by Jessica Ashe
“Carl was a nasty piece of work, I admit,” Dave said. “He had a bit of a temper on him and never thought things through long term. The real boss would never have ordered that attack on those girls; you would have been given one more chance to put things right.”
“And what about Gary? Are you telling me things would have been different there? Because a boy is growing up without a father after that ‘accident.’”
“No, I admit, that was the boss’ call. Your boy went and talked to the old bill and that couldn’t be allowed to stand. My boss has a particular aversion to those who bring the law into things.”
“How strange. You’d think criminals would be all chummy with cops wouldn’t you?”
Dave smiled. The orange glow of the streetlight above him gave him a creepy look, although in the cold light of day I knew there’d be nothing sinister about him.
“The boss has a… relationship with the cops,” Dave said, and then stopped, realising he may have said too much. “Anyway, they are not a concern.”
“Why now?” I asked. “Why after all these years have you come back?”
“You’re playing for England again. There’s a good chance England will make the final, and we’re hosting the tournament. If you think the country went nuts for the one held in France, just wait until the papers talk up the chances of a World Cup win on home turf.”
“I’m not going through with it. Not again. Tell your boss to get stuffed.”
“You really don’t want me to pass on that message. My boss can make your life a living hell.”
“If he wants a fight, then he knows where I am. Trust me, I have very vivid memories of what happened eight years ago. If I so much as lay eyes on him, he’s a dead man.”
“This won’t end in a fight,” Dave said. “It will end with you being destroyed in the press. He has plenty of evidence of your involvement in the scandal. How do you think the public will react when they find out you missed that kick on purpose? You’ll be vilified. You won’t be able to leave your house.”
There was no way I could go through with this, not again, but I wasn’t getting anywhere speaking to one of his thugs.
“Where’s your boss?” I asked. “I’ll go see him and tell him in person what he can do with his threats.”
“Not yet, but soon. We’ll be in touch. Have a good evening, Oliver.”
I stood there and watched Dave until he rounded a corner and disappeared out-of-sight. I’d told Michelle I was just popping out to get something from the car, but with any luck she would be busy talking to the kids.
I ran after Dave until I could see him in the distance. I kept a decent space between us, although he didn’t turn around and look behind him anyway. We kept walking for fifteen minutes, with Dave keeping up a brisk pace the entire way, until he stopped by an American bar near the river. This area was well lit, so I hid behind a bush to avoid being caught under the glare of the streetlights.
Dave stood by the entrance but never walked in. Instead he disappeared down a side alley, and entered the building through a door that looked like it was reserved for staff.
This had to be the place. The group liked hanging out at the back of buildings open to the public; it probably helped to provide a front for all the money coming in. Eight years ago it had been a hardware store, and now it was a bar.
The fact that Winston was also American couldn’t be just a coincidence. Was he in there now? If he was then I would… what would I do? I was unarmed and going up against a gang of thugs who were likely armed and worked closely with the police.
That ruled out calling the police for help. They wouldn’t be able to go in there without a warrant anyway. I decided to call Hodgson. She had been instrumental in catching Carl and Wayne, so I knew she’d want to get Dave as well. If Winston was involved too then that would have a ripple effect throughout the entire police force. She’d want to know.
“Olly, what can I do for you?” Hodgson said as she answered the phone.
“The betting syndicate is still active,” I said, forgoing any pleasantries.
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and I thought I heard a click to indicate that she’d taken it off speaker.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because I had a little visit from one of the men I saw back in 2007. Apparently there is a new boss in place now. Or maybe it’s the same boss as before, I’m not sure.”
“Shit. I’m sorry Olly, I really thought I’d got them all.”
“That’s not all. I think Winston is involved.”
Hodgson paused again before responding. “That’s a serious accusation, Olly. Why do you think that?”
“The group has a connection to the police force,” I said. “The guy I spoke to tonight, Dave, admitted as much. I’m sure it’s Winston. Gary died right after making a confession to him. It also looks like they’re meeting at—”
I froze as I saw a man walk out of the back room of the pub. The same room Dave had walked into minutes ago.
“Olly?”
“It’s Winston,” I said. “I just saw him walk out of the same place I saw Dave go to after talking to me.”
“Are you sure?” Hodgson asked. “He’s supposed to be working on a drug bust tonight.”
“I’m positive. He walked out, looked around, and then walked away. Hodgson, I don’t think Winston is just taking kickbacks and turning a blind eye. I think he might be running this entire thing. I think Winston is the boss.”
Hodgson let out a long sigh, and I pictured her dropping her face into her hands. “Olly, I’m sorry, I should have told you but—”
“Told me what?”
“We’ve been keeping an eye on Winston for a while now. He’s got more money than someone of his level should have, and it’s been raising eyebrows for some time. There’s no inheritance or rich relatives that would explain it.”
“That’s it then. He must be behind this whole thing.”
