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PROLOGUE
Maurice was on the way to the pub when his mobile rang.
“Damn, I swear she has eyes everywhere!” he complained then answered the call.
“Hi, love, everything all right?”
“Yes, although I have to go out now. Sam is
running a temperature. I’ve booked an appointment at the doctor’s for this
evening at six.”
“That’s a shame. Will your mum take you?”
Maurice rolled his eyes at the men around him as they neared the pub.
“I was hoping you’d be home long before
then, Maurice. Would it hurt you to miss a night at the boozer if your child is
ill?”
“I’m not at the pub. The gaffer has asked
me to stay on awhile to oversee a delivery of urgent supplies. He’s had to
leave work early himself, you see, love. You know I’d be there in a shot if I
could, babe.”
His wife tutted. “You’ve always got some
excuse not to be at home nowadays, Maurice Barratt. Let this snippet of
information sink in while you’re downing one of your many pints this evening.
I’ve spent the day packing my bags… I’m leaving you.”
The line went dead, and he stopped walking
and stared at the phone.
Ted elbowed him. “What’s up, mate?”
“She’s leaving me.”
“Nah, she’d never leave you. She knows
better than to do that, mate. Come on, I’ll buy the first pint.”
Ted pushed open the pub’s large wooden door
and entered The Rose and Crown. As they approached the bar, Maurice switched
off to everyone around him to contemplate the magnitude of his wife’s words. No
matter how much she nagged him, deep down, he idolised her and the kids and
would do anything to make them happy. So, why the hell am I standing
in the pub with my workmates?
One of the other men opened Maurice’s hand
and placed a pint of beer in it. “You’re miles away, man. Sup up! We’ve bloody
earned this pint tonight. What’s wrong with you?”
Maurice’s mouth stretched into a strained
smile. “Sorry, guys. Think I’m only going to have the one tonight. I need to
get back to the missus. You don’t know her like I do. She’s not one for making
idle threats. I don’t want to lose my kids for the sake of a few pints.”
“Nah, I bet she’s all talk. Mine’s always
threatening, but she never follows through on that promise, more’s the pity. My
life would be a darn sight quieter—I know that much,” Taff joked in his broad
Welsh accent that a lot of the men on the site had trouble deciphering most of
the time.
Ted prodded Taff in the arm. “Give the lad
a break, man. Don’t you go filling his head with daft ideas now. Not everyone
has a Rottweiler of a wife like you.”
Maurice turned sharply to look at Taff, who
by rights should have been offended by Ted’s words.
Instead, the Welshman roared with laughter.
“You’re not wrong there, Ted. You know what? I might jest about her being a
pain in the rear, but if she was to take off, I’d miss her like mad. I mean,
who’d bloody do me ironing and cook my meals then? Not me! I know that much.”
The group of men roared, all except
Maurice. His mind was back at home with Tina and the kids. Every evening, the
minute he stepped through his front door, the three of them surrounded him. The
kids wanted to play with their dad after missing him all day, and even Tina
seemed to crave his company. So why do I always come to the pub with this mob, spending
money we can ill afford?
Because I’m selfish! Ma always
said the same the day I started work and refused to go home until I’d downed
five pints or more at the pub. That didn’t last long before she kicked me out. He shook his head, the shame of his actions making him want to run
home and apologise for letting his family down. However, he knew if he backed
down and left the pub before he’d drunk his first pint, the men would rib him
about it for days, if not weeks. He loved working on the building site—the
camaraderie was second to none most days—but there were times when all he
wanted to do was knuckle down and do an honest day’s work. But that sort of behaviour
would make him stick out like a sore thumb on-site. Not worth the hassle at
all. Another jab to the ribs brought him out of his reverie.
“Sorry, what was that, Ted?”
“You should go home, mate. Your mind is
there anyway. It’s obvious you’re worried that Tina will make good on her
threat.”
“I am. Would you guys mind? I’ll make it up
to you either tomorrow or the next day. I’ll leave some money to buy the next
round.”
“Get away with ya, lad. It’s not about the
money. Look, there’s no point in you hanging around here if you’re going to be
as miserable as sin.” Ted turned to the others. “Agreed, lads?”
The men all nodded and raised their
glasses. Maurice gulped down the rest of his pint and smiled at the group. “I
swear I’ll make it up to you, guys. I promise.”
He left the pub through the back door. His
home was a few streets away, and there was a shortcut down a little-known
footpath at the rear of the pub. During the walk, he rehearsed his sincere
apology, knowing he would have to grovel to Tina to make her reconsider. He
also knew that he’d been pushing her to the limit for months, and she had a
right to be peeved with him.
He reached the end of the alley and stopped
dead when he found two masked men blocking his path. “What the fu—”
One of the men swung a short metal bar at
his chest, knocking the breath out of him.
He grunted and doubled over in pain, then
everything went black. “What do you want? Take my money if that’s what you’re
after,” he shouted through the cloth hood they’d placed over his head.
They wrenched his hands behind him then
wrapped rope around his wrists. He gulped and tried to speak again, desperate
for answers, but the men started punching him in the stomach and the head.
Dazed, he staggered against the fence of one of the nearby gardens before the
men took hold of his arms and marched him away.
“Please… what do you want from me?”
“Shut the fuck up, man. Stop whining and
accept the punishment we’re going to dish out,” a gruff voice warned him.
“Punishment? For what? What have I done wrong?
I don’t even know you… do I?”
The bar jabbed him in the stomach, smashing
against his bottom rib. “I warned you to keep your mouth shut.”
He heard what sounded like a car being
unlocked. “We’ll put him in the boot.”
“No, please. I don’t want to go in the
boot. I won’t be able to breathe in there.”
