ASBO: A Thriller Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

  “So why the hell is he back on the streets?”

  “Because he was convicted as a child,” said Dalton. “The courts take sympathy in such cases.”

  Andrew shook his head. “He should still be locked up. He’s a thug.”

  “We agree,” said Dalton. “Frankie Walker may well have been misled as an innocent child, but that doesn’t change the fact that, since an early age, all he has been exposed to is crime and violence. There’s nothing else he knows and it’s doubtful he’ll ever reform.”

  “So put him back inside,” said Andrew.

  The officers looked apologetic. Wardsley spoke first. “We intend to do just that, Mr Goodman, but I’m afraid we can only do that with sufficient evidence.”

  “Well, what do I do till then? How do I protect my family?”

  Dalton handed him a contact card. “By locking up safe and calling us if anything else happens.”

  “We suggest keeping a diary,” Wardsley added, “of any further incidents. You could also install CCTV cameras.”

  “Cameras? A diary? Are you kidding me?”

  Wardsley shrugged. “May sound silly, sir, but it will help support any cases we bring against Frankie in the future. It all helps.”

  Andrew put a hand against his forehead. It was clammy. “I can’t believe this. It’s just a bunch of kids. Am I really in danger here?”

  “Probably not,” said Wardsley, “but Frankie is a dangerous individual. It won’t hurt to be over-cautious. Just take care, and call us if anything happens – anything at all.”

  Andrew let the police officers out of the house and locked the porch door behind them. He watched them drive off, the whole time thinking: a dangerous individual, a dangerous individual…

  Just how dangerous are we talking?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Davie Walker awoke on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar house. His back ached from his neck all the way down to his tailbone, and it took several, confused minutes before he could remember where the hell he was.

  Must have been some party? I feel like I spent the night with a Range Rover parked on my head.

  Several other people lay sprawled across the room, all semi-conscious and moaning in the same hung-over way that he was. Crumpled beer cans and quarter-full bottles of unbranded vodka littered the floor, making it look more like a landfill than a home.

  Glad it’s not my house.

  Davie rolled off the sofa onto his knees. The carpet was wet beneath him, soaked with alcohol – at least he hoped that’s what it was. It seeped unpleasantly through to his jeans. Rising to his feet, Davie took a couple of unsteady footsteps, his vision struggling to focus as he moved across the lounge. A half-naked girl slept in his path, uncovered breasts pointing at the ceiling like cherries on cupcakes. Davie stepped over her as if she were a speed bump and pushed through the door beyond her. It led into a kitchen, the room just as much a chaotic mess as the lounge, only this time pizza and discarded snack food littered the floor in addition to beer cans and vodka. There was only one person in the room – Dominic – passed out on the breakfast bar with his lanky legs hanging off the edge. It was strange to see Dom without his twin, Jordan, as the two were usually inseparable. But then Davie noticed him lying under the breakfast table, as paralytic as his brother.

  Like pissed-up peas in a pod.

  Davie wondered where his own brother was. Frankie had left the party at around 3:00AM, but promised to make it back before dawn. Davie hoped he was okay and just shacked up with some bird – instead of seeking out trouble like he’d been doing almost none-stop since he’d been released. It was almost like he’d come back home with something to prove.

  A grudge against the world.

  Still, it was good to have Frankie home. The three years without him had been hard on Davie. He’d moved on to high school and had sorely missed the presence of his big brother’s guiding hand throughout the recent stages of his life. At fourteen years old, Davie had been forced to learn about girls, money, and the other things concerning a boy his age, on his own. But now Frankie was back and Davie was alone no more.

  He left the twins to sleep off their hangovers and exited into the next room. If his fuzzy memories of last night served him correctly, he should find a staircase. It would no doubt lead to a bathroom.

  If I don’t piss soon I’ll burst.

