Fight Back Read online

  ‘Oh, Marty.’ Kerry went towards him and opened her arms. ‘Jesus! This is so awful. I . . . I . . . There are no words I can say.’

  She could feel him hold her tight for a long moment, and she was afraid to let go in case he would buckle. But he didn’t. He released her, and looked into her eyes.

  ‘Oh, Kerry.’ His eyes were moist. ‘How does it come to this? How in the name of Jesus would anyone take a little boy? He’ll be terrified.’ He swallowed. ‘Fin is such a gentle little thing. Not like his brother Johnny at all, who’s wild. Christ! Wee lad won’t know what’s going on.’ He shook his head, to stop himself rambling.

  ‘Come and sit down, Marty,’ Kerry ushered him to the table. ‘We’ll find a way through this. I refuse to believe anything else.’

  Marty took his coat off and sat down. Kerry poured coffee into two mugs and sat down. She leaned across and touched Marty’s hand.

  ‘Marty, listen,’ she said, looking into his pale grey eyes, lined at the edges and with puffy eyelids, probably from crying. ‘Whatever it takes to get Fin back, we’ll do it. The call will come. I’m sure it’s this Rodriguez mob. He’s done this for maximum effect. But whatever he asks, we’ll pay it.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘No matter what the price. I want you to understand that.’

  Marty nodded, swallowed hard.

  ‘Thanks, Kerry.’

  For a few seconds they said nothing, and Kerry knew that she had to talk about a strategy here, despite the agony. They had to be ready.

  ‘So.’ She looked at him. ‘Tell me everything that’s happened since the moment he disappeared. The cops et cetera. What are they doing? Just in your own time.’

  Marty nodded. ‘It happened in a flash. I was watching him in the aisle of the toy shop one moment, and the next I looked at my phone for a few seconds, and when I looked up he was gone. I knew straight away. I just knew that he’d been taken. But it must have been so organised. There must have been a team of at least two or three, anyway.’

  He sipped his coffee, and Kerry was glad to see that he was thinking more about how it had happened rather than just feeling helpless. He put the mug down and continued to talk.

  ‘I couldn’t work out how they got out of that shop without passing me. Then, when the police came, and once they started taping the place off and going through the shop, they saw that there is an aisle that leads to toilets and the storeroom, and that must have been where they took him. They said the door at the end of the storeroom was open, and that it goes to an outside metal staircase. So they must have taken him that way. It’s a fire escape. I can’t understand why Fin wasn’t screaming for dear life. Maybe they told him they were taking him to show him some toys, and that I was just along the corridor a bit waiting for him? Something like that? They must have had a car down on the street below. But how the hell did they know I was going to go to the toy shop? I didn’t even know that until Fin asked me to take him. How did they know?’

  Kerry shook her head. ‘I don’t know. They must have been following you for a week or so, watching your movements. They must have been planning this. It’s possible that they were able to find out that Finbar is with his grandparents on a Saturday morning while Johnny is at football, or something like that.’

  ‘I suppose if they were watching us they could know that.’

  ‘Whatever they planned it must have been quick. Maybe they had the O’Driscoll murder planned for the whole time he was missing, and wanted to hit us twice – one after the other – where it would hurt the most. I honestly can’t get to grips with it. But they must have known something. All it would take is a word in the wrong place from someone so they can find out where you go. And they waited their chance.’ She paused. ‘What about the police? What are they doing? I haven’t had a chance to see the TV news yet.’

  ‘Well they immediately put it out to the media so it was all over the afternoon news and the evening news, and the papers the next day. It’s been the number-one item – top criminal lawyer’s son kidnapped – and of course going into the history of me and my career. The police know I’ve been the Casey family lawyer for decades, so they will be looking into everything. I’m surprised you haven’t had a call yet.’

  ‘I’ll get that, no doubt. Probably before the day’s out. But they don’t know about O’Driscoll. Not even that he’s missing. I have to talk to his ex-wife Alice to break the news to her.’ She looked at her watch. ‘In fact, I’ll have to do it today, before she gets a knock on the door from the Glasgow cops to tell her they suspect they’ve found her husband’s body parts in the boot of a car at Málaga airport. Once the Spanish cops put it out it will be everywhere. Christ!’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say to her.’

