Fatal Page 18

  ‘Hello.’

  Panting through the crippling spasms in his leg, Alfie snarled down the phone, ‘Franny, what the fuck are you playing at? What is this? Get back at Alfie time? Why do this now? You’re needed here, but instead you’re playing silly fucking games. Right now I don’t care whether your heart is torn out, because there’s a kid who you say you love who needs our help.’

  ‘I’m not interested, Alfie.’

  ‘What? What the fuck?’ Alfie’s head was swimming. Everything in him wanted to scream down the phone, but he had to keep quiet; the passageway he was in ran underneath Abel’s house and the echo travelled a long way. ‘And Cabhan, what about him?’

  ‘All I’m interested in is you choosing.’

  Alfie hugged the phone angrily against his face, breathing heavily. ‘Are you being fucking serious, Franny?’

  ‘Bree or me, Alfie. It’s that simple. Just make up your mind.’

  The phone went dead and Alfie lay in shock, water dripping on him from the dark stone ceiling. His head was raging, but he couldn’t let this affect him. He wouldn’t let what Franny was doing mess him up – he had only one focus and that was Alice. She deserved better. Alfie pushed himself up from the cold floor and made his way along the tunnel, feeling more alone than he had done for a long time.

  Franny clicked off the phone and closed her eyes before opening them to glance at Bree. She gave her a small smile.

  ‘It’ll be all right.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Salvatore Russo grinned, pointing his gun at Franny as she passed back her phone, her hands tied together.

  Salvatore crouched down, staring at Bree and Franny locked up like stray dogs in a steel cage. Although they hadn’t found Alice when they’d been driving along, he’d seen Franny walking with her friend, and what a consolation prize that had been. It hadn’t fully quelled Nico’s disappointment in them not being able to find Alice – though they would, very soon – but at least it had been of some comfort to Nico, knowing that Franny Doyle was now part of his game.

  Huddled up next to Bree and with her lip and eye swollen from the beating Bobby had given her, Franny held Salvatore’s stare as he leant against the bars.

  ‘Alfie will make the right decision; you’re nothing to him. You’ll never get Alice, you understand, never!’

  Salvatore stood up and slammed the cage with his foot. ‘Franny, don’t ever underestimate us. That’s why you’re here in the first place, because you didn’t think we would. The games are just beginning, the fun is about to start, and we may not have Alice yet, but baby, we got you.’

  As Salvatore walked away, leaving the two women in the relative darkness of the warehouse they’d been brought to yesterday, Franny whispered, ‘Bree, are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay … You?’ Bree answered quietly.

  Feeling the rope dig and burn into her wrists, causing them to bleed, Franny shook her head, her mouth dry from not having had a drink for the past few hours. ‘Not really but only because you being here is all my fault. I can’t believe that you’ve been dragged into this – it was bad enough for Alfie, but you? I’m so sorry, Bree, and I know that won’t help. The worst thing is I’m not sure how I’m going to get you out of this.’

  Bree, her hair matted to her face with cold sweat, shuffled nearer to Franny so she could touch her fingers with her own. She was tired and cold, but her heart went out to Franny, since she could see the guilt in her eyes.

  ‘This isn’t your fault, and I don’t want you to think it is, and it’s not for you to get me out of here. We’re in this together. You and me. Whatever happens, we’ve got each other.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re getting it. You heard what Salvatore made me say, he wants Alfie to choose between us.’ Franny gave Bree a rueful smile, the irony of it not being lost on her.

  Kindly, Bree murmured, ‘Then you’ll be all right, Franny, because he’ll choose you and that’s the way it should be.’

  ‘Bree, sweetheart, don’t be silly, listen to what you’re saying.’ Franny’s voice was urgent, firm. ‘You know Alf, and he’ll never be able to choose between us, he’ll never do it. He couldn’t even choose when it came down to his heart, let alone this. He’ll never want either of our blood on his hands.’

  Bree blanched at Franny’s words, thinking of her daughter, Molly. She pulled her legs in towards her, as she heard the scurrying of rats close by. ‘You … you think it’ll come to that?’

  Only just able to see Bree in the darkness, Franny nodded, fear for Bree creeping over her.

  ‘Look around you, Bree, look where we are. I know the Russos and I know what they’re like. Even if Alfie did choose, in reality there’s no way Salvatore and Bobby are just going to let one of us go. This is a game for them, and you need to realise that unless a miracle happens, unless one of Alice’s prayers comes true, the fact is, Bree, we’re both going to die.’

  34

  It took Alfie more than half an hour to hobble down the stone passageway, which in normal circumstances would’ve taken him less than five minutes. But he’d made it and the fury he’d felt at Franny had pushed him onwards, working as a pain block better than any analgesics the hospital had given him.

