Authors: James A. Shea
Serious People (36 page)
Billy made a smile at Charlie and then promptly raised his gun towards his brother’s face and fired.
“Jesus Christ!” Charlie screamed, taking a step back.
The crazy little bastard blew his brothers face off, what the hell was he doing?
“There you go,” Billy grinned at Charlie. “He’s dead this time.”
Charlie looked at the dead body of John, lying at Billy’s feet. He had to use all his experience to keep grip of his gun; in all his time he’d never seen anything like that.
“See!” Billy grinned viciously “This is what it is to be serious people; people like you and me can make the tough calls. If there’s someone weak in your firm, then he has to be extinguished. Simple as that.”
“Family don’t mean much to you then,” Charlie asked.
“Family’s everything,” Billy snapped.
Charlie registered Billy’s words, desperately looking for any opportunity to make a move.
“But the weak, they drag you down. They have to go before they drag you down. You know that’s what this is all about. I was set on a course for you; all this has happened through design. A design to cut the weakness out of London’s drugs money. You being cut out,” Billy grinned.
“Really? There’s just one thing about that…” Charlie suddenly stopped and looked to the stairs. “Shit! Is that your other brother!”
Billy turned to follow Charlie’s gaze; in the corner of Charlie’s eye he saw the hope in Billy’s expression that the other brother may also be alive. In one fast motion Charlie lifted his gun and fired.
This rapid shot was not as lucky as his previous one; it only hit Billy’s arm. But the impact was enough to knock Billy off his feet. His gun flew away from his hand.
Charlie was taking no more chances. He hurried across and stood over Billy Blake, with his gun pointed firmly at his face.
“Shit, looks like you fucking got me,” Billy said, still with a grin.
“Yep.”
“I still got info you’ll want to know; we could do a deal. There’s people you’d want to know about. Let’s negotiate!” Billy said, with a psychopathic attempt at a winning smile.
Charlie fired two rounds into Billy Blake’s skull. He’d heard enough of the man’s bollocks and he had party to get to.
He looked at the two bodies, and thought of the other body upstairs. As much as he wanted to get to the party he needed to sort this this situation—get some cleaners in. And was there still medical help on the way or was that bullshit?
He checked John Blake’s body and quickly located his mobile phone; the phone was still unlocked! Charlie had been cursing his luck for months but suddenly now it was all returning.
He quickly went through the phone. There were no recent calls; a moment later he saw the last text that John Blake had sent—to Emma Fuller— Get an ambulance to this postcode… But it had never delivered!
On the downside there was no way of stopping the message, but he had friends, friends who could sort out this type of thing.
What on earth are all these people doing here? Emma thought, as she tried to push her way through the crowd of people filling Saint James Road. It was the road the Blake’s Bar sat on the corner of.
She hated coming here; it seemed such a dark depressing area to her. All the shop fronts were empty or run down and the worst was the Blake’s Bar. It wasn’t so much the exterior of the bar which looked shabby, or even the inside, which was actually worse with its old stools and moth bitten cushioned seats. It was because of the people it housed.
John had not said a word to her before he left the house the previous morning and had not been answering any of her texts. She wanted to put this down to her recent change of mobile phone, ever since, she had barely held a signal for any length of time. This would have been annoying before, but now that he knew she was pregnant, it was entirely unacceptable to be without a phone. She was worried about John. She was scared.
Emma hoped she knew where to find John though. He must be inside this poor excuse for a bar, trying to summon the courage to tell his awful family that he was leaving them. He would be starting a new job, next week, and would no longer be available as an unpaid hand at the bar.
The street was packed with people; she had never seen it like this before. It was as if there was some kind of parade about to pass through. There must be something going on? Every other person she pushed past was holding a mobile phone aloft, trying to take pictures of whatever the commotion was over there.
Eventually, having made her way to the front of the crowd, Emma found herself pushing against a police barrier.
She gasped, as she took in the view in front of her. There was no carnival or parade, but the street was full of police cars and ambulances. There was even a film crew setting up at the other end of the street. A large number of emergency service people, in bright yellow jackets, were moving purposefully around. Some were taking photographs, others seemed to be speaking to some of the people behind the barriers. What had made Emma gasp though, was the sight of what looked like large sacks being carried out from the Blake’s Bar, towards a makeshift tent, which had been set up nearby.
Emma’s heart started to beat harder and her head started to swim. The sacks looked like body bags from a TV show.
