by Martina Cole
Sean laughed nastily. ‘What a waste of space.’
Eilish lit a cigarette and, looking at her brother, she said, ‘Well, be fair, that is what we are paying him for.’
Roy looked at Sean and Eilish and said gravely, ‘Think long and hard about the last few days, if there was one thing that you think might have been a bit off, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed at the time. Was there anyone who came into the club who shouldn’t have been there? A postman, someone delivering a parcel, a fucking salesman. Have you had a new punter who didn’t sit well with you? This meeting was only arranged three days ago, so whoever did this didn’t have much time. And from what I have seen, this was a well-planned execution, because both Abad and Hamid were taken out together. That means that this wasn’t personal – it was purely business.’
Eilish shook her head. ‘No one out of the ordinary has been in – I would have noticed – and no one has used that private room anyway. I would have known about it, because I book the private rooms. The punter has to weigh out serious money beforehand, and I make sure I know who they are and what they do before they can even cross the threshold.
‘Whoever did this had to have been here before this meeting was arranged. It has to be someone who knows the club and knows the layout, because most of the regular punters don’t even know that room exists. Famous people use that particular VIP room because they know we can spirit them in and out of the back door without anyone even knowing they were there.
‘This has to be someone who knows this place and knows that there is no CCTV near that room. We guarantee privacy, don’t we? My real worry is that whoever did this came in the back door and left the same way. So what we have to ask ourselves is, who do we think might have let the fucker in?’
The three men looked at each other in agreement, because what Eilish had said made perfect sense.
Sean dropped down on to the black leather sofa by the window and shook his handsome head in disbelief.
Angus and Roy were looking at each other as if they could read what was going through the other’s mind.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-one
Jamilla Thomas was surprised to see Lorna on her doorstep, but she did her best to hide her dismay.
She knew that Alia loved this woman and she knew that Lorna loved Alia – there could be no disputing that – but that didn’t take away from the fact that Jamilla couldn’t stand her. God Himself knew she had tried to put aside her dislike but, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t do it.
Lorna was strange in so many ways. Not all the time, but enough to worry her where Alia was concerned, even though the child came back from her visits with nothing but happy stories and good memories. But if Angus wasn’t there, she wouldn’t let the child go anywhere with Lorna. Angus had sworn that when Alia was at his house he was there for the duration, and from what she had gleaned from Alia that was the truth. Even the woman’s own husband didn’t see fit to leave her alone with a child, and Jamilla could understand why.
Lorna was still a good-looking woman, with a great figure. She dressed to impress and she was always perfectly made-up and impeccably turned out. Yet Jamilla knew there was something decidedly wrong with Lorna, and she could never be left alone with her grandchild.
‘Oh, Lorna, I wasn’t expecting you,’ Jamilla said pointedly.
It was lost on Lorna who smiled widely. ‘I was in the neighbourhood and I thought, if you didn’t mind, I would pop in for a coffee and a catch-up.’
Jamilla had been here before with her and, against her better judgement, she opened the door and let Lorna step inside. Alia was at playschool, so she wouldn’t see her anyway.
The one thing in Lorna’s favour was that she had given up her son to his father. And she had apparently removed every photo of him from her home, as if he had never existed, and Jamilla could understand that. After all, what mother could ever forgive a son who was a rapist?
‘Alia isn’t here, she’s at playschool. She loves it there! She is ever so popular too.’
Lorna was still all smiles. ‘I bet she is. She’s such a friendly and engaging child. She is a credit to you, Jamilla, a real credit.’
Jamilla nodded her thanks as she put the kettle on. ‘Tea or coffee, Lorna?’
‘Whatever is easiest, I don’t mind.’
As Jamilla watched Lorna roaming around her kitchen, getting more and more agitated by the minute, she wished there was someone else in the house with her.
‘Are you OK, Lorna?’
Lorna stopped her pacing and, looking at her intently, she said, ‘Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?’
Jamilla smiled as best she could and busied herself making the tea.
‘Why does everyone keep asking me that? As if there’s something wrong with me, and I need looking after? I don’t need looking after, and there’s nothing wrong with me. So now you know, you don’t need to ever question me again.’
Jamilla didn’t answer her, because she didn’t know what Lorna wanted to hear. Instead, she waited for Lorna to start a real conversation of some kind and she prayed that it would be something she could relate to.
Lorna pulled out a stool and sat down at the large breakfast bar. ‘No one knows what it’s like to be constantly questioned about how you are feeling. It’s wearing, Jamilla. It’s just so depressing, honestly. I know my son did something really terrible, and I hate him for it, but I did the best I could for my kids. I think that some people are just born bad, don’t you?’
Jamilla didn’t know what to say for the best, but she tried. ‘Yeah, Lorna, I think you are probably right. Some people are just born with a badness in them, and nothing anyone can do will change that.’
Lorna smiled again at that. ‘I knew you would understand. I had a feeling that you, of all people, would be on my side.’