  Sure enough, Davie found himself in a hallway with a green-carpeted staircase. He hurried up the steps two at a time, his bladder almost releasing itself as it anticipated imminent release. The toilet was on the left, if he remembered correctly, so he pushed open the nearest door on that side. When he saw a toilet in front of him, he made a mad dash for it. The bowl was already full of bright-yellow piss but Davie was happy to add to it, sighing orgasmically as his bladder expelled its bitter contents.

  It was then that he heard shuffling beside him.

  Davie turned his head, still peeing too heavily to turn around fully. The noises seemed to be coming from the bathtub, from behind the shower curtain. There was someone there, for sure, but Davie was powerless not to finish urinating, so that’s what he did first. Once he was finished, he yanked the shower curtain aside.

  The boy in the bathtub was bound and gagged, secured to the unit’s mixer tap by a series of linked-up cable-ties. A sweatsock filled his mouth, and that, too, was secured by a cable tie pulled sadistically tight around his head. Completing the boy’s restraints were several more ties around his ankles. He looked weary – like he’d been there all night. Davie reached into his pocket and pulled out his flick-knife. The boy’s eyes widened with the helpless panic of a trapped rat, but it wasn’t Davie’s intention to do him further harm. He slid the blade underneath the cable tie around the boy’s face and began sawing back and forth.

  Eventually the cable tie snapped free. The sweatsock fell away.

  “You’re all fucking crazy,” the boy began shouting immediately.

  “Calm down,” said Davie. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

  “Who the hell am I? This is my house you’re in, fucker!”

  Davie found that surprising. “So what are you doing tied up here, then?”

  “Because some screwed-up psychopath crashed through my front door last night and beat me up, then let all his friends in.”

  Davie noticed the bruising around the boy’s face. “Who beat you up?”

  “I did,” said Frankie, entering the room. “I told him to chill out, but he insisted on trying to call the police.”

  The boy shook his head. There was fear in his eyes at the sight of Frankie, but also anger. “You forced your way into my home. What did you expect I would do?”

  Frankie perched himself on the edge of the bathtub and looked down at the boy. “Me and my mates were just looking to party, and you had the house to yourself. We could have all been friends if you hadn’t been such a fucking buzz-kill.”

  “You’re a monster,” said the boy. “You won’t get away with this.”

  “We should go,” Davie told his brother. “Last thing we need is any more trouble. You only just got out.”

  Frankie put a hand on Davie’s shoulder. There was a strong smell coming off of him that wasn’t just alcohol. It smelt like vinegar. “You worry too much, little bro,” he said.

  “And you worry too little.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Frankie, raising his hands up in front of his face and adjusting his beanie hat. “Just let me take a piss first.”

  Davie nodded and stepped away from the toilet. Frankie stood in front of it and undid the buttons on his flies, popping them free one after the other. Davie turned around to give his brother some privacy, but quickly turned back when he heard screams from the bathtub. Frankie had moved away from the toilet and was now urinating all over the cable-tied boy, causing him to splutter and choke as the golden stream covered his face and mouth.

  Davie stood in the doorway, stunned. “Shit, Frankie. That’s not cool.”

  Frankie
laughed heartily. “Hey, when a man’s got to go, a man’s got to go.”

  “Just stop it. He’s already going to call the pigs, so stop making things worse.”

  Frankie finished pissing and turned to face his brother. “You’re right, Davie. You’re always right. I should probably help the poor guy get cleaned up, make things better for myself.”

  Davie was suspicious. Frankie wasn’t prone to sudden bouts of compassion. At least not since he got out of prison.

  Frankie winked at Davie and turned back around. He reached up for the chrome shower taps that were set into the tiled wall above the bathtub then gave one of the knobs a hearty twist. Water cascaded from the shower head, soaking the boy held captive below. Davie watched him squirm, a little at first, but then more urgently. Eventually the squirms turned to full-blown thrashing and Davie realised why.

  Frankie had turned on the hot tap.

