‘Not entirely no. But as I said, I have an address so I think perhaps myself and Tyler ought to pop over and explain to him how very virtuous silence can be.’
‘Drennan, far be it from me to suggest that your subtle psychological manipulation might be less than flawless but have you given this any sort of thought at all? As far as we know, these two had a good long cosy chat about this whole fucking business and he’s sitting at home now on the phone having a natter with the press.’
‘I think you’re over reacting, with respect.’ Drennan said carefully.
‘Really? Well its wonderful that you feel you can share your informed and considered opinion Matthew but I think this has gone far enough now don’t you?’
‘I have people on it and the guy doesn’t have a clue. In and out to work nice and punctual, picking up his dry cleaning, renting movies.’
‘Nevertheless Matthew. Tick tock.’
‘I’m not sure I follow you.’ Drennan’s self-assurance was deserting him now and the other man did not miss the note of apprehension creeping into his voice.
‘Well, assuming that the worst has happened and we have a major leak on our hands, a bloody spillage — and considering the implications of this, there is absolutely no reason I can see that we may risk assuming otherwise — then only swift and decisive action is likely to be of any value at this stage. I will ensure that such action is taken. Let me have the name of the police contact you have. Unlike yourself, I am under no illusions as to the extent of my own influence.’
‘Very well. I’ll dig it out and pass his number on. What about our loose end? What do you want to do about that?’ There was a nervousness in his voice now, an uncertainty that was rarely present.
‘That’s no longer a concern of yours Matthew.’
‘Let’s not be rash.’
‘You would rather we rely on cheap scare tactics and the word of some young man we don’t know? One uncertainty is one too many.’
‘Well, may I ask who you intend to use for this?’
‘I maintain a number of associates in various fields. Many of them can be relied upon for efficiency, discretion and loyalty. There should be no reason why this need go on any longer, nor for any of us to be further entangled in this mess. Agreed?’
A pause. ‘Agreed.’
‘Perfect. Consider our problem eliminated.’
Drennan said nothing.
‘The Barrel Maker?’ snorted the other man. ‘You are beyond parody sometimes.’
29
Wednesday. 12am.
Somewhere off to the left he could hear a squeaking sound, more metal than animal. An occasional tapping punctuated it. A loose window? The air was cold and he could feel his muscles begin to tense and shiver as a breeze crept around his ankles.
The shuffling of feet, movement around him, a wooden clunk as something heavy was set down. A cough from behind.
His wrists, tightly bound at his back, had begun to feel warm with the friction as he struggled to find a more comfortable position and he thought that he felt something wet there now. Sweat?
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck as a huge hand clamped around it and pinched the skin there. He felt his head snapped backwards and twisted sideways and then he could feel hot breath on the side of his face.
‘Now you be fucking polite and I might decide to leave you alone,’ a voice growled in his ear and he was released with a rough shove that threatened to knock him off balance for a moment before his seat righted itself.
‘Good evening gentlemen. And what do we have here?’ From the right came the thick East London accent and he could tell immediately that this new presence was in charge. Anyone that would speak to the other man in that way could only be his boss.
‘Take the blindfold off,’ the same voice instructed sharply.
Even in the relative gloom of his surroundings the light stung his retinas and Campbell squinted hard. Standing in front of him was a balding man in thick rimmed glasses who stood a very stocky five foot six or seven he guessed. His chin was stubbled and jowly and his nose sat squat in the centre of his face but his black eyes peered out through the lenses of his glasses and Campbell knew that even without the ropes he would have been unable to move under that gaze.
‘Mr Campbell. Been fucking itching to meet you old son,’ he growled and offered a hand that looked as if it could enclose his entire head in its grasp.
‘Don’t forget your manners, please,’ he said after a pause and Campbell frowned, puzzled.
‘Uh, George…’ said the other men and nodded toward where Campbell sat.
Gresham looked from the man to Campbell and leaned forward to look down over his shoulder. ‘Oh yeah. Silly me. Slater, take the ropes off.’
Campbell felt the ropes being tugged roughly from his wrists and it stung the raw flesh there as much as it relieved his discomfort. He drew them into his lap and saw that the chafing of the rope had drawn blood, which had run down over his hands and spread rusty smudges of it around his wrists and forearms.
‘Mr Campbell.’ He looked up at the man called George as he slid a stool across the floor and sat in front of him face to face. Close enough to smell the sweet coffee on his breath.
Campbell nodded but his jaw felt as if it were clamped shut and he said nothing.
‘Do excuse my enthusiastic friend. No harm done?’
Campbell shook his head. ‘No. No, fine.’
The other man eyed his wrists and raised an eyebrow. ‘Not fine at all are you?’
‘Um. No. Not really.’
‘Not really. That’s one lie.’ Gresham said and held up a finger as if to count it off. ‘How did Keith treat you?’
Campbell turned his head slightly to see Slater pat a hand on his ribs. Gresham leaned forward and took hold of Campbell’s shirt at the bottom, lifting it to reveal two large and darkening bruises on either side of his rib cage. Campbell winced as he saw the extent of it for the first time.
He had been bundled roughly back into his flat and almost lifted off his feet. Slater, without a word had landed a solid right into his left side. Campbell, the wind knocked thoroughly out of him, collapsed to his knees and gasped for breath, curling up on the floor and clutching at his ribs. Before he could regain his breath Slater had snatched him back up to his feet and with both fists gripping his shirt at his shoulders had pinned him solidly against the wall.
‘You’ve got something I want so hand the thing over and don’t even think about fucking me around,’ Slater had hissed at him through clenched teeth.
Confused, scared and off guard Campbell had spluttered and coughed as he tried to draw proper breath and had managed only a few words in response. ‘I don’t know…’
And then Slater slammed a fist into his other side and Campbell had felt as if his chest were about to collapse.
‘Where is it?’ he snarled but now Campbell really was struggling for breath and answering was beyond him.
‘Right. Pull the car up out front Angie,’ said Slater gesturing toward the door. Then Slater was in his face again, talking still through clenched teeth, spittle hitting Campbell’s cheek. ‘Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.’
Campbell was brought rudely back to the present as he felt a further jabbing pain in his tender ribcage. Gresham was poking a finger into the bruise and screwing his face up with mock pity. ‘So come on. How did he treat you? Nice was he?’
Campbell stared at Gresham bewildered. Was he seriously expected to answer the question? Gresham stared back, waiting. Campbell gave an uncertain nod, thinking that perhaps it was best to be co-operative.
Gresham held up two fingers. ‘Two lies.’ He shook his head reproachfully. ‘No more.’
And then he backhanded Campbell hard and sharp across the face, opening a cut across his cheekbone. Campbell screwed his face tight as the pain exploded across his cheek, white heat in his eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth.