Dividing Line

by Heather Atkinson

Frank draws himself up to his full height. “How dare you use blood ties to try and influence me. If family meant so much to you then you wouldn't have left your youngest son to rot in a mental institution.” For a moment he looks as though he could kill her and she looks back at him with real fear in her eyes.

  “Please Frank, you're my brother.”

  “You can never again call me that. You and that monster are both dead to me.”

  Sharon bursts into loud sobs. Frank walks over to a shaking Mikey and gently draws him to his feet.

  “Can you ever forgive me lad for thinking the worst of you?”

  Mikey nods.

  “Thank you.” Frank wraps a big arm around his shoulders and leads him to the door. “Let's go,” he says to them all. As they leave Sharon wails loudly and clutches Jake to her tightly.

  Once they are outside the room Frank locks the door and pockets the key.

  “I'll call our man on the force, shall I Dad?” says Alex.

  “Thanks Son but I'll do it. She's my sister, unfortunately.”

  Martina wraps her arms around his waist and buries her head in his sizeable chest. “Frank, I'm so sorry.”

  “Thanks love,” he says kissing the top of her head. “But it isn't me you should be apologising to.”

  They all turn to Mikey, who looks as though a bus has just hit him.

  “Come on, let's get you a drink,” says Alex, patting Mikey on the shoulder.

  “What about all the guests?” says Martina.

  “Don‘t mention it,” says Frank. “They'll find out the truth soon enough.”

  The rest of the evening is rather subdued. Mikey remains in his room, being comforted by Martina and Gill. DS Sharples arrives with a WPC to take Sharon and Jake away discreetly, which Frank is very grateful for, and Alex sneaks off to his room with Beth. Danny and Rachel steel themselves and return to the reception room to see off the rest of the guests. Once they realise they aren't telling what has gone on the guests depart somewhat disappointed. Rachel and Danny return to their suite and lock the door behind them with relief.

  “I'm sorry,” he says softly. “My family spoilt things as usual.”

  Rachel smiles and kisses him. “No they didn't. It was a wonderful day and I'm not going to let anything ruin it.”

  Danny runs a hand over his face and she can see the strain in his eyes. “We're like the Jeremy Kyle Show and the Mansons all rolled into one. You sure you did the right thing marrying me?”

  “Don't you dare talk like that. I'm proud to be your wife.”

  He smiles at her tenderly. “You really mean that, don't you?”

  “Course I do. Now let's forget all about them, just for a little while. Tonight's about us.”

  “You're right,” he grins, scooping her up in his arms. He lays her back on the bed and gazes at her adoringly. “Have you any idea how much I love you?”

  She grins mischeviously. “Why don't you show me?”

  CHAPTER 12

  “I insist that you go,” says Frank.

  He and Martina are in Danny's apartment in the Henley, arguing with their son and daughter-in-law, who are refusing to go on their honeymoon. With all the recent deaths and Mikey and Jake splashed all over the pages of the local rag they feel they are abandoning the family in a time of crisis. But Frank is having none of it.

  “How do you think we could possibly relax with all this going on?“ says Danny. “We can postpone it.”

  “You're going and that's an end to it,” insists Martina.

  Rachel pulls a piece of paper out of her handbag. “Here's the details of the hotel and the telephone number. Please call if you need us. We can hop on a plane and be back in no time if necessary.”

  “Will you two stop fretting and go,” exclaims Frank, throwing his hands in the air. “The car will be here in ten minutes now hurry.”

  Rachel and Danny look at each other then back at Frank.

  “Okay Dad, we'll go.”

  “Halle-friggin-lujah.”

  Martina and Frank wave them off with a sense of relief. At least they will be safe, untouched by what is about to happen because Frank has neglected to tell them that Dexie has just turned up dead, beaten and stabbed thirteen times. Frank hadn't liked The Slug personally but it’s a matter of family pride. Now he’s after blood.