  The passageway led to a large, dark oak door, which slid open to reveal the back of a bookcase in the downstairs library of Abel’s house. Pushing open the bookcase, Alfie stepped into the library and walked through to the great hall, panelled from floor to ceiling in dark wood. As the sun rose, Alfie could see layers of dust across every surface. He shook his head sadly as he noticed the walls, seeing a name scraped into the wood over and over again. ‘Oh, Abel.’

  His heart broke for the other man. It was clear that the torment of what happened with Natalia had never left him; in fact, as Alfie looked around, it seemed that, if anything, over the years it had just got worse. Everywhere he looked seemed neglected, the once smart home now falling into disrepair.

  After Natalia’s funeral, he had reached out to him, but Abel had never returned his calls, and the one time he had come down to see him, Abel hadn’t let him in. And then, to his shame, he’d left it, and his once close friend had just become a distant memory.

  Suddenly, a hard blow to the head had Alfie staggering forward, stumbling onto the grand wooden staircase. Above him, Abel Gray stood in the morning sunlight holding an axe in his hands as he stared, his eyes dark and wild, his hair unkempt and his pale face sunken, hollow and thin.

  As Abel lifted the axe, the sharp steel blade glinting in the sunlight, Alfie held up his hand. ‘Abel, Abel, it’s me. It’s Alfie.’

  Staring hard at him, Abel leant forward, looking into Alfie’s face. ‘Alfie?’

  ‘That’s right, Abel. It’s Alfie.’

  Abel nodded, his eyes blank as he still clutched the axe, spinning it round in his hands as he continued to stare.

  ‘Abel, mate, do me a favour and put that down, it makes me feel a bit uneasy.’

  Without taking his eyes off Alfie, Abel lifted the axe above his head and swung it down hard, whistling it past and missing Alfie only by millimetres before it sliced into the wooden stair, splitting it in two.

  ‘Get out, Alfie.’

  Stunned, Alfie gaped at his friend, shocked at how his appearance had changed over the years. The Abel he knew had been a towering force, a handsome bulk of a man, one who always turned heads, a man who no one would mess with; but looking at him now, he couldn’t even comprehend how this hunched, skinny man was the same person.

  ‘Abel, please, I need you to listen to me.’

  Abel’s gravelly voice was hard and steely. ‘Alfie, you’re lucky it’s you, otherwise that axe would’ve been in the middle of your nut. Now get out before I change my mind.’

  ‘Abel, I need your help. There’s a girl who’s in trouble.’

  As Abel bellowed, his voice filled the hallway. ‘I said, get out! Get out! Get out!’

  But Alfie didn’t move. Slowly, Abel turned and walked
away, striding along in worn handmade shoes and clothes that had once been tailor-fitted but now hung loosely from his skinny frame.

  With his back to Alfie and his hand on the door leading to one of the large dining rooms, Abel said, ‘I’ll give you five minutes, Alfie, because you were a friend. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Then that’s what you’ll have to do because I ain’t leaving.’

  Abel answered matter-of-factly, his breathing short and shallow. ‘Your choice.’ He reached for the loaded shotgun by the side of the door, picked it up and swivelled it round to point it at Alfie before clicking off the safety catch. Without hesitation, Abel pulled the trigger.

  But a split second before he did so, Alfie yelled, ‘It’s the Russos!’

  The gun went off like a cannon, but Abel twisted it aside, managing to send the shot into an ornate glass table instead.

  Closing his eyes in overwhelming relief, Alfie leant forward as he let out a long, deep breath. ‘Oh fuck. Jesus, Abel.’

  ‘Say it again. Say what you just said.’ Abel’s voice was emotionless.

  Alfie glanced up. ‘It’s the Russos. I need your help. I need you to help keep Alice Rose safe.’

  Abel Gray sat at the top end of the long oak table with his feet up, listening to Alfie, who stood by the diamond-patterned stained-glass window, tell his story.

  ‘I don’t know how long she’ll need to be here, I ain’t had time to think straight, but this is the only place I could bring her.’

  ‘This house ain’t suitable for a young girl, Alfie. You know that as well as I do. She can’t stay here, it wouldn’t be right,’ Abel said, his gravelly voice echoing around the dining room.

  ‘Abel, you know the Russos won’t give up, not for now anyway.’

  The muscles in Abel’s once handsome face were drawn and tense. ‘Alfie, you’re not hearing me. I know what I’m like and it’s not good for the girl. It’s better than it was, better than the last time you and Lola came here, but it ain’t right.’

  Alfie nodded, understanding what Abel was saying. He gazed out of the window and from where he was he was able to see the coastline. ‘I know that, Abel, and if I had any other choice, like I told Lola, I wouldn’t bring her here. But I ain’t, so I thought I could stay with her, only for a while, to make sure she’s all right … to make sure nothing happens to her.’

