by AA Abbott
Jeb arrived, waving a pistol flamboyantly. “You found them, boss?” His eyes were a mixture of triumph and fear. What was that about?
“Put that away, Jeb,” Shaun ordered.
Jeb moved his gun, almost imperceptibly, as if steadying it. Within a split-second, Shaun saw Amy push Kat away from the corner, simultaneously hearing the crack of a bullet leaving Jeb’s pistol. Amy grimaced, apparently in pain. The bullet hadn’t touched her, though. Shaun saw it hit the wall, bouncing harmlessly into one of the cardboard boxes.
Shaun had no chance to speak. Kat’s male friend, who like Kat had been caught off-balance and ended up on the ground, dived forward and rugby tackled Jeb’s ankles. His black-rimmed spectacles fell and shattered.
Jeb fell on top of the man, landing a punch on him but dropping his gun. Shaun kicked it behind him before his captives could consider any further heroics. “Nobody move,” he ordered. He turned his attention to his henchman. “I’m doing the shooting, okay? Just me and nobody else.”
“I’d get on with it if I were you, boss,” Jeb said. “We don’t know who else is around.”
“Have you heard anyone?”
Jeb strained his ears, before shaking his head. “No, boss.”
“Good.” Satisfied they all knew who called the shots, Shaun approached Kat. She was wearing a long silk kimono, a garment that revealed little skin, but every inch of her curves. He reached to stroke her hair, noting with amusement how the young man glared. How much could he see without his spectacles? Shaun wasn’t taking any chances. He pointed his gun at the man.
Kat herself didn’t flinch. Her gorgeous green eyes caught his. “Why do you want to kill me, Shaun?” she asked.
“You took the money, Kat,” Shaun said, almost sorrowfully.
The young man couldn’t contain himself. “How much is it?” he asked contemptuously. “I’ll write you a cheque.”
Shaun was implacable. “No cheques. My business is cash only. And it’s too late. Nobody crosses me. They don’t steal from me. Nobody, do you hear me? At least, not if they want to live.” His raised voice echoed in the brick chamber.
He could have insisted on a trip to the cash machine, he supposed, but what was the point of that? At most, the lad could have withdrawn five hundred pounds, while Shaun would run the risk of betrayal, not to mention walking past a bevy of CCTV cameras.
Kat looked into Shaun’s eyes again. “I didn’t steal anything,” she said.
“No,” Jeb interjected angrily.
“Let her finish,” Shaun told him. “Twenty grand disappeared from the backroom at AKD,” he said to Kat.
“Where was it – just lying around? I never saw money in there,” Kat said, seemingly puzzled. “Did you, Jeb? He’s talking about the room where you gave me a thousand pounds and told me to lie low.”
Shaun looked at Jeb, realising at once why his subordinate’s eyes shifted away from his.
“Vince,” Jeb said, his voice dripping with sincerity. “Honest to God, it must have been.”
Shaun hid his shock at the treachery behind an icy mask. “I know what I need to know,” he said.
He knew he was a good marksman too. The bullet pierced Jeb’s heart in an instant.
Chapter 39 Amy
Amy screamed.
Nothing happened. The US cavalry, her fairy godmother, even the West Midlands Police – all were conspicuous by their absence. As if frozen in time, Shaun still stood before her with a gun in his hand. Jeb lay on the concrete floor, a red stain growing like a flower on his white T-shirt. Kat’s mouth was open, but no sound emerged; she was clutching Ross’ arm for comfort.
“Shut up. You’re giving me a headache,” Shaun said savagely.
Amy willed herself into silence, staring at him in fear and disbelief. She might as well have shot Kat and Ross herself. If it hadn’t been for her arrival at Erik’s flat, Jeb and Shaun would never have known where Kat was, wouldn’t have stayed to see Ross return from London. She shivered. Shaun would never let them go. He could not.
As if echoing her thoughts, Shaun said, with a trace of regret in his tone, “It wasn’t you, then, sweetheart. I came all this way for nothing. It’s a shame you had to see this, but that’s too bad.” He sighed.
“Let us go,” Ross pleaded. “You know Kat’s done nothing to harm you. None of us have.”