  Marty sighed. ‘Poor Johnny. He was a good man. His father was so close to your dad and Danny, he would have done anything for them. What a horrible death to get. But that’s the kind of people we are dealing with here.’

  Kerry looked at him.

  ‘So the police don’t know about the phone call you got. Are they asking for your mobile or anything?’

  ‘No. Not yet. I don’t want to involve them. It’s so delicate, Kerry. They’d blow a fuse if they knew that I’m withholding information from them – so would my wife and my son. But I’ve got no way out of that. I feel like I’m drowning here.’

  ‘I know. But I really think you’re right in not telling the police yet. I’m sure they’ll come here and start asking questions – particularly after it comes out about O’Driscoll. If the Serious Crime Squad have been to see you, they’ll already be looking at other ways. You might have been followed here.’

  ‘Not that I could see. But it’s possible. They might even be tapping our phones.’

  Kerry was feeling the stress in her stomach at the rate that this was going, and with every moment that passed there was even more worry that Finbar was in serious danger. She had to believe that they wouldn’t harm a child, particularly one who was such a bargaining chip, but she was really trying to convince herself. It was all beginning to overwhelm her and she had to take a slow breath to try to control herself. She wished Uncle Danny had come back over with her to be at her side. But she needed to stay strong, because Marty, the man who had been like an uncle to her all her life, was crumbling in front of her, and she had to take the lead to keep it all together.

  ‘Listen, Marty: whoever has Finbar – and I’m sure it’s all connected and to get back at us – then they have to get in touch. They won’t hang about on that. They’ll either get to you, or to me. I’m sure of that. But we’ve already got people working for us – I mean guys who can keep their ear to the ground and pick up information. There’s bound to be a leak somewhere, especially in something as big as kidnapping a kid. The bastards who did this might think they’ve got this sewn up, but they haven’t. This is Glasgow. And anything that moves, we’ll get to hear about it. I really believe that.’

  Marty looked as though he wanted to believe her, that he had to believe what she was saying. He glanced at his watch and stood up.

  ‘I know, Kerry. You’re right. But because it’s about my own little grandson, I feel a bit unhinged by it, like I’m not thinking straight. I’m trying to keep it together so I can think it through. I’m trying with every fibre, but it’s so hard.’ He paused. ‘I’d better get back. I think if the police are doing a press conference they’ll have to do it without Joe. He’s in pieces and his wife is worse. I might have to do it myself. Just keep it to a statement I can read out. No questions from media.’

  Kerry nodded.

  ‘Maybe if you do, then things will start moving and they’ll get in touch – if they don’t before then.’ She walked Marty to the door, and gave him a long hug. ‘Let me know if you’re doing the press conference, and I’ll keep you informed of every single thing happening here. But, Marty – this will be over in a couple of days. As I told you. Whatever it costs, it will be over.’

  *

 
As soon as she saw Marty’s car drive through the open gates, Kerry went upstairs to the bathroom with the pregnancy kit. A couple of minutes later she waited, watching the line in the little window, her heart in her mouth. Then a second line appeared and a little explosion went off inside her. Pregnant.

  Chapter Five

  Sharon Potter didn’t feel safe. Not that she ever had, not in the way most people define safety, as in the safety of family and home and comfort. She’d grown up in fear, in grinding poverty with a drunk for a mum, then abandonment to the childcare system, which brought with it fear every single day. To feel safe was the only thing in those days that she longed for, and everything she had done from the moment the system turned her out into the street as a skinny teenager was in search of that security. To look for a home and a family and the comfort she wanted. She’d had all those trappings, especially in the last fifteen years with Knuckles Boyle, living off the wealth he’d amassed through his heroin and cocaine empire. But even then she was never really safe – always just keeping ahead of the law, always waiting for it all to come tumbling down in a hail of bullets from some of Knuckles’ enemies. And safe was the last thing she felt once she’d realised Knuckles had grown tired of her and was planning to bump her off. But she’d sorted that out all right, even though she still woke up with the image of Knuckles’ face as he lay dying from a bullet to the head. She’d made that happen, and she had no regrets. Coming to Spain, joining with Kerry Casey’s crew: she was starting a new life on her own terms with her son, Tony. But once again it was all beginning to feel shaky under her feet. She should have bloody known.

