by KERRY BARNES
Willie looked at Lou as if to say ‘Here we go again.’ They knew that even after a year, Staffie wasn’t going to forgive the Harmans for what they’d done to his beloved dog. With a quick movement, Staffie was out of the car, and as he opened the back door for Willie, he held out his hand.
‘Ya want a line of gear, Staff?’
Staffie shook his head. ‘No, ya divvy, I want ya knife.’
Willie looked Staffie over and narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh, I dunno. Ya might cut yaself.’
‘Fuck off, Willie. Just give me it. I wanna gut them, like they did to my dog.’
Lou got out of the car, not at all happy with the way the conversation was going. ‘Now, listen to me …’ He paused and sucked on the soggy end of his roll-up, before throwing it on the floor. ‘Forget the issue with the dog, yeah? We need to find out about Ricky. So, put the poxy notion of what they did to ya mutt outta ya head.’ His voice was firm and commanded attention. As a rule, Lou was the quiet one and only spoke when he had something relevant to say.
Staffie lowered his eyes and mumbled under his breath. ‘I still wanna cut ’em.’
Zara was waiting outside. She had returned to her home and changed into a casual T-shirt and blue designer jeans, but, even so, she still had a sophisticated sleekness about her. With her shoulders back and her chin up, she gave them a mischievous look like the cat that got the cream.
‘All right?’ she asked, looking at Willie, who by now had the effects of the cocaine written all over his face. He looked scarily deranged.
Staffie sniggered. ‘Ugly fucker, ain’t he?’
A soft smile crept across her face. Noncommittally, she smiled. ‘Perfect for the job.’
‘Yeah, I guess ya wouldn’t wanna bump into him in a dark alley,’ laughed Staffie.
Lou joined in. ‘Dark alley? Any bleedin’ alley, more like!’
Willie laughed along. He was used to being the butt of the ugly jokes.
‘Nice place, Zara,’ said Staffie, as he glanced around the immaculate hangar. It was vast with three sides and an open front. A light aircraft stood there, gleaming under the lights like a showpiece. The walls were lined with large tool racks and air and fuel pumps. Again, everything was spotlessly clean.
‘One of Izzy’s hobbies.’
‘What, flying?’ asked Lou, surprised. He couldn’t imagine a man like Izzy with his headphones on, doing a loop the loop.
‘No. He collects vintage planes and has them restored and then he watches me fly them.’
Willie’s eyes were on stalks. What can’t this bitch do, he wondered? ‘What, you’re a pilot?’
‘Yep, among other things. I’ve been flying since I was ten. Izzy let me go up with his own pilot so many times that I learned to fly. I loved the feeling so much that one day, when my dad was looking over another plane, I got into the light aircraft that I was used to and took off.’ She laughed. ‘Dad nearly had a heart attack, and when I brought the plane down, I was grounded for a month – in the true sense of the word.’
The three men saw another side to Zara; it was apparent she really was reckless. Maybe the rumours they’d heard about her weren’t an exaggeration. They had clearly underestimated her.
The pressing matter at hand was addressed by Lou. ‘So, where are the prisoners, then?’ He looked around and couldn’t see where she might have locked them up.
‘Follow me,’ she replied, as she spun round and walked towards what looked like a blank white wall. She then pulled from her pocket a hand-held device and pressed the button. A section of the wall began to slide across, revealing a hidden entrance.
‘Impressive,’ said Willie.
She allowed enough of an opening for the four of them to walk through. Inside, the rear of the hangar was a fairly big area, a third the size of the front. A metal bar attached to the rear wall held the parachutes for skydiving. And there, also tied to the wall bar, were the remaining Harman clan.
Harry looked the worse for wear. With dried blood on his nose and a purple bruise under his eye, he had obviously taken a beating. He had either been stripped on capture or he’d only been in his boxers when they’d found him. The plastic ties held him up with his arms pinned out either side of him in a crucifixion pose. The ties were so tight his hands had turned purple. His eyes were full of fear, yet he couldn’t speak, the duct tape doing its job. Vinnie was handcuffed in the same fashion, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with sweat marks under the arms. His eyes were wide as he stared in terror. Harry and Vinnie were big men, but, unlike Mike, who was all muscle, their bodies had turned to fat. Harry looked particularly gross, with rolls of it forming around his navel.
