by Conrad Jones
‘Open the door, Rachel,’ the man at the front door cajoled her. ‘We need to talk to you about Chris.’
Talk about Chris? Why would you come here in the middle of the night wearing balaclavas? Fuck that! You haven’t come here to talk.
It spurred her into action. Rachel sprinted down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She had to reach her phone.
‘Open the door, Rachel!’ the man at the front door ordered. His voice had become stern. ‘We’re not here to hurt you. Chris sent us. Open the door quickly!’
‘Fuck you!’ Rachel ran past the door and stumbled down the hallway. She heard the back-door rattling. The key was in the lock but she had remembered to fasten the bolts at the top and bottom. She didn’t slow as she opened the living room door and sprinted to the coffee table. She reached for her phone and picked it up. Her fingers were shaking so much that she fumbled it. The phone fell and clattered onto the laminate floor, sliding towards the settee. She cried out as it disappeared underneath.
‘No, no, no,’ she said in a panic. She dropped to her knees and peered into the darkness. There was no sign of the phone. The sound of a heavy blow to the front door echoed through the house. It reverberated down the hallway.
‘Open the fucking door, Rachel!’
She heard the bolts being slid open and the backdoor fly open, the frame slammed against the fridge. Heavy footsteps stomped across the kitchen tiles. Rachel grabbed the settee and yanked it away from the wall. She scrambled on all fours and picked up her mobile, running as fast as she could for the hallway. The front door rattled in its frame as she reached the stairs and bolted up them, scrambling on all fours. She heard the kitchen door open and footsteps running along the hallway. They stopped at the front door and she heard the locks being unopened.
‘Where is she?’
‘She ran upstairs.’
‘Get her quickly before she calls the police!’
Rachel heard them. Her mind was buzzing with questions. What did they want? Who were they? How the fucking hell could she get Claire, phone the police, and escape?
There was no time. They were about to mount the stairs. She looked around for inspiration. A glass vase stood on an occasional table. The flowers in it were wilting. She grabbed it and launched it down the stairs. The thick glass exploded against the wall, spraying the men with a thousand tiny shards and water. They jumped back away from the stairs. Rachel ran back to the table and picked it up with both hands. She heaved it up and over the edge of the landing. It toppled end over end and crashed into the banister at the bottom. The legs wedged between the spindles. One of the men tried to clamber over it but couldn’t cock his leg over it. They grabbed at the table trying to pull it free. Rachel looked around. They had been decorating. The spare bedroom door was open. She ran to the door and grabbed a set of wooden stepladders. Chris had used them to decorate a month ago and never put them back in the garage. Rachel picked them up and ran onto the landing. She hoisted them above her head and hurled them down the stairs. The ladders hit the first man in the face and he was knocked backwards by the force, sending him crashing into the second. They tumbled backwards in a whirlwind of arms and legs. The ladders opened and wedged behind the table between the balustrade and the wall. Rachel felt inspired. She ran back into the little bedroom and put her hands through the bars of Claire’s old cot. They hadn’t parted with it in case they had more children. She half lifted it and half dragged it to the top of the stairs and then launched it as hard as she could. It tumbled end over end before becoming lodged behind the ladders. The men were getting to their feet. A tirade of abuse drifted from the hallway.
‘Fucking bitch!’
Rachel wasn’t waiting to see what happened. She ran back into the bedroom and dragged a single bed towards the door. She tipped it onto its side to get it through the door to the landing. Gripping the bed by the headboard, she lifted it and slid it down the stairs, adding weight and bulk to the improvised barricade. The men pulled and tugged at the ladders but they wouldn’t budge.
‘What’s going on, Mummy?’ Claire was standing in her doorway, rubbing her tired eyes with her tiny hands. A black bear dangled from her tiny hand. ‘It’s so noisy, Mummy!’
Seeing Claire, made her think of her husband Chris. She looked up at the loft hatch. Chris had panelled out the attic two years earlier and it was his man cave. A drawstring dangled tantalisingly out of reach. Rachel jumped up and felt the cord between her fingers but she couldn’t get a grip. She tried again but it was just too high. One more jump. She missed it completely.