  Billy Bale is a small time pimp and dealer but he knows everything that goes on in the city. He makes it his business to know because secrets are very lucrative and people pay him handsomely to keep them. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game, that the people he blackmails aren't exactly upstanding citizens however he is careful never to upset anyone really capable of harming him. And he is just about to find out how dangerous knowledge can be.

  He is sat at his large oak dining table in his huge country cottage kitchen sipping tea and reading the newspaper. It is an understatement to say he is shocked when his kitchen door is kicked in by Frank Maguire. He watches the big man enter the room followed by Terry and Alex, the teacup halfway to his lips. All three wield baseball bats. Billy feels his bowels loosen as Frank looms over him, anger etched on his face.

  “I need information and if I don't get it I'll break every bone in your fucking scrawny body.”

  Billy swallows nervously and nods, indicating that he is more than willing to tell him anything he needs to know.

  “Good,” says Frank, giving Billy his most predatory smile. He indicates for Terry and Alex to lower their weapons, which they do reluctantly, then he turns back to Billy.

  “Now, where is Alan Sugar?”

  The Maguires tear Manchester apart looking for Alan Sugar, an enforcer and hitman renowned throughout the city for his ruthless efficiency. He relies on the Laws for the majority of his wages and now that Adam and Simmy are dead he works for them practically full time. He also hates his name, which he’d been stuck with before his namesake came into the public consciousness. However no one is dumb enough to make fun of it to his face, although there are many whispered jokes behind his back. Frank knows Alan killed Dexie because the thirteen stab wounds are his trademark.

  Billy Bale had offered his hiding place up immediately, much to Alex's chagrin because he’s in the mood for a little torture. Billy only asked that they kill Alan because if they don't Billy knows Alan will come after him.

  Now Frank, Alex and Terry are outside Alan's bolthole, a small terraced house in the maze of streets on the outskirts of the city. They have substituted the baseball bats for guns with silencers. Alan is a slippery bastard and an ex-marine so they don't want to take any chances.

  They stand at the back door, listening intently for any sound from within but there is none. Frank nods at Alex, who nods back and tries to open the front door but it’s locked, so he puts his shoulder to it. The door bursts open and the three Maguires charge in, weapons at the ready. They come to a sudden halt when they almost fall over Alan's body lying in the doorway to the lounge, shot twice in the head and once in the chest, his hands bound behind his back. His eyes are wide open, as though surprised.

  “That's not a murder, that's an execution,” says Frank, tucking his gun in his belt.

  Alex checks the front door. “No forced entry. That means he opened the door to his killer. He must have trusted them.”

  “Fuck me Alex you sound like a copper,” grins Terry.

  “He's right though,” sighs Frank. “Alan was hard as nails. He must have trusted whoever did this because an enemy wouldn’t have got near him. I don't like it, I don't like it at all.”

  “Let's get out of here before someone sees us,” says Alex.

  Unfortunately they are seen. Either that or someone is determined to pin Alan’s murder on them because everyone is whispering that the Maguires are responsible for his death. Alan had been an asset to many firms, not just the Laws, and there is a lot of bad feeling about his murder and that bad feeling is turned against the Maguires.

  “You what?” roars Frank, slamming his sizeable fist down
on the table top, causing the teacups to jump.

  DS Sharples swallows nervously. He is alone surrounded by angry Maguires, which is enough to intimidate the most hardened officer. Sharples has just told them that Jake and Sharon have been released and will not be charged, which means that Mikey's name will never be cleared.

  “But Jake confessed, to all of us,” counters Mikey. “And so did Sharon.” He stopped calling her mum long ago.

  DS Sharples struggles to keep his voice steady. “I don't doubt it but he's denying it now. Without a formal confession we've got nothing.”

  “They took six years of my life,” yells Mikey, “and they're going to get away with it. Everyone will always think it was me who poisoned those people. Where's the justice in that?”

  Some unscrupulous person leaked the entire story to the city press, so all the old wounds had been reopened in a very public way. Mikey's picture has been splashed all over the media for everyone to see. People point at him in the street and whisper behind his back. However his name ensures that is all they do. Just when his life seemed to be settling into something resembling stability it is turned upside down again.

