them. Right now, though, I didn’t give a damn. If I didn’t get moving, every single one of them was going to be after me.
I kept going, shoving people out of the way when I couldn’t slip through. I received a glancing hit to the side of my head from one irate bloke, and a cup of beer was spilt all down my front by another, but I kept on. My heart was racing fit to jump out of my chest, and I felt trapped by all of these people, hemmed in by enemies on all sides.
I twisted around to glance back behind me and went stiff when I caught sight of Matt through the shifting crowds. He and I were both tall blokes, and he stared straight at me, his eyes cold and dark as sea ice, the hatred in them evident even from this distance. I stared back at him, willing him to say nothing, to hold his peace. Perhaps he wanted to settle this with me alone, outside-
But that flicker of vain hope faded and died as he opened his mouth. He was no longer clutching his reddened throat, and his voice came out raspy but fierce and booming.
“Traitor!” he shouted.
He raised his arm to point directly at me, and I flinched away from the people standing near me as they turned to look right at me. I had a split second to decide whether to hold my ground and deny it or to run for my life. Matt had influence here and commanded respect; none of these people would take my side against his. If he said I was a traitor, a spy, a snitch, and a liar, they’d believe him.
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 30
