by Carl Hancock
Billy avoided eye contact as he had no choice but to listen to the words of caution. ‘I think I know my daughter better than you do,’ he retorted. ‘She’s a strong girl and a family one at that, in time she’ll understand and get over him. Besides, if it’s done right then she’ll never know it had anything to do with me.’
‘You are joking surely?’ he exasperated. ‘Now the contracts out there everyone with a bit of ambition will get to hear of it and as soon as it goes down the old bill will pull you in within the hour.’
‘Nice to know the villain’s code of silence is still as strong as ever!’
‘It isn’t like that anymore, that’s what I’ve been telling you for months. You can’t get away with the old tricks anymore,’ he said. ‘Can’t you just….’
‘What?’ Billy interrupted. ‘Talk about it you mean?’
Cyrus nodded.
‘No, it’s gone too far now. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve treatment like this; he’s nearly wiped me out financially and turned my family against me all within a matter of months,’ he replied adamantly. ‘Talk isn’t the answer, not that it would have worked anyway.’
Cyrus scratched his head, the arrogance and self pity of his onetime best friend bemused him. Since being released all he had witnessed him doing was rattling others cages eager to stir up trouble or at the least a minor confrontation just to show that he was back and still in the game. ‘He would have listened Billy, he’s not that bad a man if you keep on the right side of him.’
‘From what I’ve seen there’s nothing to him but rumours and tales of how it’s best not to aggrieve him, it’s all bullshit that’s most likely spread about by himself for his own protection,’ he suggested. ‘To ward off challengers and hope they get too scared to carry out their plans. Did I tell you that everyone I ask about him don’t know the name? Aint that much of a player,’ he speculated.
‘Yeah maybe….’ Cyrus replied tentatively. ‘Or perhaps their just too afraid to speak of him,’ he suggested.
‘We’ll see wont we?’ Billy poured a drink out and offered his reluctant companion and right hand man one. ‘The dough I’m offering will entice someone sooner rather than later, it just better not be a Muppet that’s all!’
The silence of the house had been quietly bothering him for days, since returning to the vacant home pride was the only obstacle in his path preventing him from saying and doing what he really wanted.
‘Have you spoken to them?’ Cyrus cautiously asked. ‘Sheila and Tina I mean,’ he prompted moments later.
Billy shook his head. ‘Of course not,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s not my place to make the first move, I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the injured party in this one.’
‘Do you know where they are?’
‘Of course I do,’ he replied. ‘Enjoying the luxury of his place, rubbing my nose in it again!’
‘I’m sure they don’t mean it like that, besides its Suzy’s place too and most likely not his suggestion.’
‘Nah, it’s another fucking victory in his eyes. My wife and kids under his roof, food, warmth and necessities all provided for by him as if I’m incapable of taking care of them. It’s wrong…very wrong to interfere like that.’
The self pity seemed to be pouring out as he listened and wondered whether Billy was suffering from delusions by actually believing what he said, or if he was simply shifting the blame to save himself from the harsh realities of his failures as a husband, father and man.
‘I’m sure if you just tell them how you’re feeling…that you’re sorry…’
‘Forget it Cyrus,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not discussing this anymore alright?’
Cyrus nodded his understanding, the tone in his voice drifting toward anger and frustration, a warning sign he knew was best not to ignore.
‘Back to the matter at hand,’ Billy said. ‘Since I seem to know nothing about the ways of criminal life these days, how long will it take before the job gets accepted and then carried out?’
‘Not long really, it’s out there as a matter of urgency,’ he replied. Knowing patience was not one of his virtues he was reluctant to commit to a specific timeframe.
‘You added the extra then,’ he asked. ‘For a quick job.’
Cyrus confirmed he had. ‘An extra 5 Grand as you suggested, but I don’t think it was necessary really,’ he said. ‘You’re paying over the odds for it as it is.’
Billy raised an eyebrow of curiosity.
‘Life’s cheap these days,’ Cyrus added in response to his silent query. ‘Crack heads and the influx of foreign muscle all scratching around for shrapnel has driven the price down.’
‘Not all bad in this modern society then,’ Billy speculated.
‘It isn’t as easy to dispose of someone as it once was though, so even though it’s cheaper you can’t just get rid of everyone in one foul swoop!’ What he saw in Billy’s eyes concerned him, his words relaying a need for caution as he felt sure he knew what he was thinking. Without his family around he was not grounded, his level of wickedness only equalled by his anger towards those he felt had betrayed him or done him a wrong. He could remember the bloodbath that had transpired the last time that he was alone, many former associates most of all who had retired for a quieter life posing no threat to him whatsoever suddenly finding themselves in harm’s way when least suspecting it let alone not knowing the reason for it.
‘I want someone good; I want it done clean with no leads back to us at all. I can’t have anyone suspecting we were behind it, I aint losing Suzy too!’
