Second-In-Command
The Government Rain Mysteries
By L.A. Frederick
Copyright © L.A. Frederick 2017
The right of L.A. Frederick to be identified as the author of the Work has been asserted him in accordance with Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise without written permission from the author.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1. | 1987
2. | 1997
3. | 1997
4. | 1997
5. | 2017
INFO
1.
1987
‘Stay down, kid.’
The ignored order resulted in another fearsome blow. The world was beginning to fade to black for Guy. He desperately tried to stay conscious.
Not for himself, mind. It was the other boy he was worried for.
‘NO!’ was where his defiance ended. The next, more solid punch meant lights out.
‘Why do you always fight back? It’d be easier if you just kept quiet. They’d leave us alone sooner.’ Jed was a coward. He’d always been a coward, for as long as Guy could remember.
‘Cause they’ll keep coming back otherwise.’ Guy knew if he kept at it they’d leave them alone, plus it was good practice, and then Jed could go back to being the frightened little boy that he was, minus the beatings.
‘That’s the second time this week!’ Jed scratched at his frazzled orange hair.
It was his wild hair, huge glasses and skinny frame that made him an easy target. Guy was his only friend and even then they weren’t great friends. Guy felt sorry for him.
They lived on the same street and Guy had seen, more than once, Jed’s abusive father and bully of a brother lay into him; never physically, always verbally. He could relate to it. His own father was a drunk and a bully and whilst he never struck Guy’s mum, the threat of violence always lingered under the man’s self-loathing surface.
‘Yeah, and last week it was four times! They’re getting bored. They’ll move onto easier prey.’ At least I hope they do!
Guy didn’t like bullies and he wouldn’t shirk away from them, which was ‘noble but stupid’, as his mother had so eloquently put it.
‘Why stick up for some kid down the street?’ she had said. ‘What’s he ever done for you? You take all the punches and he cowers away in the corner. You’re a good-looking kid and popular at school, right?’ She was guessing. ‘I just don’t get it.’
His mother had asked Guy if he wanted her to intervene.
‘No way! It’s my fight.’
Guy would die if his mum helped him.
‘Okay, but if this doesn’t stop soon I’m getting the school and police involved.’
Guy hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Besides, she was all talk and no action. Guy had heard that expression before but never understood it, until now, as he was approaching ten.
His mother was a prime example. Promising to make this, go there, get a new job, or leave his father. The list was exhaustive and never dissipated; if anything it expanded and with it grew his mother’s bitterness towards the world. That won’t happen to me, I’ll make something of myself.
And sure enough, Guy did, but at a cost.
‘Run, Jed! Quick, down here.’ It was bad this time; Guy had really pissed off the older boys.
Smashing someone with a bat tends to have that effect.
‘Don’t look back!’
The fear in Guy’s voice was mirrored on Jed’s messy orange face, each freckle an island of fear on his cheeks. They couldn’t outrun the older boys for much longer. They were bigger, stronger and quicker. That’s why I had the bat!
The three bullies had followed Guy and Jed after school and ambushed them down one of New Hampton’s million and one dingy alleyways. The entire city was a beehive of corporate uniformity, its streets crammed into neat rows to aid the worker bees in their servitude.
‘I can’t run anymore.’ Jed stopped in his tracks and lurched over his knees. His white polo T-shirt was drenched and pressed tightly to his bone-thin torso.
‘Go on without me.’
This ember of courage from Jed almost brought a tear to Guy’s eye. There’s something in him. Maybe he’s not a coward after all.
‘No, we’ll stand and fight. Maybe if we both fight we’ll win!’ he lied.
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have dropped the bat.’ Jed gave a wan smile.
‘I panicked.’ Which was true.
Guy had kept the small bat in his bag for this very eventuality and it had worked on the first boy but then his fear set in, much to his shame, and he had bolted from the scene, dropping the bat.
‘There’ll only be two—’
‘Hey! There they are! C’mon.’
They’d caught up.
At first it was two bullies, but then the third managed to hobble around the corner, bat in hand.
‘You’re dead,’ he taunted, pointing the bat directly at Guy.
‘Run, Guy. We can still outrun them,’ Jed pleaded, verging on crying.
‘No we can’t. This ends here.’ Guy stood defiantly; he did his best to mask his shaking hands.
‘You’re damn right it ends here, you little shit! What’s your problem – why do you hang out with this loser? You’re not so bad – heck, you’re pretty tough for a baby. But Jed, fuck! He’s just cattle for the rest of us.’
The tallest, chunkiest boy, a good four years older and one foot taller than Guy, was the clear ringleader. I’ll go for him first.
‘He’s not a loser. Just because he’s not strong doesn’t mean he’s weak.’ Guy instinctively took a step in front of Jed.
‘Ha! You think you can protect him? You think you can take all three of us?’ the hobbling bully laughed. Then he grimaced. Guy had landed a solid shot on his right thigh; it wasn’t enough.
The three bullies were thick meatheads and their presence blocked out any light from the main street. It also blocked out any escape route.
