ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “Okay,” said Andrew. “Thank you.

  The police officers left the room to return to their car outside, so Andrew joined his family on the sofa.

  “I can’t believe this has happened,” Pen said to him. “That…bastard…was in my home.”

  Andrew sat down and put an arm around her. “It’ll be okay. The police will do something.”

  “You heard them! They probably won’t be able to do a bloody thing.”

  Andrew sighed. “Look, let’s just see what happens. No need to assume the worst yet.”

  “Are you okay, Dad?” Bex asked. “Did you get hurt when they attacked you?”

  “What do you think?” Pen snapped at her daughter. “There’s nothing pleasant about being assaulted, is there?”

  Andrew hushed her. “Calm down, Pen. It’s not her fault.” Bex was crying again so Andrew gave her a brief smile to reassure her. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just some sore ribs. I’ll live. Just need to take today off work and rest up a while.”

  “Don’t you ever keep something like that from me again, Andrew,” Pen ordered him.

  “Yeah, never,” Bex added.

  Andrew reached over so he could hug them both at the same time. “I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. What’s done is done, though. You should just go to work as normal, Pen. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  Pen nodded, then looked over at Bex. “I’ll give you a lift to school, hun.”

  Bex frowned. “I don’t even get to have the day off school? Sucks!”

  The police officers re-entered the room and the conversation halted. Dalton was smiling politely, but Andrew could tell by her weary eyes that she didn’t have good news.

  “Mr Goodman,” she said. “Would you like to step outside for a moment?”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have information that you may wish to share with your family separately.”

  Andrew didn’t like the sound of that at all. He stood up and moved away from the sofa, following the officers out into the hallway. “What is it?” he asked once they were out of earshot of his family.

  Wardsley looked down at his notepad and began. “We weren’t personally aware of this individual, Frankie, when you first mentioned him, but then PC Dalton and I recently exchanged from the Stratford branch. As it turns out, this delinquent is well known to the local officers.”

  “Who the hell is he?” Andrew asked.

  “A scumbag,” Dalton replied bluntly. “We shouldn’t comment on such things, but Francis Walker was put in a young offender’s institute at fifteen-years-old after stamping a fellow school pupil into a coma. When the police caught up to him, he had a grand’s worth of cocaine on his person.”

  Andrew couldn’t believe it. “What the hell was a kid doing with all that coke on him?”

  Wardsley shrugged. “Most likely he was selling it for a supplier. It’s common practise to get kids to move it – less suspicious. He obviously fell in with criminals at an early age and he’s only gotten worse since being released.”

  “Why the hell is he back on the streets, then?”

  “Because he was convicted as a child,” said Dalton. “The courts take sympathy in such cases.”

  Andrew shook his head. “He should still be locked up. He’s a thug.”

  “We agree,” said Dalton. “Frankie Walker may well have been misled as an innocent child, but that doesn’t change the fact that since an early age all he’s been exposed to is crime and violence. There’s nothing else he knows and it’s doubtful he’ll ever reform. Problem is that he’s a little smarter now than he was at fifteen. If he wore gloves whilst breaking into your home, and if there were no witnesses…”

  “If he’s a criminal he should be inside.” said Andrew, not wanting to hear any more.

  The officers wore masks of apology. Wardsley spoke first. “We intend to see that happened, Mr Goodman, but I’m afraid we can only do so with sufficient evidence. We have to do our jobs properly.”

  “Well, what do I do till then? How do I protect my family?”

  Dalton handed him a contact card. “By locking up safe and calling us if anything else happens.”

  “We suggest keeping a diary,” said Wardsley, “of any further incidents. You could also install CCTV cameras.”

  “Cameras? A diary? Are you kidding me?”

  Wardsley shrugged. “May sound silly, but it will help support any case you might bring against him in the future. Every little thing helps, trust me.”

