Broken (46 page)

He closed his eyes again and made a guttural sound in his throat. For a second she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. Had wanted it so badly she had hallucinated it.

Now he was quiet again, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. Kate pressed the buzzer to call a nurse. She was praying that he was on the mend. Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew she was here for the night now. She couldn’t go home and leave him after this.

She slipped off her shoes and settled herself more comfortably in the chair. If he did come out of it all, she would more than likely have to visit him on remand until he was sentenced on a murder charge. That’s if they could make it stick. She had already lied for him once. She wondered what they would make of her part in it all. She would lie again, on oath if necessary, she knew that as well as she knew her own name.

She would protect him as he would have protected her in the same situation.

As a nurse came into the room Kate stood up to greet her, an uncertain smile on her face. ‘I think he squeezed my hand.’

The nurse nodded and went to adjust a machine by his bed.

‘Don’t get too excited,’ she said quietly. ‘It could just be reflex.’

Kate nodded, but inside she was already convincing herself he was on the mend. Willing him to wake up and recognise her.

If the power of thought was as strong as it was reputed to be, then Patrick Kelly would be up and about in no time.

 

Jacky and Joey were on their last legs. Willy knew that and the fact didn’t bother him one iota. As far as he was concerned, he was just paying them back. Not for himself but for Patrick.

When Boris came into the cellar Willy was scared, but didn’t show it in any way. He was expecting to be finished off and was hoping they would do it cleanly. He’d had plenty of time to think over the last few weeks, and he regretted only one thing. He should have got himself a woman sooner than this and had a few kids. It was what male and female were put on this earth for: to procreate. To make children and give them the best that life could offer. Not necessarily money or worldly things but a lust for life coupled with a sense of decency. Of wanting to live as one with the rest of the world.

If he had not taken the path he had chosen, he would not have ended up in a cold cellar, tortured, beaten and waiting to die. Praying it would be quick.

It was a waste though. All those years he had been grateful to Patrick Kelly for giving him part of his life, allowing him to share his daughter, when Willy should have had a daughter of his own. Should have had someone else to care for, to work for. To cherish. How many times had Patrick told him to get himself a decent bird over the years? To go out and get a real life.

Willy was disappointed in himself.

If they topped him now at least he would die in the knowledge that life was of your own making. People only did to you what you let them do. How many times had his mother said that to him as a kid? Too many. In the end he had exasperated her with his lifestyle and his wild ways. But it had taken all this to make him see what had been staring him in the face since he was a boy.

Everyone needed someone.

Shyness with women had always been his downfall. Now he had someone, and he loved her. Maureen was a sort, bless her. But she was a good sort and at the end of the day what did it matter what she had done in the past? It was the past that made you the person you were now. Maureen had been round the turf more times than Red Rum, but that was her prerogative. She was grown up and had lived by her own lights. She had had a few knocks, was battered round the edges, but she had genuinely cared for Willy and he had felt cared for.

Had felt wanted.

For once in his life he had been half of a couple and it had felt good. He had been comfortable with Maureen. Liked her conversation, even her irascible temper. She had made him laugh, really laugh, and he had enjoyed that.

Now that he had finally sussed out what it was all about, Boris was standing in front of him with a gun and a smile. Willy decided to take whatever came with good grace. There wasn’t much else he could do.

‘You did well, Mr Gabney.’

Willy didn’t answer him. He could feel the cold now, it was seeping into his bones. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or the dampness of the cellar.

‘So Mr Kelly was innocent all along - but he was losing his edge. Once that goes, vultures like our two friends here are quick to take advantage.’

Willy shrugged. ‘Pat trusted Tommy. Had no reason not to.’

Boris nodded. ‘I suppose not. I am sorry for the attempt on his life - I am sure he will understand it was just business. He would have done the same in my shoes.’

‘If Patrick had ordered a contract it would have been carried out properly, you can take that as gospel. He never suffered fools gladly and there’d have been no half measures with an order of his.’