‘I’ll tell at school!’ Jed blurted out. ‘The headmaster will love expelling you three goons. Tim, you’re already suspended. And as for you, Jimmy and Ed, the headmaster would love to be rid of you!’ Jed’s voice had real power and conviction.
So much so, the other four boys in the alleyway stood in stunned silence.
That didn’t last long.
Jimmy, the leader, wasn’t put off. ‘Ha! Nice try, shithead. Like we give a fuck about school. School means nothing, school gets you nowhere in New Hampton. Strength is all that matters!’
Jed gulped and ran.
‘Get him!’ roared Jimmy. Ed duly obliged, barging past Guy.
‘Jed! No! Wait,’ Guy pleaded. He turned to see Jed make it no more than twenty yards before Ed speared him into a large pile of black bin bags at the back of some scummy restaurant.
‘You should’ve run,’ Tim laughed as he smashed the bat down onto Guy’s right shoulder blade.
The pain was so raw, Guy crumpled to the floor.
‘Not so tough now, are you, Guy?’ was the gibe from Jimmy.
‘Get up,’ Tim ordered.
Guy tried to focus on where Jed was but all he could see was Ed’s hands rising and falling into the mass of black bin bags
.
Jed’s tortured cries echoed down the alleyway.
Guy looked to the main street, a mere fifty yards away; it was empty.
The rain had cleared out the streets; it had been a drizzle all afternoon but in the last five minutes it had really started to fall. The bat dropped once more, this time into Guy’s right hip. I’m going to die.
‘What the hell?’ Confused, Ed had stopped beating on Jed. Guy could just about make out, through the thick rain, Ed standing up and looking back to the others. His soaked face was a portrait of fear.
‘What’s up with you?’ demanded Jimmy.
‘I think he’s dead! Something weird’s happened to his face! Come see! Fuck, man. We’re in so much shit.’ Ed was panicking. ‘We need to leave now. Before the filth come.’
‘Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’ Jimmy didn’t seem too concerned that Jed might actually be dead. And Tim, well, he continued hammering the bat into Guy. He allowed Guy to stumble upwards each time before delivering a half-hearted thwack into his body. Tim was enjoying the tease of it all and smiled a greasy smile down at Guy.
‘Having fun? Guess not now your boyfriend is dead!’
Quick as a flash, Guy kicked out at Tim’s injured leg.
‘AAAAHHHH!’ Tim leaned down and grabbed Guy by the throat.
The rain was pelting down and the five boys were drenched.
‘What did you do to him! Look at his face! Shit! We’ve gotta go.’ Jimmy was standing beside Ed, looking down at Jed’s limp body.
The pair ran back towards Tim and Guy.
‘We’ve gotta go. Now,’ ordered Jimmy. It was an order fuelled by self-preservation and fear.
‘What have you done?’ groaned Guy. ‘Jed! Jed?’
His calls went unanswered and through stinging, foggy eyes, he could only see Jed’s unmoving feet hanging out from the piles of rubbish bags.
‘Wait,’ Tim said.
‘What? The cops are gonna find this. We can’t be here!’ Ed said, already backing away.
‘In a second, I just want to leave Guy a nice little reminder. We don’t want him talking now, do we?’
Tim’s sadistic grin made Guy’s stomach lurch.
It lurched anew when Tim pulled out a switchblade.
‘We’ll be keeping an eye on you,’ Tim laughed.
‘Wait! Please, no. Don—’ Pain seared across Guy’s cheek, his screams echoing down the buildings, as if trying to escape the horror that lay within the alley.
‘What the fuck, man? What is wrong with you?’ Ed was horrified and didn’t wait for the others. Through anguished sobs Guy saw him sprint away.
‘Jesus Christ, you are a sick puppy Tim. Nice. Remember Guy, don’t go talking now.’ Jimmy had seemingly regained some composure, now that he’d seen his partner in crime dish out some brutal punishment.
Guy clenched at his face, under his right eye.
He could feel a deep cut; blood flowed at an alarming rate down into his mouth. He spat the bitter iron taste out but with every spit came a new wave of the metallic tang of his own blood.
‘Oh God,’ he muttered, again and again. He needed to stem the flow before he passed out. What about Jed?
The two remaining bullies had left now; it was just Guy, Jed and the rain.
‘He’s dead,’ Guy mumbled as he crawled towards Jed’s body. His broken body was failing fast. Keep going.
He urged himself forward, desperate to see Jed’s body before he gave up.
‘C’mon,’ he begged as he felt cracking and grinding in his limbs.
Every moment was agony.
It must have taken him a good couple of minutes to reach Jed, the whole while he focused on Jed’s protruding feet; they didn’t move once. The sky had turned black and Guy’s eyesight was failing, his eyelids fluttering rapidly. The pain was overwhelming. The fear for his own life was setting in and he began to cry, gently weeping.
A rasping cough roused him from near-unconsciousness.
‘Guy?’ Jed’s whisper was barely audible in the heavy rain.
‘Jed!’ The sound of Jed’s voice spurred Guy onwards for the final few yards.
‘Jed, are you—’ Guy wondered if he was hallucinating.
He looked into the heaps and heaps of rotten waste and saw a blood-drenched monster.
