by KERRY BARNES
‘You talk as if she’s dead.’
‘I’m afraid I do. With me hand on me heart, I can swear to yer that I’ve done everything in my power to find her. No bastard knows a thing. This Segal family you mentioned on the phone were paid a visit. The son is one ugly pig. He cried like a baby and swore he loved her like a sister and wanted whoever had hurt her to pay with their lives. He even put up a hundred grand for any information regarding her whereabouts, or the name of the person behind it. It came to light that some of our business was once theirs, but they’re nothing but a few idiots who dabbled in the big boys’ game. So, I don’t believe they’re involved.’
‘Did you find out who grassed my men?’
Davey shook his head. ‘No, that’s still a mystery, I’m afraid.’
Mike rubbed his face and sighed heavily. ‘So, what now, Mr Lanigan?’
Davey clasped his large hands together. ‘For now, we back off and leave well alone, carry on our business as usual, and, like everything in life, the truth will out.’
With his face screwed up, Mike glared. ‘But what if they have her? What if she’s hurt?’
Davey patted Mike’s hand. ‘See reason, Mr Regan. It’s been six months now. If that blood at the property was hers, then we need to be realistic. She’s probably dead.’ He stared, hoping that his statement wouldn’t have Mike flipping the table and going into one.
‘What about her brother, Ismail?’
Davey shook his head. ‘He’s just as concerned. The bloke’s a proper nancy boy. He added another hundred grand as a reward, so it’s like the skullcap and slipper brigade are all on the lookout for her too.’ He straightened his jacket and leaned one arm on the table. ‘Look, all I can promise is that whatever we profit from, I’ll make sure your firm has its fair share. The minute I hear anything regarding Zara, you’ll be the first to know.’
Mike was absorbing those words. ‘I’m out in six years, if I don’t do anything stupid to be put down the block again. I’ll join you then, and I’ll want some muscle. I’m going on the hunt to find who this Harman bloke is, because he sure isn’t a fucking ghost. And I know Zara. She’s no fool.’
‘Mr Regan, no disrespect to her reputation, but what if the culprit left the name in the dust to throw us all off the scent?’ Davey watched as Mike seemed to drift off to another world.
‘No, I know she wrote that name because …’ His thoughts went back to a time on the beach when they were soaking up the sun and she showed him her note, Love me forever, Mikey Regan, in the sand.
‘She used her finger to scribble messages on my arm and make me guess what she’d written. It was a silly game but … it’s what she did. So, I know she wrote that.’
‘It’s hard, Mr Regan, and losing your son as well, but I’ll make a promise that I’ll not stop seeking out the truth, that I won’t.’
* * *
For weeks, Zara was fed and handed tablets by Palo. He was often watched through the bars by her brother. She tried desperately hard to get her strength up, while still playing the brain-damaged victim. Her only ally was Palo, the old man with the compassionate smile. She never spoke a word but just did as he instructed. The exercises were painful to start with, but they were certainly strengthening her muscles. With his aid, she could stand and get to the bathroom, where at least she had a private moment, not overlooked by Ismail or the fat creep Benjamin.
The rattling of the metal door made her open her eyes. It was Palo, with a clean set of towels and a soft cotton tracksuit, which he placed on the chair beside the bed.
He walked into the bathroom, ran the bath taps, and returned with the same kind smile.
‘A warm bath will ease your muscles. I have added some bath salts. Would you like me to help you or are you strong enough to walk unaided?’
Her eyes shot to the door and her shoulders relaxed. They were alone. She leaned closer. ‘I can walk now, thank you so much. Palo, can you help me to get out of here?’ she whispered in his ear, keeping one eye on the door.
He looked into her eyes and a sad expression darkened his face. ‘I wish that I could. God help me, I wish. They have my home watched constantly; they will hurt my daughters. Just don’t let on you can speak.’
‘Why are they keeping me alive if they think I’m brain damaged? I’m no use to them.’
He looked over his shoulder and leaned forward again. In a conspiratorial aside, he whispered, ‘Ismail has given his solicitor a letter saying that if he dies it will expose what they have already done to you, and to any potential harm coming your way. He wants to keep you alive. I think he feels very guilty for what he has done, as do I, Zara, as do I.’