Shaun frowned. “Like I said, it’s too bad.”
“Kill me, not her,” Ross said.
Shaun sneered. “You’re dying anyway. Do you think I want witnesses?” He steadied his gun.
Ross dived again. He threw himself forward, reaching for Shaun’s ankles and curling himself up to deliver a blow from his skull to Shaun’s groin as the bigger man fell down. The gun was fired uselessly in the air.
Amy noticed Kat gawping at Ross, admiration plain on her face. Who knew how long that would last? If they couldn’t escape, he’d never profit from it.
Ross grappled with Shaun for the gun. It was clear that Shaun wasn’t relinquishing it easily. He pulled the trigger whenever he could, spraying the room with slugs at random. They ricocheted in different directions. Mere chance saved them from a hit.
Ross’ luck ran out. A bullet clipped his knee. He screamed in agony, momentarily giving Shaun the upper hand.
It wasn’t the only gun in the room, of course. Amy saw the same realisation dawn on Kat’s face as she eyed Jeb’s dead body. While Kat swooped down on Jeb’s weapon, Amy hobbled towards Shaun.
The gangster was preoccupied by his fight. Gritting her teeth, her ankle throbbing, Amy stamped on Shaun’s right arm. Indescribable pain exploded in her foot, but it was worth it. At last, Shaun let go of his gun. She kicked it away before falling to her knees, sobbing.
“Freeze,” Kat said, and then louder, “I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it.”
The effect was electric. Shaun and Ross ceased struggling and gawped at her.
“Put that down,” Shaun said finally. “A girl like you shouldn’t go near a dangerous weapon like that.”
“Don’t call my bluff,” Kat said.
Shaun made no further protest.
“Tie him up,” Kat commanded.
“We’re rather short of rope, Kat. I’ll use my tie.” Ross stared at her, wide-eyed.
Despite the pain seething through her, Amy had to suppress a grin. Ross wasn’t used to being given orders, except by the redoubtable Cari. Nevertheless, he did as he was told.
It was a typical city tie, co-ordinated precisely with his shirt and cufflinks, and had probably cost more than Amy spent on a week’s food. Ross unknotted the delicate silk length and roughly bound Shaun’s hands behind his back. He wasn’t gentle.
“Nothing for the legs, sorry,” Ross said. “Anyway, we can’t carry him all the way back to the surface. Like this, he’ll climb the ladder, and we’ll hand him in to the police.”
“Who says we’re telling the police?” Kat replied.
Chapter 40 Shaun
Shaun woke drenched in sweat. No light emerged through the bars at his window, apart from the feeble orange glow that clung to cities late at night. No birds sang.
His nightmare still gripped his heart, Meg’s words echoing in his mind. “You killed the man who would have cured me.”
Shaun shook his head. “He isn’t dead,” he whispered.
Not only that, but Meg had said no such thing, had never had reason to do so in the real world from which she’d departed three years before. The ache of seeing her again, even in the shifting landscape of a dream, brought tears to his eyes. A quite unfamiliar emotion, guilt, enveloped him.
That was exactly what Kat wanted to achieve, he reflected bitterly. As soon as the police told her that her brother had been found with his throat cut, she’d rounded on Shaun. Icily, she’d informed him her brother was developing a cure for cancer. His wife, Kat said, would turn in her grave.
The police had arrived in the nick of time; the first occasion in his life when he’d been please
d to see the Old Bill. Kat would have put a bullet in his brain for sure, or left him to starve, even before she knew about her brother. Her eyes, like cold, hard chips of jade, haunted him as he drifted back to sleep.
Morning came. He paced his cell, remembering the sheer boredom of prison, contemplating his future with dread. Even if his brief could reduce the charges, Shaun was bound to serve a long stretch. Right now, he’d been arrested on one count of murder and two attempted murders, the latter still a surprise to him as he’d imagined Jeb would actually manage to kill someone when he put his mind to it.
Poverty awaited beyond the prison sentence. His business activities were on the wrong side of the law, and it wouldn’t take long to establish that. Everything he owned – the house in Wanstead, the casino, nail bars, property and car – all would be seized by the government. It was their revenge for the taxes he’d never paid, he supposed.
