by Shaun Baines
“Did you hear what I said?” Scott shouted. “Get the scumbag upstairs.”
Daniel’s lips trembled. His eyes welled up. He squeezed them shut and a tear rolled down his cheek. “He forced Hilltop to put his own niece in a coma.”
A cry of shock escaped Monica’s pursed lips. Noodles leaned against the wall for support. Even No Neck was stunned. Bronson got to his feet, wiping his hands on his trousers. “You killed the doctor? And now you’re here to take revenge on your brother?” he asked Daniel, but he didn’t answer.
Bronson picked up Hilltop’s head by the ears and levelled it at Scott. “This is because of you.”
Scott slapped Hilltop across the face and Bronson lost his grip. The head bounced along the floor, stopping at an abandoned cello. Searching the room, Scott tried to catch an eye, but no-one looked at him.
“It was my fault,” Daniel said. “I shouldn’t have left Eisha with you. I assumed she’d be safe with family.”
Balancing on one leg, Scott polished his shoe on the back of his trousers. “Well, you know what they say about assumptions,” he said, inspecting the shine before stamping hard on Daniel’s upturned face. There was a crack of bone and Daniel’s head rolled to one side, blood leaking down his face, his tearful eyes finally closed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Daniel woke to the sound of arguing voices. His jaw ached and he searched his swollen mouth with his tongue for missing teeth. They were all there, but he could taste the strong flavour of blood. His nose throbbed and his face felt thick with bruising. He’d been thrown onto the sofa. Trying to get comfortable, he discovered his hands were bound behind his back.
He was in his father’s office. Bronson and No Neck were nose to nose, spittle flying between them as they shouted at each other. Noodles paced the floor, his fingers clicking together. Monica was missing, but Daniel wasn’t surprised. Fratricide was men’s work.
He drew in a low, steady breath and found Scott behind their father’s old desk, one hand slowly rubbing his lips, watching him wake through narrow eyes.
“Enough,” shouted Scott.
A hush fell over the room and Noodles stepped forward. “I think we would all like to bid a fond farewell to Mr Ed Dayton, who was both a leader and a friend. I’m sure Scott, as the new head of the family, will steer us through current troubles and onto greater heights. Anything less wouldn’t be the Dayton way.”
Scott grimaced. “Thank you for your sincere words, Noodles. Now will everyone stop kissing his fucking arse? This is my time. We have business to discuss.”
Smacking his lips, Scott reached into his desk drawer to produce a bottle of Glenfiddich, like their father had done at the start of every meeting. When he placed it on the desk, it was empty and he knocked it to the floor, muttering under his breath.
“You mentioned something about solving our Fairbanks problem,” Noodles prompted.
“Shouldn’t we talk about…?” Bronson let the question hang in the air, but everyone knew what he was referring to. Their eyes glanced in Daniel’s direction and he smiled back at them.
“What is it you want to talk about, Bronson?” Scott asked.
“It’s just there was a lot of shit said down in the hall.”
“Are you saying you believe Daniel over me?”
Bronson looked down at his shoes.
“Go on,” said Scott.
“It’s just that - “
“Just, what? Do you think I’m the kind of man who would harm his niece?”
“Go easy on him, Scott,” Daniel said. “You’re fucking your stepmother. Who knows what kind of man you are? I think Bronson has a right to ask.”
He relaxed into the sofa. Scott’s face went white with rage. It was a look he had grown accustomed to over the years. It usually heralded a death and Daniel hoped it might be his.
Instead, Scott turned his attention to Bronson. “Why does your cheek twitch so much?”
Bronson lifted his hand to his face as if Scott had hit him. Noodles and No Neck pretended to stare out of the crosshair porthole. Daniel strained against his bonds.
“You know why,” he said, turning away.
“I’m not done with you yet, you twitchy motherfucker. I want you to tell us all why you’re a freak.”
“What’s this about?” Daniel asked.
“We’re having a laugh, that’s all. Like when you told me my own father wanted me dead. Come on, Bronson. Tell us the story. We could do with a giggle, couldn’t we?”
Bronson’s cheek danced frenetically, pleased to be the centre of attention. If his twitch was happy, Bronson was not. His face was crimson and he shuffled on his feet. Daniel imagined he was waiting for a hole to open up and swallow him.
Instead, Bronson raised his head, tucked his shoulders back and walked up to Scott, showing him his cheek. “I got this in a fight with a bully. He shoved a pencil in my face and caused nerve damage. Have you had a good look, Scott?”
“When you talk to me, you address me as Mr Dayton.”
Shaking his head, Bronson walked away and dropped into the sofa next to Daniel, who shot him an admiring glance. Bronson crossed his legs and clasped his hands in his lap. “Let’s get back to business, shall we? How have you solved our problem? And I also want to know how you got out of Frankland. You weren’t in there long enough to dig a tunnel, so who gave you the keys?”
The atmosphere in the room grew oppressive. It was the first time Daniel had seen Scott unsure. He stood from the desk and leaned on it, pressing his knuckles into the surface. He looked like a silverback gorilla attempting to re-establish his authority. And he’d probably do it if Daniel didn’t stop him first.
“I was there when Dad killed himself,” he said. “Fairbanks doesn’t want to take over the Daytons. He wants a ransom. Pure and simple. Scott’s agreed to give him the money. It’s the only way he could have been released from prison.”
“Is that the deal you were talking about?” Bronson asked. “You bought your way out?”
“Fairbanks got the charges against me dropped. He had no choice but to go to the next in line. Being the eldest, that’s me.”
Daniel didn’t know what was holding his hands together, but it was biting into his wrists as he twisted against it. “Dad gave his life to protect that money. He wasn’t going to hand it over. My brother will though.”
Scott slammed his fist into the desk and everybody jumped. “Yes, I’m going to pay him. You don’t know what it was like in there. I’m going to pay him and he’s going to go away.”
“How do you know?” asked Daniel.
“It’s about money. It’s always been about money. Once Fairbanks has it, he has no other reason to stay.”
Bronson stood from the sofa and approached Scott behind his desk. Daniel wondered if he would ever have been so brazen had his father still been alive. Scott stared at the desk, his knuckles whitening.
“I don’t like it,” Bronson said.
Scott refused to acknowledge his presence.
Bronson cleared his throat. “I don’t like giving in. Your Dad didn’t and I don’t think you should either. Think of your reputation. Think of your father’s legacy.”
Scott raised his hand and slapped Bronson across his twitching cheek. The sound echoed around an otherwise quiet room. “No-one gives a fuck what you think. I’m running the show. You do as I say.”
Bronson stood firm and Scott appraised him coolly. “You’re like a dog, Bronson. Like a Labrador and it doesn’t matter how often you beat a Labrador, it will always come back. The only thing they know is how to obey. Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. You better make your mind up. You’re either loyal to my father or to me. Now fuck off before I knock that twitch to the other side of your face.”
Bronson did as he was told, pausing by Daniel. “I gave him a chance. It’s up to you now.” He shrugged and patted him on the shoulder. Something slid down his back, falling near his fingertips. Bronson kept his eyes to the flo
or and stationed himself by the window.
Scott watched him with a snarl on his face and then turned to the lawyer. “How do I get my hands on that money, Noodles?”
“The coroner has issued an interim death certificate due to the ongoing inquest into your father’s death. It means your father’s legitimate assets have been transferred to an executorship account which I control.”
Daniel didn’t understand what Noodles was talking about. Nobody did, but it smelled like trouble for Scott.
“He’s given you all our money?” Scott asked.
“I control it, but I can’t spend it. After I have excised my duties and paid the outstanding tax, the assets will be transferred to a bank account no-one has access to for a period of six months.”
Daniel laughed out loud. “Guess you won’t be buying your way out of this one.”
Scott ignored him. “Why would he do that?”