Also standing with her hands cuffed to the wall bar was Paris, who hadn’t come along for the ride, that was for sure. Her tights were ripped, her mascara had run, and her nose was bruised, but she was stoic in defeat, and, amazingly, she emanated defiance. With her upright stance, and still in her stilettos, she looked what she was – one feisty little bitch. Staffie was eyeing them with satisfaction, very pleased that they’d had their comeuppance. Suddenly, Paris started yanking the handcuffs, trying to speak, but it was a futile effort. The tape made it impossible.
Willie was itching to get stuck in and he walked over to them. ‘I think this tart wants ta talk, don’t ya?’ As he went to remove her tape, she gave him short shrift: with a swift kick between the legs, he doubled over in agony.
Paris’s euphoria was short-lived, though. Zara took one step closer, lifted her leg, and gave a swift fly kick, catching Paris in the chest. She was struck with such force that it almost knocked her out. She struggled to breathe because she could only suck air in through her nose.
‘Didn’t you learn anything from your last beating?’
Zara was so composed and in control, Staffie wondered what she needed them for.
‘One of you is gonna live,’ said Lou, out of the blue, which took everyone by surprise.
There was stunned silence; even the Harmans looked eager to listen, each one fervently hoping it would be them. Willie was still hopping around in agony, holding his balls and wanting to puke. He looked over at the young girl with anger. If looks could kill …
Lou felt the need to intervene; he could see Willie was very close to losing the plot. Ripping the tape from Paris’s mouth, he watched her gasp as if she had been held underwater. But despite her discomfort, it was clear from the way she curled her top lip and gave him that daggers-drawn look, she wasn’t going to kowtow to her captors.
‘Fuck you!’ she snapped, once she’d got her breath.
Zara let out a loud laugh. ‘No, darling. I really think it’s you who’s fucked.’
With a last-ditch attempt at antagonizing her captors, Paris sucked the saliva from inside her mouth and spat at Zara. ‘Cut these plastic ties, you bitch, and then we’ll ’ave a real fight. Just me and you. Or are ya too chicken?’
Incensed at the disgusting phlegm now on her clean T-shirt, Zara moved so fast that not even Willie could stop her. She pulled a knife from her boot and sliced the ties from the younger woman’s wrists. Before Paris could even grab Zara’s hair, Zara had her arm up the girl’s back almost dislocating her shoulder, propelling her away from the wall.
The others watched in surprise, especially Lou, who couldn’t see the point in Zara getting her hands dirty. However, her face showed an anger that probably needed to be satisfied.
Paris was screaming obscenities while Zara circled her. Lou wondered if Zara was getting a real kick out of it or whether she was demonstrating to them how tough she was. His thoughts were cut short when Paris ran forward with her head down as if to ram Zara. But, in a controlled manner, Zara moved sideways, snatched the back of Paris’s hair, and thrust her face into the wall. The sound of her nose making contact with concrete made Lou cringe. But Paris wasn’t done. She turned, her eyes watering and her nose pissing blood, before bravely launching another attack.
Zara shook her head. ‘Give up, Paris.’ She lau
ghed, mockingly.
‘You fucking skinny piece of shit. I’ll murder ya!’
Zara, who was standing in a composed martial arts stance, dared her on. Yet, as soon as Paris pulled her arm back to throw a punch, it was over. Like the wings of the humming bird, Zara’s hands moved so fast. One open-handed crack went to the chin; the next to the throat was followed by a sideways kick to her knees. Paris was on the floor, unable to stand, focus, or breathe.
Staffie and Willie were open-mouthed; they had seen fights, and plenty of them, but Zara took their breath away.
She turned to see their stunned expressions and casually smiled. ‘Fine. She’s had her fight, so can we get her tied back up and talking?’ Pulling plastic ties from her back pocket, she slapped them in Staffie’s hand. ‘All yours.’ She winked.
Staffie and Willie dragged Paris back to the wall bar. She was too out of it to realize what was happening. By the time she regained full consciousness, she was tied up and helpless. They waited a few moments for her to catch her breath. Then, like the character in the film The Exorcist, she was off again, spitting and hissing.
