Payback

  Conrad Hunter looked up as Marcos stopped by his table and nodded at the seat opposite, then went back to eating his Spaghetti Bolognese. Marcos sat and waited patiently while the man mopped up the last of the sauce.

  “You said you got something for me,” Conrad Hunter said around a mouthful of bread.

  “I found some photos of you and a girl at one of the parties. They—”

  Conrad Hunter’s hand crossed the table in a blur. Bunching his fist into Marcos’ crisp shirt-front, he pulled him forward over the table, glaring deep into his eyes.

  “You trying to blackmail me, you big ape? ‘Cause if you are ...”

  Marcos held up both palms, aware that the people at the next table were watching them. He felt a jolt of anger. If it came down to a fight, he had no doubt that he would wipe the floor with the slim man sitting opposite him, but Marcos knew that it wouldn’t stop there. The Hunters didn’t let so much as an out-of-place glance go unpunished.

  Marcos swallowed back his anger and smiled, even though this wasn’t going quite as he’d planned.

  Conrad Hunter seemed to sense Marcos’ lack of fear and pushed him back into his seat. He clicked his fingers at a passing waitress. “Beer,” he said.

  After the waitress had left, Marcos tried again. “One of the girls took some photos and recordings at some of the parties. Altaf thinks she was going to use them to blackmail him.”

  “So what happened to her?”

  “She’s dead.”

  Conrad Hunter sat back in his seat and nodded. “So if she’s dead and you got the stuff back, what’s the problem? You got the photos here?”

  “Altaf has them,” Marcos said. He shifted in his seat, the next few minutes would be the making or breaking of his plan.

  “Okay, I’ll ring him,” Conrad Hunter said, reaching out to pick up his beer.

  Marcos put a restraining hand on his arm, retracting it quickly when the light blue eyes settled on his.

  “What?” Conrad Hunter said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t trust him. I think he may be planning to use the stuff himself. There was another girl involved and he let her walk away. Why else would he do that, unless he’s up to something? I think she’s holding the rest of the stuff for him.”

  Having planted the seed, Marcos sat back in his chair and studied the man opposite. He’d heard a lot about the Hunter brothers over the years, and what he’d heard wasn’t pleasant. If he did this wrong, he wouldn’t see his wife and kids again, that much was certain.

  Conrad Hunter pursed his lips and tipped his head a little, an almost feminine gesture. His eyes became vacant for a moment, then he seemed to snap back to life.

  “Why are you here Farris? What’s in it for you?” he said.

  “I can get the stuff for you. For a price that is.”

  Conrad Hunter chuckled, his high forehead crinkling, causing his widow’s peak to catch the light. The waitress returned and placed Hunter’s drink on the table. She looked at Marcos, eyebrows raised. He shook his head and she left.

  “And how much will that cost me?”

  “Twenty up front, another thirty when I bring you the stuff. I know it sounds high, but I’ll be taking a hell of a risk. When Altef finds out what I’ve done, he’ll want me dead. I’ll need the money to get out of the country.”

  Conrad Hunter stared at him for moment and Marcos shifted uncomfortably.

  “I’ll give you ten up front, and another twenty when I get the stuff.”

  Marcos kept a straight face as he nodded his agreement.

  Ten thousand, along with what he’d already managed to save, was more than enough to get him back to Greece. All he had to do was take the money, collect his family and get the hell out of the country.

  He slid two photos face-down across the table. “Here’s a couple of photos I managed to get already. Give me the money and I’ll get the rest for you.”

  Conrad Hunter picked up the photos and looked at them. Marcos saw the muscles in his face tighten and the anger creep into his eyes.

  “Wait here,” he said, pushing back his chair.

  As Conrad Hunter disappeared through the tables towards a door at the back of the club. Marcos sat back in his chair, angling it slightly, so he could watch the show while he waited for the man to come back with his money.

  So far, so good.

  Chapter 28

  Altaf Chandio’s face lit up in a big false smile. The man sitting opposite him didn’t return it. He could sense that someone had come up and stood behind him and a warning chill touched his spine.

  Hunter’s sallow features always brought memories of undertakers and funerals to his mind, and right now he was fervently praying that particular thought wasn’t some kind of premonition.

  When heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, Altaf couldn’t stop his gaze flicking towards the kitchen doorway, where two of his men, their eyes alive with fear, were being hustled from the house.

  Where the hell was Marcos when he was needed? What the hell was he playing at?

  Altaf could feel the sweat pool between his shoulders and licked dry lips.

  “What—” he began.

  Hunter held up a hand, cutting him off.

  He lapsed back into silence.

  Hunter continued to stare at him, ignoring the banging and crashing going on upstairs.

  The noise unnerved Altaf and he wiped his forehead, swallowing nervously.

  “What are you looking for Con? Tell me what it is and I’ll help you,” he said, unable to stay silent any longer.

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Altaf’s face exploded into a cauldron of pain. The blow threw him to the floor, blood running from a large, deep gash in his cheek. Hard fingers dug into his biceps and he was pulled to his feet, then set back in the chair again.

