by KERRY BARNES
Chapter 9
Mike was surprised to find the flat very clean. It was minimalist as far as furniture was concerned, but the fridge and freezer were stocked with all the essential groceries. Set up much like a holiday let, except this was Lee Green; it was not the sort of place where you would take a holiday. After making a coffee, he sat down on a two-seater settee in the small lounge, where he tried to get his thoughts together to form a plan. Knowing that all the boys were down the nick was worrying, to say the least. He was on his own now and desperate to find his son.
As he sat there thinking things through, he heard a key turn in the lock and jumped to his feet, retrieving a gun from the back of his trousers.
He recognized the voice that called out. It was Zara. Mike put the gun back and glared as she walked into the room. She was dressed differently in a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a thin black blazer. Her pointed features and cat-like eyes seemed to be enhanced by the black eyeliner. He had to admit she was a very striking woman, a far cry from the one he’d ended up with. Jackie looked like all her friends, a plastic nonentity.
Zara explored Mike’s expression, looking for any signs of vulnerability. ‘So, Mikey, Izzy tells me that we have a deal.’
Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘Whatever, Zara.’ He really wasn’t in the mood for her sarcastic words; he assumed they were designed to rub salt into the wound.
‘I will keep up my end of the bargain, but you have to keep up yours,’ she jeered.
‘Yeah, yeah … Look, Zara, what are ya doing ’ere? Really?’
She eased herself gracefully into the only available armchair. Crossing her long slim legs, she leaned back and smiled. ‘I have kept up my end of the bargain, Mikey.’
Mike stiffened. ‘What? You have my son?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but I do have Scottie Harman. He’s bound, gagged, and oven-ready.’
His eyes darted around her face, looking for a sign that she was telling the truth, but Zara was hard to read now. ‘And my son?’
Again, she shook her head. ‘One thing at a time. You said you wanted the Harmans alive. Well, I have one for you and he’s ready and waiting. So, like I’ve just said, now that I’ve delivered what I promised, it’s time for you to do likewise, Mikey.’
He nodded and bit his lip. ‘So, where is he?’
‘Exactly where you wanted him. At one of your lock-ups.’
With his head slightly tilted in a questioning glare, he asked, ‘How do you know where my lock-ups are?’
She tapped the side of her nose. ‘I know more than you give me credit for.’
‘And me brother. Is he still down the nick?’
The slow sarcastic tone in her voice vanished. ‘Yes. The Ol’ Bill are keeping them all in. The police are still looking for you, but the workshop has already been gone over, so they won’t be back there. And regarding Scottie, one of my men found him pulling up outside his own gaff, the bloody idiot. Anyway, we have him, so do you want to question him?’ She laughed. ‘Mikey-style?’
Her new softened voice warmed him. But he was fully aware that she had another side to her. The new alter ego, the gangster look, wasn’t appealing and it made his stomach churn.
‘Yep, I fucking do. But, Zara, I don’t want no ladies present.’
Slowly, she stood up, and a sickly grin spread across her face. ‘No! I want to see my employee in action.’ That alter ego. It was back in the room.
Mike didn’t have time to argue; he wanted to tear the face off Scottie Harman.
‘Let’s go then,’ he demanded.
Zara realized she’d have to pull his reins in if she was going to be his boss.
‘Drink your coffee first.’
Remembering that she was the one who was making the decisions – or he wouldn’t get anywhere – he obliged by downing the hot coffee in one gulp.
* * *
He even lay down in the back of her car to avoid being spotted at her request because, right now, he wanted nothing to stand in the way of finding out where Ricky was. But he did this under sufferance. His temper was rising, like a pressure cooker ready to blow.
At three o’clock in the morning, the air was still and sticky. In Kent, a storm was brewing, and, like Mike, it was ready to let rip. From the outside, the lock-up was in total darkness. As soon as Zara drove across the unmade road, Mike sat upright, and as the car came to a halt, he opened the door, taking long strides towards his victim. Each step heightened his rage. Thoughts of Scottie holding his son, even drugging him – as he assumed – and locking him in a room, was enough for Mike to rip Scottie’s bollocks off. Zara was hot on his heels. She was eager to see Mike’s response, but she also wanted to be in control. Their relationship was like a modern-day Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler script.
