When Frank appeared, the boy’s breath hissed through his teeth and he pushed the girl away. She fell backwards into the branches, cutting her face on the sharp tips. She began to cry softly.
Frank pulled her to her feet, shoving her out on to the towpath. “Get out of here and think yourself lucky I came along,” he growled.
He’d just turned back towards the bush when the boy burst from it, face red with anger. “You bastard. Didn’t I teach you not to fuck with me yesterday?” He was holding a knife and looked as though he was prepared to use it.
Frank backed away warily. If he wanted to get any information from the boy, he’d have to get rid of the weapon first, and without getting himself stabbed in the process.
A trick he’d often used as a child came to mind. It had gotten him out of more than one sticky situation when he was being chased by bigger kids at school.
Taking a couple of steps backwards, Frank laughed loudly, sneering as the boy threatened him. “Is that the only way you can get a girl then, Gary? Get her stoned and force her to suck your pathetic little dick?” Frank waggled his little finger at the boy. “Is it that small that you have to force a girl to give you some head?”
The boy’s face contorted into an angry mask and he rushed forwards. Frank turned and ran, keeping his speed down so the boy could gain on him. Hardly out of breath himself, he could hear the youngster’s laboured gasps as he closed behind him.
Frank picked his spot carefully, unexpectedly dropping to his hands and knees. The boy, so close now that he was unable to stop, slammed straight into him, sprawling face first onto the path. The knife span away into the dark water with a loud splash.
Frank was on him in a second, hand bunched in his hair as he pulled the youth’s slim wrist up his back into a painful arm-lock.
“If you don’t want a dislocated shoulder, do as I say you little turd,” he said. “Come on, over here.”
Frank forced the boy along in a half crouch, pushing him towards the bush and unceremoniously shoving him inside. Then he stood over the cowering youth and smiled. “You’re going to answer my questions. Do you understand?”
“Fuck you!” the boy shot back, rubbing his shoulder. His gaze smouldered with hatred.
Frank pushed him in the chest. The boy landed on his back and Frank stamped on his instep. The youth gave a high-pitched scream, grabbing his injured ankle as he writhed on the ground.
“Now, once again. You’re going to answer my questions. Do you understand?”
The menace in Frank’s voice was unmistakable as he leant over and picked up a brick he’d spotted half-buried in the ground. Raising one eyebrow, he tossed the brick from hand to hand, weighing it. The boy’s eyes followed the movements of the brick as though they were glued to it.
“You know, it’s surprising what a brick can do, even to a thick head like yours. Believe me son, I know. If prison teaches you anything, it’s how to inflict pain.”
The boy slithered backwards on his buttocks, until he fetched up against the trunk of the bush and could go no further. The defiance in his eyes had gone now, replaced by a sudden, deep fear.
Frank dropped the brick and put his foot on it, dusting his palms. Then he bent over and picked up a plastic bag that had caught his attention. Holding it up, he studied it with a frown.
“This what you gave Mandy then, is it? This the sort of shit you started her on?”
“Who the fuck are you?” the boy whispered.
Squatting down so he was on a level with the boy’s face, Frank stared hard into the soft brown eyes. “Well son, I guess I’m about to become your worst nightmare. Unless of course you decide to answer my questions honestly.”
Frank pulled a set of keys from his pocket. Then taking his time to add to the effect, he slowly arranged them so that each key stuck out between the fingers of his clenched fist. When he was satisfied with the effect, he rolled his fist back and forth in front of Gary’s face, nodding his satisfaction.
“I learnt this trick in nick,” he said. “It’s really neat and makes quite a mess of your face, but unlike the brick, your jaw will stay in one piece when I use it, you’ll still be able to tell me what I want to know. One thing though son, if one of these catches you in the eye, well—” He shrugged to emphasise his point. “Let’s just say that you really don’t want to have that happen to you.”
Frank feinted a blow at the Gary’s face. The boy jerked his head back, smacking it against the trunk of the bush. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and his face twisted in pain.
“So, you’re going to answer my questions as honestly as you can. Understand?”
Eyes wide, the boy nodded quickly.
*
Frank leant forward, palms against the tiles, head bowed as the shower pummelled his back. He turned so the water massaged his side and the large red bruise that had begun to form there - the result of Gary crashing into him on the towpath. He grimaced, carefully soaping his knees were the small pebbles from the ground had peppered them.
And to top it all, he mused, I’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of jeans, he thought.
Frank sighed in frustration - all that and he was still no nearer to discovering why Mandy had killed herself.
Stepping from the shower, he picked up a bath towel, promising himself that he would find out why she had, if it was the last thing he did. It had become his quest now. Something that would haunt him forever if he didn’t solve it.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, Frank walked through to the hotel bedroom, where he made himself a cup of coffee. It was bitter but eased the headache that had started just above his left temple. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sipped at the hot liquid as he went over what he’d learnt from Gary again, unconsciously flicking his tongue over the small scar on his top lip.