‘Rachel!’ the men screamed.
‘Come here, darling,’ Rachel said, as calmly as she could. The sound of frantic activity at the bottom of the stairs kept her focused.
‘Pull the fucking thing out of the way!’
‘It’s stuck!’
‘Pull it!’
‘You fucking pull it if it’s so easy!’
‘Move!’
‘It’s jammed!’
‘I know it is fucking jammed, Einstein!’
Rachel lifted Claire by the waist. ‘Pull the cord for me, sweetheart.’ Claire pulled the cord and the hatch opened, a telescopic ladder unfolded automatically. ‘Run, run, run, up the ladder.’ Rachel pushed Claire gently from behind. She heard wood cracking from the stairs. The men were making progress. Rachel scurried up the ladder, reached the attic and rolled onto her back, her chest heaving in lungs full of air. She got to her feet and pushed the retraction button. A motor whirred and the ladder began to fold up and the hatch closed slowly and silently. It clicked closed and Rachel sighed with relief.
‘What is happening, Mummy?’
‘Nothing. Don’t you worry, darling. Mummy needs to make a phone call.’
Chris spent hours locked up there so that he couldn’t be interrupted. The females of the house were never allowed up there. She fastened a sliding bolt home so that the ladder couldn’t be lowered from below and then she took out her mobile and dialled 999.
cHAPTER 8
Charlie pulled the X5 to a halt and turned off the engine. He looked at the neon sign above the door of the nightclub. It glowed electric blue and announced to the world that Paradise was open for business. He shook his head and smirked in the darkness. Paradise, it was not. It was a shithole full of drug takers and drug dealers. Crack sellers mingled hip to hip with crack whores and deals were done for cash or flesh until the early hours of the next day. A few years earlier, it had been acquired by force from a Turkish mob by a local gangster but was now part of the Karpov empire, managed by their enforcer, Jaz. Jaz had shot his boss at the bequest of Viktor Karpov and he took control of the business under the Karpov umbrella. Jaz used Paradise as his base and had an office upstairs.
Charlie sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to get his pitch straight in his head. He felt sick to his stomach that he had been betrayed to such an extent. Two men who he had respected and admired had deceived him in the worst possible way. Their actions would have repercussions all the way up the power tree right to the very top. The evidence that they had gathered would rock the underworld for months, if not years. This would be one of the most important conversations of his life. It would determine how long or short his life may be. He checked his appearance in the mirror and opened the door before climbing out. The bassline of a trance song echoed up the cobbled street and a portent of what was to come showed itself as the heavens opened. The sudden downpour was joined by a flash of lightning, which forked across the sky and a cutting wind blew off the river. Fast food wrappers blew past like tumbleweed as if they had somewhere important to be. Charlie dwarfed the two bouncers who were standing on the door and they greeted him with a half nod-half scowl as they stepped aside to let him in. He shook hands with both as a sign of mutual respect. Two more gorillas greeted him inside. Their faces were vaguely familiar to him, his very familiar to them. No one thought to ask him for the entrance fee. Men like Charlie McGee didn’t go to the club to dance.<
br />
‘Where is Jaz?’ Charlie asked a blond bombshell, who was seated behind some plasti-glass, staring at Facebook on her phone. She glanced up and stopped chewing her gum for a second while she thought about her answer.
‘Hold on a minute,’ she frowned. ‘It is coming to me.’ She smiled and then frowned again. ‘No, it’s gone. My psychic powers have failed me again.’ She grinned sarcastically. ‘How the fucking hell should I know?’
‘Fuck you very much,’ Charlie snapped as he walked away towards the club. He pushed through two sets of heavy fire doors into a wall of sound. The club was bouncing. Powerful lasers pierced the blackness in time to the music and the dance floor was an undulating mass of writhing bodies. Charlie scanned the bar area but there was no sign of Jaz. He doubled back through one set of doors and headed up a carpeted staircase towards the office. The music became a dull thudding sound as he reached the second floor. The office door was open and he could see Jaz sitting at his desk, wearing a dark suit. His gold jewellery twinkled in the light. He was in deep conversation with another familiar face. Del Makin. He looked thinner than the last time they had met. His hair had been cropped to the scalp, making him look harder, tougher somehow. Charlie felt his stomach tighten. Why the fuck was Del Makin talking to Jaz? How the fucking hell does he even know Jaz? He knocked on the door before stepping inside. Both men looked uncomfortable to see him. Del looked like he was going to throw up again.