“We don’t know that yet. I’ve been keeping an eye on him, but it’s tough because I don’t know who I can trust here. I’m practically doing the investigation myself. I actually thought the money came from money laundering, but I guess it could be gambling.”
“That’s why he’s always looking to incriminate me,” I said. “He’s trying to look clean. Think about it; the last place you’d look for his dirty money is the operation he’s been trying to shut down for eight years.”
“I hope you’re wrong, Olly. I really do.”
“I’m not. What do we do?”
“For now, nothing. I’ll try and catch him in the act. You just need to lay low.”
I lied to Hodgson and promised I’d stay out of it. That wasn’t going to happen. He’d threatened my family: the woman I love, and the kids I adore. He wasn’t going to get away with that.
I took a car home, and went to the garage to dig out an old fishing knife back from when I’d thought sitting by a lake for eight hours was a fun way to spend an afternoon.
I’d been unprepared eight years ago, and I’d been unprepared tonight. Next time I would be ready. Things were going to end soon, and when they did I would be ready. Winston wasn’t going to get away with this.
After three months of watching Maisie training, I’d learned more about rugby than I’d ever wanted, or needed, to know. I could have probably taken a few training sessions myself if need be.
Maisie hadn’t hung out much with the other girls outside of training, but they’d still developed close bonds by the end of summer, and there were quite a few emotional goodbyes and promises to stay in touch.
The coaches gave a closing speech where they talked about a new girls’ league that would be set up in time for next season, although that wouldn’t do Maisie much good with her leaving the UK soon.
Oliver gave a short speech as well, although he was far from his usual enthusiastic self. I put it down to the big semifinal match tomorrow, although I wasn’t sure it was that simp
le. Things rarely were with Oliver.
We hadn’t had sex in three days, which was a long time for us. Any gap longer than three hours left me feeling antsy, and Oliver was ripping my clothes off after twelve hours without gorging on my breasts.
He said that not having sex helped him save energy for the game, but he already looked drained and in no shape to play rugby. I knew he wasn’t sleeping, but I didn’t say anything.
It wasn’t hard to guess why. He must be going through the events of eight years ago in his mind, terrified that history would repeat itself.
I tried talking to him about it, but Oliver wasn’t much of a talker at the best of times and he quickly changed the topic of conversation.
After the speeches, it was time for an award ceremony to celebrate those who had performed the best in each age group and gender, as well as those who were most improved. I clapped furiously when Maisie was announced as the winner of the best player award.
Maisie had won a few awards in her short time playing rugby, but she never usually celebrated them. She always claimed the the trophies were patronizing and just given to her because she was a girl.
This time she won fair and square, and from the grin on her face as she walked back to me with the trophy, I could tell she was genuinely excited about the award.
“Well done,” I said. “You earned that.”
“This is about the closest I’ll ever get to feeling like a prom queen,” Maisie replied.
“And look who the prom king is,” I said, as Shaun was announced the best player in his age group. “You two really do make a good pair.”
Maisie sighed. “First you were trying to keep us apart, and now you’re hinting that we should get back together. Make up your mind, sis.”
“I’m not hinting about anything. You two are grown up enough to make your own decisions about your relationship.”
“Even about sex?”
“Everything other than sex.”
“I don’t have to wait until I’m an old maid like you did, do I?”
“Sometimes waiting is the best option,” I said, watching Oliver as he passed out another trophy.
“Aren’t you glad I made you come with me on this trip?” Maisie asked. “Just imagine how different things would be if you’d stayed at home and spent the summer sulking and working.”
“Yes, okay, fair point. You did good. Although I do enjoy some of my work. Not the bartending, but the self-defense stuff is fun.”
“Mom’s going to have a fit. You’ve hooked up with the son of the woman who stole Dad away. That’s not going to go down well.”
“I’m hoping the fact that he’s rich will soften the blow somewhat. Speaking of which, I know this is a touchy subject, but Oliver said he would pay for surgery if you want it. I know you have to wait a few more years, but I just thought I’d let you know.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t need it. You’re already beautiful.”
Maisie smiled and leaned in slightly so I could put my arm around her. She wouldn’t be my little sister for much longer, so I was determined to make the most of this. Maisie was already as tall as me, and she was much less wiry. I had a bigger chest, but that was about it.
I waved at Oliver, who smiled and nodded in return. The entire country was excited about the World Cup, but I couldn’t wait for it to be over so that I could get the real Oliver back. The pressure and expectation was proving a huge burden. I could almost see the figurative weight on his shoulders keeping him down.
He’d be in for a shock when he moved to America, and started living a normal life where no one knew who the hell he was. He’d be rich, but other than that he would just be another Brit living in a major US city; whichever one we decided on.
I’d been keeping a vague eye on coverage of the rugby World Cup back home, and it had barely even registered. The US team had been knocked out in the group stage without putting up much of a fight, and so the country never got close to the level of excitement generated by soccer in the last few years.
Given the similarities between rugby and football, I’d have thought rugby would’ve made more of an impact there. The fact that the players weren’t covered in body armor should have at least been appealing for the casual observer, especially women.
