Takeover, page 10
Pulling his car keys from his pocket, John pressed the central locking, seeing his indicators double-flash in the parking bay over in the corner.
He couldn’t say he was looking forward to putting up with Gloria’s incessant bleating for the next however many hours, but in reality, it was a small price to pay for his sudden change in status.
John Maynard – head of the Violet Orchid. John Maynard – head of the top Birmingham firm…
Change was afoot and he couldn’t wait.
Striding towards his car, John froze as a figure stepped out from behind one of the many concrete upright pillars. His hand immediately reached for his knife, inwardly cursing himself for not having his gun to hand.
‘At last! I’ve been waiting ages!’
Half-recognising the voice, John peered at the face under the hooded jacket in the dim lighting, realising with a jolt that he knew exactly who it was. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he hissed, grabbing Tom Bedworth by the arm and dragging him roughly along the side of his car into the shadows. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Forget about that,’ Tom said, opening the car door. ‘You’ve got to help me. I’m in the shit.’
John put his hand on the car door. ‘You’re not getting in my car.’
‘Oh, yes I am,’ Tom spat. ‘You owe me, so damn well come on. There’s no time to lose before they find the car.’
‘Car?’ A sudden dread of realisation washed over John as he stared into the wild-looking eyes of Bedworth, realising exactly what he’d done. ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You stupid fuck! You took Reynold out? I told you not to pull a stunt like that. I said th…’
‘It was an accident,’ Tom hissed, jerking his head towards the driver’s seat. ‘Hurry up!’
Head spinning, John clambered into the car and started the engine. ‘I don’t believe this,’ he muttered.
‘It’s worse than that. As well as needing you to help me offload the car involved, I also need you to put the dead guy who’s been butchered at the Aurora by one of the Stokers at some point this evening, in it too,’ Tom spat, his wide eyes white in the gloom. ‘I disappeared for years because of my involvement in your fuck up, so I’m calling that in,’ he continued. ‘Otherwise, everyone will find out what you did.’
John gritted his teeth. Well, this screwed his good mood somewhat.
Shoving the car into gear, he screeched towards the barrier, knowing he had no choice but to help this arsehole. Gloria would have to wait. He wasn’t losing his place by Bedworth dragging ancient welly up from the depths. The cheeky twat felt he could threaten to expose him, did he? Well, he’d deal with that oversight later, but first things first – he had to make sure nothing ballsed up his plan to take control. Then he’d make Bedworth pay for his insolence.
John stared at Tom, pure venom in his eyes. ‘Get your fucking head down then until we get out of here and back to yours.’
Replacing the phone on the wheeled trolley, Mal flopped back against the pillows and sighed, not knowing what to think. He stared at the plain wall opposite, bare save for the loudly ticking hospital clock.
Shit. He’d been the one who’d thought his time was up, yet – bam! Len Reynold had been wiped out in an instant! He’d only seen him the other day – fit as a fiddle.
Mal had thought about not bothering taking the call and telling the nurse who had brought in the phone trolley to take a message instead. Despite doing nothing for the past couple of days, apart from lie in this hospital bed, he was knackered. Doing nothing always did that to him. It was like what he’d said to Judith earlier – just because he was retiring didn’t mean he could bear sitting around or pottering about the house looking for things to do.
But although it was almost midnight, something compelled him to take the call. His initial dread was that something had happened to Judith. Thankfully, it wasn’t that, but it still was far from good.
Mal had listened with a mixture of shock and sadness learning how Len Reynold’s car had ploughed headlong into a tree. Only yards from his home as well. Killed him instantly it had, the poor sod.
Mal had listened to all the details the caller knew, which wasn’t much, considering it hadn’t long happened, and he’d found his mind wandering, thinking what a damn shame it was. A rotten piece of luck. That was until his senses sprang to attention hearing the words, ‘the other driver fled the scene…’
Mal grabbed his glass of water from the over-bed table, wishing it were whisky.
He’d initially presumed there was a problem with the car. He couldn’t imagine it being Len’s driving – the man had been driving for donkey’s years, so he’d assumed a tyre blow-out or an engine fault had caused the car to career off-road. But to learn that another car had been involved? And that car hadn’t stopped?
His pulse increasing, the glimmer of unease grew in Mal’s stomach. Was this an unrelated hit-and-run type of smash here or was it more than that? Was it somehow linked to the threats to both his and Reynold’s firms?
It couldn’t be, could it? Surely no one would be that stupid?
‘Mr Stoker,’ a nurse cried as she bustled into Mal’s room. ‘An alert has just gone off at our station regarding your blood pressure. What are you doing to get yourself het up like this?’ She glanced suspiciously at the telephone and moved towards it. ‘I’ll take this out of the way. There’s no phone calls at this time of night. Only emergencies.’
Mal leant forward, putting his hand on the trolley. ‘Get off it, woman. This is an emergency. I need to speak to my son.’
Picking up the receiver, Mal stabbed out Seb’s telephone number and directed the nurse out of the room with a wave of his hand.
Standing in the bathroom of the self-contained apartment above the Royal Peacock, Seb stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked into the hard green eyes glaring back at him and willed his adrenalin to subside.
This two-bedroom apartment was maintained to an excellent standard, yet was used infrequently by any of the Stokers, but now it was his. Now he was in charge of everything it was more convenient being on site here than anywhere else. Being as he was now the boss, he could choose to live in it if he wished. And he did wish.
It had been a godsend tonight anyway and that was what mattered. It would have been a huge risk driving the whole way across the city to get home.
Seb’s nose wrinkled at the blood splattered over his white shirt and suit jacket. These would have to be burnt. He’d have put old kit on if he’d thought a messy job was on the cards. Bloody typical. One of his favourite suits as well.
Turning on the tap, Seb held his hunting knife under the fast-flowing water, watching with detachment as the water, now red, sluiced away forever down the plug hole.
He stared back at his reflection. Damn his temper. It hadn’t been his plan to kill that man. Well, he’d wanted to and might have ended up doing so, but not like that. That kind of thing left too many traces for his liking, but he’d had minimal choice in the way it panned out.
Seb’s rugged face creased. He’d wanted answers as to where the source of the shit that was being spread had come from before he put the tosser down, but he hadn’t counted on the man’s brute strength. Jock Sawyer had the strength of an ox and before he’d been able to ask any questions, Seb had been left with only one choice. Finish him or be finished himself.
There weren’t many people who he would say were a physical match for him, but to give the bloke his dues, this one had been, so he’d had no option but to get in first.
Now he was left with no answers and no means of getting them, either. Not unless he could ascertain where it had all originated from.
Quickly taking his suit jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt, Seb shrugged. At least what had happened tonight would put a stop to the rumours. It would no doubt get back to whoever the organ grinder was that it was a bad idea to tread on the Stokers’ toes.
Hearing a knock on the door, Seb stiffened. Kicking his bloodstained shirt and jacket under the sink, he quickly sluiced off his hands and forearms, listening as the door continued banging incessantly. Who knew he was in this apartment?
Shoving the hunting knife back in his ankle holster, Seb moved from the bathroom towards the front door. ‘Who is it?’ he called, his senses on fire.
‘Seb? It’s Andrew.’
Rolling his eyes, Seb unlocked the door to find his brother. ‘For God’s sake, Andrew. Can I get no peace? It’s gone one in the morning!’
Andrew looked at his bare-chested brother, dark patches on his suit trousers, and frowned. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Dad’s been ringing you at home, but no one could locate you. Eventually, I thought of here and…’
‘What’s happened?’ Seb cried, fear for his father escalating. ‘You said something’s happened to Dad? Wha…’
‘Nothing’s happened to Dad.’ Andrew shut the door behind him and walked into the large open-plan lounge of the apartment. ‘I said Dad’s been trying to get hold of you.’
‘What’s gone on?’ Seb snapped. The momentary relief that his father was okay was replaced with annoyance at his brother dragging things out.
Andrew stared at Seb, his expression grave. ‘It’s Reynold. He’s been done.’
‘Done?’ Seb frowned. ‘What? As in…?’
‘Yep. Dead.’ Andrew helped himself to a glass of Scotch from a bottle in the cabinet. ‘Run off the road.’
Seb sat down heavily and blew through his teeth. ‘You’re saying this wasn’t an accident?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘Not sure. It only happened a couple of hours ago, so we haven’t much detail yet. All we know is that someone drove at him, ran him off the road, then left the scene.’ He drank heavily from his whisky. ‘It could be a hit-and-run but, being as it happened pretty much outside Reynold’s own house, that seems unlikely.’
Seb bit his lip. ‘And more likely to be linked to these recent threats?’ Now was not the time to mention he’d just quietened at least one source of those harmful rumours.
‘That’s what Dad thinks, yes,’ Andrew continued. ‘He wants to see you first thing in the morning. He wants you to offer your assistance with immediate effect to the Reynold girl, being as she’ll have to step into Len’s shoes.’
Seb stared at Andrew incredulously. ‘He wants me to go and help our firm’s rivals? To help a woman with no clue whatsoever about the business? He has to be joking?’ There was no way he had time to waste on that crap, especially when there was more than enough to sort out here.
‘That was my reaction too, I must admit,’ Andrew said, finishing his drink. ‘But Dad’s adamant. He wants you and you alone at nine tomorrow.’ He did his best to hide his irritation that yet again he was being sidelined. That only Seb was ever party to important decisions – to everything.
Seb nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll be there.’ Not that he had any intention of actually helping the Reynolds. With them being wide open it gave their own firm an advantage, so why would he want to dilute that?
Sure, it was unfortunate Len Reynold had karked it, but the only thing that bothered him more than anything else was whether this hit-and-run was connected to the threats. If it was, that in turn could mean something was on the cards for them next. They would need to be vigilant. Very vigilant.
‘Where have you been, anyway?’ Andrew’s eyes hovered on a missed bloodstain on Seb’s right forearm. ‘I haven’t seen you since you took back off again after we got back from the Gun Barrels.’
‘Like I told you before, just a bit of business I had to take care of,’ Seb shrugged. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Raising his eyebrows, Andrew stood up. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it.’ He nodded towards the stain knowingly. ‘I suggest you get yourself a shower, though…’
16
Gloria’s red-rimmed eyes were so sore from crying she felt like scratching them out, but even if she’d wanted to, she didn’t have the energy.
Today was the first time in the three days since Len’s death that she’d felt able to face taking a shower, but even that seemed pointless. What was she without Len?
Len had been her entire world for so long and she couldn’t imagine life without him. Now she had to because he was dead and the pain was more raw than anything she’d ever experienced.
Her Len – the most wonderful man – was no more and she couldn’t get her head around it. She wouldn’t get her head around it.
Gloria looked across at Samantha, her darling daughter, the apple of her father’s eye, and her heart broke further seeing the vivid desolation on her daughter’s beautiful face. She’d do anything – everything, to remove her daughter’s pain if she could, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing she or anyone could do.
‘You really should eat something, Mum,’ Sam said, her voice hoarse. Her suggestion was hypocritical. She’d been unable to stomach a mouthful of anything herself since it had happened, but she could at least try to ensure her mother kept her strength up. She would need it.
Uttering the words out loud that her father was dead when she’d called work to say she wouldn’t be in for the planned meeting had been like a knife through her heart. They’d been great, telling her to take as long as she needed, but how long was long?
This wasn’t something that would ever be okay. Her father was dead and no amount of time off would change that.
Sam closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to keep the fast-rising panic at bay. Three days now she’d relived the night of the accident – it flashed into her brain every time she stopped. Or breathed. Or moved.
In fact, Sam recollected very little after hearing the words coming out of Liam’s mouth in the restaurant that night. She vaguely remembered screaming – the sound coming from her mouth like a wounded animal. She’d crumpled to the floor, not caring a jot that the entire restaurant was staring at her. All that had clanged around her head were the poisonous, agonising words that her father was dead.
Sam shuddered. She’d also tried to block out the scene that greeted her when she’d allowed Liam to bundle her into his car and race to her parents’ home. Unfortunately, it was still stuck at the forefront of her mind…
Her father’s treasured car was mangled at the foot of one of the big trees standing like sentinels along the road. She vividly recalled there being minimal damage to the tree, a piece of bark sheared off, yet the whole front of the car had been crumpled up like a concertina, the windscreen smashed.
Two fire engines were on site busy tidying up the mess, having cut her father out of the car. Her father’s body had already been taken away by ambulance and her mother was being comforted by a female police officer and several neighbours – the sort who had never spoken before, but at the commotion, the street had been packed with people wanting to see what had happened, like ghouls.
Sam had wanted to scream at all of them to go away. She didn’t want them there, witnessing her family’s pain. Her pain.
She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.
Her father had been killed outright, the policeman told her. It was a ‘godsend’, apparently, because he hadn’t suffered.
Well, it wasn’t a godsend. It should never have happened.
She’d blindly watched the policeman’s mouth moving: A terrible accident… It looked like the other driver had failed to stop… No witnesses… No impact between the two cars, just the tree… It may not even have been a hit-and-run… The skid marks from the other vehicle may not be related… They would know more in due course after the investigations concluded…
Sam’s mouth formed a tight line. They could do and say anything they wanted, but it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t bring her father back, would it?
She stared at the telephone, the red light of the answer machine blinking from incessant well-wishers and people offering assistance. Her father had been well-loved by many people, but she’d been unable to face returning any of the calls. She had to at some point. Someone had to do something.
And it would be her.
Sam glanced at her mother once more. Her dad would want her to look after her mother, so she had to get a grip, now.
She took a deep breath. There was a lot to do and a lot to sort and she needed to get on with it.
As the doorbell rang, Sam tensed. No doubt that would be Liam again. He’d been over countless times, but she couldn’t face spending time with him. His presence wasn’t a comfort, it was the opposite.
Because she’d valued his steady friendship, she’d put up with his hints and constant pushing for her to enter into a full-blown relationship with him for far too long. Although the chance had been unlikely before, now it was zero. Liam’s presence made her blood run cold.
The words that her father was dead had come from his mouth and had she not been having that stupid dinner he’d nagged her into, then she might have instead decided to go to the Orchid to talk with her father. If she’d done that, then her father might not have left at the time he had and might have missed meeting the car which had caused him to lose control.
She might have been able to stop any of it from happening.
Whether it was fair or not, right now Sam couldn’t forget that Liam had been the one to shatter her life; to utter the words she’d never, ever wanted to hear.
When the doorbell sounded for the second time, Sam pushed herself up from the chair. ‘I’ll get it,’ she muttered, noticing her mother wasn’t listening, her eyes focused far away, staring at something – nothing.
She moved into the hallway and, seeing a silhouette of a big man behind the frosted glass, moved towards the front door, her heart sinking further. It had to be Liam – far too tall to be John.
Sam scowled. John had only been around once. The night it happened, her mother had phoned him immediately and he’d said he’d be round straight away, yet he hadn’t bothered showing up until the next day. Even then it was only to gruffly state everything was in hand at the Orchid.
