The Hunted

by KERRY BARNES

  ‘Fucking liar,’ she screamed, as she flicked the lighter again. ‘Joshua wouldn’t do that to me!’

  Ronnie knew her mind was ticking over; it was just a matter of time before she would consider her cousin as the culprit. ‘He had a gambling problem.’ That should satisfy her, he thought. Everyone knew Joshua liked to gamble.

  Her mind went over and over what he’d just said, and her anger increased. It was feasible, she reasoned. Despite all the money she paid him, Joshua was always borrowing money to pay off his debts, but something was niggling her. The Harmans weren’t a big enough outfit to pull this off, surely? And there was just him. All the Harmans, as far as she knew, were now dead, weren’t they?

  ‘And the kid? Why did your lot kill the kid?’

  Ronnie Harman knew he couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation – because he had no idea who she was talking about. His brother had been found murdered in the bath, and his niece and nephews were missing. There wasn’t anything else he could tell her. At this pivotal moment, he hated his own family just as much as he hated Izzy and his cocky bitch of a daughter.

  Why his brother Frank hadn’t brought the boys up to be astute and to use their brains rather than their brawn, was beyond him. Harry, especially, was a mouthy, egotistical knob, who had brainwashed Frank into believing he could take over the big firms. Ronnie should never have listened to Frank. However, Frank was so sucked in by Harry and Vinnie’s web of big-bollocks bullshit that he genuinely believed his sons were up to the job.

  As much as he detested Harry and Vinnie, he did have a soft spot for Scottie. So, he had carefully devised the plan with his favourite nephew to get in with Jackie and bleed her dry for information. Scottie, who had more respect for Ronnie than his own father, agreed. Yet, until his brutal murder, he hadn’t managed to find out anything of real value.

  As to what had happened to Jackie and her son, it was still a mystery. He never believed Scottie would have had the guts to kill them. However, he couldn’t underestimate anyone, and certainly not Zara, after watching her in action. This classy woman could fight like an alley cat, and he grudgingly had to admit she’d led her men well. Nothing would surprise him now.

  ‘Look, please listen. My nephews were reckless and stupid. What they did was nothing to do with me. I had no idea. I swear to God, I never knew, and I promise you, if I’d had an inkling, I would have stopped them. I’m not into killing kids. I was out to make money, that’s all.’

  ‘Nah, I’m not having that. You and your family are nothing but low-life chancers. There’s no way you would have gone this far without someone backing your corner. Who are you working for?’

  Ronnie’s eyes widened; clearly, she wasn’t stupid. Either he had to tell her the truth or impress her with his acting skills. He chose the latter.

  ‘I might be a small outfit compared to Izzy’s, but I have brains and knowledge. If you hadn’t brought more muscle with you than I’d predicted, I’d have got away with a chunk of money, wouldn’t I? So, Zara, you may look down on me as a nobody, but it didn’t take a big firm to almost screw you over. So, there you have it.’ He ended with his tone almost resigned, giving what he thought was a first-class performance.

  Zara had to admit he was right; nevertheless, there was still something niggling in the back of her mind.

  Ronnie’s hopes of escaping with his life went out of the window when he saw Zara slowly flick over the lighter in her left hand. But then she gripped the gun in her right. He prayed she was right-handed.

  True to her word, she lifted the gun and fired the bullet clean between his eyes. Willie and Staffie were aghast at the sheer precision, and Staffie was relieved in some ways that he wasn’t witnessing a man on fire. Willie, however, slumped his shoulders; he would have quite enjoyed toasting marshmallows.

  As Neil Lanigan held his father in his arms, Davey began to come around. The blow to the head had done damage, but it hadn’t killed him. Zara walked over and called for Staffie to fetch some water to help the older man.

  At that defining moment, Staffie saw Zara for who she was – a woman of steel, laced with fairness. She was like Uma Thurman’s character in Kill Bill, in the way she exuded confidence and for her exploits in adversity. In that respect, she was the female version of Mike.