  Andrew put a hand against his forehead. It was clammy and buzzing with stress. “I can’t believe this. It’s just a bunch of kids. Am I really in danger here?”

  “Probably not,” said Wardsley, “but Frankie is a dangerous individual. It won’t hurt to be over-precautious. Just take care and call us if anything happens. Anything at all.”

  Andrew let the police officers out of the house, locking the porch door behind them. Then he watched them drive off, the whole time thinking: a dangerous individual, a dangerous individual…

  Just how dangerous are we talking?

  Chapter Four

  Davie Walker awoke on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar house. His back ached from his neck all the way down to his tailbone, and it took several, confused minutes before he could even remember where he was.

  There was a party...

  How much did I drink? I feel like a lorry parked on my head.

  Several other people lay sprawled across the room, all semi-conscience and moaning in the same hung-over way that Davie was. Crumpled beer cans and dreggy bottles of unbranded vodka littered the floor, making it look more like a landfill than a home.

  Must have been one hell of a night.

  Davie rolled off the sofa onto his knees. The carpet was wet beneath him, soaked with what he hoped was only spilt alcohol. Whatever it was, it seeped unpleasantly into his jeans. Rising to his feet, Davie took a couple of unsteady steps forward, staggering like a mummy. His vision struggled to hold focus as he moved across the lounge, titling to and fro like a seesaw. A half-naked girl lay snoring in his path, uncovered breasts pointed at the ceiling like beacons. Davie stepped over her like a pudgy speed bump and pushed through a door in front of him. It led to a kitchen. The room was just as much a chaotic mess as the lounge was; only this time pizza and discarded snack food littered the floor in addition to beer cans and vodka. There was only one other person present here and it was Dominic, passed out on the breakfast bar with his legs hanging off the edge. It was strange to see Dom without his twin, Jordan, as the two were usually inseparable, but then Davie noticed him lying under the breakfast table, equally as paralytic as his brother.

  Like pissed-up peas in a pod.

  Davie wondered where his own brother was. Frankie disappeared at around 3AM, but had promised to make it back to the party before daylight. Davie hoped he was okay, just shacked up with some bird, and not seeking out trouble. He’d only just got his brother back and didn’t want to see him go right back inside again.

  Davie left the twins to sleep it off and headed for another door. If his fuzzy memory of last night served him correctly, he should find a staircase, which would no doubt lead to a bathroom.

  If I don’t take a slash soon I’m going to burst.

  Sure enough, Davie found himself in a hallway featuring a beige-carpeted staircase. He hurried up the steps two at a time, his bladder almost releasing itself as it anticipated imminent release. The bathroom was on the left and Davie made a mad dash for the toilet when he spotted it. The bowl was already full of sickly-orange piss but Davie was happy to add to it, sighing orgasmically as his bladder expelled its salty contents.

  It was then that he heard shuffling beside him.

  Davie turned his head, still peeing too heavily to turn around fully. The noises seemed to be coming from the bathtub, from behind the shower curtain. There was someone there.

  Davie was powerless not to finish urinating, so that’s what he d
id firstly. Once he was finished, though, he hastily pulled aside the shower curtain.

  The boy in the bathtub was bound and gagged, secured to a steel mixer tap by a series of linked-up cable-ties. A sweat-sock filled his mouth and that, too, was secured by a cable-tie pulled sadistically tight around his head. Completing the boy’s restraints were several more cable-ties bound around his ankles. The boy looked weary – like he’d been there all night.

  Davie reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. The boy’s eyes widened with the helpless panic of a trapped rat, but it wasn’t Davie’s intention to do him harm. He slid the blade underneath the cable-tie around the boy’s face and began sawing back and forth. Eventually, the cable-tie snapped free.

  “You’re all fucking crazy,” the boy immediately yelled.

  “Calm down,” said Davie, hushing him with a finger to his lips. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

  “Who the hell am I? This is my house you’re in.”

  “So what are you doing tied up here then?”