He would have to break it to the boys. Finally, they’d have to earn a living, by fair means or foul.
“You’ve never seen me in a place like this,” Shaun said, when they visited. “I haven’t been inside for nearly thirty years. Not nice, is it?”
Ben pushed his floppy blond fringe back from his brown eyes. They were wide as saucers. He nodded.
Jon, the younger one, stared at the bars. “Seen worse on TV,” he muttered.
“I’m too old for this lark,” Shaun sighed. “Prison’s for younger men.” He could handle it, though: the poor diet, pointless work, enforced idleness and tedium. There would be business to do inside and he’d acquire useful connections. His crimes, and certainly his fists, commanded respect.
Ben shrugged.
“You’ll both need to work,” Shaun began to say.
“Gaming,” Ben said.
“That’s your hobby,” Shaun said, speaking slowly, as if to an idiot. “I mean, you’ll have to earn money.”
“I will, at the gaming tournament. I’m in line for twenty grand prize money, representing north London,” Ben said, to Shaun’s astonishment.
“A prize for playing computer games?”
“Yes, at Excel, next week. It’s the national tournament, right? Thousands of people pay to watch. I’m favourite to win it.”
“You?” Shaun was shaken at the news. It was as if his son had a secret life. He found himself gripped with pride. “Where can I place a bet on that?”
“I’ve got that sorted,” Jon said.
“Jon’s running a book online,” Ben said dismissively. “On the dark net.”
“What’s that? Is it legal?” Shaun asked.
“Well, duh,” Jon replied. “Anyway, what about your criminal empire – who’s going to lead that for you? The drugs, the fencing, the casino?”
“How do you know about those?” Shaun asked. He’d never said a great deal about his work to his sons, at least not once they’d made it clear they had no interest in doing any.
“It was all over primary school,” Jon said, rolling his eyes.
“Did it get you into fights?” Shaun asked, remembering occasions in his childhood when he’d desperately wished his father wasn’t in and out of prison.
“None I couldn’t win,” Jon said contemptuously.
Shaun studied his younger son. He was taller than Ben, dark haired, his face a jumble of angles. Shaun had looked the same at that age, until his features settled into a more pleasing picture.
“Let me run the business while you’re away,” Jon said. “Just tell me how to get started – and who I can trust.”
“If there’s one thing we’ve learned in gaming, it’s that you need to know who your friends are,” Ben said.
“Strategy’s important too,” his brother added.
There was hope then, a chance they’d succeed. Shaun hardly knew his children, yet they were his own flesh and blood. Somewhere, beneath those idle facades, lay the genes for a thriving criminal enterprise. His brain went into overdrive, as he tried to distil a lifetime’s knowledge and experience into thirty minutes.
“The casino’s sorted,” Shaun said. “Vince will take care of it. You know Vince, don’t you?”
Ben and Jon both nodded. Vince had been a frequent guest at barbeques and other family parties, in the days when Meg was around to organise them.
“You can trust him,” Shaun said. “Up to a point, anyway. If you think he’s ripping you off, send word to me.” His nostrils flared. “I can make trouble for him – when I get out, definitely. Almost certainly before then, as well. People know I’ve killed a man who crossed me. That counts in this world.”
Jon nodded. “What about the rest?”
“Keep up the bootlegging. The team may think about going freelance. Offer them a bigger cut to keep them sweet. Don’t bother with the drugs, girls and stolen goods. Too risky. Great money, but also a great chance of being grassed on or taking a knife in your back. If I was starting over, I wouldn’t touch them, knowing what I know now. And set up a couple of nail bars and hair salons. A tanning centre. Hot dog stands where the students hang out. Cash businesses, that’s what you want. Maybe a laundromat. You can literally wash your money clean.” He shrugged. “You’ll pay a bit of tax, but it’s worth it, because you’ll keep what’s left.”
Shaun fidgeted. He had to impart an uncomfortable truth. “Life is going to change,” he said. “My brief says everything I own will be taken away by the law. You need to look after yourselves. Take what you can and run, if you need to. And especially, if someone makes you an offer for the casino, a good offer, take it and run off to Spain.”
