* * *
Willie drove more rationally than usual. He didn’t want to attract any attention. Arriving at Arty’s house, he instructed him to grab his passport and not fanny around. They would be given enough money to buy a wardrobe of clothes once they reached Spain. Arty did as he was told and was back in the car in record time.
As they approached his ex-wife’s house, Willie was so intent on getting the lads to the airport that he wasn’t aware of a black BMW parked across the street. Inside, a man wearing a dark hoodie was watching them.
The thought of the previous night’s events still trickled through Willie’s brain. If Torvic were to capture any one of the lads, there would be carnage. He had to keep his mind on track. He’d never before felt fear, and now it was beating him over the head and causing waves of nausea to engulf his body.
Liam was his mini-me, the be-all and end-all of his life. As he watched his son skip towards the car with his hair messily blowing in the wind, his heart ached. If only Liam had taken on his mother’s looks instead of being cursed with his own features. Still, there was something very lovable about Liam, and the firm all had a soft spot for him.
The excitement had the lads chatting for England; however, Willie remained quiet. If the boys knew why they had to get away, he wondered if they would be so up for it. He decided he would discuss the seriousness of the present situation when they reached the airport. He just had to find the right words that would instil vigilance yet not frighten them. He wasn’t the best with words; that was Lou Baker’s job or Mike Regan’s, for that matter. He tended to be a little reckless and never thought before he spoke, but he realized that today would be different. His worry was so intense that he’d even ditched his cocaine pouch. There would be no more drugs until this was over. He had to be clear-headed because too much was at stake for any flippancy.
Gatwick was busy, and a sudden downpour had everyone busily crossing the road as if a tsunami had hit them. The rumble of people and cars had Willie distracted, and so he was still unaware that the black BMW, which had been parked outside his home and had then been tailing them throughout the whole journey, was now parked two cars away from his own.
Arty and Liam were still babbling on about the two girls, oblivious to the concerned expression on Willie’s face. Always the joker or the butt of jokes, Willie was silent. With very little time left before departure, Willie turned to Liam and Arty and shepherded them over to a quiet area. He needed to have a serious conversation with them about the events surrounding Ricky’s injuries and the death of the twins’ sister Kendall, now that Torvic had managed to escape from the secret room in the hangar. He knew what he was about to tell the boys wouldn’t go down well. It didn’t. The look on Liam’s and Arty’s faces spoke volumes.
Checking their passports were in order, they followed Willie into the departure entrance. Willie marched ahead, looking for Staffie and Ricky. He didn’t bother with the long conveyor belt ride, wanting to be in front and not have to squeeze past people. Arty and Liam had to keep hurrying to catch up. Once they were by section C of the check-in counters, they spotted Ricky, and both rushed over to embrace their friend.
Ricky looked surprisingly well for someone who had been near to death after the horrendous beating he’d taken. He still looked a tad pale, but, other than that, his large, round, grey eyes were sparkling.
Liam hugged him. ‘So, are we gonna have a blast, kiddo?’
Ricky gave him a weary smile. ‘Good to see ya, Liam, but, I dunno. Dad sounded pretty serious. Do you know what’s going on?’
Not wanting to alarm Ricky, Liam shook his head. ‘Nah, only that we’re off to Spain with Poppy and Brooke.’
Ricky had met Poppy in the hospital, after she’d been mown down by her mother. He frowned. ‘Poppy and Brooke?’ He looked at Arty.
‘Yeah, mate. Brooke’s Poppy’s twin sister. It’s a long story, but, anyway, they’re coming with us.’
* * *
Staffie pulled Willie to one side, making sure they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t like this, Willie. I wish I’d never got involved.’
Willie ran his long, thin fingers through his hair. ‘Well, we are, buddy, so let’s just get on with it. ’Ave ya seen Lance yet?’
Staffie shook his head. ‘Nah, I ain’t, but I spoke with Terrence. He’s made all the arrangements. The kids can stay at one of his villas. He’ll have them picked up at the airport, and he’s got some serious tools if needs must.’
Willie grinned. ‘Nice one, ’cos if that Torvic turns up, they’ll have to fucking shoot the cunt. He’s like the man that never dies, and I don’t like it, Staff. I ain’t afraid to say it, but we’re in over our fucking heads. That bastard is on the loose, and so that means he has one hell of an advantage.’
Willie suddenly spotted Lance and the girls. Poppy was being helped along by her father. Not only was her leg still badly bruised, but she needed an arm to lean on. ‘Oh, shit me. Will they let her on the plane like that?’
Staffie sighed. ‘Oh Christ, that’s all we fucking well need.’
Willie hurried over and pulled Lance to one side while the lads wasted no time in fussing over the girls.
‘Lance, mate, they won’t let her on the plane without a doctor’s note.’
Lance grinned. ‘Well, my girls are one step ahead. Clever little things they are, they did a mock-up doctor’s note on the phone, an e-mail or something. Anyway, don’t worry, they’ll be on that plane.’
Once they were ready to go through passport control, Staffie handed Arty one of his bank cards. ‘Don’t rinse the fucker.’
Arty laughed. ‘Thanks, Pops, but ya know I will.’
Staffie looked his handsome son up and down. He was proud of his boy. He was a fearless lad with good looks, yet he had a heart of gold when it came down to it.
Willie was still on edge when he placed an arm around Liam’s shoulders. ‘Listen, my boy. Don’t talk to anyone. You make sure at all times the security alarms are switched on in Terrence’s villa, got me? If ya think anyone’s watching ya, you call Terrence right away. And ya know me number. You look after yaself and call me every fucking day.’
Liam didn’t like the look on his dad’s face. He knew that this was probably the first time in his life that his father was genuinely shitting himself.
‘Dad, don’t worry. I’ll be careful, I promise.’
‘Good lad, and listen, boy. I love ya, yeah?’
Liam frowned. He knew his father loved him, but he’d never heard his father actually say those words.
‘Hey, Dad, we’ll be fine, and I love ya too, ya silly ol’ git.’
Staffie was giving Arty strict instructions as to what to do if Torvic turned up. He described the man and then finished by saying, ‘Don’t fuck about, Arty. If the bastard turns up, kill him. We’ll sort out the mess afterwards.’
Arty raised his brows. ‘Fuck me, Dad! What? You want me to actually kill him?’
Staffie felt the tears in his eyes well up. ‘I’d never tell you to kill anyone, but for your sake and theirs, you won’t have a choice. The man is evil. I mean, really fucking evil.’
Arty stared into his father’s eyes and knew then that whoever they were running from had the power to take out the firm.
‘Dad, are you gonna be all right?’
Staffie laughed. ‘Son, I’m always all right. I might be reaching me sell-by date but I ain’t there yet.’
Poppy and Brooke hugged their father. ‘It’s so sad that we have only just met you and now we’re going