“What’s happened?” Emma said, turning to a woman who was stood next to her, who was also watching the developing scene in front of them.
“I think there’s been some kind of terrorist attack,” the woman said, shaking her head bitterly.
Emma could feel her heart starting to race further.
“Are you sure?” Emma asked quickly.
“Look at all the dead bodies; must a been a bomb or something.”
Emma didn’t respond. She hurriedly pushed her way down the cordon towards where she was in reaching distance to the police officers, talking to people in the crowd. She tried to put to the back of her mind that the body bags were being stretchered out of the Blake family bar.
“There’s nothing to see here, please go home and I’m sure they’ll be a statement made on TV tonight,” a policeman said to people in the crowd.
“I heard there are thirty dead bodies in there?” a man shouted back.
“Was it fundamentalists,” another man shouted. “This is our neighbourhood. We have a right to know what’s going on!”
The policeman tried to calm the crowd as the questions started to become more aggressive, glancing back to see if there was any support coming.
“I want the officer in charge of this here right now!” an older-looking well-dressed man declared. “This is outrageous! No one has taken the time to tell us what is going on. We need to know about the risk we might be in here!”
“All I can say, sir, is there has been an incident involving fire-arms, which has resulted in more than one fatality,” the policeman replied, trying to use a calming manner. But it was clear that he thought he was beginning to lose control of the crowd. “Now I shouldn’t even say that; but hopefully it helps address your concerns.”
“Helps!” the well-dressed man continued. “We’re in a bloody warzone!”
The murmurings in the crowd started to grow and Emma wished she had John with her.
Just as the crowd’s anger was beginning to boil over into even angrier exchanges, an older officer in a matching bright yellow jacket appeared next to his younger colleague. Emma could see by the new officer’s mannerisms that he was more senior to the other man.
“Ok, ok,” the new officer said. “I’m Inspector Harrison. I understand all your concerns; we should have told you more. You do deserve to know what’s gone on down here.”
A wave of calm went over the crowd. Please tell us what’s going on, Emma thought.
“There has been a mass shooting episode in the bar at the end of the street called the Blake’s Bar. There are multiple fatalities on site but, at this time, we really don’t know any more. However, our early thoughts are with the families who might be affected by this. So please, I ask you to respect the area. There will be no more questions.”
The crowd appeared to be hushed almost instantly; Emma though had many more questions and tried to catch the senior police officer’s attention.
“I suggest you all return to your homes, as I have no doubt you’ll hear far more updates on the news very shortly,” Harrison said, waving his hands in a shooing motion.
At this renewed show of authority, some of the people started to move away from the front of the crowd. Emma could see an opportunity to grab Harrison’s attention.
“Excuse me,” Emma said. “Inspector can I speak to you.”
Harrison’s eyes fell on Emma and he gave a small shake of his head as he stepped away from the crowd. He obviously felt he had already done his bit to assist with the crowd management issue.
“I think my boyfriend might have been in that bar!” Emma said, hoping with all her heart that he hadn’t been.
The Inspector stopped and looked at Emma for a moment. Emma wondered if he thought she may be a journalist, trying to work her way under the barrier to where the action was.
“What’s your name Miss?” Harrison asked.
“Emma, but my boyfriend is called John Blake. That's his family’s bar where all the bodies are coming out of!” Emma replied, now failing to control the emotion that she had been holding back since she first saw the body bags.
Harrison gave her a sympathetic look. He lifted a walk-talkie out of a holder in his jacket and turned away to speak in it.
Emma’s heart started to pound again. She could feel people in the crowd now looking at her; she could hear whispers going through the crowd. She turned to look around at the accusing faces surrounding her. The crowd started to slowly back away from her, so they could fully take in the latest developments.
“Come this way Emma.”
She turned back to see Harrison, who was now holding up the cordon to let her through. Emma ducked the barrier and started to follow Harrison towards the bar.
“One of my colleagues would like to ask you a few questions Emma.” Harrison stopped for a moment and gave her a concerned look. “If you don’t mind?”
“Is John here?” Emma asked.
As Emma stepped into the large vehicle, her heart started to beat even harder. She was now in a room full of officers in an area with wall to wall video images and computers. A middle-aged man in a cheap looking suit appeared from the crowd and offered her his hand. “Hi Emma, my name’s DS Casey.”
