Ruthless a Gripping and Gritty Crime Thriller

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘You weren’t followed?’ Aaron said.

  ‘Who knows, maybe onto the train. But nobody else got off.’

  ‘Good,’ Aaron smiled. That was the reason for going one stop. It was a possible tactic for the police to release a suspected gang member and then follow them to see who they met up with. They needed to build associations between members. Getting off at the first stop and a quiet location would make a follow impossible. Mo would still have to travel back to London — he was known now, he couldn’t stay — but he would get the next one in an hour’s time when he could be sure he was alone.

  ‘So someone ratted me out?’ Mo said.

  ‘Must have. Danny here seems to think it was our rummy friend. We’ve got eyes out looking for him. I caught up with the blonde girl that Rosh has been messing about with. I’m pretty sure she didn’t have anything to do with it.’

  ‘What about the other girl? She wouldn’t like me after I tried to stop her leaving.’

  ‘She wouldn’t say anything,’ Danny cut in. ‘She wouldn’t know you would be carrying anyway. If she had spoken to the cops she would have told them about the house, not about you. They would have come through the door.’

  Aaron stared at Danny. Mo could tell that their relationship was still fractious.

  ‘Danny here has his theories,’ Aaron said. ‘We’re looking for her, too. I want to be sure and I still need to send a message down here, seems it hasn’t been getting through. It would make sense, though, if it was the rummy who spoke to the cops. He wouldn’t want them to be coming through his own door. That would cause him problems with his housing and he would face getting lifted himself. It would make more sense for him to stitch you up for carrying.’

  ‘So he gets us out of his house?’

  ‘Yeah. If he tells them just enough that you get swept up away from his gaff, he figures the heat will be on us and we will have to move around, maybe even out of the town.’

  ‘But we don’t, right?’

  ‘I don’t see us moving out of the town for the sake of some fucking rummy. We’ll be out of his house, but when we’re done with him I don’t reckon it will be any use to him anyway.’

  ‘What are you doing with him?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. Danny here is going to sort that one out.’

  Mo saw Danny’s stifle his reaction. He thought it might have been surprise. Or panic.

  ‘You want me to sort it?’ Danny said.

  ‘Well, yeah. You offered your services. And you’re still five grand in my debt, Danny, unless you’ve made a visit and got my money back? You need to start making some waves, showing me what you got, earning your wage. You think you can do that?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ Danny said. Mo wasn’t convinced. He reckoned by the lingering look that Aaron wasn’t either.

  Aaron turned his attention back to Mo. ‘What did they ask you about? Do you think they know much?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They asked me for my address and I said I didn’t have one. They had my old lady’s address up in London. They said they were going to knock down the door and search it. She’s gonna be well pissed.’

  ‘You been taken back there a few times by the cops, right? That’s how they know it?’

  ‘Yeah, a few years back I was always doing a bunk and the old lady would call them. Ain’t nothing changed, she just don’t call them no more.’

  ‘Did they talk to you about where you’re living down here?’

  ‘They knew I had been staying somewhere but when they asked I just said “no comment” like you told me to.’

  ‘What did they get?’

  ‘I had the full load on me. I hadn’t made the drop yet. I didn’t give it up but they made me strip in one of the cells. One of them held my arms. I couldn’t flush it or nothing. You should have seen their faces when it dropped. They were well smug.’

  ‘What did you say about it?’

  ‘I said I didn’t know what it was. I said I was asked to carry it out of sight from one place to another. I played on being a kid. I had some suit, some legal bloke. He told me to make sure I said that at least. Everything else was “no comment.”’

  ‘They didn’t keep you in, that’s good, man,’ Aaron said.

  ‘Nah. The legal suit . . . he said they wouldn’t want to because I’m only fifteen and they need to test the gear. I got a bail date. I got to go to court in a few weeks back down here. They gave me some shit I can’t do or I’ll get nicked again. I can’t even come into this shitty county. I got to be living at my mum’s address. I think that’s it.’