  He hung on to the edge of the kitchen table, swaying slightly, watching through dazed eyes as Hunter removed the knuckleduster from his fingers and slid the heavy brass implement back into his pocket.

  The man hadn’t said a word, just held one finger up in front of his lips, his eyes cold and hard.

  Altaf sat as still as he could, warm blood gathering at the neck of his shirt. He was too disoriented to check on how much damage had been done to his face - every time he moved his head, his vision took a few seconds to catch up. It was all he could do not to throw up.

  *

  Conrad Hunter sat quietly, patiently, his steady gaze fixed on Altaf Chandio. The Asian’s face had been gashed by the heavy knuckle-duster, the edges of the wound gaping open like a small mouth.

  Conrad might have been a tolerant man, but he had nothing but contempt for people who couldn’t keep their mouths shut when they were told to.

  He loved silence, the deeper the better. It helped him think, get out from under his older brother’s shadow.

  Conrad had spent many a pleasant hour, laying quietly, studying the countryside as he waited for a deer or a pheasant to appear, shotgun ready by his side. And when his quarry made a move, disturbing the foilage or flapping its wings, Conrad would explode into action, his movements almost too fast to follow. For a man of his diminutive stature, he had an unexpected grace and speed - as Chandio had just found out.

  The man standing behind Chandio moved slightly and Conrad’s eyes flicked to him. The man looked down at the floor and he kept as still as he could.

  Conrad returned his attention to the Asian. He’d met many men like Altaf Chandio over the years - men driven by greed and power. The Asian was just a small time drug dealer, but to his credit, he had supplied him with what he had wanted most.

  Conrad pursed his lips, wondering what his brother might do if he ever found out that he had drifted back to his old ways again. His thoughts returned to the time - must be thirteen, fourteen years ago now - when someone had threatened to tell his brother about his ‘little peculiarity’, unless he was paid off.

  Conrad had promised the man his payoff, and had delivered it
personally - a vicious beating and a knife-thrust in the back. The memory brought a slight twitch of a smile to his lips.

  He’d been hot-headed back then, not thinking before he acted. It had got him into all kinds of trouble. But, as always, his older brother had been around to sort things out.

  Persuading someone else to take the rap had worked well, but Jeff had left him in no doubt about what would happen if he ever found out that his little brother was back to his old ways again.

  Of course Conrad had little choice but to agree, and since then had been extremely careful to keep his deviant proclivities hidden from his brother. Except now it was all poised to come out again. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen. If Jeff ever found out, he would be a dead man. His brother was not a forgiving man and stood no-one crossing him.

  Conrad studied Chandio, his heart beating a little faster. In his greed, the drug dealer hadn’t seemed to consider what his payoff might be when he tried to blackmail someone like him. Well this payoff is about to turn into payback, old son.

  One of his men stuck his head into the kitchen. “Can’t find anything upstairs except this, boss,” he said, tossing a large bag of powder towards him.

  Conrad caught it, weighing the bag in his hand. “Okay,” he said, tossing it back. “Give it to Danny.”

  “Shall I start down here now, boss?”

  Holding up a finger, Conrad turned towards Chandio and raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s all there was,” the man said sullenly.

  “Okay, get the others and go wait in the cars while I talk to our friend here. You too,” he said, nodding at the man standing behind Chandio’s chair.

  When his men had gone, Conrad clasped his hands together, resting them on the table in front of him. “Farris said you have some photos of me and Mandy,” he said quietly.

  Chandio’s eyes widened slightly. “I found some that the girls had taken, yes.”

  “And where are they now?”

  “Marcos has the only two we found.”

  “And—?”

  Chandio fidgeted uncomfortably. “That’s it. Listen Con, I didn’t know what had happened till it was too late. When I found out what the little slut had been up to, I had her killed, pushed under a train.”

  Conrad watched the man lick dry lips. The blood from his wound had crusted under his chin, leaving a thick runnel down his neck.

  He enjoyed seeing the man’s fear.

  “I swear to you Con, I swear. There was just the two photos, and I got them back.”

  Conrad thought for a moment, wondering who was telling the truth – Chandio, or his big goon, Farris. But in the end it didn’t really matter. As long as he got all the evidence, he would be in the clear. Once he got rid of any loose ends that was.

  This time he wasn’t going to be hot-headed and try to do it himself - this time he would use professionals.

  Chapter 29

  Cole and Mai Bell were disposal specialists, who, for a considerable fee, guaranteed the disappearance of packages with no traceability back to the client. They had been in the disposal business for ten years and enjoyed what they did enormously. As a couple they carried out their work with meticulous planning and panache, each with their own area of expertise, which they brought together with deadly effect. It was the reason they were the highest paid disposal specialists in the UK.

  But this contract was a little different, involving, as it did, four packages.

  As they made their way along the quiet road, Mai Bell berated her husband for agreeing to take on such a complicated contract.

  “We’ll have to keep the first package overnight. We won’t be able to dispose of it until tomorrow and you know I don’t like doing that. This is far too rushed,” she complained, stepping around some puddles on the pavement.