Of the three of them, Lou was the most refined, speaking with an intelligence and assertiveness that made him stand out from his friends. ‘So, tell me, Paris. It seems to me that your brothers have dragged you along with their little scam. Travis, your underhanded boyfriend, tried to do us over, but I guess you know that. I mean, it stands to reason you were in on it.’
‘Fuck off!’ she yelled.
‘So, I’ll take that as a yes, then?’
Paris didn’t like his cool tone. She would rather he was screaming blue murder. Shouting – well, she could handle that.
‘Who gives a shit? Ya killed him anyway.’
‘Well, I give a shit, Paris, because, sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to hurt an innocent person. It’s not in me nature, ya see.’
Staffie could see the cogs whirling around in her brain. Lou’s astute mind and clever use of words was fucking with her head, as she weighed up what he was really telling her.
She, though, needed to be one step ahead. ‘I didn’t know he had anything to do with it.’
Willie’s cocaine-infused brain was ready to wage war. He pulled his knife from his belt, and in a flash, he had it at her throat, ‘Liar!’ he screamed loudly in her ear. ‘I’ll cut ya fucking tongue out, if ya don’t start telling the truth.’ With that, he jumped past her, and with a fluid movement, he sliced the jagged knife down Vinnie’s arm, ripping straight through his shirt and into his muscle, which flapped open like a slab of liver.
The muffled scream had an immediate effect on Paris. No longer brash and cocky, she looked aghast, first at Willie and then over at her brother’s horrific wound. Glancing back at Lou, her eyes were begging him to help Vinnie. ‘I didn’t know, I swear it. I had no idea. I thought he was just running errands for Harry,’ she cried out, choosing to ignore Harry who was pleading with his eyes for her to shut up.
‘And I suppose you had nothing to do with Staffie’s dog being hung, drawn, and quartered, either?’
She frantically shook her head. ‘No, no way. I didn’t know. Really, I didn’t know.’
‘Which one of these bastards killed the dog, Paris? Was it Harry or Vinnie?’ asked Lou, with brooding eyes that bore into her.
Paris was now trembling all over, to the extent that the others could actually see her legs shaking. ‘I, er … I don’t know.’ She looked back at Vinnie’s arm – torn open right down to the bone. His face was pale and clammy, and she could hear the heavy drops of blood as they splattered on the sheet of plastic under their feet.
Willie clocked her fear and tormented her further, cutting Vinnie’s shirt from top to bottom and also leaving a thin scratch. Vinnie tried to pull his hands free, and a blood-curdling sound came from behind the tape. Paris was almost shitting bricks with fright at seeing her brother’s glassy stare of horror. She couldn’t grass on them, but maybe she had a chance to save her own skin, if she could keep her mouth shut long enough and not let her anger get in the way.
Unperturbed, Lou pulled a roll-up from behind his ear. He sparked up and took a deep drag. ‘Who killed the dog, Paris?’ he asked again.
Intent on stopping further bloodshed, Paris stupidly responded with, ‘Oh my God. Stop all this. Please. I don’t know.’
Incensed by the out-and-out lie, Willie flew back to Paris and pressed his blade against her mouth. She didn’t move, petrified that just one deep breath would have her smiling like the Joker out of Batman.
‘You lying whore!’ screamed Willie.
Staffie could see that Willie needed winding in. ‘Enough, Willie. I think she’s got the message.’
Jerking his head like a marionette, Willie was a scary sight. But it was his eyes that terrified everyone. He looked what he was: a man in turmoil, totally unpredictable.
Realizing that Willie wasn’t the full shilling, Staffie grabbed him by the arm and forcefully pulled him back.
‘Ease off, tiger. You’ll have your chance, if she doesn’t talk.’
Harry and Vinnie had gone from frightened to petrified, and that was the biggest motivator for telling the truth. Paris observed their faces, and, sure enough, what she saw sickened her. It was at that point she knew: they would be singing like canaries if it wasn’t for the duct tape. Their sweaty brows and bulging eyes were tell-tale signs. In contrast, her fear, unlike her brothers’, had turned to anger; she could feel her temper rising and it gave her courage, something she had more of than Harry and Vinnie put together. Staffie had a hold of Willie’s reins, and she assumed that his modus operandi was designed to scare the shit out of her. Well, dream on, she thought. In any case, they wouldn’t really kill her, surely?