  ‘Nothing too heavy then.’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle. Shame I got to go back, though. We were doing alright down here.’

  ‘We still will. We’ll get set back up, get your case done and then you can come back to work. First time offence, fifteen years old — you’ll get a slap on your wrist and some fucking kudos on the street. This has been a good day for you — trust me on that. And don’t worry about your cut.’

  ‘Don’t feel like a good day, Aaron. Where’s Rosh?’

  ‘He’s gone home for a bit. He had some shit to do, personal shit.’

  ‘Is he reloading too? You want me to hook up with him?’

  ‘Nah, we’re good for a couple of days and then I’ll head up with the cash. We’ll hook up when I’m back though, yeah? Me and Danny have got it covered down here. Danny here is going to impress me. This is perfect for him.’

  ‘Get it done, Danny.’ Mo locked eyes with Danny, who still looked more than a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Get your train. Get your head down and I’ll be in touch, yeah?’ Aaron said.

  The plates were empty. The meeting seemed to have come to a natural conclusion. They left the pub and Mo received the same hugs, Aaron still the more enthusiastic. Aaron’s phone rang just before they parted. He caught Mo’s eye and it made him curious, so he hung around. The conversation was a short one. Aaron smiled at Mo.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘That was Damon. He reckons he might have found the rummy. He reckons he might have slunk home.’

  ‘Maybe he thinks we’ve gone already?’ Danny said.

  ‘He’ll have a shock then, won’t he?’

  ‘Has this Damon actually seen him there?’

  ‘No. He got told. He was on his way to check it out.’

  ‘Was on his way?’

  ‘Yeah. I told him not to bother. I said we would go. I said we needed to have a chat with him somewhere private and that would do just fine.’ Aaron laughed. Mo joined in, Danny did too but it took him a moment.

  Mo wished them good luck and walked back towards the train station.

  Chapter 21

  Rhiannon took in the frontage of the bungalow. The street was straight and wide. It was part of an estate that had been built when this was still the way to build houses, before the wave of new-build estates shaped by traffic calming and profitability. She had already walked the surrounding streets and couldn’t see the BMW anywhere. She was opposite the bungalow, partly concealed by a hedge in the garden opposite. She still felt on show. She was beginning to think this was a bad idea, despite having watched for nearly twenty minutes without seeing any movement at the windows. She knew this didn’t necessarily mean it was empty; she was going to have to get closer to find out. She had been putting this off for as long as she could.

  She stepped out from the bushes and immediately felt exposed, vulnerable, a little panicked. She had a sudden urge to pick up her feet and run away. She fought it and kept moving forward. The neighbours all had their bins out, dragged to the edge of the pavement. She lifted a lid, it was two-thirds full with sacks but looked clean enough. She dropped in her rucksack. If she needed to run she didn’t want the extra weight. The sun had slipped behind the town’s houses. The streetlights hadn’t yet flickered on and the day had a grey hue to it, that odd void where the night hasn’t yet replaced the day. The gate was still jammed open as she had remembered it. The
lounge window was to the front, beside the front door. If there was someone in the lounge they would likely see her coming up the path. She walked to the door. The damp mobility scooter resting against the wall hadn’t moved. There was no movement at the window. She could see the net curtains, yellowed with holes eaten into them. Originally they would have formed a crescent shape with a semi-circle of clear glass at the bottom, but now they hung off-centre and lopsided. Her whole body was tense, ready to spring at the slightest movement. She knew she was fast. She had seen Aaron and Rosh up close and reckoned she could outrun them enough to get away. But she would need to be ready. She couldn’t let them get hold of her.

  She pushed herself up against the glass. She could see the sofa. It faced her; the table was still in front of it, the bedroom door off to the right looked like it was open. She could see right through to the back door; it was still sealed shut, the grime around it undisturbed. She looked back at the table. This had been the hub of the activity, busy with scales, ashtrays, money and packages spilling out. Now it was near empty. Just a limescale-stained pint glass with a finger of liquid left in the bottom. She couldn’t see any of Aaron’s belongings either. It looked to her like they had packed up and gone. Rhiannon knew she couldn’t leave without checking to see if they had taken everything.