Boris smiled at the far from subtle put-down. He was not insulted, merely amused. Old-style villains like Gabney were dying out. The real money nowadays was in drugs and the older faces tended to steer clear of that fiercely competitive market. The Russians were not so choosy.

Boris jerked his head at the two men on the floor. ‘Why didn’t you kill them?’

Willy shrugged. ‘To be honest, mate, I couldn’t be arsed. They’re your prisoners, like I am. I think the ball is in your court at the moment, don’t you?’

Boris squatted down and placed the gun by the side of Jacky’s head. He pulled the trigger. Brains and blood showered over Joey who had opened his eyes and was now in a state of catatonic shock as he looked into Boris’s calm smiling face. After a few seconds he shot Joey, too.

He threw the gun on to the Z-bed and adjusted the immaculate lines of his Armani suit.

‘Can we drop you off anywhere, Mr Gabney, or would you prefer us to call you a cab?’

 

Benjamin Boarder was outside the hospital. He had been watching Kate since Jacky and Joey’s abduction. He knew who had them and he also knew that the chances were, Boris the Russian would be back at some point.

Benjamin owed everything he had to Patrick Kelly, who had given him his first few quid to start up a debt-collecting operation. He had been nineteen years old then and full of bravado and pride. Patrick had liked him, and after an introduction by a known face, had given him five grand to buy a debt. Benjamin had collected it from a well-known Welsh dog breeder and lunatic and his reputation had been set.

He had met his wife, a tiny redhead with a quirky sense of humour, in a night club when he was bouncing to earn extra money. She had been a virgin, which had been a shock in itself. Another shock was her family’s ready acceptance of this large half-caste man who obviously adored their daughter Chantel.

Seven children later he had never looked at another woman and didn’t want to. He still wanted to touch her every second of the day, still found her exciting. Before Chantel he shagged anything that moved and was remotely fuckable. Since Chantel other women had ceased to exist for him.

He had seven fabulous kids and a blinding house, a big car and plenty of money - if not in the bank at least in holdalls hidden throughout the South East. He had left a letter for Chantel telling her where all the money was hidden in case it went pear-shaped.

He owed it all to Patrick Kelly and was willing to put his life on the line to repay that debt.

So he watched the hospital, and tried in his own way to take care of Kate Burrows. It was all he could do for Patrick Kelly.

He hoped it would be enough.

 

Suzy was out of her brains, blazing with drug-induced camaraderie. When she heard the ring of her doorbell she stumbled out to answer it, giggling. The man at the door looked familiar. She screwed up her eyes and finally recognised him.

‘Hello. Long time no see.’ She pulled the door open and the man walked inside.

‘You look well, Suze.’

She grinned at him. ‘I am out of me fucking nut, mate.’ He laughed with her. ‘Tell me something I don’t know!’

He followed her into her spotlessly clean lounge. Even drugged out of her brains Suzy managed to keep everything tidy. It was a kink in her nature that came from being brought up like an animal and rebelling against it at an early age.

Suzy had no qualms of any kind; she would do anything for monetary gain, but she hated dirt and squalor. They had played a major role in her childhood and she had learned early on that you could be as scummy as you liked so long as you didn’t look it. Provided you dressed right and drove the right car, the majority would accept you at face value. It was one of the most useful lessons of her short childhood.

She liked to see people’s faces when they came into her home, enjoyed the admiration and envy of the less well-off. Nowadays, of course, it was an advert for how much she earned and that made the girls and women she dealt with more convinced than ever that they were on to a winner with Suzy.

Now a blast from the past had called on her and such was her drug-fuelled confidence that she didn’t find it strange that a man she had not seen for years should track her down and come calling unannounced.

‘Want a drink?’

He nodded. ‘The usual, Suze. I assume you remember what that was?’

She laughed girlishly. ‘ ’Course I do. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Fuck me, I was just thinking about you not two days ago.’ She poured him a large brandy. ‘Ain’t that weird?’

He took the brandy and sipped it. ‘As long as you weren’t
talking
about me, Suze.’