  An hour later, Davey Lanigan was fully conscious and was sitting upright, sipping brandy. The blow to the head, although severe, was not life-threatening. Because he was blessed with having a hard skull, he only suffered a mild concussion. His whole demeanour changed; whether it was from the clump or the new-found respect, he was ready to listen to Zara.

  Staffie and Willie stood by Zara’s side as she stared at father and son.

  ‘So, you took Ronnie Harman’s word over my father’s, then?’

  Davey, still holding an ice pack to his face and wiping the blood from his broken nose, replied, ‘Not lightly, though. He had all the details. For a man to be so well informed, I had to take it seriously.’

  ‘What details did he share with you?’

  He tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt, and he coughed. Zara had broken his ribs with her powerful kick. ‘He said if you arrived at the meeting with those men’ – he pointed to Willie and Staffie with a sneer – ‘then you would have no intentions of a fair deal. You were going ta rob me blind with violence.’

  ‘But you didn’t even give me a chance to show you the cargo. It’s all there. You were ready to attack from the get-go!’ She twisted her head, waiting for an answer.

  Davey swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Harman informed me that the second you opened the back of the vans, we would be jumped.’

  ‘And you took his word on that, yeah?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. He said that if the vans arrived wrapped in toyshop vinyl, then inside there wouldn’t be any drugs – just brute force awaiting us.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘How the fuck did he know that my vans would be covered in toyshop advertising?’

  Bowing his head, he replied, ‘He said that you were working with another firm and using yer father’s name to do business. Apparently, this firm are evil bastards who’ll kill an old man in his bed ta get what they want.’

  ‘You fucking fool, Lanigan. If this Ronnie Harman had successfully taken me out, then he would have done you over, eventually. This little plot was just to take me out of the picture, and I’m not so convinced he was on his own.’ She sighed. ‘Well, today, I have learned a lot, and I have you, Mr Lanigan, to thank for that, albeit it is a bit messy. The Harmans are a small firm.’ She stopped and laughed. ‘They were a small firm. I guess they’re all dead now. I have to give it to them. They outsmarted you, Mr Lanigan, and nearly cost us our lives. It was a clever plot to turn us against each other, but this proves that I am not so easily taken over.’

  Davey remained with his head bowed in shame. His small army and name had now been destroyed. If his head wasn’t so sore, he would have bashed it against a brick wall.

  ‘Oh, and by the way. Just so you know. It was the Regans who were supplying you with arms, until the Harmans grassed them up to the Filth, which put a temporary stop to operations.’

  ‘The Regans?’ He shook his head. ‘Ya know, yer father never divulged the name of my supplier.’ A frown crumpled up his otherwise swollen face. ‘Zara, Ronnie must have known that, or he wouldn’t have told me they were a dangerous bunch, ready to double cross me.’

  ‘Yep, and he nearly got away with it.’

  ‘I’m not a man who says sorry easily, but I am sorry. You’ve taught me a valuable lesson too.’

  Zara smirked. ‘What’s that? Don’t believe everything you hear?’

  A ghost of a smile crept over his face. ‘No, never underestimate the strength of a woman. I think I may need the hospital.’

  ‘Well, there’s enough morphine in the back of the vans to put the whole of the British Army in a coma. So, what now, Mr Lanigan?’

  ‘As I said, the money’s in the back. It’s all
there. I guess the deal’s off and you’ll want the money for compensation?’

  She smiled. ‘No, I ain’t taking the vans back. It’s too risky. You can have the gear, but I want the money, three cars, and your son.’

  His eyes suddenly opened wide. ‘My son?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll let him go, once I’m back on home soil. He can take one of the cars back. Don’t look so fucking worried, or I’ll take that as you still don’t trust me. And that, Mr Lanigan, would bother me.’

  Neil sat by his father’s side. Up until now, he’d kept quiet. ‘It’s okay. I will go with you. Er, the men. Where are they?’

  Lou had returned right on cue, holding up two sets of keys. ‘Sleeping it off in the back of one of the vans. But some do need to go to a hospital. That’s if they survive long enough.’