The boy had eventually admitted supplying Mandy with drugs, but had insisted that she had contacted him in the first place, not the other way around. Because he knew so little about his daughter, Frank had no way of judging if the boy was telling the truth or not. He’d also had to be careful not to do too much damage to the boy, leaving him with just a couple of bruises. After all, he was out on license and if the boy reported him to the police—
Even though Frank knew he wouldn’t be able to stand another stretch in prison, he’d decided to take the risk in questioning Gary. It had been a precarious balancing act but one he couldn’t back away from. But in the end it had all been for nothing. He was no nearer his goal now than when he’d started.
Putting the cup on the bedside cabinet, Frank rubbed his face. What now? Home he supposed, to try to mend some bridges. There was nothing left for him here.
Grabbing his mobile he punched in Karla’s number and listened to it ring.
Chapter 13
Gary stood in front of the open doorway, fidgeting uncomfortably as he tried to build up enough courage to enter. The music blasting from the flat was loud, bass notes so deep they vibrated in his chest. Scared of what might happen when he entered, he decided the safest policy would be to leave, but before he could turn away, a hand grabbed his shoulder and propelled him down the dingy hallway into a back bedroom.
Several candles lay scattered about the room and by their dim light he could just make out a tall Asian man lounging on the bed. He lay with one hand behind his head, blue tinted smoke curling lazily from the cigarette held in his other between two long fingers. The smell of skunk in the room was overpowering.
“Found him outside, Altaf. Couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether to come in or not.”
“Mr Chandio, I—” As Gary spoke, a hard slap landed on the back of his head and he lapsed into silence, rubbing at the spot with a shaky hand.
Altaf Chandio sat up on the bed and crooked his leg in front of him, gripping his ankle. Squinting his eyes against the smoke, he smiled. From somewhere deeper in the flat Gary heard the high pitched giggle of a girl, followed by the deeper laugher of an older man.
The music lowered and Chandio continued to stare at him, saying nothing, which made Gary more nervous. He’d been promised two hundred pounds if he bought the new girl to the flat tonight and didn’t need reminding of what might happen now that he’d failed.
“Where is she?” Chandio asked.
The man blew on the end of his joint, causing tiny red points of ash to drop onto his jeans. He brushed them away, candle-light reflecting from the large ring on his thumb. Finished, he looked up again, his gaze hardening.
Gary could only lick dry lips, unable to answer.
“You said you’d bring her to me tonight. I’ve got two guys lined up, ready to break her in. They won’t be pleased if she’s not here, and neither will I. Tell me she’s waiting outside Gary, so I can go back to my smoke.”
The man flicked his joint across the room. It hit Gary on the chest, giving off a burst of bright sparkles which fell to his feet. Smelling the pungent aroma of burnt material, he quickly flicked hot ash from the front of his hoodie.
Gary stared back at Chandio, nerves tingling as he saw the anger in the man’s eyes. The pungent scent of sweat permeated the room. Outside the window, pin-point pricks of brightness flickered against a blackness that seemed to be trying to claw its way into the room.
Stepping forward, Gary twisted his foot on the still smoking joint, teeth clenched as he ground his fears into the carpet along with the butt. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said.
A sudden whiff of garlic told him that the big Greek had returned and was standing right behind him.
“It wasn’t his fault Marcos,” Chandio mocked with a disarming smile.
The big man grunted non-committedly, but made no further answer.
“So my friend, whose fault is it then?” Chandio continued, turning his attention back to Gary. “I gave you plenty of time, some of my best shit, and the promise of two hundred pounds when you delivered her here. So where is she?”
Gary felt a large hand descend on his shoulder. It squeezed - hard. He ground his teeth against the pain, trying not to move. Chandio shook his head, then flicked his hand in dismissal. The pain stopped and the big Greek left the room.
“So, let’s go talk somewhere a bit quieter, my friend,” Chandio said, his tone making it perfectly clear that he considered Gary anything other than his friend
Following Chandio down the corridor into an untidy kitchen, Gary sat at the Formica topped table. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes, and discarded take-away foil containers littered the worktop. A stinking bin overflowed with rubbish, its bulging bag reminiscent of a swollen black foetid tongue.
“Stay in earshot,” Chandio called after the Greek as he wandered back down the hall. “I think I may need a little bit of your persuasive methods if young Gary here doesn’t have a good enough excuse for fucking me over tonight. And while you’re about it, get one of those sluts in there to clear this mess up.”
Gary’s mouth was dry, his stomach knotted into a tight ball. He tried to appear nonchalant, because it wouldn’t do to let Chandio know just how frightened he really was. He sat at the kitchen table, sliding his hands under the sides of his thighs to stop them trembling.
“So, you met with the girl. Gave her a fix?”
“Yes Mr Chandio.” Despite his best efforts, Gary’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth making his words sound thick and unintelligible. He swallowed, then sucked some spittle into his mouth, sliding further back in his seat.
Chandio’s dark gaze continued to bore into his. “And?” he prompted.
“Well there was this guy. He followed us into the bushes. He beat me up. Told Jenny to get lost.”
Chandio’s chair scraped across the floor. Striding around the table, he grabbed Gary’s chin, jerking his head back and forth as he examined his face. Then dragging him to his feet, he tore open Gary’s hoodie, before ripping his tee-shirt from top to bottom.