Mike flung open the heavy metal door, and, in a flash, he flew at the man tied up and fastened to the chair. In a quick movement, he hit Scottie around the head, knocking him over.
Taking a deep breath, Mike stood back. Two men, similar in size to Mike, were positioned with their hands in front of them. They could have been bouncers outside a nightclub. They didn’t move. Zara nodded for one of them to pull Scottie back to an upright position.
Like a roaring lion, Mike bellowed, ‘Where’s my son?’
Joshua, the taller of the two, who had olive skin and similar facial characteristics to Zara, removed Scottie’s gag.
The sneer that crawled across Scottie’s face infuriated Mike. Instead of playing it cool and using his controlled demeanour to intimidate his victim, Mike screamed so loud that his face flooded crimson and spittle flew from his mouth. Scottie could see the frustration and wanted to aggravate Mike even more. The line of cocaine he’d snorted just before he was dragged from his car was still strong in his system and gave him more courage than he would typically have had under the circumstances.
As if a light had just been switched on, Mike knew that clumping Scottie around the head would only end up with the man being out cold. He would, therefore, be no closer to finding his son. Stepping back, he relaxed his shoulders and took deep breaths to control his raging heart.
Mike sighed. ‘Oh dear, Scottie. Acting cocky really won’t get you far. And trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will tell me everything. I suggest that, if you desire a pain-free execution, you’d better start talking.’
Mike looked at the two men, who stood like statues. He smiled. ‘Lads, I think you might want to leave. What I’m about to do will put you off rare steak for a long time.’
They looked at Zara for the okay. She nodded, and the men left the building. Scottie instantly grasped the seriousness of what was about to happen. The rush of adrenaline almost wiped out the cocaine, and a cold shiver swept through his entire body, causing his knees to shake so much that his legs bobbed up and down. As if someone had thrown a bucket of water over him, sweat ran down his face, and his pale-blue shirt showed off dark stains under the arms, making a V-shape. A sickly shade of blue lined his lips, and as the blood drained from his face, his complexion became grey and waxy. Mike nodded slowly. He recognized that look, the uncontrollable fear in a man that sucks the soul from his body, like a plum withering to a prune.
With eyes like saucers, bulging and pulsating, Scottie was terrified. He was the Harman brother who could ingratiate himself into the company of girls, and who could charm anyone into giving him their last pound. However, he had always left the violence down to his two older brothers, simply living off their reputation. He’d never banked on coming face-to-face with Mike Regan under these horrific circumstances. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Regan, or even open his mouth. It was as if his tongue had glued itself to his palate. Too terrified to use his best asset – his charisma – he continued to stare.
Mike could smell the fear in the room, well aware that silence was a chilling tool to use. Slowly, he walked over to a Snap-on toolbox. The only sound in the room was the grating of the drawe
r sliding open. Looking in it, his fingers drummed the edge of the drawer, deep in thought. He closed it and shook his head.
Scottie was craning his neck to see what instrument Regan was going to use. Yet there was nothing in the big man’s hands. Another stream of sweat ran down his nose. As he watched Regan walk to an even larger Snap-on toolbox, which had deeper drawers, he saw him slide open the bottom one and pull out a nail gun. Scottie’s heart beat so fast he thought he would pass out, but at least that would be a respite from the pounding fear that consumed him.
Mike turned to Zara. ‘This is going to be messy, and I’m assuming that your white shirt is not a cheap number. If you stand there, it won’t be white for long.’
On high sensory alert, Mike recognized that Zara’s smile was forced and cemented into a disturbed expression. He was right.
‘Think of it as probation. I want to see what you’re capable of before I decide if you’re the right man for the job.’ Although harsh, her words were still laced with a tense edge to them.
‘Don’t blame me when the nightmares keep waking you up.’