‘Charlie McGee, what a pleasant surprise,’ Jaz said, standing up and offering his hand. ‘You know Del Makin, don’t you?’
‘We have done a little business together,’ Charlie said, shaking his hand. He threw Del a dark glance as he turned to greet him. ‘It’s a small world, eh, Del,’ he added, squeezing Del’s hand a little too tightly. ‘How’s the family? Is that pretty wife of yours putting out?’ Charlie winked. Del smiled thinly, hate and fear in his eyes.
‘She’s fine,’ Del said, flatly. His discomfort with Charlie’s presence was blindingly obvious. He turned back to the man across the desk. ‘Thanks for your time, Jaz. I’ll leave you guys to it. I need to get off home anyway. It’s very late.’
‘Thanks, Del. Have a think about what I said and if you have any questions, call me tomorrow,’ Jaz said, shaking hands with Del. Something passed between. Charlie spotted it. Something in their eyes. Something that they didn’t want him to know. Something secret. ‘I’m free any time after one.’
‘I will do and thanks again,’ Del said, turning for the door. He blanked Charlie as he left. The door closed and the room fell into an awkward silence.
‘It is [EM12]late for a social visit, Charlie,’ Jaz said, sitting in his chair. His black skin wrinkled at the corners of his eyes. His forehead creased. He loosened his silk tie and straightened the gold sovereigns that he wore on every finger. His knuckles cracked as he did each one in turn. He eyed Charlie suspiciously. ‘I’m glad you came though. It saves me a journey. I was going to come and see you tomorrow.’
‘Why?’ Charlie asked bluntly. Jaz was spooked by something. He could sense it. It took a lot to spook a man like Jaz.
‘Bad news,’ Jaz said, the gravel in his voice more pronounced when he lowered his tone. ‘Bad news should never be delivered over the telephone. I think it should be delivered in person, eye to eye.’
‘I agree.’
‘Good.’
‘That is why I’m here. I have some bad news for you too.’ The two men locked stares, neither wanted to speak first. ‘Well?’ Charlie said, tiring of the standoff. ‘Are you going to tell me or what?’
‘You first,’ Jaz said, fiddling with his rings. ‘Mine may change, depending on how bad your news is.’
‘Matrix are trying to put a case together to nail us. Not just me, all of us, you included,’ Charlie said, sitting forward. He leaned towards Jaz, his elbows on the desk.
‘Really?’ Jaz said, chuckling. ‘This is news to you?’
‘No. But the fact that they have had two of my men recording and filming us for over a year was news to me.’
‘Are you fucking joking?’ Jaz said, sitting bolt upright in his chair. His mouth was part open. ‘Tell me that is a joke?’
‘No joke. Matrix busted them last year with a kilo and a shooter. They said that they were looking at a ten stretch and offered them a deal. Information for a walk. I only found out when the prison delivery went tits up and I knew we had a leak.’ Charlie paused to let it sink in. Jaz didn’t blink for what seemed like ages. ‘I don’t know exactly what they gave them but it will be substantial. It will incriminate myself, you, and the Karpovs.’
‘When did this come out?’
‘I found out tonight and came straight here.’
‘Who was it?’
‘That doesn’t matter. The men involved are done. I’ve dealt with that side of things.’
‘That is something at least,’ Jaz muttered. ‘They were filming for over a year? How could you not know, Charlie?’
‘I didn’t expect my best men to be working for the filth. I got careless I suppose. I trusted them.’