‘So which one of your fucking fat brothers killed Staffie’s dog, then?’
‘Go fuck yaself,’ she spat, her face suddenly smeared with indignation.
Staffie gripped Willie tighter, to stop him launching into a frenzied attack.
‘Okay, Paris, I’ll ask a question. Where’s Ricky, Mike Regan’s son?’ intervened Staffie.
Paris had heard the rumours that the boy was missing, so she wasn’t shocked by the question. However, Staffie and Lou expected her to be surprised and act like any innocent person would. Paris’s anger, though, made her not only arrogant and brazen, but, more importantly, very foolish.
She laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ She saw this as a game of snakes and ladders, where she was moving up and had control. Her eyes locked with Staffie’s, daring him on.
Unexpectedly, Joshua came into the room and called out, ‘The Filth are on their way.’
That’s all we need, thought Staffie. ‘Fuck! How do you know they’re coming here?’
Joshua replied in a serious tone. ‘I have a nifty police scanner, and they’re on my radar. We have fifteen minutes before they get here.’
Whilst they looked at Zara for direction, Paris saw this as an opportune time to be plucked out of her nightmare. Naively, she thought she was going to be rescued. With the arrogance and confidence of youth, she blurted out, ‘Ha, not so fucking cocky now, are ya? Well, you lot can rot inside with old Big Bollocks Mike Regan. You’ll never know where we buried his kid.’
Feeling smug, she never in her wildest dreams thought that any of them would hurt her now, not while the police were on their way. Unfortunately, she hadn’t done her homework on her female adversary. Zara would never carry out an act such as this, unless it was carefully orchestrated.
Harry and Vinnie were making as much noise as their gags would allow, in their desperate attempt to shut their sister up. Harry couldn’t believe she could be so stupid.
But she was so confident that she carried on. ‘You can tell Mike fucking Regan that his kid is out there in a field being eaten by the worms, and he’ll never even have a fucking gravestone.’ The fact that the men were all looking at each other in horror gave her the gumption to face them off.
But she n
ever banked on Willie being coked up to the eyeballs and more reckless than her. He didn’t consider the consequences – but then he never did, once he was high. With one quick movement, he pulled his arm back and rammed the diver’s knife right through her mouth and straight out the other side of her neck. ‘There ya go! That fucked ya Hollywood smile!’
Her body went rigid as the thick black blood bubbled like a dirty oil leak from her gaping, twisted mouth.
‘What? Ya wanna say something? Oh, sorry, ya can’t. Not sure a plastic surgeon could work his magic on your boat now, princess!’ A sudden giggle was followed by a fully-fledged smile of pride.
Lou tutted aloud, clearly baffled by Willie’s irrational state of mind. ‘A bit OTT, Willie.’
Willie laughed again. ‘Nah, not me, mate.’ He turned back to soak in the carnage he had inflicted. ‘Oops, Lou, you’re right. I think she’s dead.’
Harry and Vinnie both squirmed in horror. As Zara looked at them, her nose screwed up in disgust. Harry’s faeces flowed like a dam bursting at its seams, spreading across the plastic sheeting to where she was standing. And it was clear that Vinnie was in no better shape. He was now choking so much on his vomit that he couldn’t catch his breath. Puke shot out through his nose, but it became clogged up, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He died very quickly, leaving Harry the only one alive. A dark cloak of utter dread seemed to hang from his face. The gruesome sight ran like ice through his veins, and he felt the lights dimming as he passed out.
Zara sighed. ‘Look, there’s no point in carrying on with that bastard.’ She nodded towards Harry, hanging like a scarecrow by his purple hands. ‘Staffie, take Willie and Lou, drive around the back and across the grass field. There’s a small track. Get on it, and ahead, you’ll see a line of bushes with a small opening. You’ll get ya car through, and then you’ll be on the side road that takes you up to the main one. If you turn right, you’ll end up in a village where there’s a nice pub called the Red Bull. I’ll meet you there in an hour.’
Staffie nodded and hurried towards the front of the hangar with Lou and Willie following. Leaving quickly, they tore across the field, and then they found the track, feeling every lump and bump. When they spotted the opening in the bushes that Zara described, they were out and off to the pub. Once they had their bearings, they slowed down and eased into the small pretty village. There, they were finally able to relax.