Those words irritated Zara. She didn’t want to be treated like a lady, but as a resilient woman. There was a difference. Surely Mike had the intelligence to see that? She was too far up the ladder to be disrespected. Her father had seen fit to hand over responsibility bit by bit because he knew she was up for the job. She had proved her worth when she discovered that the big chain of Italian restaurants owned by Izzy were using the pizza delivery service to peddle drugs. Instead of having the individuals wasted to prove a point, she demanded a cut in their illegitimate earnings, and found a more suitable cocaine supplier who earned herself and the Italians far more money.
‘I’m not like your silly slapper of a wife, you know, and I think you need to have that thought at the forefront of your mind.’
A high-pitched chuckle left his mouth. Holding the gun, he pointed it at Zara. ‘You’re leaving yourself wide open, Zara. I could nail you to the wall, and that, my darling, makes you as silly as my so-called slapper of a wife. But the only thing on my mind right now is grilling this cunt!’ His eyes suddenly narrowed, and a cruel smile inched its way across his stern, cold face as he turned to face Scottie.
Now with his back to her, Zara seethed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He should at least show her respect.
‘I know you, Mikey. Torturing that piece of shit there’ – she pointed to Scottie – ‘is one thing. But you wouldn’t have the guts, the heart, or any reason to lay a finger on me.’
For a second, the tension was almost palpable. It was like an invisible magnet, drawing the two of them towards it. Then, Mike broke the magnetic force with another high-pitched laugh.
He spun round to face her. ‘That may have been very true … but, everything has changed since my son went missing!’ He screamed at her with such ferocity that the veins almost popped out of his neck, making his eyes bloodshot.
A shadow of doom was cast over her face and she felt sick. Perhaps that kiss Mike had planted on her lips the other day really was a mark of disrespect, and he truly had no feelings for her. She stepped back, gawping at his crazy eyes. One of them had to give in, and she knew that it wasn’t going to be him. Quickly, she decided to redeem the situation herself.
‘In case you’ve forgotten, we’re on the same side.’ As the words left her mouth, she realized she sounded softer than she wanted to. Yet, miraculously, it had the desired effect. Mike’s shoulders immediately relaxed, and he turned away to face Scottie.
The pause in the proceedings allowed Scottie to unstick his tongue.
‘What do you want from me?’ His tone was childlike; it was a far cry from the confident charm for which he was known.
‘Where’s my son?’ Mike didn’t scream or shout; he had to keep controlled and treat Scottie as he’d done with Travis. But it was hard to keep up the pretence because he wanted to kill him with his bare hands. However, a torturous tool usually loosened the tongue.
Holding the nail gun to Scottie’s shoulder, Mike glared.
‘All right, all right, please don’t fire it. I’ll tell you.’
Mike pressed the tool harder into Scottie’s shoulder.
‘He’s with Jackie. I left them at the house. I didn’t hurt him, I swear.’
Mike was about to pull the trigger when those words registered. He tilted his head to the side and lowered his weapon. Then, he dipped his eyebrows in confusion. ‘You what?’
Scottie’s eyes flicked from Zara to Mike. ‘She came on to me. I swear, there was nothing in it.’
‘Are you shagging my wife?’
Zara was now in her element. Scottie Harman shagging the silly tart of a wife – she couldn’t have made it up. ‘See, Mikey, you married a no-good slut of a woman.’ Instantly, Zara knew she sounded contemptuous, but it was too late to take back what she’d just said.
For a second, Mike felt he was being mocked, and he tried to assess the situation. Having Zara in the background laughing at him increased his anger to a higher level.
With a quick movement, he turned to Zara and fervently spat, ‘You need to grow up!’
In a fit of fury, he raised the nail gun and fired it into each of Scottie’s shoulders, and then into his right kneecap. ‘You fucking liar! You locked my boy up and drugged him!’
Scottie was gasping for air. The pain was so intense that he could hardly breathe. ‘No!’ he squealed. ‘Please, I’m begging you. Please, I never drugged him. I didn’t lock him up. Jackie did!’
‘Liar!’ shouted Mike, just before he fired another nail. This time it flew into Scottie’s arm, missing the bone and shooting out the other side.
