An Eye for an Eye (Summary Justice series Book 1), page 1
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
‘SUMMARY JUSTICE’ - BOOK 1
THEO HARRIS
An Eye for an Eye
Book 1 of the ‘Summary Justice’ series
Copyright © 2022 by Theo Harris
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-8-843874-85-8
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, places of learning, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Linda Nagle
Cover art by Keith Johnston (Keith Draws Cover Art)
Created with Vellum
PROLOGUE
Kendra March stood proudly to attention, finding it difficult to stop herself from smiling, as the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police approached with the highly polished and much coveted Baton of Honour. The greatly prized award was given to the student that met the highest standard of leadership and achievement and exemplified the values that the world’s most revered police service strove to impress upon their staff.
‘Well done, Miss March, you should be very proud of this achievement,’ said the commissioner, handing over the award. ‘I hope that you achieve everything you wish for; you have a very exciting future ahead of you, and I will be keeping a close eye on your progress.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ replied Kendra, beaming with pride.
She looked over at her grandparents, who had raised her from a very young age, and saw them both grinning from ear to ear, her grandmother dabbing away a tear.
There was so much for her to look forward to, and she couldn’t wait.
1
It’s funny what you think about when your world turns upside down and you realise it wasn’t what you’d always thought it to be. Kendra was having one of those thoughts, a flashback to innocent days when everything had looked rosy and the world was her oyster. Now, looking out of the hospital window as the driving rain lashed against it, her thoughts were filled with pain, anger, frustration, and a sense of loss that she had always hoped to avoid.
But mostly pain.
At least he is still alive, she thought, hoping it would help. It didn’t.
Her partner was lying in a bed in intensive care, on a different floor not too far from her, fighting for his life. There were tubes and wires attached to almost every part of his body, as his vitals were constantly monitored and checked for changes. He had lost a lot of blood, and doctors could not guarantee his survival.
Everyone at the station wanted to be Andy Pike’s partner when his previous one had left on promotion, but it was Kendra who had won that lottery. Pike had personally requested her as his new partner, having seen how diligent and dedicated she had been in performing her duties, however menial, when she had transferred to the Serious Crimes Unit as a fully-fledged detective.
‘You just need to loosen up a little,’ he had told her, ‘don’t be afraid to screw up and try and enjoy some of this crap, otherwise you’ll go stir-crazy.’
And now he was at death’s door with terrifying injuries, missing an eye and unable to walk, and she was in a wheelchair, with two badly broken legs.
‘At least he is still alive,’ she said out loud.
Their partnership had been a spectacular triumph from their very first case. The combination of Pike’s natural intuitiveness, bravado, and skilled trade craft, coupled with Kendra’s meticulous attention to detail, knowledge of the law, and her now-famous talent with computers, made them an instant success. Their drive and enthusiasm in bringing criminals to justice was both refreshing and nauseating, depending on which side of the fence you were on.
Until that fateful day when they unwittingly volunteered to take on a tough new case involving the infamous Qupi gang. The Qupis, originating from Albania and led by their evil, one-eyed boss, Guran, had firmly established themselves in the East End of London as ‘logistics experts.’ They had mastered the art of moving weapons, drugs, cars, machinery, —and more recently, people—in and out of the East End. They controlled everything east of Ilford and had no interest in expanding further; their territory was more than adequate and extremely lucrative.
If you wanted anything brought in or taken out, then Guran Qupi was the man who controlled the operation - he was the man you needed to negotiate with. He was beyond vicious and took great pleasure in punishing those who let him down in any way. His party piece was to remove an eye, aping his own deficiency, which had been a result of the brutal fight that had brought him control of his successful empire.
He thrived on that reputation, it kept people in check.
The knife in the eye had proven worth it, however painful it was, as he was now king of the east and nobody could touch him. Despite his calling card and the sure-fire police knowledge that he was responsible, including repeated intelligence provided by trusted informants, there was not a jot of usable evidence that would help towards an arrest, let alone a conviction, and nothing was ever expected. He ruled with an iron fist and made sure that everybody knew it.
‘Nobody is untouchable,’ Pike had smirked at a briefing on Qupi’s lucrative people-smuggling ring, ‘give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have all the evidence we need to put them away for life.’
Such was his confidence. He looked over at Kendra and winked, to which she rolled her eyes. His confidence was infectious - how could anyone doubt him?
The team – professionally known as the Serious Crimes Unit – or the ‘dream machine’ to the team itself, had gathered for their briefing, deep in the bowels of the police station. It was where they celebrated their frequent successes with tea and doughnuts, usually bought by the newest member of the team or by someone who’d screwed up in some amusing way. Today it had been Wilf Baker’s turn, after inadvertently leaving the station with his ID still showing around his neck as he walked down the street, completely oblivious, much to the amusement of his partner, Nick McGuinness, who had stifled a laugh for a hundred yards before reaching over and hiding the ID.
