The Forgotten_An absolutely gripping, gritty thriller novel

by Casey Kelleher

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  ‘Who are the Mancs? Do you know?’

  Alfie smirked.

  ‘Some fucking wide boys, plastic gangsters. You know the type. Their chat is much louder than their presence, let’s put it that way. And Gem’s in deeper than he cares to admit with them. Between the lot of them they are going to run that place into the fucking ground.’

  Nancy nodded, getting a clearer picture of what was being offered here. It didn’t sound like it would be plain sailing. There was work to be done, and a huge fucking problem to sort out in the process.

  Alfie Harris could sense her doubt.

  ‘I want to do a good deal on the place, Nancy. With you, because I trust you.’

  Nancy sipped her coffee. Swallowing it down, along with her guilt.

  Her heart was hammering inside her chest. He trusted her. After all the lies, all the deceit.

  ‘It’s a lot to think about,’ Nancy said, wondering if perhaps she should run this by Jack. Though she already knew his thoughts on the matter. How he thought she was mental just to hand over the drugs side of the business to someone like Gem Kemal.

  Jack had always thought she’d acted in haste, making that decision without running it past any of them. Handing her father’s business, the business that he and Alex Costa had built up over decades, to some Turkish degenerate in a moment of fucking madness.

  Though of course she had her reasons, reasons that Jack didn’t know about nor would he understand.

  She’d told Gem he could have it all. That he could run the drugs side of it, and that she’d wanted no part of any of it. Her father’s business that he’d built up from nothing – he’d made himself and the rest of the family an empire – and through guilt and fear of what she’d done to poor, young Megan Harris. Nancy had been so desperate to cut Daniel out, to get her revenge on her brother that she hadn’t thought that anyone else would get caught up in the crossfire. When Nancy had heard about Megan, about the child being in a coma from an Ecstasy overdose, she had been willing to walk away from it all. So consumed by her guilt, that she’d been willing to cut off such a lucrative supply of money for them all.

  And now, Alfie Harris was giving her the chance to get it all back and then some.

  The drugs and the club. Nancy could have it all.

  The properties she had in her name now, inherited from her father, and the brothels she ran all pulled in a substantial income, but the truth was, their income had taken a huge loss by cutting out the drugs side of the business.

  ‘Can I have some time to think about it?’

  Alfie Harris shrugged. Showing his irritation.

  ‘Time is something I don’t have, Nancy. We’re leaving in a couple of weeks. Tell you what, let’s talk figures, and then maybe you’ll have a better idea about how serious I am. I want the club off my hands, and I need it sorted out ASAP. You’d be a fool not to bite my arm off for it.’

  Nancy nodded. Alfie Harris was offering her a serious earner here. A goldmine, in fact, and the mere fact that she was even considering turning down such an honour was a huge insult to the man.

  The club would bring enormous revenue, and Gem Kemal and these Mancs that were hanging around the place would be easily sorted.

  It was a no-brainer when she thought about it. Adding The Karma Club to her already expanding list of properties and brothels, getting the drug runs back, too, would be just the thing to put the Byrnes back on top, where they belonged.

  Nancy smiled then, a genuine one this time, as she nodded.

  ‘Well, in that case, Alfie, consider me all ears. Let’s talk business.’

  Six

  Gem Kemal stared at the scene in front of him with a look of horror on his face.

  His head barman was sprawled out on the floor of the main bar, a cut on his forehead, blood running from his nose. His once white shirt was now peppered with a spray of deep dark red. Paul Charlton and his men stepped over him, helping themselves to drinks from the optics.

  This was getting way out of control now.

  It was all too much.

  ‘What the fuck have you done to him?’ Gem said, crouching to the floor and checking for any signs of life. Thinking the worst, that these men had killed him, he was relieved when he felt the man’s pulse throbbing beneath his fingertips.