  “There must be something you can do?” interjects Martina, anxious on Mikey's behalf. “Maybe you could reopen the case, maybe forensics could…”

  “I'm sorry I can't. Jarvis has ordered me to drop it.”

  They all stop and stare at him and he shuffles nervously. He preferred their yelling to this sudden silence.

  “Not that bastard again,” snarls Frank.

  “He's really got it in for you lot,” says Sharples.

  Frank notices the worried look on Martina's face and hastens to escort Sharples out. “Well thanks for coming. This is for your trouble,” he says, handing him a wad of notes.

  “Listen Frank,” says Sharples quietly at the door, “Jarvis has got blinkers on when it comes to you lot. He's not going to stop until he brings you down. Just be careful.”

  DS Sharples is more concerned about himself than the Maguires. He's been in their pay for years, earned his wage ten times over from them but he's sure Jarvis is onto him. If the Maguires fall then so will he.

  “Don't worry, he's clutching at straws,” replies Frank confidently.

  “I'm sure he's got something up his sleeve. He's just too bloody cocksure these days. Goes around with a smug smirk like he knows something we don’t. He's dangerous.”

  “I've told you, stop worrying, it'll be fine. Good day DS Sharples.”

  Frank watches him go with a frown. It’s dark outside, Sharples not wanting to be seen in a known gangster's house. The moment Frank turns back into the house Martina is on him.

  “What did he mean Jarvis has got it in for us?” she demands, hands on hips, foot tapping agitatedly.

  “Nothing. He's just paranoid.”

  “You're lying to me Frank Maguire.”

  “I'm not.”

  “Another lie,” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “Well I'll tell you what. Until you stop treating me like an idiot you can sleep on the couch.”

  “Martina…”

  She storms into their bedroom, hurls a blanket and a couple of pillows onto the landing and locks the door behind her. Frank looks at Mikey sheepishly.

  “You can have my bed if you want,” offers Mikey.

  “Thanks son but you've had a trying day, you need your rest. I'll take Danny’s old room.”

  As Mikey heads upstairs Frank calls after him. “I'm sorry Mikey for what you've suffered at my sister's hands. One day I'll set it right.”

  “It's not your fault.”

  As he listens to Mikey's retreating footsteps on the stairs Frank sinks onto the couch and massages his belly. It’s acting up again, it always does when he’s under pressure. He knows he's in for a rough night.

  Rachel is sat in the canteen at the hospital eating her lunch. She sits in a corner alone, trying to avoid the stares and whispers of those around her. The Maguires' recent exploits have been making headlines and now she finds herself a target for the gossips. However she pays them no mind. She's just returned from her honeymoon in the Caribbean and the bliss of it is still fresh in her mind. It had been perfect, just her and Danny with no family or psychopaths to worry about. Indeed they'd spent most of their time in bed. She feels wistful at the memory, wishing she was still there.

  It would be an understatement to say she is surprised when her daydreams are interrupted by Ryan Law.

  “May I?” he says politely, indicating the empty chair opposite.

  “Errr, yes.”

  He grins disarmingly and sits himself down. “I'm sorry for turning up like this but it was the only way I could get to speak to you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because Rachel you are the voice of reason. You can pass on what I have to say to Frank and sons and they will listen. If I approach them myself then their tempers will flair up and we won't get anywhere.”

  Rachel recognises the sense of his words. “Alright. I'm listening.”

  “You tell Frank I had nothing to do with the hit on Dexie. The whole thing was a set up to make it look like us but I can promise you, it wasn't.”

  “And why should I believe you?”

  “Because I know that Frank did not kill Alan either. Someone is pitting us against each other, probably in the hope we'll all kill each other.”

  Rachel experiences a thrill of fear. “Who the hell would have the leverage for that? No one we're aware of, that's for sure.”

  Ryan is impressed. She's a smart woman. “Exactly. I suggest we put our present animosity aside. It would appear we have a mutual enemy.”