  As the water heated up, the boy began to wail. His face turned red as the cable ties restrained him beneath the scalding embrace. Davie moved forward to help him, but Frankie shouldered him out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them as they stood on the landing.

  “Leave it,” said Frankie. “Quit acting like a pussy.”

  “You just got out of the nick. You’ll end up straight back there if you keep pulling this shit all the time. First you rob that guy’s trainers last night and now you’re burning people? It’s fucked up.”

  Frankie shot out his arm, shoving his smaller brother up against the wall. “I’ll decide what’s fucked up and what’s not. Who feeds you, Davie? That’s right, I do. If you have a problem with how I roll, then you can just piss right off. I’ve looked after you long enough to deserve a little respect by now.”

  Frankie stormed off down the corridor and stomped down the stairs. Davie listened to the boy in the bathtub, still screaming, and stepped inside to help him. Frankie was his brother and Davie loved him. He would always have his back, no matter what…

  But this is getting out of hand.

  Davie turned off the hot tap and looked down at the quivering boy. His blistered face would never be the same again. Davie wondered just how many more people would be irreparably damaged before his brother was through.

  ***

  Davie caught up with his brother outside. The twins, Dom and Jordan, were there, too, and the three of them were sat waiting for Davie on a small, brick wall outside the house.

  “About fucking time,” said Frankie. “What were you doing in there?”

  Davie shrugged. “Not in a rush are you?”

  “Never in a rush, me. The world is my motherfucking oyster. Hey, you see my bitch anywhere?”

  “She’s lying half-naked on the living room floor.” Davie covered the distance between him and Frankie then took a deep breath. The fresh air of approaching winter was invigorating and chased away the fringes of his hangover. “That kid’s really hurt,” he said. “You’ll end up back inside for this.”

  Frankie spat on the floor. “You’re like a broken record. I ain’t ever going back inside, bro. I’ll die first.”

  “Then what the hell are you playing at? That kid will go straight to the pigs.”

  Frankie laughed, apparently not bothered. “No way. You want to know why that little piss-ant is going keep his mouth shut?”

  Davie shrugged.

  “Two reasons. Number one: I’ve already made sure I have a dozen people ready to swear-down that I weren’t anywhere near this house when the kid got hurt. Number two: Dom and Jordan are about to go back inside and tell the kid that if he says one word to the pigs about me, they will visit him in the middle of the night and cut his fucking prick off! Then they’ll do his family.”

  Davie rubbed at his forehead. “Fuck man. This is messed up.”

  “Stop being such a whiny little pussy,” said Dom.

  Frankie turned around and pointed a finger in the twin’s face. “Don’t be talking shit to Davie. That’s my blood, man. You get me?”

  Dom nodded and stepped backwards as if to yield to Frankie’s authority. Sometimes the respect his brother gained so easily from people left Davie in awe. It wasn’t a skill-set he himself had, or was ever likely to have. Frankie was the strong one. Frankie was the one that people would always follow.

  Even if it’s straight to a prison cell.

  Dom and Jordan went back inside to deliver their threat. Frankie pulled his brother aside and the two of them started walking. “You need to chill, little bro. I know you’re just trying to watch my back, but things are sound. I ain’t going nowhere soon, you get me?”

  Davie let out a sigh and kicked at a loose pebble on the ground. It ricocheted against the curb before scuttling into a drain. “I just want you to be careful. Things were hard while you were gone. You know, with mom and everything?”

  “Let the drunken bitch rot. I’m looking after you again now, just like old times, and this time it’s for good. I learned a lot while I was banged up, man; stuff about how to keep the pigs off your back while bringing in the fat dollar.”

  “By selling drugs? That’s the reason you got sent down in the first place.”

  Frankie stopped walking and looked at Davie. His expression was one of understanding and it reminded Davie of how kind-hearted his brother used to be – when they were both much younger and concerned only with football and collecting wrestling stickers. It seemed like age ago now.