I understood the technicalities of the sport, but hell, I was only human, and the sight of all those men pounding around the pitch was a joy to behold. Still, just eight more days until the World Cup Final. Eight more days until we could start planning the rest of our lives.
I didn’t need Oliver to be a national hero; he already was a hero to Maisie and me, regardless of what happened in the final. I was ready to move on with our lives, and soon Oliver would be too.
“I need to talk to you three for a bit,” I said to Michelle, Maisie, and Shaun, interrupting them while they were watching TV. “It’s important.”
I’d already told Shaun the whole story. He knew most of it already, so all I had done was fill in the gaps. He’d handled it as well as could be expected. He even thanked me for trying to help his dad get out of the mess. Not that I’d been much help; Gary was dead and his killers still hadn’t been punished.
Michelle was the first to pick up on my tone of voice. She immediately turned the TV off and turned to face me, encouraging Maisie and Shaun to do the same.
It was cute how close the three of them were now. For a few seconds, I considered not telling them, and keeping it a secret forever. That had always been the intent, but if things went badly tonight… No, they had to know the truth. I owed them that much.
“What’s wrong?” Michelle asked. She’d been asking me that question a lot recently, but I’d never given much of an answer.
“It’s about what happened back in 2007. The attack that left you both with those burn marks.”
“What about it?” Maisie asked.
“I told you before that the whole thing was my fault.”
“And we told you not to be so stupid,” Michelle said. “If you’re still feeling guilty for what happened, then don’t.”
“Let me finish. I am to blame. Shaun’s dad and I got involved with some bad men back in 2007.”
“No,” Shaun said. “My dad got involved with bad men and Oliver tried to help him get out of the mess.”
“I believe those men killed Shaun’s dad, although I don’t have any proof. They wanted me to help England get eliminated from the World Cup. I refused.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Maisie exclaimed. Neither Michelle nor I were in the mood to scold her for language right now.
“They wanted me to throw the final, but I refused.”
I desperately wanted to get this conversation over with, but all I could do was talk in short, choppy sentences. I had to pause after each one to regain my composure. I kept switching my gaze between Michelle and Maisie, but I didn’t know which one I should be focusing on.
Maisie had the worst physical injuries, but Michelle had been torturing herself with the guilt of not protecting her sister for eight years. Both the physical and mental injuries were my fault.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Michelle asked, ever the sensible one.
“That’s what my dad did,” Shaun said.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“To show me they were serious,” I continued, “they hurt two people I care deeply about.”
I told Michelle and Maisie exactly what had happened that night. How I had seen Wayne following us, and abandoned them to go speak to Carl. How Carl had then given the order to have Michelle and Maisie harmed when it was too late for me to help them.
I left out the bit about deliberately missing the kick in the final. I would tell Michelle later, but I didn’t want Maisie to know. She’d hate to think I had missed the kick just to protect her. That would tear her up inside more than her facial injuries ever had done.
By the time I had finished, I was dripping in sweat. Michelle sat next to me and held
my hand, but I didn’t even have the strength to squeeze hers in return. It wasn’t often I felt this physically weak, but right now I could barely stand, let alone play in a World Cup Final.
“So the attack wasn’t random?” Maisie asked.
“No,” I replied. “You were attacked because of your relationship to me.”
I stared at Maisie, desperately awaiting her response. Her face gave little away. Was she going to yell at me? Or would I just get the silent treatment from now on?
“But the people who did it are locked up now?”
“Yes,” I said. “The people who threw the acid were arrested, following the description you both gave to the police.”
Michelle’s hand spasmed slightly when I spoke. I looked up to see her looking confused, but then she shook it off and squeezed my hand again. The people who threw the acid had been arrested, as had the man who gave that order, but there were more out there. Not for long, though.
“Okay,” Maisie said. “Can I go back to watching TV now?”
I shook my head in puzzlement. “Aren’t you annoyed? Isn’t there anything you want to say to me?”
“Yes, I’m annoyed,” Maisie said. “You came in here and interrupted the TV program I was watching. The only thing I want to say is ‘put the TV back on.’”
“That’s it?”
“What else is there? I thought it was a random attack, but it wasn’t. Doesn’t really make much difference in the grand scheme of things.”
“She can be quite mature when she wants to be,” Michelle said, resting her head on my shoulder.
“She gets that from you,” I replied. I switched the TV back on and for once I watched a reality TV show without wanting to claw my eyes out.
I would let myself be happy for a day, but then I had to get down to business. Telling Maisie and Michelle the truth had only been half the battle. The real challenge would be tomorrow night. Tomorrow, I would be confronting the men who ruined my life eight years ago. Tomorrow, everything was going to change.
-*-
I never told Hodgson that I was going after Winston. Hodgson was the only one at the police station I could trust, but she couldn’t mount a sting operation by herself. Not to mention, any kind of undercover operation involving wires would take weeks to organise and get signed off.
