‘Call Terrence.’
Arty did as Ricky ordered, letting him take the lead. He was in too much of a state to focus properly.
‘Terrence, Liam’s gone. I mean, one minute he was cooking dinner, and then the next, he just vanished. The side door was open, the cars are still here. He ain’t even got clothes on, and his phone’s still on the side.’
There was silence as all three stared at Arty’s expression, praying that Terrence would have some answers, yet the pause was very long.
They couldn’t hear what Terrence was saying, but they got the impression that whatever it was it had knocked the stuffing right out of him.
‘Yeah, will do, mate,’ was all Arty said before he finished the call. ‘He’s coming to get us now. He told us to close the shutters. He’ll ring when he’s outside.’
Poppy felt her breathing quicken. It was instantly noticed by Brooke. ‘Pops, it’s okay. Take deep breaths. Slowly does it,’ she said, as she gripped Poppy’s shoulders.
‘Hey, is she having a panic attack? Because, to be honest, girls, we really need to pull ourselves together.’
Ricky’s tone was gentle, but, nevertheless, the point was a good one. In a flash, he ran up the stairs and snapped into action, and within a few seconds, all the shutters were hitting the floor like guillotines. The only light in the lounge was coming from the fire and the TV.
Brooke decided she needed to join in because sitting around huddled in a terrified state wouldn’t help them one bit. She turned on the lights and went into the kitchen to ensure the shutters were down. Then she noticed on the floor, just abutting the kitchen unit nearest the doorframe, there was a syringe.
‘Arty, come here!’ she yelled.
‘What is it?’ asked Arty, as he rushed into the kitchen, looking anxious.
She bent down and carefully held the syringe by her fingertips. She showed it to Arty. ‘I think someone has taken Liam, unless Terrence is a drug user.’
Arty carefully took hold of the syringe and placed it on the granite worktop. He stared for a moment as Brooke looked at his expression of fear – pure fear. Visions of Liam being drugged and taken to a warehouse, naked, and strapped to a torture table, gave Arty a foul taste of bitterness in his mouth.
‘Are you okay, Arty? What do you think this means?’
Arty wasn’t about to divulge his inner terrors, and so, gently, he shook his head. ‘This could mean anything, but, listen. Let’s just stay put in the lounge and wait for Terrence.’
They didn’t have to wait long before he called – he was outside.
By now, Ricky had similar thoughts to Arty, once he’d been told what was found in the kitchen; however, Ricky wasn’t afraid. He was angry. This was a serious piss-take.
Terrence parked his car in between the two others. His men wasted no time in jumping out from their cars and scouring the perimeter. Terrence bundled the four youngsters into his Bentley and stood for a moment like a bodyguard. After all, as far as he was concerned, he had precious cargo to get to safety.
Once they were away from the villa, Terrence asked them to relay every bit of information before he would make that all-important call. He knew that it would turn Mike’s firm entirely upside down.
And he also knew it would set off a chain of events that would probably lead to a devastating outcome.
* * *
Zara decided it was best if they all returned to her father’s house. She couldn’t devise a plan alone as she needed their input on how they should move forward.
Mike phoned Eric and told him to go to their parents’ place and make sure they were ready to move out for a while. Mike knew what his father was like: it would take more than the threat of Torvic, the Russian, to have him running scared.
Eric reluctantly agreed to go, as he felt excluded from the decision-making, and he wasn’t happy about that. As usual, he reasoned, big brother Mikey was playing the role of top dog while he – barely ten months younger, for Christ’s sake – was the puppy once again. It was a fucking nightmare. He felt out of it, quite naturally, and it wasn’t as if this was the first time either. However, he wasn’t going down the road of another confrontation. This was serious business, and if he was being truthful, he really was best out of the way.
Sitting behind the desk, Zara looked at the men in front of her. They were all tired, and as much as she wanted to reel off a plan, in her mind, she had nothing that would ease their concerns or even get them motivated.
Mike’s phone rang. It was a distraction that Zara welcomed.
‘What? Go on. I wanna know everything,’ said Mike brusquely to the caller, as the others remained silent.
Zara noticed right away that Mike not only looked deeply troubled, but his eyes were intently focused on Willie. Her skin became covered in goose bumps.
Suddenly, Willie clocked that out of all the people in the room, Mike was looking at him.
With wide, frightened eyes he jumped up. ‘What the fuck’s ’appened?’
Mike ended the call and stepped towards Willie, preparing for an embrace. Yet, Mike’s sombre smile filled with grief and sorrow made Willie jump back.
‘What, Mikey? What’s ’appened? Just tell me, will ya!’
‘Willie, mate, I’m so sorry …’
Willie’s eyes darted around Mike’s face. ‘Nah, nah, not my boy, no way. He ain’t part of this. Fuck me, he’s …’
Mike leaned forward to reach out to Willie, to hold him before the man went nuts. But, to his surprise, Willie suddenly slammed his hand into Mike’s shoulder.
‘Get the fuck away from me! This ain’t my war, or my boy’s fight. It’s yours, Mike, and …’ He spun round and glared with spite at Zara. ‘And yours!’ He stared defiantly, looking Zara up and down. ‘Ya see, don’t ya? This is your fault! Why my boy, eh?’
‘Willie, please,’ said Mike, desperately trying to comfort or even calm a situation that could easily turn nasty. ‘Look, we don’t know what’s ’appened yet.’
‘Well, has he been shot or stabbed? What the fuck’s going on? Tell me! Now!’ he bellowed, as his eyes turned red with rage.
Stupidly, Zara thought that being a woman, she could intervene and somehow calm Willie down, but the moment she was a mere foot away, he viciously flung his arms about and knocked her prosthetic hand. The clanging sound made everyone jolt and prepare themselves for the backlash; either Zara would lose it or Mike would.
Willie’s actions shook him into sanity. Instantly focused, he looked from Zara to Mike, expecting a nasty repercussion.
But Mike held his hand out, still intent on comforting Willie. He knew he was the only man in the room who would know precisely how Willie felt.
‘Willie, don’t assume he’s dead. One minute he was in the kitchen, preparing a meal for them all, and the next, he vanished. Someone has taken him, but …’
He looked at Zara and then back at Willie. ‘But Terrence thinks he was drugged and taken away. Now, before you start jumping to conclusions, right, we don’t know he’s dead.’
Willie could hear Mike’s words but they just wouldn’t register. All he could see was his son being cruelly murdered.
‘Get fucking real, Mike. Look what we did to that cunt Torvic. Jesus, it was sick.’ He glared again at Zara. ‘What you made him do to his own son, it was obscene. And you reckon the bastard won’t do that