“It’s a standard clause when businesses are inherited rather than bought. It’s known as proof of competency. The children of many a wealthy family have squandered their parent’s legacies rather than prospered by them. Essentially, you will have to show you are capable of running the business before it is entirely yours. It is an old tradition, but one we will have to abide by for the time being.”
Scott paced the room. “We can’t get money out of the legal businesses?”
Noodles shook his head. “Not for another six months. Your father always thought of them as his retirement fund. That is where the majority of the money resides.”
“What about the other businesses? The main ones.”
“Those are fluid accounts. Money goes in and out. I have those details. They are yours to do with as you will. Well, yours and Daniel’s.”
“What do you mean mine and Daniel’s? Didn’t my father say who was in charge?”
“Not exactly. Nothing was ever committed to paper. It would count as evidence.”
Daniel leaned forward. His fingers were numb, no doubt purple and bloated with blood. They felt around a metal oblong with a textured surface. There was a small round button at the top. Pressing it, something whipped out of the oblong. He smiled when he recognised what it was.
“Dad never saw it as a problem,” Daniel said. “He expected one of us to be dead by now. I told you I was telling the truth. If it makes you feel better, I want nothing to do with it. All I want is my daughter.”
“Without naming a successor, there will always be talk about who the true boss is. Everyone knows I’m buying my way out of trouble instead of fighting. Shit, I’m in love with my dead Dad’s wife. My reputation is fucked before I even start.”
Daniel shrugged his shoulders and stared at the floor. His fingers fumbled with the knife Bronson gave him. He dropped it repeatedly. Any moment, Scott would figure out the answer to his problem and knowing Scott, he’d make it messier than it had to be.
“I can’t let you leave this room.” Looking up, he saw Scott holding an Automag V, a light weight semi-automatic pistol. Shit it, he thought.
“You and I will always be in competition. There’ll always be a fight between us,” Scott said. He aimed the pistol as Daniel worked frantically with the knife.
“The thing is, I have one more secret to tell you. It’s about Dad.”
“Don’t care.” His finger was on the trigger.
“Are you sure? It will blow your mind.”
“The only person whose mind is going to be blown is yours, brother. Along with the rest of your fucking head.”
“Don’t do it,” Bronson said, taking a step forward.
Scott glanced in his direction, a cold smile creeping across his face. “Why don’t you sit next to your buddy?” He waved impatiently with the gun and Bronson joined Daniel on the sofa. “At least that way, if I miss, I might hit you.”
The doors to the office slammed shut. They jumped at the noise and stared around the room. It was missing a lawyer. Noodles had bolted.
“He never could stand the sight of blood,” Scott said. He aimed his gun at No Neck, who stood like a rabbit frozen in the glare of an Automag V. “You’re not thinking of running off, are you?”
“No, sir, Mr Dayton. Not me.”
“Good. Take a seat next to those two.”
He hesitated, glancing at the door. Bronson turned, patting the arm of the sofa. “Come on, mate. We don’t bite.”
Trailing his feet, he reluctantly settled his bulk next to Bronson, who had to squeeze along to make more space.
Scott studied them over the barrel of his gun. “There’s a way out of this. I kill you all. I pay off Fairbanks and no-one will ever know except Noodles and as we just saw, he’s too spineless to do anything about it. Everything goes back to normal with my reputation intact.”
No Neck jumped from the sofa, as if it was white hot. “Don’t kill me. I can help you. I can help you get rid of the bodies.”
“What a hero,” Bronson said under his breath.
Daniel smiled. He had almost cut through his bindings.
“Yeah? Well maybe I let him live, Bronson and you’re the one that goes to the bottom of the Tyne?”
“I’d sooner be face to face with a fucking halibut than take orders from a psycho. Working for the Daytons used to mean something.”
“Do you want to know my other secret now?” Daniel asked.
Scott rolled his eyes and turned the gun on him. “And what’s that?”
No Neck saw his chance and ran for the exit. Scott fired, but missed, hitting the door. Daniel leapt from the sofa, his hands loose, but his legs were weak. He stumbled, falling face down, his nose exploding with a fresh bout of pain. A shot rang out. He didn’t feel anything and he knew instantly Bronson had taken the bullet. He was next and scrambled on the floor. There was the sound of fast footsteps. And the sound of a snap, leather slapping leather.
