My Heart Belongs To You: A Psycho Thriller (20 page)

The shorter man’s head flicked in response
.
Hanson was right
;
this was Boyce.

‘
Who the hell are you?
’ growled the larger man
,
closing in rapidly across the gap.

Hanson waited until the larger man had committed himself, his leading right foot hitting the ground at the same instant Hanson’s left foot swung round in a blur
,
sweeping the heavier man’s foot from under him
, and
sending him into an arm whirling stumble
,
exposing
the man’s right side of his body to attack.  Before entering the room
,
Hanson had slipped the nylon
knuckle-dusters
onto his right
hand;
the first jabbing punch was to the ma
n’s kidneys.  It dropped him to his knees with a thud
.
A
second controlled blow with
knuckle-dusters
to the man’s temple put the lights out.

Boyce was on the move, lunging towards his desk drawer
,
but as he looked up
,
his hand pulling it open
,
he was staring down the barrel of a Sig Sauer P230.  Not that he would have known the details
,
but he knew a gun when he saw one.  ‘
Do you know who I am
?’
Spat
the overweight sweating man
,
his features reflecting hatred but no fear,
and
his voice a snarl of contempt even in his present situation.

Hanson didn’t answer
,
he simply pointed the barrel of the gun to the seat behind the desk.

As Boyce
sat,
his hand flashed forward and hit an intercom button
,
‘
Ge
t
in here now
,
all of you
.’

Hanson’s calm smile as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk was not the reaction Boyce had expected.  ‘You need to look at your staffing policy
,
Boyce.  Most of
your
men are sleeping on the job.’

The first hint of doubt, the first flicker of fear
,
took control of the drug
dealer’s
features.  He had never seen Bruno
,
the giant man lying on the floor to h
is left, put down by any man
.
Also
one of the men in the
living
room was an ex-cage fighter with an unbeaten record
.
Yet
here was this man
sitting
calmly in front of him as if he had strolled in through a park.  ‘You
came
here to kill me
,
get on with it
,
creep
,
’ his defiance was
exaggerated, masking the fear swelling up inside him.

‘That’s one of the options
,
if you don’t give me what I want.’

Boyce relaxed
.
There
was a deal to be done here
;
this wasn’t a hit from a rival dealer.  ‘Best spit it out then.’

‘Darren Simpson.’

Now the drug dealer was truly confused
,
‘
W
hat
the hell
do
you want with that loser
?’

‘My business.’

‘Mine as well, he owes me money.’

‘Not my concern.’

‘It is if you want Simpson
,
’ smirked the now comfortable drug dealer.

‘You’re starting to annoy me
,
’ whispered Hanson
,
slipping his gun back into its holster.  The
chilled
edge to the man’s voice in front of him and the slight narrowing of the eyes was not wasted on Boyce
,
but he’d made a mistake.  Boyce had a gun in the drawer to his right and despite the fact that this man was clearly
dangerous;
putting his gun away when he was two met
r
es away on the other side of a desk would be his downfall.  It took Boyce less than half second to reach down and pull open the drawer
.
A
further half second
and he reached
towards the chunky black pistol.  He
never got his hand around it,
because
Hanson had guessed right on the gun.  As the drug dealer’s eyes had dropped to the
drawer,
Hanson had moved.  Vaulting onto the
desktop
, he slid across the shiny surface
,
his foot slamming into Boyce’s chest
,
sending the drug dealer crashing over onto his back
,
still
sitting
in the chair.  Hanson slid off the far side of the desk
,
his left foot coming down on the wheezing
man’s
chest
,
pinning him to ground with his full two hundred and
fif
ty pounds.

Hanson checked his watch
,
17.10 p.m.
,
25 hours and 50 minutes of life remaining.  He leaned
down, took a firm grip of the drug dealer’s shirtfront,
and dragged him easily off the floor.  Righting the chair
,
he shoved Boyce none too gently into it and slid the desk phone across to sit in front of the now pale man.  ‘Call Simpson, get him in here.’

Boyce tried to hold his nerve
.
He
could still get a deal out of this, some compensation.  Two things happened in quick succession that made him change his mind.  Bruno the giant that Hanson had dispatched earlier
,
suddenly staggered to his feet, shook his head and roared as he surged towards them.  Hanson drew his Sig and fired a shot
.
The
bullet smashed through the muscle just above the knee
,
collapsing him screaming in agony to the floor.  Hanson turned to Boyce
,
but didn’t have to say a word.  The drug dealer snatched up the phone and punched in a number,
and
after four seconds
,
he spoke.