  “Because some psychopath crashed my birthday party and beat me up.”

  It was then that Davie noticed the bruising around the boy’s face. Someone had given him a birthday to remember. “Who beat you up?”

  “I did,” said Frankie, entering the room. “I told him to chill his beans but he insisted on trying to call the police.”

  The boy shook his head. There was horror in his eyes at the sight of Frankie. “You forced your way into my home. What did you expect me to do?”

  Frankie perched himself on the edge of the bathtub and looked down at the boy. “Me and my mates were just looking to party. We could have all been friends, but you had to be a selfish prick and keep all the fun to yourself.”

  “You’re a monster,” said the boy. “You won’t get away with this.”

  “We should go,” Davie told his brother. “Last thing we need is any more trouble. You only just got out.”

  Frankie put a hand on Davie’s shoulder. There was a strong smell coming off of him – like vinegar. “You worry too much, little bro.”

  “And you worry too little.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Frankie, raising his hands up in front of his face and adjusting his beanie hat. “Just let me take a piss first.”

  Davie nodded and stepped away from the toilet. Frankie stood in front of it and undid the buttons on his flies, popping them free one after the other. Davie turned around to give his brother some privacy, but quickly turned back when he heard screams from the bathtub.

  Frankie had moved away from the toilet and was now urinating all over the cable-tied boy, causing him to struggle and choke as the golden stream covered his face and mouth.

  Davie stood in the doorway, stunned. “Shit, Frankie. That’s not cool.”

  Frankie laughed heartily. “Hey, when a man’s got to go, a man’s got to go.”

  “Just stop it. He’s already going to call the pigs, so stop making things worse.”

  Frankie finished pissing and turned to face his brother. “You’re right, Davie. You’re always right. I should probably help the poor guy get cleaned up. Make things better for myself.”

  Davie was suspicious. Frankie wasn’t prone to sudden bouts of compassion. At least not since he got out of prison. Frankie winked at Davie and turned back around. He reached up for the chrome shower knobs set into the tiled wall above the bathtub and gave one a hearty twist. Water cascaded from the shower head, soaking the boy held captive below. Davie watched the boy squirm, a little at first, but then more urgently. Eventually the squirms turned to full-blown thrashing and Davie realised why.

  Frankie had turned on the hot tap.

  As the water heated up, the boy began to wail. His face turned red as the cable-ties held him beneath the scolding stream. Davie moved forward to help, but Frankie shouldered him out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them as they stood on the landing.

  “Leave it,” said Frankie. “Quit acting like a pussy.”

  “You just got out of the nick. You’ll end up straight back there if you keep pulling this bullshit all the time. First you rob that guy’s trainers last night and now you’re burning people’s faces. It’s messed up.”

  Frankie shot out his arm, shoving his smaller brother up against the wall. “I’ll decide what’s messed up and what’s not. Who feeds you, Davie? That’s right, I fuckin’ do. If you have a problem with how I roll, then you can just piss off. I’ve looked after you long enough to deserve a little friggin’ respect.”

  Frankie stormed off down the corridor and headed downstairs. Davie listened to the boy in the bathtub still screaming and stepped inside to help him. Frankie was his brother and Davie loved him…

  But this shit is getting out of hand.

  Davie turned off the hot tap and looked down at the quivering victim in the bathtub. The boy’s face would never be the same again. Davie wondered how many more people would be damaged before his brother was through.

  ***

  Davie caught up with Frankie outside. He was with the twins, Dom and Jordan, and the three of them were sitting on a small brick wall outside the house.

  “About time,” said Frankie. “What were you doing in there?”

  Davie shrugged. “Not in a rush are you?”

  “Never in a rush, me. The world is my oyster.”

  Davie covered the distance between him and his older brother and took in a deep breath. The fresh air of approaching winter was invigorating and chased away the fringes of his hangover.