‘Argghh, please, please, no! I’ll tell you the truth. Please!’
Mike took a deep breath and once again he lowered the tool. Walking over to the corner of the room where a water machine stood, he grabbed one of the plastic cups, placed it underneath the tap, and filled it with ice-cold water. Two gulps and it was gone. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then poured another. This time, he allowed the water to coat the nape of his thick neck.
He suddenly spun to face Zara. ‘And don’t you ever have a dig at me about my wife again!’
Still coming to terms with the gruesome sight and the blood-curdling screams, Zara didn’t really listen to Mike. She’d never expected him to be so calm and calculated. What she was witnessing was probably the most dangerous man in the south-east. His recklessness appeared so undisciplined that it was sending unnerving signals through her brain. This was a side to Mike that seven years ago she’d heard stories about and yet couldn’t have imagined. To her, he was a sweet, gentle giant with charm and tenderness who could have her in the sack within five minutes.
Mixed emotions gripped her. Mike had just spoken down to her like she was working for him, or, worse, behaving like some naive kid. But she was supposed to be in charge. Realistically, though, how could she be? She was witnessing a man who would scare the shit out of the Devil himself.
Maybe, she thought, this was her father’s way of testing her, to see if she could dominate a man like Mike. Still, she had to have the last say.
‘Well, Mikey, I’m concerned that you made the decision to marry a woman like that. Also, she should have been completely under your supervision. If you can’t control your wife, then maybe Izzy was wrong about you.’
With his back to her, Mike acted as if she wasn’t there. His complete dismissal vexed Zara into silence.
‘So, Scottie, you’d better start talking. Leave anything out, and I’ll know. I have a gift: I can smell a bullshitter five miles away,’ smirked Mike.
Scottie fervently nodded, knowing that Regan was serious. The deranged look in his eyes wasn’t the expression of a kidder.
‘I swear, I didn’t know she was your wife. I didn’t even know she was married …’
Mike retrieved the nail gun and this time placed it over Scottie’s eye. He wasn’t going to fi
re it. Scottie would then be dead, and he wouldn’t have the answers he was looking for. Zara winced and swallowed hard. Scottie was so petrified, he didn’t realize that the force of the compression would push the nail straight through his brain.
‘Okay, please, I did know who she was. I just wanted information. We wanted to know how you were getting the guns over to Ireland and where you were buying them from. Oh, come on, Regan. You would have done the same. It’s just business,’ he pleaded.
Mike just stared at him in silence.
‘She was all over me, I swear. She had a mad idea that me and her could shack up together, but I never had any intentions. It just went too far.’
He looked for any reaction from Regan but was met with a blank, unreadable expression. However, it was enough to know that the pain he was suffering was very likely to become a whole lot worse. In fact, he was beginning to feel so light-headed, he thought he would pass out at any moment. Taking a deep breath, he tried to look Regan squarely in the eye.
‘I never hurt your boy. I swear on me farver’s life. I wouldn’t hurt a kid.’
Mike smiled, showing a neat line of white teeth. ‘There’s no point in swearing on your farver’s life. He’s dead.’
Scottie blinked as the sweat dripped into his eyes and stung them. ‘Dead?’
‘Yep, skinned alive and flushed down the bog.’
Scottie felt a wave of temporary anger that subsided as soon as another surge of pain engulfed him.
‘So why did my six-year-old son sound like he was on drugs, eh?’
‘It was Jackie, I swear. It was her. She told me to meet her at her house. She shut her kid in—’
‘My kid?’ yelled Mike, pressing the gun harder into Scottie’s eye socket.
‘Yeah, okay. Jackie gave him vodka and orange. I don’t know why she did it. I promise, I never even spoke to the boy except to ask him who was on the phone.’
‘Where did you meet my wife?’
‘Cat’s Whiskers nightclub, a hen do. Her mate …’ He stumbled over his words, in part because of his injuries, but he was trying to keep his mind focused to prevent giving too much away. ‘Her mate told me she would be there.’
