Now that was sorted he felt a little better.
“Everything ready?” murmured a voice in his ear.
Valentine jumped.
“What’s wrong with you?” said his wife, Kirsty.
Valentine wasn’t usually pleased to see his wife. They’d been married for eighteen years and not many of them had been happy. They argued a lot, mainly because she was a nagging old witch but he was glad she was here tonight, she was the only one who could shoulder the burden with him. This dinner had actually been her idea, so they could humiliate the Laws in front of the local community rather than take the footage to the police station. “I’m nervous, what do you think is wrong with me?” he whispered furtively.
“If you don’t calm down everyone’s going to realise something’s wrong,” said Kirsty, perfectly composed, smiling and nodding at the people around her.
“I’ll be so glad when this evening’s over.”
“Just keep it together a bit longer please Valentine.” She gave him a disparaging look. “And stop sweating, it’s very unappealing.”
“Witch,” he muttered as she strode away, nose in the air. His attention was drawn by the Laws walking into the club house, slightly late just as he’d predicted. At first he couldn’t recognise the beauty they’d brought with them, until he realised it was Ryan’s sister. She certainly scrubbed up well, it was amazing the difference make-up and a decent hairdo made. Perfect, they were all here. He would humiliate her too.
Valentine had to give his wife her due, she greeted the Laws perfectly cordially, ever the good hostess. The Laws were polite back but swiftly moved on. He noted the cynical look Ryan and Rachel gave each other, indicating they knew it was just a front Kirsty was putting on. It just made him even more determined to bring them down.
Kirsty sidled back up to him. “Will you sit down and relax? You’re drawing attention to yourself. Doctor Meadows just asked me if you’re having heart trouble again.”
“I will be if this endless day doesn’t end soon.”
“In a couple of hours it’ll all be over. Until then pull yourself together otherwise the Laws will know something’s wrong.” She gave him a disgusted look. “You are British after all.”
Valentine frowned as she walked away. “What the hell difference does that make?”
Finally everyone took their places at the tables. Kirsty had done the seating plan and arranged for the Laws to be seated at a table right in the centre of the room, where everyone could see them. It would also make it difficult for them to make a quick getaway. Valentine had to resist the urge to keep looking at them. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, in fact Jules was holding court to a group of admirers. Rachel and Ryan as usual seemed to be too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else. If he was truly honest with himself Valentine was a little jealous of their relationship. When he’d been younger he’d entertained hopes of a solid, loving marriage, growing old together in blissful happiness. Then he’d married Kirsty and she’d shattered all that. At first he’d thought she was sweet and kind but once that ring was on her finger she’d turned into Godzilla. They’d both had countless affairs, he didn’t even bother to get angry about it anymore. In fact it was a relief when she was shagging someone else because it meant he got a bit of peace. At least he wasn’t a murderer or a drug dealer like Mr and Mrs Perfect over there.
He tried to force some food down his throat, for appearances sake. It was common knowledge he was a fan of his food and he didn’t want anyone asking any awkward questions. Doctor Meadows kept throwing him funny looks, like he was weighing up in his head how many years he had left in him. He stuffed another piece of steak into his mouth and forced the doctor a smile, who nodded back, still frowning.
His plate was practically untouched when the waiter took it away and Valentine found himself with no appetite for dessert. All he could think about was playing that footage, watching the Laws get arrested by the Chief Constable then going home and drinking himself into oblivion.
“Everyone’s finished eating,” Kirsty murmured in his ear. “Let’s do it now.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Go on then, don’t just sit there,” she said when he didn’t move.
Valentine’s body felt like lead. Now the moment had arrived his courage was failing. He glanced over at the Laws, who were talking and laughing and looking like they were having a great time, Jules still surrounded by admirers, some of whom had pulled their chairs up to her table, even though they hadn’t been seated there originally.
Valentine stood on shaky legs and approached the waiter, who was still on guard duty at the laptop. He’d been keeping a close eye on the boy and he hadn’t left his post, nor had anyone approached him.
“Ready?” he asked the boy.
The boy nodded back. “Ready.”
Valentine nodded and cleared his throat, preparing to address the room. “If I could have everyone’s attention please,” he called. But his voice came out so weak no one heard. Instead he picked up a wine glass and tapped on the side of it with his knife. The clear tinkling sound finally drew everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to say thank you for coming here tonight and supporting this wonderful cause. Err…” He was going to mention the name of the charity but it clear went out of his head when he saw all three Laws staring at him. What the hell was it? Kids? The homeless? Puppies? When it wouldn’t come he just continued. “But I have another purpose for bringing you here tonight, one that affects us all.” He was getting into his stride, pleasure replacing the nerves. His big moment had arrived. The Laws didn’t appear in the least bit concerned but of course, they hadn’t realised he was referring to them yet. “Our wonderful community has recently been infected,” he went on, voice booming out loud and strong. Even Kirsty appeared approving. “An infection that came here in the form of people masquerading as respectable when in actuality they are criminals of the worst kind.” He smiled inwardly when Ryan and Rachel glanced at each other, no longer looking so relaxed. “I’m here as the cure.” When Kirsty rolled her eyes he assumed that line had been a bit cheesy. He nodded to the waiter, who started pressing buttons, bringing up the footage. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the most vile, despicable people you could ever hope to meet living here, in our own beloved community.” His voice shook with just the perfect amount of outrage. “I hope you’ll agree with me that this disgusting infection needs removing as soon as possible.”