Emma shook his hand weakly; all she could think of now was where John might be. Casey gave Harrison a subtle nod to say he wasn’t needed any more, and he walked back out the control vehicle.
“I work for Special Branch; we are currently in charge of the scene. I need to ask you a few questions, Emma,” Casey said. “Then I promise, I’ll tell you all I can.”
Emma could barely hear what he said. “DS Casey where is John? I need to know where John Blake is.”
“He’s not here Emma. I was going to ask you about his whereabouts,” Casey replied.
“Are you sure?” Emma asked, hearing the desperation in her own words.
“Yes, his Aunt has confirmed to us that John and his two brothers left the bar earlier this morning. But she does not know where they were going,” Casey explained.
Emma started to feel calmer; John was alright. He hadn’t been here.
“When was the last time you saw John?” Casey asked, now with a notebook in hand.
“Yesterday morning, and I haven’t been able to get hold of him since. That’s why I’m here,” Emma replied honestly.
Casey must have been able to see Emma’s concern as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure John’s fine. I'm sure this was just a coincidence—his family’s bar being used for this atrocity. There is no reason at this time to think that the bar was anything more than a randomly selected location for the attack,” Casey added, offering Emma a seat behind her. “Please sit down.”
Emma sat down, only now feeling how tired her body had become. Her legs were aching and her mind was still swimming.
“I need to ask you a few more questions, to try and work out what has happened here and for us to try and locate John, so that we can make sure he’s ok,” Casey said, sitting down opposite her.
“But you said, you thought this happening in the Blake’s Bar was just a coincidence,” Emma said confused.
“I'm sure it is,” Case nodded. “My team’s only interest is to close down if this was a terrorist act or not. To help us with that we need to know where to find John and his brothers; and some more background on them too.”
“Ok,” Emma said. “What do you want to know?”
“How’s John been the last few days?” Casey asked.
“Fine generally,” Emma replied, not sure how open she should be in responding to the detective. “But he wasn’t himself the last time I saw him; there seemed to be something up,” she said, hoping that being honest was the right approach to take.
Emma could tell by Casey’s face that the detective had registered an interest her words. Was there a connection between this and the crime scene they were next to? “I told him, John, just yesterday that I am pregnant.”
“Congratulations,” Casey said, in a way that made his words sound more like a question.
Emma hoped this would serve as an explanation for her boyfriend’s behaviour the previous day.
Casey gave Emma an understanding smile. “It’s a big thing. Ok, I don’t think I’ve got anything else to ask at the moment. Can I take a number for you, in case we have any further questions?”
Emma nodded and gave the detective her number, hoping this would be the last time she spoke to the man, as she took his card.
“The aunt is somewhere around here if you want to speak to her,” Casey added.
Emma hated the old woman, more than she could put into words. She couldn’t though shake the thought that, if anyone knew where John and his brothers were, it would be her. And she was also sure that Mary would never have revealed anything to the police.
She got up and hurried out of the large motor home.
“Remember to contact me if John gets in touch,” Casey called behind her.
“Of course I will,” Emma lied.
Emma saw the old woman immediately; she was sat on a chair outside the bar with a paramedic next to her. She must be feigning some kind of problem, the attention seeking old witch, Emma thought.
She stormed up to Mary Blake, letting her dislike be evident for anyone to see, so much so that the paramedic gave Emma an angry look in defence of his patient.
“Oh no! What do you want,” Mary said, turning to the paramedic. “Just when you think you’ve been tested enough. The Lord sends one more test.”
“Can I speak to you Mary?” Emma said. “Privately.”
The paramedic looked at the old woman, who nodded back in a dismissive way. He gave Emma one last scowl and walked towards an ambulance that was parked nearby.
Mary gave Emma a hard look. “I want you to know, I blame you for all this.”
Emma gave a fake laugh. “Where are they?”
“You know they’ve arrested Roy,” Mary shook her head. “Roy of all people, like he would have the guts to do anything like this!”
“I don’t care about any of this; just tell me John’s ok,” Emma whispered, not wanting any audience to this conversation.
“John,” Mary shook her head. “You ruined that boy. He was always weak willed; I knew it was just a matter of time, with that one, until someone like you turned his head.”
“Please just tell me he’s ok,” Emma replied, not biting in response to the comment.
“Those three boys need each other. But ever since you’ve shown up, everything has changed,” Mary hissed. “You’ve disrupted the balance in their lives.”