  Cole Bell nodded his understanding. He was used to his wife’s little moans and knew that if he just let her get her feelings out, she’d be okay. She was always a little nervous before a hit.

  “It’s a lot of money,” he said, cuddling her into his side as they walked along. “Funds are getting a bit low. We couldn’t afford to turn it down, even at such short notice.”

  “Suppose so,” she said, looking up at his sharp features.

  Mai Bell was a small woman, barely reaching Cole Bell’s shoulder, but she worked out regularly and could easily lift her husband off his feet. Something she loved doing when he was in a bad mood. She’d sneak up behind him, circle her arms around his slender waist, lean back and sweep him off his feet, giggling as he protested, refusing to put him down until he smiled.

  Tonight they were walking along a quiet side street off Camden Town, arm-in-arm, for all the world like lovers on a night out. The man walking in front of them paid them little heed when they swung in behind him. He obviously had other things on his mind.

  “So how are we going to do this?” Mai Bell asked.

  Cole Bell considered their target. He was a big man, obviously well able to take care of himself.

  “Well they said he carries a knuckleduster and a knife, so we don’t want to get into a fight with him, especially out here on the street. Let’s find out where he’s headed and take it from there.”

  The couple continued following the package, not breaking stride when he turned into a small garden fronting one of the houses lining the street. Once he had disappeared inside the front door, Cole Bell walked back and examined it. He returned a few moments later and the pair carried on with there leisurely stroll.

  “Just a standard lock. Be no problem getting in,” Cole Bell said. “We’d have a hell of a job getting him out of the house afterwards though.”

  “He must weight a ton,” Mai Bell responded. “And we have no idea who else might be in there.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Okay, this is what we’ll do then. He’s supposed to be delivering some stuff to the client later tonight. We’ve got his mobile number. You ring him and say that the client is waiting outside right now to talk to him. We’ll get him in the back of the van and do it there, where he won’t have any room to put up a fight.” Mai Bell looked up and down the dark street. “It’s pretty quiet right now and I can’t see any CCTV cameras about. I’ll go get the van, you hang on here a minute.”

  “Yeah, sounds good,” Cole Bell agreed.

  Cole Bell watched his wife run back along the street, his face relaxing into a smile. He loved the way she moved, almost like a professional. Sitting on a garden wall, he pulled out his throw-away mobile and waited for her to return with the van.

  *

  The train was packed and Frank was pleased that he’d booked a sleeping compartment. He settled down and waited for the train to pull out of the station, glancing out of the window. It was going to be a long journey and he was looking forward to getting some rest. He felt bone tired and his hand was throbbing again. Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out another couple of the pain-killers he’d picked up from an all-night chemist, dry swallowing them.

  Finally, settling on the narrow bunk, he got out the paperback he’d bought and flipped open the cover, determined to keep what he’d discovered tightly locked away in the back of his mind until he was back in Scotland. He’d talk it over with Karla, he couldn’t deal with it on his own. Half his mind had shut down, refusing to believe what he’d seen - the other half was just a bloody mist of tangled emotions that wanted nothing more than revenge.

  The train jerked into motion, quickly gathering speed, swaying slightly as it headed around a long bend. Frank concentrated on the words in front of him, but It didn’t take long for his eyelids to grow heavy.

  *

  Frank woke with a start as a pain lanced through his finger. Easing his hand from under his body where he’d rolled onto it, he pulled aside the curtains and looked out of the small window. The train was sitting in a siding. He squinted, rubbing the condensation from the glass. Dawn was breaking, slivers of dark blue and red just visible on the horizon.
Settling down again, he tried to get back to sleep, but the person in the top bunk opposite was snoring too loudly for that.

  He lay in a half-doze, trying to keep the images from clawing their way back into his mind - images that sickened him. Last night - after he’d got back to the hotel - he’d gone through the photos he’d taken from Chandio’s house. They were all pictures of older men having sex with young girls, some of whom looked to be no older than eleven or twelve. He’d studied each one in turn, dropping them onto the bed as he did so. There were perhaps twenty, and he was nearing the end of the pile when he suddenly froze.

  The next photo - still half-covered by the preceding one - brought a surge of adrenaline shooting through his body.

  Mandy’s face was staring up at him!

  She had a haunting expression and her eyes were empty - cold and empty. Knelt on a bed, she faced the camera. She was naked. A man stood behind her, obviously having sex, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he penetrated her.

  Frank’s mind reeled and he dropped the photo, scrambling from the bed in his haste to get to the bathroom where he threw up into the toilet. Arms circling the bowl, he heaved and heaved, until his stomach was empty and he could heave no more. Finished, he wiped his mouth with toilet paper and took a deep shuddering breath, too weak to stand for the moment.

  Glancing back towards the bedroom, Frank could see that the photo was still there, where he’d dropped it on the bed. He gave an involuntary shiver, almost too afraid to face what he’d seen.

  He’d recognised the man abusing his daughter. It was a face from his past!

  As the train continued to clack its way along the rails, as though purposefully ignoring how near Frank’s world was to falling apart, Frank realised that it might just be herding him towards the beginning of a dark and dangerous journey that would surely end in his death.

  Chapter 30