  She pushed at the door. She remembered what William had told her: he never locked it, but the door was stiff and always seemed as if it was locked — it was where the frame had swelled. The door didn’t budge. She pushed it harder and felt a bit of give — maybe. She backed away a couple of steps to fully apply her weight. The door folded inwards, she lost her balance and stumbled into the living room. The smell was the first thing that hit her, it was instantly familiar; she immediately associated it with being terrified, with wanting to be somewhere else — anywhere else. She had to get herself back under control. She spoke out loud to herself: ‘There’s no one here, Rhiannon. You’re fine. Let’s get this done and get out of here.’

  She barged the front door shut. A single key jutted out. She spun it, hoping the door lock even worked. She cast her eyes upwards and tracked along the ceiling; the living room had no obvious hatches or voids. She put her hand to her mouth as she now saw the dried blood in spotted patterns across the ceiling. She had seen this before: one of her mum’s mates. She knew it was a sure sign of a heroin user trying to find a place to inject. A needle in a thigh could easily cause the blood to reach the ceiling. She’d even seen it happen. She moved further into the house, into the kitchen. More dried blood spotted the yellowing ceiling. She had to put her hands to her face in reaction to the smell. There was a bin pushed against the back door; it was overflowing and there were two more bin bags either side of it. The bin itself was big and square topped with a white carrier bag that smacked of a takeaway delivery hanging out of the top. She took a closer look. ‘Oh God!’ The white plastic was writhing with maggots. She turned away to gag.

  The kitchen was part enclosed; the inside wall was a partition that stopped a couple of feet short of the ceiling. She had to step through to see the whole of the ceiling. Sure enough she could see the outline of a hatch door. It had a brass catch and visible hinges. Rhiannon could reach it by climbing onto the work surface. Gingerly she pushed aside some dirty plates and cutlery and pushed herself up. She stood up but had to stoop a little where the ceiling closed in suddenly, but she could reach the clasp. It was stiff; it looked like it had been painted over carelessly when the ceiling had been done. The paint had been chipped away since. The loft hatch had definitely been used. It was impossible to tell how recently. Rhiannon gritted her teeth with the effort as she wiggled the catch. It clicked open and the door swung all at once. It was heavy and Rhiannon had to move quickly out of its way. She dropped back down to the floor. She couldn’t reach the ceiling, or the opening from where she stood and it wasn’t directly above the kitchen unit. She would need something to stand on. She peered around the kitchen — there was nothing that could assist. In the living room there was only the sofa and the table, and both were too large for her to move on her own. She wouldn’t be able to get them through the opening to the kitchen. The only thing that might do was the bin.

  She looked over to it again. She could still see the top of the bag moving where it was pulled tight in a double knot at the top. A filthy mop leant against the wall on her side of the back door. She picked it up and hit the bag. It rolled off the bin and hit the floor. A dozen or more of the maggots splayed out across the tiles. They bucked and twisted in their new environment. Rhiannon put her hand back to her mouth. She nudged the bin away from the wall using the mop. It took a few more pushes to move it under the open hatch; it was sticking to the layer of grime on the floor. The lid could now close. It was of a solid-looking, rectangular design and she pulled herself up on it, gingerly at first. She could feel the lid flexing under her feet. She started in a squat position then stood up, her arms reaching for the hole in the same movement. She heard the crack from the lid first, then felt it start to give. She managed to get high enough to get one of her arms into the loft space and gripped on something wooden. She allowed it to take her weight and it didn’t budge. She grunted as she pulled herself up. She felt weak and it took every ounce of her strength, but she didn’t have much bodyweight and she managed to drag herself into the darkness.