‘That’s gonna cost you doughnuts, mate,’ McGuinness had laughed.
The team was led by the long-serving Detective Sergeant Rick Watts, a powerfully-built man who had seen service in many specialist teams and whose icy stare had once worried Kendra. Watts had a reputation as a firm but fair supervisor, someone you did not want to cross by abusing his fair nature. His uncompromising attitude was typical of a battle-scarred, long-serving, ‘old-school’ officer, who everyone respected greatly. He knew how to look after his team, and he did it efficiently and effectively. Kendra had not taken long to warm to him as she quickly saw he was the type of leader they needed, someone who gave them space but quickly put them in their place if they crossed the line - which wasn’t often, thankfully.
The team were close. There were only ten of them, but they worked well together, trusted each other implicitly, and had each other’s backs.
It was a great posting for Kendra. She looked around at her team-mates, all clearly comfortable and confident in themselves and their work. She was proud and happy to be a part of it, despite having earned the nickname of ‘Aunt Kim,’ after the famous cleaning lady, for being whiter-than-white in her dealings. Meticulous in everything she did, God help anyone who tried to take shortcuts or bend the law in her presence. She had been that way since day one and could see no other way of doing her job.
‘Here you go then, smart arse,’ said Watts, as he handed over the case folder to the fist-pumping Pike. ‘Show us all how it’s done.’
‘Get the cells warmed up, Sarge, we’ll be done with this in no time!’
‘Just don’t screw up!’ replied Watts.
Fate has a way of kicking you where it hurts.
2
Five weeks later and there they were, both handcuffed and strung up like two sides of beef in the cold Tilbury warehouse, bloodied and bruised from the pounding they had received at the hands of Qupi’s cruel goons, who were enjoying their handiwork immensely. The surveillance operation they’d set up had been going well and they had made some progress, until they had stupidly given their position away, resulting in their being spotted and hauled out of their observation post from the back of their specially-adapted van. Now they were strung up and waiting to die. The goons howled like a pack of hyenas waiting to take the first and juiciest bite from their freshly stolen carcass.
They quickly fell quiet as Guran Qupi walked in. He looked at them both hanging there and took a long drag on his gold-plated vape pen.
‘This is nice,’ he said, blowing the sweet-smelling smoke into his captives’ faces. Despite their precarious situation, Kendra could not help but notice his accent as Central Gheg - as spoken in the capital Tirana and its surrounding regions, confirming Qupi’s Albanian heritage.
He looked at the two warrant cards that were handed to him. ‘So what does the Metropolitan Police want with such a small outfit as ours?’ he said, grinning as he stared at them. Even his smile implied imminent violence.
‘We’re thinking of giving you a good citizens award for all the help you’ve given the local community,’ said Pike, as blood dripped from the side of his freshly-cut, swollen mouth. ‘And this isn’t helping your cause, is it? Now, be a good chap and let us go so that we can get you a nice shiny plaque.’
Qupi laughed out loud and looked around at his men, prompting a round of booming laughter. He handed back the warrant cards to one of his men and took out a stiletto knife that he immediately flicked open. He looked very comfortable and content to be holding the weapon, like a child holding their favourite toy. It was no toy, though. Qupi had been using this very knife since the age of twelve and had killed his first victim just a few weeks later. He had joked amongst his peers that when it was his time to die, he wished that the blade would be buried with him, preferably not sticking out of his back. At the time it had prompted nervous laughter.
‘Well, maybe I can persuade you to change your mind, as I would very much like to collect that award,’ he said sarcastically, as he brought the knife up to Pike’s face and without hesitation, thrust the sharp point into the left eyeball in one devastatingly rapid move.
Pike screamed as the knife entered and was then swiftly removed from the ruined eyeball. A thick dark fluid ran slowly down his cheek, and he quickly passed out, his head slumping forward as his wrists took the weight of his whole body. Blood dripped slowly to the floor, splashing and leaving strangely mesmeric star-like patterns where it fell from his still-rotating body.
Kendra had watched the horrifying attack in shock and stifled her response, not wanting to antagonise the lunatic gangster. She suddenly felt a fear unlike anything in her life, accompanied by a horrible gut-wrenching feeling.
‘Do you have any smart words for me, Miss police lady?’ Qupi snarled as he turned towards her and stared at her trembling face.
She shook her head, still in shock.
‘That’s good,’ he replied, revelling in his beloved role as the renowned torturer. He moved up close and looked her in the eyes. As she swayed slightly, he stood stock-still and followed her with his eyes, as if watching a hypnotist at work. Kendra could sense malevolence in the man and knew she was in deep trouble.
‘Now, be a good girl and tell me why the Metropolitan Police are looking at my small operation, and I will let you live, okay?’