Something fell on him, something heavy. A body. It was Bronson, his weight pinning him down, preventing his escape. He wriggled, flipping onto his back. With a groan, he lifted him to one side and rolled to freedom.
Standing, but only barely, Daniel rubbed his throbbing face and looked about the room. “Jesus, what did you do?”
Bronson wasn’t dead. He was propped against the sofa, holding Scott’s gun by the barrel. His hands were shaking and his breath came in short, quick gulps. Daniel followed the direction of his gaze to where Scott lay on the floor. He looked back to Bronson. A bullet had grazed his arm. His clothing was torn and smouldering, but he wasn’t bleeding. He’d been lucky, thought Daniel. Luckier than his brother.
“He missed me by a millimetre. I grabbed the gun and whipped him with it. I couldn’t kill him, Daniel. Doesn’t matter what he did. I’m sorry,” Bronson said.
The gun clattered to the floor and Bronson cleaned his hand on his trousers in a slow, rhythmic circle that threatened to wear a hole in the material. His mouth was open. Pale skin. Chattering teeth. He was in shock, but Daniel doubted it had anything to do with narrowly avoiding death.
They stood in silence, watching Scott’s chest moving in and out.
“We can’t leave him,” Daniel said. “If he wakes up, he’ll kill you and - “
“I know. You want revenge for what he did to your daughter.”
Picking up the Automag, Daniel checked there were enough bullets to do the job. It was still warm. “I’ll do it.”
Bronson held out his hand. “Give it to me. Your brother was a bad man, but he was still your brother. I’ll take him somewhere and do it there. No-one will find him.”
“He wasn’t the man you thought he was, Bronson. I showed you that.”
“None of you are. I looked up to him. Shit, I wanted to be him, but no matter what I did, I was always on the outside.” Bronson took the gun from Daniel and slid it into the back of his trousers. “He deserves to be killed by someone who cares.”
“I still need my revenge.”
Bronson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s more to
life, Daniel, but don’t worry. Where he’s going, he’ll get his punishment.”
His brother’s death would be painless. Bronson would make sure of it. If he woke up, he’d be knocked out again before the bullet entered his brain. Double tap. Gangland-style. Hilltop had suffered a worse fate and he’d been a pawn in a much bigger game. It didn’t seem fair, but then what death was?
He could ask himself if it had all been worth it. A dead father who wasn’t his father. A brother who had died hating him. A life’s work destroyed. And then he thought of Eisha and of Lily. There was a life waiting for all three of them. His life’s work was only beginning.
As Bronson kneeled next to Scott’s body with his head bowed, Daniel searched through the drawers of his father’s desk. There were blank notebooks, old biro pens and a stray bullet from an unknown gun. He found what he wanted in the lowest drawer and threw his father’s beloved family photo at Scott. It landed on his chest and jerked Bronson back to reality.
“Bury him with that,” Daniel said, walking out of the room. “The Daytons are over.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daniel stood in Lily’s kitchen, squeezed between a kitchen table and a refrigerator humming loudly. The linoleum from the floor was rolled up and leaning in a corner, exposing rough, paint flecked floorboards. Boxes labelled ‘photos’ and ‘towels’ were stacked against the wall. It was her new home in Bensham, Gateshead, next door to a pizza shop that had recently burned down.
Lily had her back to him as she made coffee, cursing as she struggled to unscrew the top off a bottle of milk. He reached over her shoulder and took the bottle from her. Twisting it, the ridges grated against his skin. “Jesus. That’s stuck fast. Sorry.”
He handed it back and Lily dropped it in the bin.
“I take it you don’t want sugar either?” she asked.
They sat at the kitchen table covered with a checked tablecloth. An empty vase stuffed with newspaper stood in the centre. They wrapped their hands around steaming mugs of black coffee.
“I knew this day would come,” Lily said.