  “That kid’s really hurt,” he told Frankie. “You’re going to go straight back inside for this.”

  Frankie spat on the floor. “I ain’t going back inside. I’ll die first.”

  “Then what the hell are you playing at, pulling shit like this? Kid you burned is going to go straight to the pigs.”

  Frankie laughed, apparently not bothered. “No way, little bro. You want me to tell you why that little piss-ant is going to keep his mouth shut?”

  Davie shrugged.

  “Going to keep his mouth shut for two reasons. Number one: I’ve already made sure I have a dozen people ready to swear-down that I weren’t anywhere near this house when the kid got hurt. Number two: Dom and Jordan are about to go back inside and tell the kid that if he says one word to the pigs about me, they will visit him in the middle of the night and cut his fucking face off! Then they’ll do the same to his family.”

  Davie rubbed at his forehead. “Fuck man. This is messed up.”

  “Stop being such a whiny little pussy,” said Dom.

  Frankie turned around and pointed a finger in the twin’s face. “Don’t be talking shit to Davie. That’s my blood, man. You get me?”

  Dom nodded and stepped backwards as if to yield to Frankie’s authority. Sometimes the respect his brother gained so easily from people left Davie in awe. It wasn’t a skill-set he possessed himself or was ever likely to. Frankie was the strong one in the family. Frankie was the one that people would always follow.

  Even if it’s straight to a prison cell.

  Dom and Jordan went back inside to deliver their threats. Frankie pulled Davie aside and the two of them started walking. “You got to chill out, little bro,” he said. “I know you’re just trying to watch my back, but things are sound, man. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  Davie let out a sigh and kicked at a loose pebble on the ground. It hit the curb before scuttling into a drain. “I just want you to be careful. Things were hard while you were gone. You know, with mum and everything.”

  “Let that drunken bitch rot. I’m looking after you again now and this time it’s for good. I learned a lot while I was banged up; stuff about how to keep the pigs off your back while bringing in the big dollar.”

  “By selling drugs again?”

  Frankie stopped walking and looked at Davie. His expression was one of understanding and it reminded Davie of how kind-hearted his brother used to be – when they were both much younger. It seem
ed like an age ago now.

  “Yes, by selling drugs,” Frankie said matter-of-factly. “You and I are going to live the good life. Get ourselves out of the shit we grew up in. I got it all covered, little bro.”

  “If you go down for dealing, you go down hard.”

  Frankie put his arm around Davie and pushed him back into walking. “Enough, man. Just chill out and leave the worrying to me. Got other things to be getting on with for now, anyway.”

  “Like what?” Davie asked.

  Frankie clapped his hands together and put on a big smile, stretching the scar across his lip until it was the width of a pencil. “We’re going to go and have ourselves some fun.”

  Davie smiled back, but secretly his empty stomach was churning anxiously. Davie was beginning to not like his big brother’s idea of fun.

  Chapter Five

  At twelve-o-clock Andrew entered the chip shop and looked for Charlie. To his relief, she was there, standing alone behind the counter as she had done the previous evening. As always, she smiled at him as he entered, but this time there was something apprehensive about her expression.

  “Hey,” Andrew said to her. “Working again?”

  The girl nodded. “Need the money. Saving for my sister’s hen party in Magaluf.”

  “Nice,” said Andrew, thinking he couldn’t imagine anywhere worse for a holiday.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Nothing actually. I’m here to see you.”

  Charlie looked worried, her mind perhaps jumping to conclusions.

  Andrew put his hands up to reassure her that he wasn’t after her number or anything else as inappropriate or weird. “I just wanted to ask you a question, that’s all. Nothing big.”

  “You want to ask about Frankie, don’t you?”

  Andrew nodded.

  “He came in here last night, right before closing. Ordered fish and chips just like you did. I hoped it was a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Andrew.

  Charlie leant forward on the counter and let out a sigh. “I really don’t want to get involved. I told you to be careful.”