‘I doubt that very much,’ Kendra said, attempting to be brave but resigning to her fate. She stared back into those eyes and saw no change at all, almost as if he was not disappointed in any way.
‘Well that is a shame, it really is. Such a pretty girl. With such a good future if you helped us out a little, don’t you think?’
Kendra kept quiet, hoping and praying that somehow, he would leave her alone.
When she didn’t reply, Qupi walked back to the limp figure of Pike. He turned back to Kendra and said, ‘You like this man? Your lover?’
He could sense the change in Kendra, saw the fear in her eyes as he mocked her. Before she could reply, he jabbed the stiletto knife violently into Pike’s left foot. The razor-sharp knife went straight through tendon and bones as if through butter, with just a little blood flowing through the hole in the sole of Pike’s trainer, dripping slowly from the tip of the knife that Qupi had left in situ. Pike swayed slightly, still unconscious and unaware of the weapon jutting from his foot.
‘Why so afraid? He didn’t feel a thing! See?’
Qupi withdrew the knife and stabbed down again, just as violently. And again, three more times. Pike’s trainer turned red from the blood, now pooling on the floor beneath him, spoiling the pattern he had made before. His foot had been destroyed and he had no clue.
The gangster walked over to Kendra, an evil smile playing on his lips, leaning forward as if to taunt her.
‘You have such lovely feet; it would be a shame to hurt them like that.’
He looked at his cohorts and laughed out loudly, before saying something in Albanian that was just as amusing to the gangsters.
‘We don’t want to hurt you; we just want to know why you are here. Is that too much to ask?’
‘You’re an animal,’ Kendra whispered, ‘and you won’t get away with this.’
‘Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.’ He continued to smirk, before leaning in close. ‘I think I will.’
He reached out his hand without looking back, knowing exactly what one of his lieutenants was going to put in it. The wooden bat was old and scarred, it had seen much use, none of it involving baseballs.
‘Are you sure, you won’t tell me?’ He regarded at the bat lovingly, tapping it into his left hand.
Kendra looked him in the eye. She knew where this was going and there was nothing she could do or say to change it.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ she said, a determined look settling on her bleeding, battered face, tears streaming down her filthy cheeks.
She closed her eyes and prepared for death, with visions of her childhood appearing in her head: her wonderful and loving grandparents, the father she had not seen enough of, and the recent but fleeting lust-filled moment she had shared with Pike in the back of the van, taking their eye off the targets and onto each other – and which had led to their discovery.
She heard the crack of bone an instant before the excruciating pain that came from her now-shattered leg. With an ear-shattering scream, her world started spinning. A mixture of stars and distorted shapes mingled with sweat and tears and dirt, none of it helping with the pain.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked again. He beamed in contentment, loving every second, staring at the shattered limb as it continued to sway.
‘Fuck you!’ she was loud and angry, but her bravery was waning.
Tears, snot and saliva splattered the floor as she glared at him in defiance, wishing him dead.
He swung at the other leg, with the same devastating results. It was her turn to pass out. Weirdly, she could hear the raucous laughter and the harsh language of the gangsters echoing in the background as if she were at a theatre.
She felt herself being lifted, the pain on her wrists easing a little just as the pain in her shattered legs intensified when they threw her roughly to the ground. She heard a thud and then a moan as Pike was similarly dumped, unceremoniously, to the cold hard floor.
Well, that could have turned out better, she thought as the laughter faded and everything started to turn black.
Just as she was about to lose consciousness completely, she heard a deafening crash and the gangsters’ tone became deadly serious. They were screaming instructions to each other in their native tongue.
Kendra felt herself being roughly manhandled onto someone’s shoulder and carried at speed by a powerfully built man who stank of cigarettes and dreadful body odour. She bounced on his muscular shoulder as he strode purposely towards a nearby doorway, the motion causing her badly broken legs to bounce against his lower back, worsening the pain. The shouting and the chaos seemed to slow everything down as she tried desperately to deal with the agony.
She felt the cold rush of air as they exited the building. The commotion continued and she heard what sounded like thunderclaps. An acrid smell filled her nose, reminding her of the smell of fireworks on bonfire night. Gunfire, lots of it.
The pain in her legs intensified as the bouncing increased. And as rapidly as the bouncing increased, she was flying through the air, weightless and helpless, for what felt like an age. As she was still groggy and not fully alert, it all seemed to happen in slow motion, surreal and almost magical. The stars were still there, albeit faintly, and weird patterns and shapes continued to pass by.
The sudden impact of hitting freezing cold water drove the wind from her lungs and shocked her into consciousness. In agony, she tried and failed to kick her way to the surface. She stopped kicking and relied on her strokes, staying calm as she remembered her swimming prowess. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to surface. She looked up just in time to see another body land a few feet from where she was, realising quickly that it was Pike. And he was still unconscious.