  The move to Spain in recent weeks had been going so well, despite the problems the Caseys were having with the Colombians who had tried to steal their stash of coke, which was to be the last criminal deal Kerry’s clan would do. Kerry and her men were dealing with the fallout, while Sharon was overseeing the work towards the luxury hotel that would soon be under way. The Spanish town hall planners were onside, and taking bungs in the way she’d been told they would, and she envisaged the building work beginning soon. But then O’Driscoll. The brutality. Christ almighty! Sent shivers through her. And now the kidnapping of Marty Kane’s little grandson. Sharon didn’t know Marty well, only to talk to around the table with Kerry and close associates. But she could feel his pain. The thought of anything happening to her boy Tony would destroy her. And for the first time since she’d arrived in Spain, she began to ask herself if she’d have been better taking the money she had, and reinventing herself far away from here along with her son. But Tony was so happy, thriving in his new school, and as she’d dropped him off at the gates this morning in the sunshine, she felt a little lump in her throat at his delight, linking up with his new mates as they disappeared into the yard, and him turning to wave to her. Of course, she could never tell Kerry Casey of her fears, because Kerry had given her a lifeline when Knuckles’ men were hunting her down. She would get through this, and she’d do it with the Casey family. They were all she had now apart from Tony. But nobody with any sense had ever taken on the Colombians. There had to be a first time for that, Sharon decided as she turned the car back down the twisting road towards her villa in Mijas Costa.

  Sharon had never ventured out socially since she’d arrived on the Costa del Sol, for fear of running into some of Knuckles’ old cohorts, or anyone who may have had a grudge against them over the years. Now she drove on the dual carriageway, past all her old haunts, recalling good times down here among the Costa set – and bad times too, as her life with Knuckles had begun to unravel. Her mobile rang on the passenger seat and she glanced over at it, but there was no name. She probably shouldn’t answer it, because anyone who had her number here would be named on screen. But curiosity got the better of her. She touched the hands-free button on her steering wheel.

  ‘Hello!’ Her voice was sharp.

  ‘Sharon Potter. Well, well, well,’ the caller said, in a voice that she recognised instantly.

  ‘Who’s this?’ She pretended she didn’t know.

  ‘Ah, come on now, Sharon.’

  She didn’t answer. And her finger hovered over the button to cut him off, but somehow she couldn’t. She could feel her heart race. Vic Paterson had her phone number. Christ alfuckingmighty! She steadied her car as it swerved over the white lines and the car behind honked, then quickly took the slip road off the carriageway.

  ‘What the fuck, Vic?’

  ‘That’s better, darlin’.’ She could almost see the smile spread across his handsome face. She pulled into the side of the road.

  ‘I have to say, Shaz,’ he said, ‘I hoped for a better reception.’

  ‘What the fuck’s going on? I thought you were inside?’ Sharon wondered if she’d lost track of the years: she was sure he got fifteen years only nine years ago. He should still be in jail.

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Are you on the run?’

  She heard him give a soft chortle.

  ‘No, sweetheart. Parole. I’m a changed man, apparently.’

  ‘Parole?’ she exclaimed. The last she’d heard of Vic he had put two prison guards in hospital who were trying to restrain him from kicking the shit out of a paedo beast who’d been sent down for raping a ten-year-old girl. That was seven years ago, and he must have got extra jail time for that. But no. Here he was, paroled.

  ‘Where did you get my number, Vic?’

  ‘Don’t ask daft questions, Sharon. You know better than that.’

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked, knowing what he was going to say.

  ‘On the Costa, love. Looking to meet you for a drink, and a chat.’