‘No, Palo, you have nothing to feel sorry or guilty for, but Ismail wants me alive to ease his conscience, not because he cares about me.’
‘I know, Zara, I know.’
She smiled to herself. Ismail really was a weak man; her father was so right. She didn’t know who she hated more: Ismail, Benjamin, or the blonde woman who cut off her hand and whose face now haunted her. It was over – there was no way she could break out. With only one hand, how the hell would she fight to get out? Her food was minimal, so her strength was weak. Racking her brains night after night, she tried to formulate a means of escape, but nothing came to mind – nothing that would work anyway.
‘Is there anything you want? Because there is nothing I can do except tell them you need my care. I will try to find reasons to visit you as often as I can get away with.’
Zara wanted to hug the old man, but she couldn’t risk anyone eyeballing her through the door. They would have her in an interrogation chair.
‘Will they keep me locked away for good? Is that the plan?’
He nodded and his eyes filled up. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Oh, well,’ she sighed in resignation. ‘Do you think you could get me a television?’
His face lit up. ‘Yes, I can use the excuse that it’s for rehabilitation.’
Once Palo left, she gingerly walked to the bathroom. After struggling to remove her nightdress with her right hand, she stepped into the warm bath. It was her only solace. As she immersed herself, she had an overwhelming urge to take her own life. What was the point of her existence now? she thought. She looked at her bandaged stump and began to unravel the dressing. She hadn’t seen what was underneath. Very carefully, she unwound the bandage until the last piece fell away. She didn’t want to look at first, but then her eyes were drawn to her hideously scarred arm. Her heart sank. She was left without a hand and with the most horrific burn scars imaginable. What remained of her skin was black. She lay back in the bath and closed her eyes. She would have to put Mike out of her head. He wouldn’t want her now. Those unsightly wounds made her feel sick, and she wouldn’t ever want him to see them either. She sighed. What was she thinking? She was trapped, anyway. No one would ever find her. Izzy had made this basement escape-proof. Palo had his family to worry about. And because her bastard of a brother was so afraid of Guy, she would never talk him around. She was a prisoner, and unless she had a lucky break, this would be her home from now on. A tear trickled down her cheek and added to the bathwater.
That’s how she saw herself – an insignificant drop in the ocean, with the world continuing around her, while she endured the confinement of this small suite with just herself for company. She knew she would eventually go insane.
‘Aw, Dad, if you’re looking down on me, I could really do with your help.’
PART FOUR
Chapter 22
2014, five years later
Waiting anxiously in the prison visiting room brought it home to Eric what he’d actually done. Looking around the cold, suffocating room, he wondered why on earth his brother would ever forgive him – Christ, he wouldn’t have, if it had been the other way around.
As soon as Mike entered the room, Eric felt awkward and totally embarrassed. His brother looked rough, unshaven, and dull-faced, the worst he’d ever seen him. Unexpectedly, Mike s
miled and held out his arms. Eric held back the tears, but the emotion was written all over his face, as he rose from his chair and instantly hugged his brother.
‘I’m so sorry, Mikey. Look, I know sorry doesn’t cut it. I was scared but—’
Mike interrupted him. ‘Eric, stop. I understand. It’s okay, you know. It’s all in the past. You didn’t have to follow the business, you’re your own free man, and maybe what we were doing wasn’t right for you. I should have listened and not have taken the piss when you said you wanted to go straight. Admitting you were scared was the bravest thing you could have done. Anyway, it’s all behind us now.’ He took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘You’re my brother, my own flesh and blood. Ten years of being tortured, what with my son and then Zara, well, it puts things into perspective.’
Eric gave Mike a sheepish smile.
Mike noticed how big Eric had become. ‘Spain is obviously treating you well. Are ya working out?’