“Fucking wimp. He loves the sound of his
own voice, don’t he? Shut the fuck up!” one of them shouted in his ear.
He felt disorientated when his feet were
taken away from him and the men lifted him and dropped him heavily into the
boot of the car. All he could think about was the pain he was in. Every part of
his body was screaming in agony. Why are they doing this to me?
He couldn’t think of a plausible reason for
him to be in such a dire situation. To his knowledge, he hadn’t wronged anyone
in recent years. Even though he’d asked, they clearly weren’t keen to supply
him with answers.
As the car sped away, several items in the
boot hit him in the head, adding to his pain. Thoughts of Tina, Sam and Fiona
rushed through his mind, along with several dozen regrets about not being a
better husband and father to his wonderful family. Tears sprang to his eyes in
the darkness of the boot. Fear was biting hard as he tried not to think of what
the men had planned for him. Their intentions so far had been to hurt him. And,
boy, had they succeeded in that.
The car seemed to drive for ages. Then he
felt the road they were travelling on become rougher. Could
it be some kind of track?
Finally, the car stopped. Two car doors
slammed. He gulped again when he heard the boot open. Then the men grabbed him.
“Please… why are you doing this? I don’t
understand.”
“You will,” one of the men said before both
of them laughed.
Standing on either side of him, they
marched Maurice across uneven ground that turned his ankle now and again,
adding to his mounting discomfort. He pricked up his ears, trying to figure out
where he was. The air was silent apart from the faint sound of traffic in the
distance. That’s
unusual in the middle of London. He didn’t think they had
travelled that far in the car, though. His mind was all over the place,
confusion raining down on him. Suddenly, all around him seemed to be echoing. Are
we inside a building?
A hand touched the top of his head, forcing
him down. His bottom hit a chair, and his hands were crushed behind him when
one of the men forced him backwards. “Ouch! What the heck are you doing to me?”
The men laughed.
“If you think that’s bad, you’ll be
screaming this place down in a few minutes,” one of them said close to his ear.
“Just tell me why? Do I know you?”
“Oh, yes, you know us all right. Now shut
the fuck up, and let us get on with handing out your punishment.”
“There you go again—punishment! What
punishment? As far as I know, I’ve done nothing wrong,” Maurice pleaded, his
voice trembling as his fear rose to another level.
He cried out when a fist connected with the
side of his head. “Why don’t you learn to keep your mouth shut? Just sit there
and be quiet.”
He heard the two men walk away from him,
and he listened as they conducted a mumbled conversation for a few minutes. He
caught one word—tools!
What tools? My tools? Is that what this is
about? It can’t be. If they wanted to rob my tools, they would have taken my
van, which I left at home today.
The grating sound of metal brought him down
to earth. “Untie his hands,” one of the men instructed.
They’ve
changed their minds and are going to set me free.
Maurice’s heart pounded against his ribs. But
his jubilation was short-lived when one of the men grasped his right hand in
both of his and placed it on some kind of table beside him. The man’s strength
nullified any fight Maurice was able to muster. The grating sound of metal was
close to his ear again, then he felt something cold wrap around the middle
finger on his right hand. “Hey, what the fuck is going on? What are you—?” His
words were drowned out by a scream—his scream.
Severe pain shot through his body at the
speed of an Exocet missile.
The men laughed. “One down, only seven
fingers and two thumbs to go.”
Maurice sobbed. He didn’t care if the men
thought he was a wimp. The pain was impossible to bear. “Please, tell me what I
can do to make things right? What have I done to deserve this? I won’t be able
to stand much more…” he pleaded between sobs.
“Aww… he won’t be able to take much more.
We’ll just have to test that theory, right?”
The cold metal wrapped another of his
fingers, and Maurice braced himself. “No…” he shouted before the pain erupted
through his hand and travelled swiftly up his arm. He felt light-headed, as if
he was going to pass out, and he considered giving in to the urge. The men had
already made their intentions clear. He wondered if his heart would be able to
take the strain if he remained awake during the torturous ordeal. After the
fourth finger had been amputated, Maurice gave in and passed out.
When he regained consciousness, the pain
had intensified tenfold. He listened as the men debated their next plan of
action. He gasped when he overheard them deliberating how to kill him.
“So you’re awake, are you?”
“Please… don’t kill me. Think of my family.
They need me. They wouldn’t be able to cope if you killed me. I don’t
understand what I’ve done wrong. Please, if you let me go now, I promise I
won’t go to the police.”
“You won’t get the chance, Maurice.”
“You know me? Do I know you?” He knew he
was talking gibberish, but the pain was overwhelming, and he was slurring his
words. His saliva dried up long ago. His screams had scratched the lining in
his throat.
“Oh, you know us all right, mate.”
“Why? Why would any friend of mine do this
to me?”
The men laughed. “Did I say we were friends
of yours?”
Unsure what to say next, Maurice fell
silent. He heard the men shuffling and moving something heavy, then he heard an
engine start up. It didn’t take him long to twig what the noise was, but his
thoughts remained jumbled. What were they going to do with… a chainsaw… that’s what I
heard, isn’t it? His bowels emptied as his fear increased.
“The bastard just shat himself,” one of the
men shouted.
“Filthy bastard. Right, I’ve had enough of
this messing about. Let’s finish the job off.”
Maurice wriggled in his seat. He attempted
to stand with the intention of running away, but two hands clamped his
shoulders, fixing him in place.
He screamed, hoping that someone would hear
his cries for help as he felt the chain cut through his lower leg. Blackness
descended.
Amazon smarturl.it/gygofm other sites books2read.com/ImmoralJustice
paperback http://hyperurl.co/n7w7lx
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