Chapter Twenty One
Bloodied and shackled in the dark, the coldness was arousing their consciousness and overcoming their beatings despite the physical pain they felt. Eyes opening simultaneously while background noise told them they were not alone, their capturers and violators were close by. One man surveyed his comrades, their condition the same as his own. Dazed and confused he wondered his own name and purpose of location until a few seconds of visual reminders impaled upon his mind and the fog lifted as he remembered everything.
‘Their awake, time to start again,’ a lone voice decreed.
A casually dressed man strode out of the shadows toward the restricted men, four brutes strapped to individual chairs lined up in front of the voice echoing the room. More men followed as the prisoners struggled to withhold their obvious fear, bewilderment and anxiety at the unknown suffering due to face them.
‘I want confirmation and I don’t care what you have to do to get it.’ He was certain that they understood him; at least one of the men would have a basic understanding of the language despite the attempted pleas otherwise.
The man walked from behind them and stood in front of the first captive, he pulled back his arm and then swung it as hard as he could slamming his fist into his face, the man swayed from the knock as a second man prevented him from toppling backwards. He repeated his action over and over again as each blow from left to right impacted hard and thudded loudly with fist against face. With a pair of bloodied hands and an unconscious punch bag for a second time he prepared to move onto the next man. He was following strict instructions; the men had already been through the interrogation process once until pain had rendered them docile and given them a brief escape. If they were to talk then he felt sure that one would have done so already. He sought confirmation to continue and did so when it arrived in the form of a simple nod.
‘Tell us what we want to know and it’ll be a hell of a lot easier on you.’ He wiped his hands on a cloth, the warm thick blood soaking into the material. He made his offering sure he had been so close in getting someone to talk less than twenty minutes before.
‘Just get on with it, I don’t have all night to waste with this scum,’ the observer instructed. Less than an hour ago he had left his home for a run, a rare opportunity of late with a schedule like his yet he had somehow managed to fit it in out of necessity for a sane mind. He had a route he enjoyed, a secluded track that ran for
miles used by fellow runners and dog walker’s alike, breathtaking scenery lined the trail in vast contradiction to the metropolis that surrounded it. A calm river housing the few who had turned their backs on traditional living and opted for a cheaper alternative by occupying houseboats moored upon the murky waters provided visual stimulation. These men had violated his peace of mind; intruded upon the place he sought solitary satisfaction away from the pressures of life, trespassed into the sanctuary of his mind without even trying to be discreet about it. Wearing bulky jackets, heavy weighing denim and the lack of a canine they had stood out in their pairs at every location he had seen them. Waiting and shifting suspiciously like amateurs he had noted their behaviour immediately, cautious as ever he had kept within sight of the other users of the trail even pausing to ask the time from one boat owner just to implant himself in his memory should anything happen.
‘Yes boss,’ he replied turning to face the second man. ‘Have it your way then cunt, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.’
The beating continued, grunts and groans filled the air a mixture of pleasure from one person but pain from another. A broken nose followed by a split lip and a black eye that threatened to implode if many more blows followed the precise coordinates of its predecessors. All men gave in after a while, even the toughest of men held no loyalty worth such physical abuse even more unlikely that imported muscle of the lowest calibre could hold out much longer. Although time was not plentiful, not a luxury that he ever enjoyed he would see enough spent on finding out who had retained these men with the intention of doing him harm.
After he made the call for backup he had purposely led the two pairs of men to a concealed space off the public track where his men lay in wait, finally called out from their standby mode like emergency services of a different specialist ilk. Chomping at the bit they had apprehended the men and confiscated three mobile phones all of which had been searched without success, no contact details of any significance were held within them and none of the men had any form of identification on them.
‘It’s no good boss,’ the interrogator said. He pulled away from the fourth seated man, blood pouring from a gash on the right side of his face onto his upper body clothing. ‘Either they genuinely don’t know English; they’re damn loyal or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time but either way they aren’t going to talk!’
Four men slumped in front of him suffering wounds of varying degrees, questioned with failure by a man that had never let him down before he felt angry at the lack of closure yet with little choice to continue as the main attractions were present in body but absent in spirit. He knew beyond doubt that they meant to do him harm, two of them were armed with handguns and their car had been located and seized and found to be carrying an array of sharp and dangerous weapons including machetes and meat cleavers all with the ability to inflict fatal damage. ‘Alright, get rid of them. Let their lack of ID and tools of their trade work for us.’ His command was acknowledged without complaint or need for liberation, no question or explanation required. It was a harsh sentence to hand out but the fact that they all knew who he was and where he lived it was too much of a chance to believe that they wouldn’t attempt a form of revenge off their own backs one day soon. Men like them were fickle and temperamental, renowned for feuds with their own kind of a violent and unremorseful nature their absence would not cause much fuss.
The door swung open and in rushed the man charged with securing the hostiles motor vehicle, left outside seated inside he had been disturbed by a dull vibrating noise. He marched straight up to the man who asserted so much authority and held out his hand. ‘It was down the back of the seat, it was just receiving a call.’
