Ian's Gang - The Wedding

IAN'S GANG - THE WEDDING

  BY

  IAN KIDD

  Ian's Gang ? Ian Kidd 2012

  IAN'S GANG

  Are:

  Ian Williams

  Matthew Parker

  Scott Richardson

  Banix

  Steve Botham

  Robert Stevens

  Philip Vasquez

  Sarah Vasquez

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ian's Gang were in their Base lounge, watching the Royal Wedding on television in the lounge.

  "It's so romantic," Sarah nudged up close to Ian on the sofa, "isn't it?"

  Ian looked alarmed.

  "Can't we have a bit of blood and gore to liven things up?" Steve wanted to know.

  "I'm going to puke any second now," Philip feigned vomiting.

  Matthew yawned. "What I want to know is what the hell a gorgeous supermodel like Elle would see in a spotty, gangly prick like Harry?"

  "A couple of billion pounds," Scott suggested.

  "Scott," Ian reproved, "don't be so cynical."

  "Yeah," Sarah spoke up, "Ian's right. It's romantic." Scott looked suitably crushed.

  Matthew grinned sardonically. "So, Ian, Sarah - when's the wedding?"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Matthew," Ian and Scott both snapped in unison.

  Matthew grinned wickedly.

  Ian's watch-phone beeped. "That'll probably be Steven."

  "No, I'm here," Steve grinned.

  "Shut up," Ian told him, and began to speak into the watch-phone. "Ian Williams of

  Ian's Gang, can I help you?" he looked up. "Yes, he's right here, I'll get him for you if you like - oh, okay, I'll take a message. You want him to meet you where? Yes, alright, I'll tell him, bye" he switched the phone off and looked across at Matthew. "A girl for you, Matthew. Wants to meet you at the Grover's Arms Hotel on Rycart Street at nine o'clock tonight."

  "Name?" Matthew inquired, like it could have been any number of girls.

  "Er - Carol," Ian remembered. "Carol Braithwaite."

  Robert looked at him sharply.

  "Carol Braithwaite," Matthew said softly. Ian nodded. Matthew leapt up, grabbed Ian by the collar and slammed him up against the wall. "You sick son-of-a-bitch!" he roared. "Just cause I made that crack about you and Sarah!"

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Ian spluttered. "Let go of me!"

  "Don't tell me," Matthew snarled, "you've never heard the name Carol Braithwaite before, have you? Think about it."

  "It sounds vaguely familiar," Ian admitted. "An old girlfriend of yours?"

  Matthew stared at him, fuming, apparently on the brink of committing extreme violence on Ian's person.

  Robert stood up quickly. "Carol was his fianc?," he said.

  "Oh," Ian realised, "her."

  "Yeah, her," Matthew smiled grimly.

  "Who?" Sarah wanted to know.

  "Matthew, Carol, her sister Claire and I all grew up together," Robert explained hastily.

  "Carol and Matthew were - " he hesitated, somewhat awkwardly, "they were sweethearts from way back. They were going to be married but - "

  "But she was murdered," Matthew said savagely. "The night before our wedding! So it's hardly likely she's calling me up to go have a coffee, is it?!"

  "Guess not," Ian conceded weakly. "Could you please put me down now, thank you?"

  Matthew dropped him on the floor with a bang. "You ever pull a stunt like that again," he threatened, "and I'll put you in traction."

  "That's just it," Ian stood up, staring him out, "it wasn't a stunt - at least, not by me."

  Matthew regarded him uncertainly. "If you're lying to me - "

  "I'm not," Ian swore. "All I know is a girl rang up a few moments ago saying she was Carol Braithwaite."

  "No one else on Earth knows about this," Matthew pondered, "not even Steven."

  "I do now," Steve laughed.

  "If he doesn't shut up, I'm gonna clobber him in a minute," Matthew said dangerously.

  "Talking of clobbering," Ian said smugly, "don't you think you owe me an apology?"

  "What for?" Matthew retorted.

  "Assaulting me, insulting me, threatening to put me in traction..." Ian smiled, "for starters. So don't you think you ought to apologise?"

  The gang were watching this confrontation in amused interest (save Sarah who was still too enthralled by the Royal Wedding), and Matthew became aware that a show of weakness on his part could irreparably damage his 'cool' reputation. "Nah," he snorted, "I've been wanting to do that for ages, anyway."

  Ian frowned.

  "So what are we to do about this meeting?" Robert questioned.

  "Go," Matthew decided. "At worst, it'll be a crazed psychotic who wants to tear off my testicles and eat them, at best it'll be a sexy teenage girl who really likes me and wants to do something different with my testicles. Either way, sounds like a fun evening to me."

  "Right on!" Steve approved.

  "Isn't it romantic..." Sarah mooned, still completely oblivious to everything except the price tag hanging on the back of Harry's trousers.

  Jack Vance was a man with something of a bad reputation.

  This was not to say, however, that he was the sort of man parents would object to their daughter going out with. On the contrary, they probably wouldn't see him at all, and if she did go out with him, they certainly wouldn't see their daughter again either.

  A brutal serial-rapist-killer, he was also a hit-man renowned for his expertise in criminal circles. His job also happened to be his hobby, which made Jack Vance one of the most dangerous men alive in the cosmos today (his only close rival being his fellow serial killer/hired killer, the decidedly ruthless (and decidedly melodramatically named The BloodButcher).

  He was walking down the corridors of the power base owned by his next client, a man he had worked for before, and thus was not intimidated by the apparent size of the criminal empire being run there - not that Jack Vance was a man easily intimidated by anybody, having once faced a platoon of heavily armed Assessis soldiers with only a table mat and a pencil clip as weapons, and walked away without a scratch.

  A thin-faced, unpleasant-looking man (not in the arrangement of his features, but in the callous way he seemed to regard himself but himself, and the complete lack of emotion in those cold blue eyes) dressed entirely in black, with no apparent weapons, he was in every sense the perfect killing machine and showed no hesitation or doubt as he barged into his important client's office without so much as a knock. Knocking was for people ruled by the constraints of etiquette and politeness, and Jack Vance had no need for such things, and if anyone tried to convince him otherwise, he resolved the argument by breaking every bone in his opponent's body and force-feeding him his own excrement.

  "What can I do for you this time?" Jack asked his client.

  "Sit down, and we'll have a think about it," smiled Julius Williams, otherwise known, of course, as the Bad Ian.

  Rycart Street.

  The Grover's Arms hotel car park was dark and dingy as Matthew arrived, flanked by Ian and Steve.

  "I told you not to come," Matthew said for the fiftieth time.

  "And I told you this could be some psychotic sicko who wants to kill you," Ian shot back.

  "In which case I'm not willing to let you come here alone. Clear?"

  "Clear," Matthew agreed reluctantly, "but if it turns out to be a horny teenage girl who want to do unspeakable things to the lower parts of my body - butt out!"

  "Matthew," the three turned to face a blonde teenage girl, face partially hidden by shadows.

  "Time to butt out," Steve commented.

  Matthew frowned. "Who's that?" he said softly, almost nervously.

 
"It's me, Matt," the girl stepped into the light and Matthew gasped in recognition. "Carol."