  “I got mixed up with amateurs back then,” said Frankie. “Kids playing at being drug lords. I got hooked up with the real deal inside, man. Got to meet some proper Gs.” Frankie sounded excited. “You and I will be living the good life soon, bro. Get ourselves out of the shit we grew up with and start enjoying life. I got it all covered. I got connections this time.”

  Davie sighed. He didn’t like the sound of any of this. “If you go down for dealing again, you go down hard. I don’t want to be alone again.”

  Frankie put his arm around Davie and pushed him back into walking. “Enough, man. Just chill out about it and leave the worrying to me. Got other things to be getting on with for now.”

  “Like what?”

  Frankie clapped his hands together and put on a big smile that stretched the scar across his lip. “We’re going to go and have ourselves some fun.”

  Davie smiled back, but secretly his empty stomach was churning. Davie was beginning to not like his big brother’s idea of fun.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At noon Andrew entered the chip shop and looked for Charlie. To his relief, she was working alone behind the counter as she had been the previous evening. As always, she smiled at him as he entered, but this time there was something apprehensive about her expression.

  “Hey,” Andrew said to her. “Working again?”

  She nodded. “Need the money. Saving for my sister’s hen party in Magaluf.”

  “Nice,” said Andrew, thinking he couldn’t imagine anywhere worse for a holiday than a party island.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Nothing actually. I’m here to see you.”

  Charlie looked worried, her mind perhaps jumping to conclusions.

  Andrew put his hands up to reassure her that he wasn’t after her number or anything else inappropriate or weird. “I just wanted to ask you a question, that’s all.”

  She relaxed a little, her shoulders lowering. “You want to ask about Frankie, don’t you?”

  Andrew nodded.

  “He came in here last night, right before closing. Ordered fish and chips just like you did. I thought it was a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Andrew.

  Charlie leaned against the steel counter and let out an irritated sigh. “I really don’t want to get involved. I told you to be careful.”

  Andrew stepped forward. “I know you did, because you’re a nice person. I need you to keep being that way, because this animal is endangering my family.”

  Charlie looked up from the counter and made eye-contact with him. H
er eyes were blue and seemed to shimmer with sadness. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  Andrew scratched at his head. “I’m not sure. I guess I want to start with how you know Frankie in the first place?”

  “Went to school with him.”

  “And...?”

  Charlie shrugged. “And he was a nightmare. Beating other kids up, vandalising anything he could get his hands on, stealing, drinking, fucking. You name it and Frankie Walker did it. Eventually he got mixed up with some older people and ended up going down for drugs or something. Assault, too, I think.”

  “He went to a young offender’s home?”

  “Yeah, he was only a kid at the time.”

  Andrew laughed. “That’s all he is now. They should have kept him locked up.”“I agree.”

  “So what is he doing around here? I’ve never seen him before recently.”

  “He lives near here,” said Charlie.

  Andrew shook his head. “No way. This is a nice area.”

  “Used to be. Council brought some of the property around here for ‘social housing’. I remember my dad kicking up a big fuss at the time, got a petition going and everything.”

  Andrew leaned against the counter to let the weight off his legs. His ribs were still making it hard to breathe. “I can’t believe they would put someone like Frankie in a nice part of town.”

  “Where else should they put him? Keep the poor with the poor, right?”

  Andrew straightened back up. “No…I don’t mean that. I...I don’t even know what I think at the moment, to be honest. Guess I just thought all council houses were grouped together.”

  Charlie shrugged. “I think that’s how it used to be. My dad said the Government wanted to space out council properties to avoid creating ‘ghettos’. That’s the right word, yeah?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yeah, ghetto is right. Except now it seems that we’re all getting a little slice of ghetto to call our own.”

  The shop’s door opened behind Andrew, letting the cold in along with the person who’d opened it. Charlie put on her greeting smile as the customer walked in.