As Jamilla heard Jamie’s key turning in the door, she let out a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t be alone with this woman any more. Lorna actually scared her, and she wasn’t easily frightened. One thing she was now sure of, though, and that was that her little Alia would not be staying at this fucker’s house any more, no matter what.
Lorna Davis was as mad as a box of frogs, and she could not let her within a donkey’s fart of her grandchild. This weirdness today was the last straw.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-two
Roy and Angus had stayed up all night watching all the available CCTV footage and, as Eilish had predicted, there had not been anything on it that was even remotely suspect.
Whoever had murdered Abad and Hamid had to have been invited in through the back door and then escorted out afterwards. It was beyond comprehension that someone that worked for them would even dare to do something so heinous, no matter how much money they might have been offered. Whoever it was had to know that they would find them eventually. Everyone on the payroll, even the fucking cleaners, would be watched like a hawk until this situation had been resolved to Angus’s satisfaction. None of it made any sense, and it was torturing Angus.
Sean and Eilish were still sorting out the club and dealing with the police and the press. Angus had courted the press for years, so a double shooting in his flagship lap-dancing club would be a big story and one that could run for weeks. The Sunday papers would rehash everything, from his clubs in Soho to his clubs in Spain and the stories that had been told over the years. He couldn’t do anything about that.
He picked up the phone and rang Lionel, his tame Filth, again. Lionel answered on the first ring.
‘Any news on Mariah yet? Is she OK?’
Lionel told him, once again, that she was critical but stable in hospital. As soon as he knew more, he would let him know.
‘She is fighting her end though?’
Lionel sighed. ‘There’s a policewoman outside her door who is keeping her eye on her and who will be the first to know if anything changes, Angus. Once she knows anything of relevance, she will call me.’
Angus put t
he phone down. ‘If that little girl dies, Roy, I will never forgive myself. She didn’t even get the chance to run. The other girls couldn’t tell us fuck-all about the shooter, except that he had a baseball hat and a dark-coloured scarf covering the lower part of his face.’
Roy could hear the anger in his friend’s voice. ‘Be fair, Angus, they were all shitting hot bricks. All anyone was interested in was getting out of the situation, and who can blame them? Whoever it was wasn’t going to let anyone see his fucking boat-race, were they?’
Roy was right, but it didn’t make Angus feel any better.
‘Look, Angus, we have everyone on our payroll out there asking around and trying to put this lunacy into some kind of perspective. Someone somewhere has to know something, it stands to fucking reason.’
Angus nodded but he wasn’t feeling too reassured, because there was something about this whole situation that didn’t ring true. There wasn’t one fucking Face in the whole of England or Spain that would have enough front to think that they could get away with it. He was Angus Davis, and he knew his fucking worth, and he wouldn’t rest until he knew who the culprit was and had him within his grasp. And oh, that cunt would rue the day he had thought for one moment that he could get one over on him.
Roy poured them both a mug of strong black coffee and handed one to Angus, who accepted it gratefully.
‘The thing is, Angus, once we find the shooter we will find out why they were both targeted, because that’s what has been bothering me.’
Angus sipped his coffee again. ‘Oh, I have worked out why, Roy. Think about it: Abad brought Hamid here as his replacement. We knocked him back and, in fairness, he took that well, so whoever did this already knew we were going to refuse his offer. That means that it can only be whoever he worked for. My mother is already on it. She’s talking to Abad’s father as they go back years, and she also has the Colombians on it. They will be as interested as we are to find out who ordered it. She also pointed out that it’s not personal, because they could have taken me out and they didn’t, so this is about them – about Abad and Hamid. I want to know who did it and I want to make sure that they know, for the future, that they can’t use me or my fucking premises to settle their scores.’
Roy got up and poured a generous measure of brandy into his coffee. ‘That makes sense. But what if this is a warning to you to show you that they mean business? With Hamid gone and poor Abad – a close friend and someone you have had dealings with for years – shot to death in your club, maybe this is their way of saying you can’t refuse their offer.’
Angus didn’t answer him. He had already worked that much out for himself.
Roy sighed wearily. ‘These are heavy people, Angus. And more than that, they are determined.’
Angus snorted angrily. ‘Fucking bring it on, that’s what I say.’
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-three
Diana spent the day working from Angus’s house. She had sent Gabriel to remove Lorna from Jamilla and Jamie’s house, as requested.
The news about the shooting at the club was on every news channel, so Jamie had got in touch with Gabriel to ask him what he should do with Lorna. It sounded like she was on the verge of one of her psychotic breaks.
She felt sorry for Lorna, she always had.
The first time she had been sectioned, Angus had been away, and she had been called in by the then housekeeper because she had been getting increasingly worried about Lorna’s strange behaviour. When Diana had arrived, Lorna had been manic and, according to the housekeeper, she had been running around the grounds for nearly two days, on and off. Diana had found her, exhausted and talking nonsense about the children being possessed by devils and how she needed to run constantly to stop the bad thoughts from intruding. The doctor had come and, within minutes, he had decided that she had to be sectioned. So with his cooperation, Diana arranged for her to go to a private mental health facility where her problems wouldn’t become common knowledge.