  ‘Ahh, come on, our kid. It’s no mither, Gem. The bloke was just being a fucking wanker, so I had to have a word with him, didn’t I!’ Paul Charlton said, rolling his eyes at the lads all sitting at the bar who smirked alongside him, all of them drunk and drugged out of their minds. And despite the fact that the club had closed two hours ago, none of them looked as if they were prepared to call it a night anytime soon.

  ‘I’ve got to close up, Paul,’ Gem said, his voice sounding almost pitiful.

  He’d meant to sound harder, in control, only he sounded as if he was asking for permission instead.

  Which only made Paul Charlton play up to the fact.

  ‘Home to your lovely wife, and those three kiddos of yours? Oh come on, Gem, relax mate. Lighten up. We’re having a little private party. Come on, stay. Have some fucking fun for once. You had a laugh the other night, didn’t you?!’ Paul smirked then, as Gem looked down at the floor, ashamed of himself, trying to push the other night from his memory completely.

  He still didn’t know how it had happened; how he’d managed to get so drunk.

  How he’d even contemplated cheating on Miyra with another woman.

  Though woman was a bit of an exaggeration; the girl he’d had sex with had been seventeen at the most. Not even old enough to legally be in the club, he suspected.

  And the only reason Gem even remembered what she looked like was because Paul had been winding him up, showing him the video of their steamy little encounter up against the bar that he’d filmed on his phone.

  It was evidence to use against him. Paul Charlton hadn’t said as much, but the underlying threat had been there and they both knew it.

  The video was Paul Charlton’s ticket now to do and act as he pleased and what was Gem going to do about it?

  Say no, and risk his wife finding out all his dirty secrets?

  Lose his family, for the sake of what? A few private parties, and few rounds of free drinks.

  Though this lot would soon drink the club out of alcohol at the rate they were going at it.

  ‘Come on, lads. Not tonight, Paul, mate…’

  Paul Charlton laughed once more, the cocaine he’d just snorted hitting him with its full force.

  Wired now, he had no intention of going anywhere and Gem Kemal was finally about to learn that they were anything but mates.

  The past few weeks he’d spent buttering the cunt up, to get his foot in the door, had worked.

  Gem Kemal was too thick and too arrogant to work out that the only thing Paul wanted was in on this club, and tonight he was going to make sure that this fat Turk in front of him finally realised the score.

  ‘See, here’s the thing “mate”. See our kid, there. He’s my pal, and so’s he. And him,’ Paul Charlton said pointing to his friends all standing around the bar. ‘You, you’re nothing more than a divvy cunt.’ Picking up the bottle of beer, he smashed it down onto the bar top, before turning and embedding it into Gem’s face.

  Screaming in agony then, Gem Kemal dropped to the floor.

  The pain in his left cheek, just under his eye, horrific.

  Though his first thought was, thank God it had missed his eye.

  His second, was that no one was coming to his aid.

  They all just stood around him then, laughing and drinking and making jibes about him, calling him names.

  Not giving a shit that his face was carved up.

  Even the group of young girls that the lads had invited to stay in the club with them, none of them seemed to care.

  They were all too drunk and drugged up to give a fuck.

  And as Paul Charlton began repeatedly kicking the cr
ap out of him, punting him in the stomach with his foot, Gem Kemal realised that he’d made a very grave mistake trying to befriend this psychopath, in the hope that he could bring in some more muscle into the club, now that he was coining in the money from his drug distribution.

  But his generous offer of bringing Paul and his men in with him, to let them be part of the club, was being used against him.

  He was now at Paul Charlton’s mercy.

  As the lights turned on and the club was lit up with a harsh bright yellow hue, Paul Charlton finally left Gem Kemal alone.

  Thinking that it was the police, at first, he stepped back from the Turk’s now battered body, eyeing the figure standing in the doorway.

  Seeing the attractive redhead standing there, Paul Charlton instantly relaxed.

  ‘Can I help you, darling? You taken a wrong turn or something? Only this is a private party,’ he said. She was a bit too posh-looking for his type, but he liked a bit of variety every now and then. ‘Though, I’m all up for you being my plus one!’

  ‘Oh, I do love a party!’ Nancy Byrne said with a wry grin, before staring down at the bloody mess on the floor, which she recognised to be Gem Kemal.