  “Are you proposing an alliance, between the Maguires and the Laws?” she says incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “It'll never work.”

  “It will when everyone realises it’s the only way we can all continue to make money. This war is seriously impeding business. If we don't pull together then we'll all go under.”

  Rachel studies him closely. His slate gray eyes bore into hers and she feels the power radiating off him. His strength is obvious yet she is sure he’s being truthful.

  “What you’re saying makes sense but how can we trust you?”

  He leans forwards and smiles, eyes twinkling. “I'm afraid you will just have to have faith.

  Her black eyes glitter with uncertainty as she assesses his honesty. This close scrutiny gives Ryan a little thrill. She’s the most fascinating woman he’s ever encountered and he curses Danny Maguire for getting there first.

  Ryan senses the room has gone rather quiet and glancing about he sees everyone covertly watching them. Realising he isn’t doing Rachel any favours in the eyes of her colleagues by being here he reluctantly gets to his feet.

  “Thank you for your time. Tell Frank I’ll wait for his call.”

  “I’ll speak to him tonight, after I finish work.”

  “Thank you Mrs Maguire, you are too kind.”

  Rachel smiles at his retreating back, finding his manners and that deep voice with the posh Cambridge accent an interesting combination. Ryan Law is certainly an enigma.

  Frank, Alex, Terry and Danny stare at Rachel in disbelief. They are gathered in the office of Martina's Bar listening to her relate her encounter with Ryan Law earlier that day. When she’s finished there’s a moment of silence as they take it all in.

  Frank is the first to break the silence. “You're sure he was telling the truth?”

  “Absolutely,” she replies.

  Alex starts pacing the floor. “It's some sort of trap, it's got to be. Ryan Law is smart. Actually he's more than that, he's a frigging genius. He's been waiting for an opportunity to finish us off. We'll turn up for that meet and get two in the back of the head for our trouble.”

  Rachel swallows nervously. These men are her family and she loves them dearly but sometimes she forgets they’re dangerous criminals. Indeed, the most feared crime family in the city.

 
“No offence Rachel,” continues Alex, “but I think he pulled the wool over your eyes.”

  Danny leaps to her defence. “If you remember Alex, Rachel was the one who realised Mikey was innocent way before any of us did. She knew he was telling the truth when we all thought he was as guilty as hell.”

  Alex nods but he isn't convinced. “Then why didn't he come and tell us all this himself? Why go to Rachel?”

  “Because he knew you would react just like this. He knew you wouldn't listen to him but thought you might to me.”

  Frank smiles at Rachel's forthrightness. “True,” he interjects. “But I still don't like it.”

  “So what do we do?” says Danny.

  Frank thinks for a moment. “We set up the meet.”

  “But…,” protests Alex, however Frank holds up a hand and he instantly goes silent.

  “We set it up, we have no choice. Ryan's right. If things go on like this for much longer then we'll all be out of business. We'll use Pete Fraser. He's been a good friend to the family for years. We can trust him.”

  Pete Fraser is a very well respected underworld figure practiced in opening diplomatic relations between warring clans. They can trust him to find a safe, neutral place for the meet.

  “What do you think Terry?” says Frank.

  Terry looks thoughtful then nods. “You're right. We have no choice.”

  This seems to pacify Alex. “Okay, whatever you think is best but I'll make sure there’s lots of back up on stand by, just in case.”

  Rachel leans back in her seat and sips at her wine with relief. She knows they’ve made the right decision.

  Frank slowly gets to his feet. “Right, I'll go and phone Pete, get the ball rolling.” He walks to the door, pausing to pat Rachel on the shoulder. “You did good love.”

  She smiles as she watches him leave. She really is very fond of her father-in-law. Terry follows him out.

  “I'd best go too,” says Alex but before he reaches the door he is stopped by Rachel.

  “I believe you're seeing Beth tonight,” she says, a smile playing on her lips.

  “Yeah,” he replies, thinking she is going to admonish him.