  Rhiannon fiddled in her pocket for her phone. The light from the kitchen didn’t travel far into the loft space. She could see puffy yellow material around the hatch that looked like the insides of a cheap duvet and irritated her skin. She got out her phone. It had a torch function and she flicked it on. The loft space was largely empty. Her expectations of what it might be like were based on the lived-in part of the bungalow, but all she could see were three boxes side-by-side along the eaves and a carrier bag on the other side of the hatch. The boxes had gathered the same amount of dust. The bag was orange and had a large white tick motif on it. It looked out of place — too clean. She stepped over the opening and snatched up the bag. At first she thought there was nothing in it, but a solid object swung in the bottom. It was a car key. It had a BMW badge in its centre. The spare!

  She ran it over in her hands then made a decision and stuffed the key into her jean pocket. She swung the light from her phone around the loft once more to be satisfied she hadn’t missed anything then hung her legs through the hatch and dropped back onto the bin. It held her weight for a matter of seconds, then, with a second, much louder crack, the lid gave in. She lost her balance and fell onto the kitchen floor. The bin went over too, items of rubbish and a pungent smell immediately filled the room.

  Something hit the front door. Rhiannon froze, her eyes darted in that direction. She could just see through the gap to the window. There was movement! She ducked under the counter, immediately kicking out to push the bin towards the back door. It was still on its side. She picked up the mop, she held it by the head end and reached up with it towards where the hatch still swung gently from its hinges. She couldn’t reach it from the floor — not even close. The door banged again. It wasn’t a knock, it sounded to Rhiannon like someone expecting it to open with a big enough push, just as she had managed. Whoever it was, they had been here before. She heard voices now, frustrated, raised. She couldn’t make out words. They were male voices. She leaned back round the counter as much as she dared. A figure filled the window and it was peering right in. Fuck! It was Aaron!

  Rhiannon stood up. She was still hidden by the dividing wall in the kitchen. The door thudded again. This time it was a solid kick. It was obvious that the tactics had changed, that the persons trying to enter now had more determination. She couldn’t be sure if Aaron had seen her. The door was kicked again. She heard a sound like wood splitting — it wasn’t going to take much longer for them to get in. She pushed up with the mop. If someone was looking in now they would see the movement, but she didn’t care: she had to close the hatch. The catch didn’t take and the door sprung back open almost immediat
ely. It caught Rhiannon by surprise, knocking the mop out of her hand. It clanged on the floor. The door was hit again. She tried to steady her hands and control her breathing. It was delicate trying to balance the heavy door on the end of the mop. It pushed back shut again and she gave it an extra shove. It seemed to stay shut. She moved the mop away gently. The front door gave in. Rhiannon could only do her best to run out of sight.

  * * *

  ‘What the FUCK!’ Aaron shouted. Danny watched him strut into the bungalow, his arms swinging by this side, his chest puffed out. He turned back on the front door. It was hanging open, clear damage to the wooden frame where it had split as the lock had been kicked out. He pulled the key out and held it up for Danny to see. ‘See! This is what I am talking about! These people don’t respect us down here. They don’t know who we are! These people need to fucking know who they’re dealing with. They can’t be locking us out.’

  ‘Only one reason why he might be locking us out, Aaron.’

  ‘The rummy?’ Aaron raised his voice, he turned to project it towards the closed bedroom door. ‘WHAT? YOU THINK HE MIGHT BE HIDING FROM US? THE FUCKING DIRTY RAT — THINKS HE CAN TALK TO THE COPS AND THEN HIDE FROM US?’ Danny watched Aaron. He bit down on his lip and waited for a few seconds in silence. There was no reply. Not a sound.

  ‘You think he’s in there?’ Danny said.

  ‘It was locked from the inside, right? Of course he’s in there. It’s perfect, man. It means we get to have a nice little private chat — and on our terms. We’re gonna find out just how much he said to the cops and then we’re going to make him fucking regret that he ever opened his mouth. This is actually a good thing, Danny. This is a big opportunity for us — for you. We can send out a message here . . . We are not to be fucked with. You think you can do that?’

  ‘Send a message?’ Danny knew exactly what he meant. He tried to hide the uncertainty in his voice.