  The man looked as if he’d already taken a beating, and judging by the horrific state of him, Nancy had turned up just in time.

  She might be turfing him out of the club tonight, but in doing so she’d save his life.

  Small mercies and all that.

  ‘In fact, I’ve got just the thing you boys need to really get this party going.’

  She looked at Paul Charlton then, keeping eye contact, letting him know that he didn’t intimidate her. Not one bit.

  ‘Oh, is that so. Sounds interesting,’ Paul Charlton said, still trying to work out who this cocky bird was. Glad that she seemed so up for it.

  Nancy nodded.

  Alfie Harris had been right about these lads being plastic gangsters. They didn’t have a clue who they were messing with.

  It would be their biggest downfall.

  This lot really did make a lot of noise, but they were all mouth. With no knowledge or kudos to back any of it up with.

  Stepping aside, Nancy let her workforce of trusty men walk into the room before her. Jack Taylor too.

  All of them tooled up, and ready to take these fuckers down.

  Nancy followed them into the room.

  Instantly sobering up now, Paul Charlton realised that this was trouble.

  Unprepared for the fallout, all he could do was front it out.

  ‘And who the fuck are you lot then?’ he said, clearly wondering what was going on here, wondering if Gem, the sly fucker, had somehow managed to call for backup.

  ‘I’m the owner, babe!’ Nancy said then, smiling now that the formal introductions had been made. That was all this piece of shit needed to know.

  ‘And I’m here to get every one of you skanky pieces of shit out of my club.’

  Part Two

  2008

  Seven

  ‘I don’t bloody believe it.’ Holding the phone to her ear, as it rang continuously, Nancy Byrne was seriously pissed off.

  ‘That’s just great, isn’t it! I paid top whack for a decent company to come in, only to end up with a bunch of cowboys. They only installed the new system this morning. Did they not even bother to check it was working before they left?’

  ‘It was all working, Nancy,’ Bridget Williams said earnestly, hoping that Nancy didn’t somehow blame her. She should have checked, she knew that now. But she’d been so busy unpacking the mountains of boxes that were all stacked up around her that she barely had time to think straight let alone babysit the workmen who were on the premises too.

  Besides, like Nancy, she figured that the company knew what they were doing.

  They were specialists after all.

  ‘Maybe it’s just a fault with the system?’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock!’ Nancy said raising her eyes at Bridget’s glaringly obvious diagnosis. Then realising that she was taking out her bad mood on her friend, she added, ‘Shit, I’m sorry, Bridge. It’s not your fault. I’m just so stressed out right now. This system’s cost me thousands and already on the first day it’s gone on the blink. I haven’t got time for all this! I’ve got so much to do…’

  Bridget nodded. She understood. Nancy was under it.

  They all were, but it was her friend that had everything riding on the place.

  Nancy had invested so much of her time and money into the project and since the renovations had started, the fancy Mayfair house had taken on a complete life of its own, becoming bigger and better than any of them could have imagined.

  Of all the vast businesses that she ran, The Karma Club, the drug running, the numerous properties she’d invested in that were dotted all over London, the house was truly hers. Her baby.

  Having known for years that her father and Alex Costa ran what had been, to all intents and purposes, seedy brothels, this was finally Nancy’s chance to give these girls that worked for her something so much more than that.

  Somewhere to be proud of, just as she was too.

  The place was shaping up to be every bit as spectacular as Nancy had envisaged. All eight large double bedrooms had been fitted with luxury en suites, roll-top baths for two, and shower rooms in each one. As well as numerous reception rooms and a big sweeping staircase that took up the entire main entrance hall. The basement had been completely remodelled too. So much so, that it looked like a state of the art spa, with its Grecian-inspired decor, a hydrotherapy pool surrounded by a host of private steam rooms and saunas, along with a fully kitted out gymnasium.

  Nancy wasn’t just running a brothel anymore, she was offering her punters an exclusive, luxury private members’ club, with a fully stocked champagne bar, and an onsite chef providing a fancy menu of meals and snacks for the punters during their stay.