He took the phone as offered and looked at the screen; a cheap nasty pay as you go phone ideal for disposal with minimal cost involved flashed an icon in return. The man waited as he attempted to make use of the item locating the call log and subsequent contact list hoping to find something that had been absent from the others. Tutting and groaning with impatience that equalled annoyance at the most difficult ways to do the most simplest of things he managed to bring up the last number that called.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Is it anything useful?’
‘Could be,’ he replied. It seemed to him that the contact name of BD, the last number to have called could only mean one thing.
‘What are you doing Matt?’
‘Just making sure that’s all,’ he replied pressing the call return button and raising it to his ear. He waited as it rung over and over, the promise of voicemail looming upon him until he heard a voice he knew rasp a greeting.
‘Is it done yet...hello!’
Matt ended the call and gave the phone to his lackey. ‘Make sure it goes with them and be secure with it too,’ he instructed. The thoughts of what had been in store for him plagued his mind, churning the grim options over and over. Hearing Billy’s voice was evidence enough to make him reconsider his estimation of him, had he hired more expensive and better equipped assistance then right now his fate may well have been the watery grave that his aggressors now faced.
Chapter Twenty Two
The wind blew through the grounds of the storage units, a spatter of early evening rain gently landed on his concerned head as he made his way to the meet. The fabricated sheet metal buildings that surrounded him creaked and groaned as the insignificant cross wind proved how cheaply they had been erected.
Two hummer motor vehicles sporting tinted windows sat outside a roller door with a trail of blood ending at them, evidence he suspected to suggest the out of the way location was being used for an alternative motive as well his appointment.
He took a deep breath and entered the building following the yelps of pain echoing through the vast empty space, he walked through a long since abandoned office, past an empty water cooler and out a fire door into the main drag of the warehouse.
Counting five men stationed around an obvious perimeter and one hovering over a lying figure tied to a table he approached the area cautiously, his footsteps giving his presence away as the soles of his handmade Italian shoes repetitively landed on the painted floor. All five pairs of eyes looked to him then almost immediately looked away carefree to his arrival. The leader of the burly men, the man whose call he had answered seemed without distraction to his prompt entry with his mind solely on the matter at hand.
The aggressor looked from the corner of his eye briefly acknowledging him; an evil glint that Matt had seen on several occasions was evident in his glare albeit always aimed toward his victim, he had never and would never face that situation himself.
‘Another new friend Winston?’
He stood next to his boyhood cohort, shoulder to shoulder overlooking a complete stranger bound and restrained from leaving under his own steam, blood trickling with difficulty down his face fighting gravity from where he lay.
Winston held an old style razor, sharp and deadly in his hands with the only intention of using it for his own wicked purposes, much different to what it was actually designed for. Deep slashes covered the man’s face leaving him unrecognizable to any who knew him, a towel shoved into his mouth just as he had walked in prevented him from continuing his constant agonizing screams.
Winston laughed sadistically. ‘Nah man, this fellow needs to learn to be respectful, I needs to teach him the only way I know how.’
‘Like an animal and with so much pain attached?’
‘If that’s what it takes….then yes,’ he replied callously.
‘We always did have a different way of doing things I suppose. ’
‘Yours was more conservative if I recall, but you sound judgmental to my way now my friend,’ he replied.
‘Each to his own and I couldn’t give a fuck what you do and to who, you carry on!’
The man’s eyes had been looking toward him in between his bouts of repeating pain, seemingling pleading for mercy or at the very least intervention and a call for a lesser punishment. A l
ook of disappointment flashed across his face.
‘I suppose, as you must have a lot on your mind at the moment, there was a time you would have thought of suggesting a softer approach or maybe a thought to leniency!’’
‘You could say that,’ Matt said. ‘With so much to consider and so little time to act I can’t be getting involved in things that don’t concern me. Anyway, what did you want and why bring me down to this shithole?’
The Jamaicans eyes sat firmly on the table with a tight grip on the deathly instrument, they narrowed as he lent down and pushed the blade hard against the man’s exposed chest before running it across his torso hard and fast. The skin parted from its sharpness, thick red blood oozed from the wound as the man thrashed from left to right helplessly on the table.‘I have word on something that concerns you, a matter of urgency or so I’m told from the parasites that sold me the information.’
‘And what would that be?’
Winston stood up straight and admired his crafting skills, his name etched into his victim’s chest. ‘Your troubles with your woman’s old man has escalated, I hear it’s turning physical now.’
‘News travels fast; you must have had all your little squirrels out looking for that nut.’
‘I insist on being kept informed on all my interests, he who knows the most is in the strongest position should any bother erupt. Times, places and associates of all my nearest competitors are noted for the purpose of trimming their growth… so to speak.’
‘And which am I?’ Matt asked. ‘Interest or competitor…’
Winston stood silent for a few moments; he wiped the blood off the razor and onto a rag. He looked Matt up and down as the non exchange of words between them left only the whimper from the table and the sound of the wind hitting the side of the building.
‘Special interest Matt,’ he finally said. ‘Special interest….’
The rag was discarded to the side and he ordered his lackeys to clean up the area, the man was to be dropped at the nearest H&E where he could rethink his attitude and consider how much worse it could have been.