  Davey coughed. ‘Fecking leave them there for a while, the useless bunch of clowns.’ He raised his head and stared Zara in the eyes. ‘I do trust you, because if I didn’t, I would have offered to take my son’s place.’

  * * *

  The trip back to England was a solemn affair with Zara and Staffie quietly contemplating the events of the past couple of days. Willie and Neil Lanigan went home in Lou’s car and the others travelled back in three of Davey Lanigan’s vehicles.

  The silence was broken only when Staffie asked whether Joshua would have grassed.

  ‘I’ve been thinking of how he could because right now Joshua is in Cuba with his wife and has been for the past three days. I should have held back from putting a bullet through Ronnie’s head, until I realized that it couldn’t have been Joshua. I can’t imagine Josh ever doing that.’

  ‘So who is the grass?’

  ‘I dunno, Staffie, but I will fucking find out and God help ’em.’

  As they drove through the green rolling hills, his mind was going over the incident, thinking how he and everyone else had underestimated Zara. Never had he met a woman who could fight as well as himself.

  Chapter 17

  Once they were home, Zara shared out the money and released Neil. He was warming to Mike’s firm. Despite all the devastation the men had caused, they actually made him laugh. Zara, a woman of her word, ensured he was seen to at a hospital, that he was fed, and he was given sufficient money in his back pocket to fill the car with fuel to drive home. His departure was like saying goodbye to old buddies.

  It seemed they had all been duped by an enemy who was almost equal to them both.

  The situation had bothered Zara, and although she shrugged it off in front of the men, it still plagued her mind. She contacted Joshua who greeted her with a sunny, upbeat tone. He was merrily describing the Cuban hotel and the fun he was having, when she stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘Joshua, where did you get the money to go to Cuba?’

  Surprised at her cold tone, he replied, ‘Are you okay, Zara? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Answer the question. How did you get the money?’

  Without a hint of hesitation, he said, ‘I know Uncle Izzy left me that money to get myself out of debt and to buy a house, but I didn’t think he would mind if I had a holiday, I mean … Oh shit, you’re pissed off with me ’cos I squandered it on a holiday. Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have. Look, Zara, I’m sorry. I will do good with the rest, I promise.’

  Her heart sank. She had actually believed that scumbag over her own cousin, having forgotten that Izzy gave him a lump sum to sort himself out. The details were left in a letter for her.

  ‘Sorry, Joshua, I’m just all over the place at the moment. No, you enjoy Cuba, and bring me back some of that Cuban rum.’

  Joshua chuckled, relieved to hear a more vibrant tone in her voice. ‘So, you’re not angry with me?’

  ‘No, Joshua, never.’

  * * *

  She pondered over what Izzy would have done. But he was a man of power, and although he’d handed it all over to her, she wondered if she really had the know-how to keep it going. Someone had grassed, and her father would have sussed it within an hour, but she was struggling and feeling vulnerable. Having Mike on board would have been the answer; he would know what to do at every turn. She pulled out the visiting order from her father’s cabinet drawer and sighed. The last visit had been soul-destroying. She was still struggling to get Mike’s distraught face out of her mind.

  After a sleepless night alone in her father’s ornate house, Zara woke up with a splitting headache. The rain was relentless as it hammered against the Georgian window. Sitting upright and looking around her childhood bedroom, her eyes filled with tears. The room held so many memories, but, unfortunately, not all of them were good. However, she did remember her mother’s voice gently whispering to her as she lay with her head on the plump pillows, her teddy bears taking up more room than herself. Those moments and hundreds of others with her mother were such joyous ones. Then she pictured her father’s sad eyes when he’d told her that her mother had passed away.

  That was the night she’d been hurried from her bed and taken away to a safe place, where the alarm systems beeped and the big German shepherd dogs patrolled the perimeter. How strange that, when she had lain in Mike’s bed years later, she’d felt even more secure.

  As she slowly plodded down the wooden staircase in her bare feet, the silence was a reminder that she had no one.