She sat down and crossed her skinny legs. ‘Why should I do that?’ She sounded genuinely interested.

The man shrugged inside his crumpled C&A suit. ‘Well, you was nearly in the shit, wasn’t you, Suze? I heard a little whisper that you were nearly banged up on a lifer. Scary prospect that. Grass up your own granny you would if that was an option, eh?’

Suzy was annoyed. ‘Listen, Barker, I know how to keep me trap shut. Fuck knows I ought to after all these years. And, with respect, if I had wanted to toss you off at any time I had ample opportunity over the years, didn’t I?’

The man sipped his drink.

‘I have been here tonight sorting out old business, Suze. Now you can tell me in minute detail what has been going down here.’

Suzy shrugged. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

‘From the beginning - but first, Suzy, I need to know why you went to Lucas. Why didn’t you come to me? Were you hoping I wouldn’t find out when you know I used the girls as well? You’ve muscled in on me, my dear. I gave you a little taste and you abused it. It seems me and you are treading on each other’s toes now. You see, Lucas contacted
me
to get
you
out of the shit. So I think you had better understand from the off that I know more than you may think. Plus, you owe me. I had to go as high as the DPP to get you out.’

Suzy sipped her drink. ‘I appreciate it.’

Barker laughed gently. ‘You are a cunt and no mistaking. First I give you a taster, ask you to do me a favour for old times’ sakes. Then you set up your own operation. Now do I look a twat?’

Suzy was scared. ‘I was under the impression you were out of it now. None of the girls mentioned you at all.’

He shook his head at the skulduggery of the girl before him.

‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they? Unlike you they have the sense to be too scared to mention my name or indeed tread on my toes. But people now think you have Old Bill on your side. You have been asked about me by Burrows, I understand.’

‘I never said a word, I take oath on that. I wouldn’t.’ She was pleading with him. ‘Why would I, Mr Barker? I ain’t stupid. I have been paying off Clive Hamlin from Soho Vice - as you probably know he is a touch. And I also have another Old Bill but it’s someone at Grantley.’

‘I know. Lucas told me. Now I want to know who that is.’

Suzy took a deep breath. ‘I’ll tell you anything you want, Mr Barker.’

He relaxed back into the luxurious seat. ‘See? Life can be so easy.’ He looked around the flat. ‘Looks like you have got yourself
another
partner, doesn’t it?’

Suzy nodded. She tried to look pleased.

But she wasn’t successful.

 

Maureen was missing Willy. She had heard a whisper that he was dead. Knew someone had done the dirty on Pat Kelly and that he was fighting for his life in hospital.

Since the news she had gone into a decline. Her hair needed dyeing and styling, her nail varnish was chipped and her face, devoid of make-up, looked old and haggard. In fact, her son Duane was seriously worried about her. In the last few weeks his mum had gone downhill at an alarming rate.

He had even resorted to lying to cheer her up, telling her that his mate’s dad had thought she was his sister. Usually something like that would have lifted her spirits for days. Instead Maureen had looked at him with those hollow eyes and said disdainfully, ‘You what! Got a white stick and a fucking dog, has he?’

Still he was feeling sorry for her. He knew she had been bounced around by blokes before and he had accepted that.
She
had accepted that. Taken the blow, picked herself up and brushed herself down. Maureen’s natural good humour always seemed to cushion the shock. But this time it had been more serious.

Willy had by all accounts been kidnapped. Maureen had explained to her son how they had been having a right nice time at the fight when he had simply disappeared. At first she’d thought he had blanked her, then she’d heard rumours. The circles she mixed in, she got to hear a lot of things. Duane tried to point out that not all of them were true. And she had forcefully asked him what he was trying to say? That she had just been dumped then?

He couldn’t win.

He wanted desperately to help her, but he didn’t know how. So he brought her cups of tea without her asking and had stayed by her side, forgoing his usual evenings out on the rampage with his mates. He was genuinely worried about her. For the first time ever she wasn’t strong and he was scared inside. His mother had always been strong for them all. She had to be. A succession of useless bastards had seen to that much.