He ought to tell them about the money too. He doubted they’d squander it. They rarely smoked, drank or touched drugs as far as he could tell. Video games left no time for anything else. “There’s fifty grand in used notes up in the loft,” he said. “It’ll keep the two of you going for a year or so if you’re careful, so don’t spend it all at once. And don’t leave it somewhere obvious, where the Old Bill will find it, or an idiot with a death wish coming round to rob you. Only fools stick cash under mattresses. There’s a machete under mine for emergencies; nothing else. Put one under yours too. The loft’s a good bet for concealing valuables. Nobody ever looks there.” He knew all the common hiding places and had burgled most of them in his time.
“Thanks,” Ben said. He patted Shaun’s shoulder. “We’ll visit you, Dad.”
Chapter 41 Amy
Seeing Erik in hospital meant taking a taxi, past Florence Street and then swiftly away from the industrial core of the city through the green-leaved suburbs beyond. While there was plenty of room for three people, the cab seemed claustrophobic. Amy glanced at Ross, his arm around Kat’s shoulder. Remembering their night together at the Malmaison, she felt uncomfortable. She occupied herself by staring out of the window.
Like much of Birmingham, the hospital was new: a sleek, curved statement of a building, squatting like an alien spaceship in the red brick suburbs. Ross had only just been discharged from A&E himself and was still hobbling with the aid of a crutch. Despite this, he immediately took charge, asking for Erik at the reception desk and then leading the girls to the ward.
Kat’s brother already had a visitor. A middle-aged woman sat on a plastic chair next to his bed, sharing liquorice allsorts and flicking through the pages of a James Patterson novel with him. Erik himself was propped up on pillows, a bandage around his neck and a morphine drip attached to his arm. His face was mottled with bruises.
On first sight, Amy imagined his companion was Lizzie. About to offer congratulations at the cleaner’s speedy recovery, she suddenly realised this was a stranger: younger than Lizzie and shorter, blonde bobbed hair streaked auburn and a mischievous grin on her face.
“Hello, I’m Jackie,” Erik’s guest said. Like Lizzie, she was clearly local. “You must be this young man’s friends. He’s been through the wars, hasn’t he?”
“That he has,” Ross agreed. To his credit, he said nothing about his own injuries: the painful knee, and the bruises.
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Kat kissed Erik’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, handing him a huge box of Belgian chocolates. Ross had hastily bought them at Amy’s suggestion.
“We’re all glad,” Ross emphasised. In Kat’s company, he was charm personified.
“I owe my life to this lady here,” Erik said, beaming at Jackie.
Jackie blushed. “I did what anyone would do,” she said.
“What happened?” Amy asked, although she already knew the bare facts. Jeb had cut Erik’s throat and left him for dead. It was a miracle that Kat’s brother could be sitting here, smiling and chatting with them.
“I don’t remember much,” Erik said. “There were two of them. I suppose you know that?”
Amy nodded.
“I thought so,” Erik said ruefully. “I was fighting both men. I gave the younger one a bloody nose, then wrestled with his mate. He might have been past his prime, but he was strong. The black eyes came from him.” He pointed. “It was the young guy, Jeb, who did the real damage, though. He had a knife, or maybe a razor.” Erik drew a finger across his neck. “He cut me above the Adam’s apple. Had he slashed me below it, across the carotid artery, I would be dead. He certainly thought I was. They both did. I was bleeding heavily, after all.”
Amy saw Kat’s eyes glisten.
“They left me alone, then,” Erik said. “They were only interested in chasing you. My priority was to stem the bleeding. I staggered back into the flat, found a cushion and thrust it against my neck. Then I went outside.”
“You didn’t phone the police?” Ross asked.
“No. I could barely speak or breathe. The trauma and blood loss drained my energy. I knew I wouldn’t get far. But if I’d stayed in the workshop or courtyard, no one would have found me. Somehow, I staggered to the road...”
“...and then I came along,” Jackie said. “I can’t pretend it wasn’t a shock to see you, white as a sheet, blood everywhere.”
“I bumped into her,” Erik said. “Why don’t you tell them about it, Jackie?”