‘What is it?’ Jed coughed out violently.
His face was a bloodied mess and the bones of his right cheek were protruding out of his face, at least that’s how it looked to Guy.
‘What the—’
Guy never finished the sentence. He passed out; the beating and blood loss had finally won.
He spent the next three weeks in hospital; the doctors told him his only lasting injury would be the deep scar underneath his right eye. He never saw Jed after that. His mum told him Jed’s dad had died and that he’d moved away.
Guy felt relieved.
He just wasn’t sure if it was for himself, or for Jed.
2.
1997
‘Stay down, kid.’
Guy didn’t like handing out these beatings, especially to kids, but sometimes it was a necessary evil. It was never a fair fight. He’d filled out considerably in the last four or five years. In his line of work you needed to be in shape.
If he wanted to remain respected within the gang and keep a certain level of rep on the streets he needed to appear fierce. I don’t feel fierce.
Thankfully, the young lad stayed down.
‘Good. Smart move. Remember, tell your boss it’ll be him next time if he doesn’t pay up on time.’ I should’ve just beaten the old man!
But that wasn’t how it was done on the streets.
New Hampton’s underworld had codes and fundamental rules – albeit antiquated ones, to Guy’s mind.
Basically, once someone had climbed to the level of boss in any organisation that either worked with or funded crime in the city, they were allowed a certain degree of protection. If they paid that protection was total; if payments became lax it was their employees that bore the brunt from any number of sub-gangs hired by the infamous Watchroom gang to do their dirty work.
Guy worked for one of these sub-gangs, the Ravens.
He’d managed to carve out a reasonable life, by New Hampton standards, since leaving home a few years back. Since leaving he hadn’t seen either his mother or father. It made life easier. His apartment was modest, but it was his. Granted, the docks weren’t the most desirable location, it was just easier for work.
‘Okay. Thank you, thank you, I’ll tell him.’ The boy scrambled backwards, crablike, not daring to get up. On his sweat-drenched face a huge pair of glasses sat on a thick freckled nose. In that moment he reminded Guy of Jed. He didn’t think of Jed often, but occasionally in these moments of violence, he wondered what had ever happened to that cowardly little boy. He’s probably dead.
‘You do that, Jed.’
‘My name’s not Jed.’ The scared boy looked confused now.
‘Shut up.’ Guy didn’t need to hit him again. The boy had already scarpered.
‘My, that’s quite a talent you’ve got there.’ The voice reverberated down the street.
Guy spun on his heels, his right hand instinctively reaching for his sawn-off shotgun. He’d never had to use it and that was the point. His theory was always if you have a scary-ass gun, people would immediately back down. Have a standard-issue gun they’ve seen a thousand times on piss-poor cop shows and they’d be more inclined to put up a fight.
The man that had spoken was old; Guy didn’t bother getting the gun out.
‘Beat it, old man, this don’t concern you.’
‘Does not, dear boy,’ the old man corrected in an accentuated British accent.
‘Whatever.’ Guy was bored of this man and had better ways to waste his time. New Hampton was a veritable smorgasbord for depravity.
‘If I may be so bold, I believe I have something that might interest a man of your talents.’ The old man had
a persuasive tone. His smile was wide and sinister; if he was going for warm and amiable it wasn’t working. He’s a fucking creep.
‘And what talents might they be?’ Guy was curious as to who the man was and why he’d taken an interest in Guy’s work.
Interest was not good. Interest usually meant jail.
‘Persuasion, of course, and believe me when I say that I know a thing or two about persuasion.’
Guy couldn’t help but gawp at the man’s long, thin, hooked nose. The man didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy enjoying the sound of his own voice.
Guy didn’t like this man.
‘You don’t half talk in riddles. Get to the point or you might find me less amiable.’
‘Aha, very good, another admirable quality of yours. The enforcer. You’ll make a great Second-In-Command.’
‘Second in what? What are you talking about! And get to it, I mean it.’ Guy put his hand in his pocket and shoved his finger forward to mimic a gun protruding from within his black bomber jacket. His shotgun was actually slung over his shoulder in a tight-fitting leather strap.
‘Excellent. Most would fall for that. I mean, I know you have a sawn-off shotgun over your shoulder but you don’t exactly like to use it, do you? Have you ever fired it before?’
‘You willing to risk it?’ Guy made his voice as firm as he could, all the while wondering how the hell the man knew about the gun.
Rather than turning tail and walking away, the old man actually bound forwards. His stride was long and confident without a hint of a stutter or fear. He meant business. Oddly, his current default facial setting was still a smile. Christ he’s got a weird smile.
‘Look, Mr Hagan.’
He knows my last name too.
‘I’ll only indulge this for so long. I’m not sure you realise who I am or whom I work for. Now, granted at this stage, who I am isn’t of importance to you. It will be, in time, but right now you need to focus on the boss.’
‘And who exactly is the boss?’
Guy had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.
‘Why, I think you know. You’re an intelligent man. Needless to say, you’re much further down the pecking order than I am.’ By this point he’d reached Guy. He placed an ice-cold hand on his shoulder.
Second-In-Command: The Government Rain Mysteries Page 1