‘You should trust no one,’ Jaz said, pointing his finger again. ‘That is the first rule, the second rule, the only fucking rule that matters.’ Charlie thought that sounded rich coming from a man who shot his best friend to death and was now sitting in his chair. ‘I don’t know how we square this one, Charlie.’ Jaz put his head in his hands and sighed. He put his palms flat on the desk and shrugged, looking Charlie in the eyes. ‘Viktor is on one since they arrested his top tier management and banged them all up. He was an evil cunt before, now he is way beyond being a cunt. There isn’t a word for what he is now.’
‘That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want him to hear it from someone else.’
‘I think he might have already heard, Charlie,’ Jaz said, thoughtfully. He shook his head slowly, choosing his next words carefully. ‘He has his sources in the force. It all makes sense now.’
‘What does?’
‘There’s a contract out on you.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘Fifty-grand to shoot you dead.’
‘Karpov?’
‘Of course,’ Jaz said with a shrug. ‘You owe him money, which is why I couldn’t understand why he would want you dead. You don’t kill a man until he’s paid his debts. He wants you dead now. Dead means silent. I think someone has tipped him off about the Matrix sting. He wants you neutralised in case they turn you too.’
‘Who is picking up the contract?’ Charlie asked calmly. ‘You, Jaz?’
‘Me,’ Jaz scoffed. ‘If I had picked it up, you would be dead already and you know it.’ He fiddled with his rings as he thought about his words. ‘Fifty-grand isn’t enough to tempt me.’ He smiled coldly. ‘I don’t want to be dragging your big fat arse through the forest for fifty-grand. Fifty-two and I might have done it.’
Charlie managed a grin although his insides were twisting. ‘What do I do?’ he asked with a shrug.
‘Say goodbye to your loved ones and fuck off abroad somewhere. Go tonight and tell no one where you are heading. Get your men to collect what you’re owed and put it into a bank account where you can live off it. Then tell them to go home and keep their heads down. The contract is for you. Your firm are not in any danger as things stand but if they try to carry on where you leave off, I can see it being expanded to include your men.’
‘Just like that, Jaz?’ Charlie chuckled. ‘I’ll get on an Easy Jet plane with my bucket and spade and sit on a beach until I’m dribbling and don’t know my own name?’
‘At least you have the option,’ Jaz said, pointing his index finger again. ‘I’m giving you the heads up here. We go back and I’m giving you the respect that I think you deserve. Take the chance to run while you can. There are plenty of people in this city who wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet in you for free. Fifty-grand is a life changing sum for the wannabies out there. Someone will take you out and you won’t see it co
ming.’
‘It just doesn’t sit right, Jaz,’ Charlie said, shaking his head. ‘After everything I’ve done for the Karpovs. It isn’t right.’
‘You’ve fucked up, Charlie.’ Jaz shrugged. ‘You have let Matrix into your outfit. You have exposed us all and there are consequences for that kind of mistake.’
‘When was the contract put out?’ Charlie asked.
‘Tonight. That’s why I was coming to see you in the morning.’
‘Who knows about it?’
‘Viktor Karpov, you and me, at the moment but it will be all over the city by lunchtime tomorrow. You have the time and the opportunity to get on a plane. Leave while you can. I won’t circulate the contract until tomorrow but Karpov might. It will give you time to get yourself as far away as you can.’ Jaz stood up and walked to a wall safe. The door was open and he reached inside and took out a wad of notes. He tossed it onto the desk in front of Charlie. ‘That is the door take from tonight. There’s over six grand there. That will get you away and keep you going until your boys collect what you’re owed.’
‘I appreciate the offer, Jaz but I’m okay for cash.’
‘Call it a redundancy payment. Take it and disappear.’
Charlie stood up and picked up the cash. He looked at it and then put it into his inside pocket. Jaz held out his hand. Charlie looked at his hand and slid out the silenced Berretta. Jaz stepped back, his eyes widened in fear. Charlie fired three times, knocking Jaz off his feet into his chair. He was dead before Charlie reached the safe. Inside were six bundles of twenty-pound notes. Charlie stuffed them into his pockets and smoothed down the material to hide the bulges. He looked at Jaz, a dark patch was spreading between his legs.