‘Yeah … Listen, Mikey. I’ve thought long and hard about things. At first, with you getting nicked, it killed me. I had to get away. Then, when Dad told me about Ricky, I just kept beating myself up. I blamed myself for taking on Travis. If I hadn’t, Ricky wouldn’t have been murdered. But, by then, it was too late to face you. What I’m really trying to say is, I felt so useless and guilty but …’
‘Eric, it doesn’t matter now—’
‘Listen, Mikey, please let me finish, right? I did beat meself up, and I didn’t tell anyone, but I came back, kept away from the usual haunts and the regular faces, and I tried to do some digging myself. I know the thought must have crossed your mind that it was me that grassed you up, after our fight.’
Mike sat back with his head tilted to the side. He noticed how his brother’s speech was both more controlled and assertive – that had never been the case before. Mike put it down to the fact that, at long last, Eric had become his own person, stepping out from the subjugating effect of Mike’s forceful personality. There was maturity there, and, yes, wisdom.
‘Nah, Eric, never. We were annoyed, I grant ya, because you fucked off when I needed you most, but we never thought it was you that grassed. I don’t know how much Dad told you, but we believe there’s someone out there who was determined to have me and the boys put inside. Well, they fucking won. But, trust me, when I get out, I will hunt the bastards down and kill ’em. My boy and my poor Zara, I still think about them all the time. Yet Davey Lanigan and his son Neil have turned London upside down to find out what happened to her, and not a single fucking soul knows. So, trust me when I say I will be on the hunt as soon as I get out. Then, my dear brother, you can help me find who is responsible.’
‘And, Bro, I will be holding her down while you rip her heart out.’
Like an electric shock, Mike jolted his head ‘Her? What do you mean … her?’
‘I think I know who is behind it all.’
Eric bit his bottom lip. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat. ‘It’s my ex.’
‘Don’t be daft. That silly slip of a girl, she’s just like Jackie. She’s all tits and extensions. Look, Eric, she may have fucked you off, but, seriously—’
Again, Eric cut off Mike, and, surprisingly, he rolled up his long sleeve and shoved his right wrist under Mike’s nose. ‘Have you ever seen this before?’
Mike peered closely at what at first looked like a tattooed symbol before he realized it was simply drawn using a biro. ‘What is it?’
Eric held his wrist there. ‘Take a bleedin’ good look. Do you recognize it at all?’
Mike looked at him in surprise and then studied the symbol, deep in thought. And then something hit him. ‘Er … I think I do. Why?’
‘Where, Mikey? Where did you see it?’
‘It was in an old photo. It was part of Doris Harman’s album. Funny, ’cos that photo bugged me, and I never knew why. It showed the Harman brothers and some other bloke who was only partially in the picture. He was baring his tattooed forearm. Eric, tell me, what is this all about?’
‘Mikey, when Tracey came back from your gaff all scratched up, something strange happened. I hugged her and she went stiff. Now, Tracey was the sweetest girl, all feminine and cute, but she changed. She just shrugged me off and went upstairs to get cleaned up.’
Mike screwed his nose up. ‘Eric, just ’cos she shrugged you off don’t mean it’s strange. Perhaps she was still fuming. Well, she definitely was when she left my house—’
‘No, wait, let me finish. She was upstairs for ages, and when she returned to the living room with her bags packed, she really looked a different person. I remember her face and the way she stood there. For a moment, I was looking at someone else. She had no make-up on, her hair was tied back, and it was just the way she held herself. She was dressed in a tracksuit and trainers with her shoulders back. She looked through me, as if I was a piece of shit. Look, I know all this seems a bit mad, but I swear to you, I didn’t recognize her. Then, when she spoke with this serious, deeper voice, I had to rub my eyes. It was this look on her face. Honestly, Mike, I was freaked out. She was cocky, but not like Jackie, in one of her little tantrums. No, this was something else entirely. She looked like some weird psychopath. Her eyes were somehow mocking me, and she said, ‘I’m done here. It was nice knowing ya.’ Then she left.’
‘Eric, she’d probably had enough. It was all a mess. What with Jackie pulling out her hair and me throwing her out of my house, she probably wanted to break all ties.’