“Don’t see any bruises,” he said softly, shoving Gary back in his seat. “Not trying to dick me around are you? That really wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“No Mr Chandio, honest. The man threatened me with a brick and stamped on my foot. He had some keys or something between his figures. You know, sticking out between them, like this.” Balling his hand into a fist, Gary showed Chandio how his attacker had held the keys. “Said that’s how they did it in prison. Some shit like that.”
Chandio’s eyes narrowed and he leant forward, elbows on the table, chin on his fists. “Prison you say?”
Gary nodded.
“What else did he say, this man? Was he trying to find out where you got your drugs from? Did he ask you who your supplier was? Anything like that?”
“No. He just wanted to know about a girl called Mandy.”
“Mandy?” Chandio thought for a moment, then clicked his fingers a few times. “Ah yes. I remember her.”
“She jumped in front—” Gary stopped when Chandio glared at him.
“So if he’s not the police, and he’s not some new supplier sniffing around for clients, then who the hell is he?” Chandio muttered to himself.
Gary sat quietly, head bowed.
“Marcos,” Chandio shouted, making Gary jump.
When the big Greek entered, the kitchen seemed to shrink. Chandio nodded across the table. “Take this idiot out and teach him to do as he’s told in future.”
“No, wait Mr Chandio,” Gary shouted in desperation. “I followed him back to his hotel, and—” Tugging at his pocket he pulled out a mobile. “Look, I got a couple of pics of him. Here, look. I don’t know who he is, but he was asking about Mandy.”
Chandio dismissed the big Greek with a nod and sat back down at the table, holding out his hand. A young girl unexpectedly burst into the room wearing nothing but a pair of white panties. She looked to be about fourteen.
“Get out,” Chandio shouted at her.
Rolling her eyes, she backed out of the room, muttering under her breath.
Chandio beckoned again and Gary handed him the mobile, a photo of the man who had attacked him clearly visible on the screen.
“That’s him, Mr Chandio. That’s the man.”
Chapter 14
The phone call caught Karla by surprise and she answered in a half-daze, stretching out her arm from under the warm duvet with a groan.
Who on earth was that?
It was Frank. Her eyes widened when she saw what time it was.
“Karla? Karla please, don’t hang up. Please. I have to talk to you.”
“Frank I’m tired.”
“I know it’s early. I’m really sorry but I have to talk to you. Explain about my past and why I didn’t tell you.”
Karla sat up, turning on the light. She pulled the duvet up around her shoulders and shivered. “Do we have to do this right now Frank? It’s half-past two in the morning for God’s sake!”
“Please Karla, I love you.”
The words she had waited so long to hear rebounded around inside her head, but instead of filling her with happiness, they filled her with despair.
No, no. Not now. Not after all she’d learnt about him in London!
Karla felt herself weaken. She wanted to hold him, stroke his face, nestle into his arms. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the images aside. “I can’t talk now Frank. Call me tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to talk Karla. Just listen. Will you do that for me? Please? Just listen for a moment.”
She didn’t answer, just closed her eyes against the pain in her chest. Taking her silence for agreement, Frank began to talk, explaining about his past life, detailing everything that had happened to him since he had first met his old gang boss, Jeffrey Hunter, at school all those years ago.
For the next fifty minutes, Karla listened without saying a word, and at the end of it felt dizzy and disorientated. After he’d rung off, she lay back in the bed, head buzzing as she tried to sort out her emotions; how she felt about the man who’d spent ten years in prison for man-slaughter, ev
en though he was adamant that he’d been innocent, set up by his old boss, Hunter.
Did she - could she - believe him?
Every fibre of her body screamed out: Yes.
But her brain kept digging up little: What ifs.
After much persuasion, and against her better judgement, she had agreed to meet Frank at Inverness Station when he got back from London tomorrow. He’d told her that he was going to accept his responsibility for his daughter’s death and stop looking for reasons why she’d taken her own life. He’d sounded defeated, depressed, as though he’d given up on more than his search. It worried her and she spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, waking to the alarm unrefreshed and tired beyond belief.
As she showered, Karla wondered how she would react when they met. Frank had asked her to pick him up from Inverness station at ten this morning and she was already regretting having said yes.
*
Karla saw Frank step off the train and her throat tightened. He looked . . . so beaten. He spotted her in the crowd and waved, easing his rucksack onto his shoulders as he came, face set in an expression that suggested he thought she might have a go at him when they met up.
Unable to stop herself, she ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over in her haste. His face lit up and he looked down at her for a moment, unsure what to do next as he hugged her back. Finally he bent down and kissed her deeply, slipping his hand into her hair, caressing her ear with the ball of his thumb.
“Welcome home Frank,” she said.
She didn’t say anything else, because there was nothing else to say. He was home and she was happy.
Holding hands they walked along the platform together, both reticent to start a conversation, in case it led in the wrong direction.
Chapter 15
Karla raised an eyebrow as she walked over to the bed and looked down at Frank. He was lying with the duvet pulled up to his waist, one hand under his head, a big smile on his face, holding his other hand out to her.