  Sharon let the silence hang. She could hear his breathing, and suddenly she could see him as though all the shit that had happened between them was yesterday. She’d made a mistake there. She should never have gone anywhere near him. She knew he was trouble, and she was with Knuckles. But it had happened. It caught fire, fierce and briefly, before she extinguished it once and for all. The last thing she’d needed back then, with a little boy of three, was for Knuckles to find out she was shagging one of his enemies. Nice one, Sharon. She’d spent the past ten years living it down, forgetting about it, trying to pretend it never happened. She took a breath.

  ‘Vic. Look. I’m glad to hear you’ve been paroled, and good luck to you. But I can’t see you.’ She paused. ‘I’m living a very different life now. I’ve got my son at school here. I’m in the middle of a big business venture, and I’ve moved on from everything – from Knuckles, from Manchester. Everything. Please understand that, will you?’

  Again the silence.

  ‘Well, Sharon. That’s not the way I hear it.’ He paused, waiting for an answer, but she said nothing. ‘Way I hear it is that you and the Casey mob are up to your arse in shit with the Colombians. They will fuck up every single dream you ever had, believe me.’

  Sharon still said nothing. How in the name of Christ did he even know this?

  ‘That little fat Irish cunt – Pat Durkin,’ Vic went on. ‘He’s like a puppet on a string for that Colombian fucker. Trust me. You and the Caseys are getting wasted – one and all. You need to meet me.’

  Sharon held her breath for a moment, her mind racing at how much he knew. How was this even possible?

  ‘Why do I need to meet you, Vic? I hear what you’re saying. But what the Christ has any of this got to do with you?’

  Again, for a long moment there was nothing, and Sharon couldn’t help herself trying to picture what Vic Paterson looked like now, and most of all what brought him here.

  ‘You need my help, Sharon. That’s why I’m here.’

  Sharon swallowed as she looked out of the windscreen along the rows of cafés, half expecting to see him sitting at a table.

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Fuengirola. On the promenade.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll come and meet you.’

  Sharon heard herself say it, even though she couldn’t quite bel
ieve it. But she knew Vic Paterson well enough to know that if he was this well informed, then he must have an inside track on the Colombians. But what if he was working for them, and fishing for information? Only one way to find out, she decided. Sharon turned her car around and went back on the dual carriageway, heading towards Fuengirola.

  As she drove, the thoughts and memories came flooding back. Vic Paterson had been close to Knuckles Boyle for years as they grew up. They’d worked for one of the bigger gangland families, armed robberies and enforcers, but Vic had been given his own turf in Salford and the surrounding area. He ran several gangs and was known for being smarter than your average toerag on the street. But once his neck of the woods was doing better than Knuckles’, Knuckles couldn’t take it. There had been occasional dinners and nights out, and that’s when Sharon met him – before it had all gone pear-shaped between him and Knuckles. Paterson had been hard as nails, charming, and dangerous. He was also ruthless. He had no qualms about taking anyone out of the game who trod on his toes or those of his mates. Sharon had met him over a dinner and he’d bombarded her with calls over the following days. It was a time when she’d felt vulnerable, when Knuckles was spending nights out of the house and she knew he was with other women, and felt even back then that he was going off her. She’d ended up in bed with Vic, and it had been the best sex she’d ever had. But she liked him as a person too, and for the next few months their secret affair had been explosive. There had been a little fleeting moment once when she was talking to Knuckles that she got the feeling that he had an idea that she’d been with Vic. So she stopped it. She didn’t see him again. Not once. And not long after that, a deal with him fell through, and Knuckles became Vic’s sworn enemy, bumping off a couple of his gang members who had tried to sell and move stuff on his turf. They never spoke again, and operated completely separately. Then Vic got jailed for possession with intent to sell, caught red-handed with a huge haul of coke in a warehouse. The word was that Knuckles had made sure he was grassed up and had set him up, but he had always been appalled at that suggestion. Privately, Sharon thought it might be true, but she had a young son and a life with Knuckles, and she wasn’t about to do anything that could ruin that. She wasn’t in love with Vic – nothing like that. It was a stupid thing to have done when she’d been feeling angry and hurt, and the truth was she had barely given him a thought all these years.