With that the lights were dimmed and Valentine turned to the screen - to be confronted by an image of himself and Kirsty sat at a table opposite two people he knew to be Ryan and Rachel, only they were not visible. It was just his wife and himself.
“There’s just one point we’re not clear on,” said a voice on the screen, a voice he knew belonged to Ryan Law but that had been altered, distorting it, making it unrecognisable. “What exactly do you want to happen to Billy Whitelock?”
To his horror Valentine saw his own mouth open, heard the ugly words pour out of it. “Surely you don’t need us to spell it out?”
“Actually we do,” continued Ryan’s distorted voice. “We need to be absolutely sure we’re on the same page. If we’re not then things could get very messy indeed.”
Valentine shook his head when the image of Kirsty opened her mouth to speak. He wanted to tell her to keep her big trap shut but of course, that wouldn’t work. “I want him gone, out of our daughter’s life,” hissed Kirsty, the nastiness clear in her eyes. “He’s going to drag her down, ruin her. What sort of life is she going to have tied to that?” Valentine cringed and hung his head at the disapproving murmur that ran around the room. Billy was well liked in the area, known for his charity work. Even the manager of the shelter he volunteered at was in the room and the man looked furious.
“Kirsty’s right,” said the image of Valentine. “The boy’s a menace. I’m sure you already know why?”
Neither Rachel nor Ryan replied, the bastards.
“We want him out of our lives and out of our daughter’s life,” continued the image of Kirsty.
“So what are you saying?”
“We want him beaten within an inch of his life,” said Kirsty. “I want every bone in his body broken so he gets the message loud and clear - he is not welcome at our house and he’s not to go near Gloria again. I want all the bones in both hands broken too so he can never touch her again.”
Kirsty was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, aware she was on the sharp end of a lot of glares.
“Seems a bit harsh,” said Ryan’s voice.
“He is not good enough,” shrieked Kirsty’s voice.
Kirsty’s head snapped up. “Switch it off,” she yelled at her husband. “Switch it off you fool.”
Valentine slammed his fist down on the stop button, cracking the laptop. He kept his eyes on the floor, the absolute silence in the room pressing down on him. How the bloody hell had this happened? Where was the footage of Jules and Rachel torturing those men? He looked at the phone, it looked exactly like the one Emily had given him. Had she tricked him? Impossible, there hadn’t been anything else on that phone, he’d got one of his employees to check it over and it had been empty except for that footage. So what had happened? He couldn’t work it out. The sound of high heels had him looking round to see Kirsty making a break for the exit. He felt sick when the Chief Constable got up from his table and stood before her, blocking her way. She looked back over her shoulder at her husband but all he could see were the Laws’ sly faces. They’d done this to him. How he had no idea but they had.
All three faces began to blur into one as he experienced a crushing weight in his chest. His knees buckled and all turned dark.
“What an entertaining evening,” smiled Ryan, taking a sip of wine.
Rachel and Jules smiled at each other before turning to watch the crowd gather round the unconscious Valentine.
CHAPTER 23
The night was cold and very wet. It had been raining all day and at close to midnight it was showing no signs of stopping. The pavement was shiny and slick with water, chasing everyone but the very hardy or very drunk off the streets. Very few people were venturing out.
“Fucking perfect,” commented Jez as Mark pulled the fire engine up to the kerb. “I thought we’d have everyone staring at us but there’s no one about to stare.”
They didn’t want an audience for what they were about to do. Brodie had, through his contacts, discovered that Malc was spending most of his time at his nightclub. There he felt safe because of his security and because it was a public place. Mikey was just relieved that they didn’t have to see Brodie again, who had told Toni in no uncertain terms that he’d done his bit and that she could fuck off.
Mikey pulled on the fireman’s helmet and picked up the axe. “Great, let’s get moving before anyone comes along.”
Mikey and Jez jumped out of the rear seats while Mark and Shane jumped out of the front, all togged up as firemen, helmets obscuring their faces.
“Way-hey,” called a voice.
Mikey cursed under his breath and turned in the direction of the voice. Coming down the street, seemingly out of nowhere, was a group of four girls, all pissed judging by the way they were staggering, clinging onto each other for support. Despite the weather they were wearing next to nothing, legs and arms bare, hair flattened to their heads with rain and make-up running. An umbrella would have made them look a lot more attractive.
“Woah, look at his big chopper,” grinned one girl, wobbling on her ridiculously high heels, pointing at Mikey.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, this is all we need,” he sighed.
“Let’s get inside,” said Jez, urging them all on.
“Where are you going? I need saving,” called another of the women. “Catch me.”
They all filed past, not looking her way as she pretended to faint, leaving her lying on the pavement.