Diana had stayed with her grandchildren and she had really cherished her time with them and getting to know them properly. She had hoped that Lorna being sectioned would be the wake-up call that her son needed, to see that his wife had serious problems, but she had been mistaken.
Once Lorna came back home, he acted like it was a one-off and wouldn’t happen again, because she was all better and on her meds. And Lorna had been well, for a while – still odd and reclusive, but able to function – until she stopped taking her meds. Then it would start all over again, and that had become the pattern of their life for so long, she supposed it had eventually become the norm.
Diana decided to take a break from the phone for a while. She was tired out and too old for this shit. Whereas once she had lived for the adrenalin of her lifestyle, now she just wanted to relax and enjoy her grandchildren. She was waiting for Abad’s father to call back and give her the names of the main people Abad had been dealing with the last few years. He was devastated about his son and, like her, he wanted those responsible to pay. She could hear in his voice that he was a broken man.
He had arranged for his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren to be brought to him so he could protect them, if needed. The news of his son’s death had already hit the Moroccan news networks. It had been picked up from the British news sites, where it was front-page and the only item that seemed to be talked about on the networks, so the poor man couldn’t even grieve in peace.
Diana sighed and stood up so she could stretch her body for a few moments. There were security men surrounding the property and they were there because of Lorna. Diana wondered where this would all end. Because one thing she was sure of was that someone within their circle had served up Hamid and Abad for a price. And it would have to have been a serious wedge for whoever was responsible to not only go against her Angus but to be willing to risk his retribution, should they get found out.
Angus would skin them alive and enjoy every second of it, because such treachery was something that could not be countenanced.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-four
Eilish got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a white bath sheet. She wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand and looked at herself. She was tired and drawn, but she supposed that was to be expected after the night they had all experienced. She glanced down at the slight swell in her stomach that wasn’t detectable to the outside world yet. That was for dealing with another time.
She still couldn’t believe that Abad and Hamid were dead, even though she had seen their bodies broken and smashed to pieces. Abad had been hit in the neck, and the bullet had left a huge hole that gaped open and left him looking like something from an abattoir. It had been such a shock, seeing him so alive and full of fun one moment, and then dead and mutilated the next.
They had known him all their lives. They had stayed with him and his family in Morocco, and they had wonderful memories of him taking them to a souk or to the beach. She remembered when they had holidayed in Marbella and how much fun they had had together. It didn’t seem real somehow.
But as her father had explained, it was always different when people died violently, because it left a mark on everyone who knew them and loved them. Whereas if they had died of natural causes, like a heart attack or even cancer, it was much easier to comprehend, because then it always felt more normal. It was something that happened to so many people; it was the natural order, and it was their time to die. But when someone was murdered, it meant that someone had cut their life short, deliberately and brutally, and the violent nature of their demise was hard to accept.
She realised now, of course, that he was preparing them for the worst. Because in the world he inhabited, the worst was always around the corner. It was the nature of the beast. Seeing those men dead like that was something that she would never forget as long as she lived.
She remembered poor Mariah lying there on the floor, with that huge gaping wound in her chest. She had looked so young and so vulnerable. She was
what was termed ‘collateral damage’. She knew that Mariah being shot had affected her father more even than Abad’s death, who he had loved like a brother, because she was an innocent who had been caught up in something that had nothing to do with her. She had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Eilish rinsed her face with cold water and then she cleaned her teeth. She went from her bathroom through to the bedroom, dropped the towel and pulled on a cream silk dressing gown.
She walked through her apartment into her lounge and she saw Davey lying on the sofa drinking a beer. Every time she looked at him, she felt the pull of him. There was something about Davey that affected her deep in her soul, and she was at a loss to know exactly what that was. Since they had been together, she knew that he had never once been unfaithful to her and, knowing his reputation, she was not only amazed, she was also flattered.
He told her constantly that he loved her and wanted her, and she relished the attention and the feeling that she had somehow tamed him. She loved looking at him sleeping, or just watching him eat. She loved everything about him.
He was patting the seat beside him and trying to pull her down to sit with him, but she pushed him away. Instead, she went and sat on an armchair alone, and she laughed at his disappointment.
She watched him as he smiled lazily and continued to drink his beer. ‘Doesn’t it bother you what happened at the club?’
Davey sat up suddenly, looking serious. ‘Of course it does, for Christ’s sake!’
Davey was on the defensive now; he clearly wasn’t happy with her questioning him or his motives.
‘Seeing Abad and Hamid dead, and that poor young Mariah fighting for her life, it was horrific. I don’t think I will ever get over it.’
Davey slipped off the sofa and came to where she was sitting. Kneeling in front of her, he said sadly, ‘I know, Eilish, it was shocking. I don’t think any of us will ever really get over it.’