  Nancy had gone all out, transforming the house into something spectacular, employing only the best girls in the trade and ensuring that they were all trained in numerous therapies, like Hot Stone Therapies and Thai Massage. She wanted to give the customers the ultimate five-star experience, so that the clients would be completely relaxed. All of which would be followed by a very happy ending. That, of course, went as standard.

  ‘I take it we paid them already?’

  Bridget nodded, which only made Nancy sigh.

  ‘Of course we have.’

  ‘Hey, chill. You’re probably worrying about nothing. It’s an oversight that’s all. And the reason you can’t get anyone on the phone is because it’s Friday night,’ Jack Taylor said then, wading into the conversation and trying to calm Nancy down, as he placed the last of the boxes from the removal van in the corner of the kitchen. He knew full well that the woman had a lot on her plate lately with trying to get this place up and running in time for next week’s grand opening. To say that Nancy was stressed out was a major understatement. ‘You’re not going to get hold of them at this time of the evening. They’ve probably all got a life, Nance. Not everyone is a workaholic like you.’ Jack grinned, teasing Nancy, hoping to lighten the mood; though the look on Nancy’s face soon told him that she wasn’t in the mood for Jack’s jibes tonight.

  No matter how playfully he meant them.

  ‘Well, that’s not good enough,’ she declared, picking up the phone once more and trying the number one more time. Determined to get hold of someone tonight. ‘We paid them to do a job, and they haven’t bloody done it. So they can either get their arses back out here and get it sorted out pronto, or I’ll get a more capable company in and bill these cowboys accordingly.’

  She waited. Listening to the dial tone.

  Still nothing.

  ‘Look, it’s only one night. I’ll call them first thing in the morning and get it sorted, okay? I promise,’ Bridget said, feeling guilty that she hadn’t been thorough enough to check the system before she’d handed over the money.

  ‘Well, I suppose we haven’t got muc
h of a choice, have we?’

  Throwing the cordless phone down on the kitchen side, Nancy grabbed the bottle of wine from the end of the counter. It was lukewarm. She didn’t care. After the day she’d had, she needed a drink.

  Not bothering to waste time searching through the stacks of boxes all around them that still needed to be unpacked, she held up three china mugs.

  ‘Cup of wine anyone?’

  ‘Oh, go on then.’ Bridget smiled, gratefully, secretly hoping that a drink might chill Nancy out a bit. The woman was like the walking Antichrist lately, and Bridget more than understood why. This place might have set her back a small fortune but money these days wasn’t an object to Nancy. No, the woman was a perfectionist when it came to making sure everything was done just as she’d envisaged, and she’d pay way over the odds if she had to, in order to get it done her way.

  Bridget and Jack had done as much as they could to try and help her out, so that they could take a bit of the pressure off her, but the woman looked fit to kill this evening.

  ‘Good, all this moving malarkey has left me gasping.’ Nancy raised her eyes to Jack, hoping that he’d stick around for a drink too. Christ knows the man had earned it today, lugging the entire contents of Bridge Street over here in the removal van for them.

  Only he shook his head.

  ‘Not for me thanks. I’ve got plans this evening.’

  Nancy nodded.

  It was her time to tease now.

  ‘Of course you do. Who’s the lucky lady tonight then, Casanova?’

  ‘Just a dinner date, nothing serious,’ Jack said, visibly uncomfortable then. Unsure if he could sense an undercurrent to Nancy’s tone. ‘I can cancel if you want? I don’t mind. If you want me to stay here? If you’re worried about the place?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Don’t change your plans on my account.’

  ‘Look why don’t I just stay here tonight?’ Bridget interrupted. Staring at all the tea chests piled high around them, their contents – the accessories and finishing touches for the place – still packed away neatly inside each one. ‘It’ll probably take me half the night to sort this lot out anyway.’ Bridget had been hoping to rope some of the girls in to helping her unpack, though none of them had been anywhere to be seen this evening.