‘Darren, it’s me, get yourself back to the farm…
I don’t care what I told you
!
’
Screamed
Boyce,
‘
G
et
here.
  He… he’s coming
in
ten minutes
,
’ stammered Boyce
,
staring down at his writhing bodyguard.

‘Put your hands on the desk
,
’ instructed Hanson
,
moving around to the far side of the desk.

The drug dealer went white,
shook his head keeping his hands tight under his armpits.  ‘
But… I… I did what you asked
,
’
he pleaded.

Hanson stepped forward his voice barely above a whisper, each word separated by a seconds pause, ‘
Put
…
your... hands... on... the... desk.’

The shaking drug dealer whimpered as he placed his
trembling
hands palms down onto the
desktop
.

‘Left or right?’  Hanson
asked
calmly.

Boyce’s deep frown gave away the turmoil within, ‘I… I don’t understand.’

In a swift practiced move
,
Hans
on reached over his shoulder,
drew out the Venom Testudo Knife with the 18 centimetre blade
.
He
flipped it easily in his hand to get a reversed grip and drove the point deep into the
desktop
between the
dealer’s
hands
,
causing him to scream like a
girl
,
as he yanked them back
,
returning
them to the safety of his armpits.  ‘
It’s the choice
that
I’ll give you of which hand to keep
,
if I ever have to come back here again
,
’
hissed Hanson.  ‘You’ve never heard of Darren Simpson
,
’ warned Hanson
,
his eyes narrowed to razor slits. ‘Say it.’

Boyce’s lips fluttered soundlessly for a second or two before the answer came, ‘
I… I never heard of Darren Simpson
.’

Hanson pulled the knife
free, reached
over his
shoulder with both hands
,
slipping
the knife back into its sh
eaf in a fluid movement. 
Then he
did several things in quick succession. 
First,
he tied Boyce to his chair with nylon ties.  Next
,
he slashed open the trouser leg on the bodyguard to expose the wound.  He
quickly
stuffed the entry and exit hole with gauze and tied a tourniquet just above the wound
,
ensuring it was tight.  ‘Release the pressure a turn if the ambulance isn’t here within five mi
nutes
,
’ he instructed to the groaning giant.

Finally,
he called into the command centre at Hanson Securities
,
as he exited the compound to wait for the arrival of Darren Simpson.  ‘Send an
a
mbulance to Boyce’s compound
,
’ he instructed Jane.

‘What are they dealing with?’ asked Jane.

‘Broken nose, some lacerations and a gunshot wound.’

‘On it
,
John
.
I assume none of those injuries are related to you?’

‘If infliction is classed as related
,
then yes.’

‘Ouch
,
’ winced Jane.

‘Something else I want you to do
,
Jane…’ Hanson paused
,
as a car pulled up at the compound gates and a medium height, thin balding man exited, ‘
Hold on,
Jane.’

H
anson walked over to the man, ‘A
re you Darren Simpson?’

The man hesitated
,
looking around for Boyce’s bodyguards or the Police
.
He
knew something wasn’t right here.  ‘
I… I might be
,
’
he stuttered.

Hanson knew it was Simpson.  ‘
Okay,
I’ve got Simpson, Jane
,
I’ll call you back in five.
’
 

‘
Get back in your car
,
’ instructed Hanson
,
pointing at Simpson’s battered Skoda.

Darren Simpson didn’t know who the man was
,
but what he did know was that he was big, and spoke with a tone
indicating
there was not a second option that came free of an unpleasant attachment.

On the short trip to where Hanson had parked his
car,
he explained who he was and why he wanted to speak to him.  He also explained that he would not be hearing from Frank Boyce again
.
That
this was his opportunity
to break away from that life,
and
to
repay his sister for the loyalty and support she had given him.  Hanson gave Simpson the
address of Hanson Securities
,
assuring him
that there were people there waiting for him and that once he had given his help
,
he would be free to go.

Driving away
,
Hanson called the command centre, ‘Jane, Simpson’s on his way
.
When
he gets there
,
get Donald and Richard to question him about the night at the restaurant.  Simpson seemed a little sketchy when I spoke to him
,
so get Donald to try out his hypnosis thing.’