‘No, wait, listen, will ya. I never could get my head around it until a while ago. I was looking through some photos, and there she was with her arm around me. She always wore a tight bangle and never took the thing off. Anyway, when I looked closer at the photo, the bangle had moved up, and there was this tattoo on her right wrist. I copied the symbols, thinking she’d had some bloke’s name removed by laser and hadn’t finished the job properly. But it baffled me. I got a magnifying glass out and looked more closely and then I wrote down the symbols. Something made me do it. I guess some things just didn’t add up about her. I remember something Dad once said. It was ‘Keep ya friends close and ya enemies closer.’ Anyway, I couldn’t for the life of me work out who would have grassed you because there was only us that knew about the pit.’
Mike held up his hand. ‘Nah, Eric, Zara’s men knew too. They helped me to get rid of Scottie’s body down that pit.’
‘Mikey, Tracey was the spy. She knew where the pit was.’
Mike’s face was full of thunder. ‘You what?’
With his head lowered in shame, his voice a mere whisper, he replied, ‘I was gonna marry her. I loved her, and ya know what it’s like. Ya kinda show off a bit. Either that or it was pillow talk. She always seemed interested in me. And I know it sounds soft, but she was probably the only one that ever took an interest. Well, so I thought at the time. Little did I know, she was fucking bleeding me dry for information. I swear to God, I had no idea who she was.’
Mike frowned. ‘So who is she, then? If she ain’t fucking Tracey Man, the divvy blonde tart, who is she?’
‘Mikey, think about it. Tracey Man … or could it really be Tracey Harman?’
Instantly, Mike went cold and goose bumps covered his skin. ‘Harman. She’s a fucking Harman!’ His eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘That’s the little blonde girl in Doris’s album, sitting on Ronnie Harman’s lap.’ It took a few seconds to absorb it all before his mind went into overdrive. ‘Carmella! Jesus, Eric, she’s Carmella’s daughter. Why didn’t I think of it? They’re not all fucking dead, then. Carmella and this Tracey are still alive. Zara scribbled a name in the dirt before she went missing. Harman. I thought it was another man, but it’s not. It’s Tracey’s surname.’
Mike leaned back on his chair and sighed. ‘But I still can’t see how soppy Tracey could ever take down Zara. Tracey grassing me up for Scottie’s murder is one thing, but, seriously, that tart wouldn’t be able to take down Zara …’ He gulped back the emotion in his throa
t. ‘Not with the amount of blood left at the place. She must have had backing. I know Zara too well, and Tracey wouldn’t be powerful enough to take her on.’ He suddenly cleared his throat and straightened up. ‘What the fuck is really going on here? I get she may have grassed because – all said and done – we killed her family. But why hurt Zara? What the fuck does she have to do with it? And, as for the tattoo, I don’t understand it.’
‘Neither did I at first. But I spoke with Dad about the past, because I knew he’d had a rift, years ago, with Frank. He said that he thought, back then, that the Harmans were part of something bigger. He had a big firm himself, and ya know Dad; he was clever, but he used some serious violence to fuck the Harmans off. I tell ya, Mikey, they were sly, and they did try hard to take out Dad’s men, but they must have realized they were up against a force far bigger than themselves. So they backed off. Well, until now, that is.’
‘It’s just unbelievable that Frank’s sons and Ronnie’s daughter would want to carry on in their parents’ shoes. Jesus, we’re talking fucking decades ago.’
Eric gave a cheeky grin. ‘Well, we did. Look at us, Mike. We’re one big family; like father, like sons.’
Mike slowly nodded. ‘Maybe, but still, what’s this tattoo all about?’
‘I dunno yet, but I’ll try and find out. Maybe one of the lads has seen it before.’
‘Okay, Eric, you see what you can find and keep me informed. I’ll do some digging myself.’
Eric looked Mike squarely in the eyes. ‘Do you forgive me, then?’
Mike nodded.
‘Am I back with the firm?’
‘You were never off it, Eric. You just had a break, that’s all. Now go and get a tea and grab a serviette. I can’t take anything back inside with me, but if you wet that paper and transfer that symbol onto my arm, no one can nick me.’ He winked and then smiled.
Eric felt his heart beat faster; he’d missed his brother with all his heart and was well chuffed that Mike had forgiven him.
