ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror (17 page)

“Like fuck we will,” said Frankie, still holding Rebecca at knifepoint.

Davie turned to his brother.  “This has gone tits-up, man.  We need to leave.”

Frankie stared at his younger brother and eventually let out a sigh.  “You’re right.  This is an epic fail, isn’t it?”

Davie nodded.  “Let’s not make it suck any worse.”

Frankie nodded.  “Okay.  Dom, get up off the floor and fetch your brother out the kitchen.  Then the both of you get Michelle and carry her useless ass out of here.”  Then Frankie looked at Andrew, narrowed his eyes.  “You come after me, gangster, and I’ll put you down permanently.  Then someone will come and sort your family out for good measure.  Same thing will happen if you go to the police.  You get me?”

Andrew said nothing.  He didn’t need to involve himself in worthless banter with a degenerate like Frankie – he could see through it all now.  The police would get a call the moment he left, and if anyone came after Andrew’s family afterwards, they would regret it.

“Let my daughter go!”

It wasn’t Andrew who spoke.  It was Pen.  She’d stood up from the sofa and was clutching the scissors – the ones used to scalp her – in her hands.  No one had seen her grab them, but in the earlier ruckus she would have had every chance to take them unnoticed.

“Let her go,” Pen repeated, pointing the scissors at Frankie’s face to further her point.

Frankie sniggered.  “Or else what, you bald bitch?”

“Let her go, now!”

Andrew called out to his wife and tried to calm her down.  The situation was nearly over and she didn’t need to do this.  “Honey, come over to me.  Everything is going to be okay in just a minute.”

But she wasn’t listening.

“Listen to your husband, sweetheart.  You ain’t going to be doing nuffin.”  Frankie spat across the room and hit her chest.  “Now fuck off!”

Pen rushed at Frankie with the scissors, face contorted in a witch-like grimace of utter hatred and malevolence.  Frankie spun to meet her head on, holding Bex in front of him as a shield.  Their bodies collided and the scissors disappeared.

Andrew’s heart froze, along with every other muscle of his body.  The next several seconds passed like an eternity as Frankie and his family fumbled about in a flailing scuffle.

Frankie pushed Bex against her mother and stepped away from them both.  Andrew saw the blood immediately.  Then he saw the scissors jutting out from his daughter’s stomach as she fell to the floor in shock.  Pen looked down at Bex and let out an inhuman wail.  She lunged at Frankie again, aiming her sharp fingernails at his remorseless eyes.

Frankie struck out with his knife.  Pen stumbled right into it.  There was no sound as the blade entered the soft tissue of her throat and for a moment Andrew wasn’t sure if the injury was as real as it looked.  When blood spurted, high enough to coat the ceiling, the reality of the situation became undeniably real.

“Stupid bitch,” said Frankie, looking down at Pen as she slumped to the carpet.  “Dom, Jordan, pick up Michelle.  We’re leaving.”

Andrew dropped to his knees, oblivious to the fleeing youths who had made his life hell before destroying it completely.  The only thing that existed in his life right now was Penelope and Rebecca, and both of them were dying on the living room floor.

Chapter Nineteen

“Shit man.  This is bad.  Why the hell did you do that, Frankie?”  Davie struggled to keep up with the others as they ran deeper into the estate, passing by rows of houses that became progressively smaller and unkempt.  Usually Davie would have been faster than the lot of them, but with his throbbing concussion he could manage no more than a lolloping run.

Frankie slowed down ahead and allowed Davie to catch up.  “Bitch had it coming,” he said.  “She came at me like a nutcase, you saw it.”

“I saw you drive a knife into her neck when you could have just as easily punched her.”

Frankie shrugged.  It was an awkward movement to make while running.  “It’s done now.  No point stressing about it.”

Davie reached out and grabbed his brother’s jacket, dragging them both to a stop.  “You’re trippin’.  The police will be after us all within the next two minutes.  There’s two women bleeding to death because of you!”

Frankie huffed.  “Because of
us.
”

Davie shook his head, dismayed by the suggestion that he was in any way to blame.  “What the hell did I do?”

“You distracted me enough that Andrew could take a shot at me.  Everything went schitzo after that.  If you’d just kept your gob shut then everything would have been okay.  I was just about to let them go.  Figured I’d scared them enough to get the message.”