“Oy you bastards,” the girl slurred, dragging herself to her feet, even more bedraggled than before.
The four men headed round the back of the nightclub, away from the street and the screeches of the women, the rain running down them in rivulets, dripping off their helmets. Fortunately the uniforms were that well insulated they couldn’t feel a thing.
They pulled on the breathing apparatus and stood aside while Mark - who was the biggest of the four of them - charged the back door, which splintered beneath his weight. The second he was through the door the other three quickly followed, pulling smoke canisters out of their pockets, setting them off and throwing them down the empty corridor.
They didn’t encounter anyone until they threw open the door at the end of the corridor and entered the nightclub amid a cloud of smoke.
No one even noticed them at first, they were too busy partying, assuming the smoke was dry ice. Until they started coughing and spluttering.
“Alright everyone, keep calm,” called Mark in a very passable Glaswegian accent, thanks to the influence of his Scottish uncle. It had been agreed that he’d do all the talking because none of the others could do the accent, not without getting punched in the face anyway. “If you could file out of the fire exits in an orderly manner…”
He stopped talking when everyone screamed and stampeded for the exit. Big Malc, ensconced in his VIP box as usual, was stuck at the back of the room the furthest from any exit, gaping at the scene with disbelief.
“Jesus, he looks thick,” Jez quietly commented to Mikey.
“All the better for us,” he replied.
The four of them stalked over to where Malc was sitting, who had finally got the message that something was happening and was getting to his feet with a confused look on his face, flanked by two heavies. The women who had been with him were much smarter and had already made a dash for the exit.
“Who the hell are you?” Malc asked them.
Mark tried not to laugh. “We’re firemen pal. You need to evacuate immediately.”
“This is my club.”
“And it’s on fire. Please leave so we can put it out.”
“You should be doing that already, no’ standing here like four spare pricks.”
“Our colleagues are tackling the blaze Sir, we’re responsible for getting everyone out. So if you could be so kind and leave we can go and help them.”
“Let’s get out of here Boss,” said one of the heavies, tugging at his sleeve.
Malc shook him off. “Don’t touch me you fucking poof. Something’s no’ right here. If there was a fire the alarm would be going off, the sprinklers would have kicked in.”
“You don’t have sprinklers in this part of the building Sir,” said Mark perfectly composed. “It’s against health and safety to have them installed in an area with so much electrical equipment,” he said, gesturing to the DJ stand. He had no idea if that was true but he thought it was a good guess.
“Oh,” said Malc. “Well, what about the alarm?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe it’s no’ workin’?”
Malc bashed one of his heavies around the back of the head. “Did you forget to change the fucking batteries you dick?”
“That’s no’ my job Boss, that’s Nicky’s. He’s in charge of stuff like that.”
“I’ll be having words with him, fucking useless.”
“You going then?” said Mark when Malc just stood there.
“Yeah, alright,” he sighed. He frowned when he saw Shane. “Aren’t you a bit young to be doing this job?”
“He’s a new recruit,” said Mark. “Now if you could leave so we can tackle the fire?”
Malc glanced around the now empty room and frowned. “Hold on. Why’s the smoke going? Shouldn’t there be more of it if there’s a fire?” He looked to his henchmen, who were the ones looking blank while Malc just looked angry. “What the fuck is going on? Who the hell are you?”
Mikey looked to Jez. “Maybe not so thick after all.”
“Maybe not,” repli
ed Jez.
“Who the hell are you calling thick?” bellowed Malc. “And why are you both English?” His face fell. “Fucking Mancs. Oh shit.”
The handle of the axe Mikey was carrying caught one of the heavies across the face, knocking him out. Shane punched the other one in the stomach, doubling the man up before following it up with a second punch that knocked him flat on his back.
“Jesus Shane. Nice work,” grinned Jez.
Only Malc remained. He released a bellow of rage and made a lunge for Mikey who, being smaller and quicker, easily dodged.
“Fucking hell, Shrek’s on the rampage,” exclaimed Jez, half-laughing.
“Fucking manky Manc bastards, I’ll kill you all,” roared Malc. “You and the bitch queen who brought you up here. You doing her bidding too? You pathetic little fucking lapdogs.”
“Blah, blah, blah, whatever,” said Jez. “Let’s hurry this along, we do have better things to do than exchange words with Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Arghh,” roared Malc, charging him, hands outstretched, reaching for his throat.
“Take the bastard down,” yelled Mikey, throwing his weight at Malc’s back, sending him staggering towards Mark, who punched Malc in the side of the head. Normally a punch from Mark would be enough to put anyone out of action but not Malc, who just kept going. Mark only just managed to move out of his way and Malc continued steamrollering on, dragged forward by his own bodyweight before crashing into a table.
“Get him while he’s down,” said Mikey.
The four of them leapt on Malc, trying to pin him down while he flailed and shook on the floor in an attempt to throw them off but they held on tight, Mark wrapping his arm around his neck and squeezing until he passed out.
“Thank fuck for that,” said Mikey when Malc finally went still. “I thought we’d never take the bastard down. Let’s get him out of here before someone comes in.”
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