  Reading the newspaper, she noted that the headlines were dominated by an increase in drug-related crime; the news contained nothing that would lift her dismal mood. After a few sips of coffee, she got herself showered and dressed, ready for the visit. She washed and blow-dried her hair and coated her skin with a lotion, but she didn’t feel it appropriate to wear make-up; after all, he hadn’t officially said she was his girlfriend. With the exception of the last visit, the previous ones had been pleasant and probably just a distraction for him, but everything had changed now, since she had given him the news regarding his son.

  She rushed to the car with a brolly shielding off the rain. Concerned that the storm would cause more traffic on the roads of London, she put her foot down and hurried towards the prison. Luckily, the downpour was temporary, but the unrelenting heat of the past few days had cooled. She found a seat and waited in the visiting room. Her thoughts went to Mike. She wondered how he would look, and if there would be a warmer reception than last time, or whether Mike would still be beleaguered with torment.

  The visiting room was packed as always. Mike was the last to enter. She held her breath as the door opened. There he stood, scanning the room to find her. No glimmer of a smile, she thought. He looked stone-faced and cold-hearted as if the life had been sucked out of him. He raised his head and nodded as he approached. Zara gave an awkward smile and stood to greet him, but he didn’t hold out his arms for an embrace; instead, he sat down and placed his elbows on the table.

  ‘How are you doing, Mikey?’

  He huffed at that question. ‘How do you think, Zara?’

  Ouch, that was cold, she thought. ‘I know it must be so hard, but …’

  His jaw clenched. ‘Stop, Zara, just stop. I am sick of people telling me what I should do. There are no buts, Zara. It’s hard. Full, fucking, stop.’

  She was about to touch his arm, but she sensed there was no point. ‘I … er … I wanted your advice, Mikey. I wondered if you could help me.’

  He sighed and leaned back on the cold plastic chair. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in prison, and so I don’t think giving advice will be any good to anyone. The truth is, Zara, I came out to tell you and anyone else who has a visiting order, I want to be left alone. Don’t come up again.’

  ‘Look, love, I know how you feel—’

  She didn’t have a chance to finish before he ripped into her.

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me you know how I feel. You have no bloody idea.’

  Zara felt her temper rising; he wasn’t the only one who had suffered, not by a long chalk. ‘Yes, I bloody do!’ she replied, equally stony-faced.

  ‘Just
do one, Zara, will ya. I don’t want anyone up here visiting. Ya don’t know how it feels, so shut it.’

  Eugene, one of the officers, moved closer, and Mike clocked him out of the corner of his eye.

  Zara got up from her seat and gave him a look that he’d never seen before. Her face cast such a dark sadness. He raised his brow, as if he was trying to comprehend something.

  ‘The thing is, though, Mikey, I do. I know exactly how you feel.’ Her words were so direct and honest that they seemed to hit him. He might as well have been struck a blow in the sternum.

  Immediately, he realized she wasn’t playing the patronizing do-gooder; she needed to tell him something important. He decided to give her a chance to get it off her chest.

  In a flash, he was up from his seat and grabbing her wrist to pull her back. Eugene, not understanding the situation, then clutched Mike’s arm. ‘The visit’s over. Let the lady go!’

  Mike let go of Zara’s wrist, and, like a gorilla, he shook off Eugene. ‘Get the fuck away from me, you shitty little weasel.’

  Eugene, a white-haired, light-skinned man, went almost faint from shock.

  Zara then knew she had to calm the situation down before Mike was hauled off to solitary confinement. She held up her hand to the officer. ‘It’s okay. Please, I need to speak with him.’

  Eugene didn’t need telling twice; he was only too pleased to leave them to it.

  She pulled out a chair and sat down, followed by Mike, who wouldn’t take his eyes off hers.

  ‘How do you know how I feel?’ His tone softened and his shoulders lowered like a tyre being deflated.

  She sniffed back the tears and tried to stop her bottom lip from quivering. As she was inclined to do under stress, her fingers caressed the ring that hung on the chain around her neck.

  ‘He was six months old … he was so beautiful …’ She stopped to wipe her tears. ‘He had dark hair and the biggest grey eyes.’

  As Mike’s strong hands enclosed hers, she looked up to see his eyes heavy with tears.