“Bullshit,” said Davie, hoping there was no truth to his brother’s words.  If there was then Davie was indeed responsible.  “You told everyone you were going to kill the guy.”

“Course I did,” said Frankie.  “I wanted Andrew to shit himself.  I weren’t going to do it, though.  You think I’m a complete muppet or something?”

Davie shook his head.  He was feeling dizzy again and couldn’t wait to find his way to bed.  Were his actions really the cause of what had happened?  Davie wasn’t sure he could live with himself if they were.  He stared at Frankie and concentrated on his brother’s reactions.  “You were really just going to let them go?”

Frankie put a hand on Davie’s shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.  “I swear!  They were just at the breaking point where they would have been never said a word to no one for fear that I would come after them again.  The pigs would never have ever known.  Now though…”

“What are we going to do?”

Frankie patted Davie on the back and got them both moving again.  Up ahead, the twins and a semi-conscious Michelle were waiting for them.  “We’re going to go see a mate of mine and lay low for a while at his gaff.  We’ll get our stories straight and decide what we’re going to do then.”

Davie nodded.  “Okay.  Who’s this mate?  Can we trust him?”

“Yeah,” said Frankie.  “It’s him I’ve been dealing product for.  Well, his old man, really, but he’s in the nick for a stretch.”

“Maybe, we should just go home instead.  Get mum to tell the police that we’ve been home all night if they ask.”

“You really want to rely on that drunk bitch to keep a story straight?”

Davie shrugged and looked down at the ground.  “Guess not.”

They caught up with the twins and Michelle at the end of the street, just as they passed by a group of shops and a grotty old pub called The Trumpet.

“My mate lives a few blocks up,” Frankie told them all.  “It’s pretty late so he should be in.  Mind your manners, though, because this guy would kill you as soon as look at you.  In fact he’s the only geezer in the world that actually scares me. ”

Everyone nodded their understanding. Then they got going again, cutting through the paved-jungle of the housing estate and disappearing into the night.

***

Frankie knocked the door and shushed everyone.  The house they were stood at was bigger than most of the others on the street with a long driveway and an overhanging porch that had a light that lit their approach.

“He going to be mad?” Davie asked, trying to fight away the feeling that things were somehow getting worse than better.

“Maybe,” said Frankie, “but once I tell him the deal, he’ll understand.  Last thing he needs is his best dealer going away for a long stretch.”

A light came on in the hallway.  It shined through the frosted glass of the PVC door.  After a few seconds of clinking sounds, of deadbolts and chains being unlocked, the door opened up.

Blinking out at them through sleep-fuzzed eyes was a shaven-headed youth about the same age as Frankie.  The lad was well-muscled and wearing nothing but a pair of designer boxer-shorts.

“Fuck, Frankie, is that you?”

“Yeah, Damien, it’s me.  I need to lay low for a couple days.  Some shit went down that’s pretty heavy.”

Damien glanced at a glinting watch on his wrist and narrowed his eyes beneath the glaring porch light.  “Two-o-clock in the morning, gangster.  You pick your goddamn times, you know that?  I ought to whoop your ass for waking me.”

“I know, man.  If I wasn’t desperate, I wouldn’t be here.”

Damien opened the door wider and let them all in.  “You’ll make this up to me, Frankie.  We’ll discuss how later.”

They all entered and Damien closed and locked the door behind them.  Then he ushered them through into the lounge.  Davie peered around the room in awe.  A plasma screen TV as big as any he’d ever seen hung from one wall, while opposite was a huge wraparound sofa deep enough to bury a body in.  Everything in the room seemed expensive and tasteful; the fact that it belonged to someone only a few years older than Davie made it even more unbelievable.  He could see why Frankie had allowed himself to get dragged down the same path of dealing drugs if these were the rewards.

“Take a seat,” Damien told everyone.  “I’ll get some beers and put the heating on.  They say it’s going to snow this year and it’s already getting too cold for my liking.  Frankie you come with me and we’ll talk business.”

Davie watched his brother leave and sat himself down on the extravagant sofa.  The twins and Michelle did the same.

“What a fucking trip,” said Dom.  “Never seen anything like what happened tonight.”

“We’re all screwed,” said Davie.

“Stop stressing, D,” said Michelle.  “Frankie will sort everything out.”

Davie didn’t want to talk to any of them; he’d just be wasting his time.  They understood what they had all just been a part of – and they simply didn’t care.  Davie, on the other hand, couldn’t help but recall the images of Rebecca hitting the floor with scissors poking out her guts.  She hadn’t hurt anyone and neither had her mother.  Now they were both probably dead.

And I’m partly responsible.

Davie wondered what it
was
about Andrew that had consumed all of Frankie’s focus.  The torture of that poor family had been like an obsession once Frankie had gotten into their house.  Davie thought about Andrew now and considered the pain a man would feel watching his family get destroyed like that.  Maybe it was the worst pain imaginable.  It certainly seemed like it at the time as Davie had watched Andrew’s grief.

“You think Frankie will let us score some more?” Jordan asked the group.

“I hope so,” his twin added.  “I’m starting to come down big-style.  My cheek is killing me.  Can you believe that crazy fucker bit a chunk out of my face?  It’s still bleeding now and I feel well-sick.”

“I just want to sleep,” said Michelle.  “I’m fucking knackered and my face is mashed-up.  Think I’ve lost a tooth.  I guess that’s pretty hardcore, though.”

“You ain’t getting no sleep tonight, sweetheart,” said Damien, re-entering the lounge.  “You and me are going upstairs.”

Michelle frowned at him.  “The fuck you talking about?  I’m Frankie’s girl.”

“Exactly,” said Damien, “and Frankie owes me.  Consider yourself rent for the bunch of you staying here.  You may be a bit of a bruised-up mess but you’ll do, I suppose.”

“No fucking way!  Frankie wouldn’t let anyone else have me.”

Frankie entered the room and Damien winked at him.  “Is that right Frankie?  Seems your woman is playing hard to get.”

“Just get your ass upstairs,” Frankie told Michelle.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Michelle glanced around the room as if looking for someone to add something else to the conversation, but the twins just shrugged at her and  Davie wasn’t about to offer any assistance either.  Far as he was concerned, Michelle had done far worse in the time he’d known her.  Maybe it was about time for her to learn a lesson.

Michelle stood up, looking confused but unable to find an argument.  She turned to Damien.  “You serious?  You want me to go upstairs and fuck you?”

Damien laughed.  “Oh no, sweetheart, I’m going to be the one fucking you.”  He offered out his hand and Michelle took it.  Damien turned to Frankie and winked.  “I’ll see you in the morning.  Oh, and that other favour you needed from me…you’ll find it in a box beneath the sofa.  Have fun, kids.”

“You too,” said Frankie, although he didn’t seem to mean it.

“Oh, I will,” said Damien as he disappeared with Michelle.

Frankie collapsed down onto the sofa and kicked off his trainers, letting out a loud sigh as a tired breath escaped his lips.

Davie looked at his brother and waited for him to say something, but it appeared that he was quite content to go straight to sleep.  Apparently murder and mayhem wasn’t enough to keep Frankie awake. 

Davie asked him a question.  “Are you okay with Damien hitting your girl?”

Frankie didn’t move or even open his eyelids as he spoke.  “I was the one that suggested it, bro.  Easy way to settle a debt, innit?”

“She’s your bird, though.”

“Fuck Shell!  She’s happy as long as she’s got coke in her nose and a cock up her ass.  Who gives a shit?”

“Didn’t look like she wanted to go,” said Dom.  “Look on her face was classic.”

The sound of frantic fucking suddenly emanated from above them. The ceiling began to vibrate and the light fixtures swung back and forth.  Two voices could be heard moaning in ecstasy – both Damien’s and Michelle’s.

“She sounds alright to me,” said Frankie.  “Now everyone just get their heads down for a few hours.  I can’t be doing with anymore thinking right now.  We’ll sort shit out in the morning.  I’ll make some calls and get a few ears to the ground – see what’s happening.”

Everyone seemed more than happy to oblige.  It had been a long and frantic night for all of them and no one wanted to get some shuteye more than Davie.  Before he did, though, he had one last question for his big brother.

“What’s in a box under the sofa, Frankie?”

Frankie’s voice was dreamy, already half-asleep.  “You’ll find out in the morning, little bro.” Then he was fast asleep and snoring.  It was a long time before Davie managed to join him. The sound of Michelle getting fucked upstairs kept him awake for hours.

Chapter Twenty