  ‘It’s a risk, Alfie.’

  Alfie shook his head, still shocked by Abel’s appearance. ‘Not like the Russos. She doesn’t know about them, by the way. Not fully – I promised Cabhan I wouldn’t say anything to her – but what she does know sent her into some kind of meltdown.’

  Abel fell silent as he mulled over the situation, then eventually he said, ‘You’ll keep her out of my way?’

  Alfie gave Abel a half-smile as he gazed down, seeing the same name scratched over and over on the table’s surface, like it had been in the hallway. He answered sadly, ‘Yes, Abel, I’ll do whatever it takes, but I want you to meet her. The girl’s special, she even gives me a conscience, and I ain’t had one of those since I were a kid.’ He laughed as he continued. ‘There’s a side to her that seems so vulnerable, but at the same time she’s strong, a fighter. A survivor. You’ll like her.’

  Abel rested back in the wooden chair padded with purple velvet cushions. ‘I don’t know, Alfie. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to meet her.’

  ‘It might help. Why don’t I go and get them?’

  Abel shook his head as he traced his fingers round the name he’d carved on the table. ‘No, Alfie, not today – maybe I’ll meet her tomorrow when I’m feeling more meself. We’ll see.’

  ‘But, Abel—’

  Abel banged his fist on the table as he stood up to leave. ‘I said, no! This ain’t going to work if you don’t listen. Look, we’ll speak tomorrow, and for now you can all stay in the east wing, you know where it is, but, Alfie, make sure you keep Alice away from where I am, you hear me? I don’t want her anywhere near.’

  Before Alfie had a chance to answer, his phone rang. He answered as Abel watched him curiously.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Alfie, it’s me.’

  His voice was hard. ‘I know who it is, darlin’, I just don’t know if I want to talk to you, Fran. There’s a lot of shit going down and I can’t deal with you right now, it’s doing me head in. I can’t cope with all the messages and calls, not now, not unless you’re going to be here for Alice, because right now she needs you, and that’s all that matters to me.’

  Shivering, Franny sat in the cage with Bobby and Salvatore glaring at her from the other side of the bars. She knew exactly what she was supposed to say, they’d prepped her – apparently, it was a message from Nico, part of his sick game – but as they stared at her, she took her chance from the security of the cage and quickly blurted out something else. ‘Alfie, just choose Bree, you’ve got to choose her, she’s pregnant, but they’ve got us, Salvat—’

  Salvatore Russo furiously pointed his gun at Bree, causing Franny to stop talking and to throw the phone back through the bars at him.

  Picking it up, Salvatore growled. He snatched away the packet of biscuits he’d given them.

  ‘You can forget about eating for now. Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with me. I’ll deal with you later, and don’t think I won’t. Capito?’

  ‘Franny? Franny?’

  ‘No, Alfie, it’s Salvatore.’

  Alfie reeled, his chair scraping along the dining-room floor as he staggered back. Feeling light-headed, he bent forward to keep his balance.

  ‘Don’t you hurt them, you hear me.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll do more than that, give us some credit.’

  Alfie bellowed an incoherent sound before he took a deep breath as he struggled to talk. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We want Alice.’

  ‘You’ll never get her.’

  Salvatore chuckled darkly. ‘How can you say that, Alfie, when I have two people here who you clearly care about? And now it turns out to be three, a baby as well, the more the merrier. Love is a strange thing – it causes you to make the wrong choices; that’s why I gave up loving a long time ago. Life is easier that way.’

  ‘Just … just tell me what you want.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, we want Alice. After all, she is ours. Cabhan took our daughter and we’ll take yours.’

  Feeling physically sick, Alfie barked, ‘And I’ve told you, you ain’t having her.’

  ‘For a clever man you’re very stupid. Alice is just one person, Alfie, yet you’re willing to sacrifice three other beings for her. L’amore è fatale per gli sciocchi, which means, love is fatal to fools … How old is Alice, by the way?’

  Almost unable to speak, Alfie said, ‘Sixteen.’

  ‘Okay, so I’m going to give you sixteen days to decide what you’re going to do. But to make sure that you take us seriously – to make it more fun – we’re going to raise the stakes, we’re going to get money involved. You find us one million within sixteen days, small change really, then after sixteen days, once we get the money you can choose which one of these women will walk free. If we don’t have the money by then, both of them – and the baby – are dead. One million and Alice. Let’s call the game, sedici giorni di Alice. Sixteen days of Alice … We’ll be in touch.’

  The line went dead and Alfie stared at Abel in shock. It took him a moment to utter the words. ‘They’ve got them. The Russos have Franny and Bree.’

  ‘I’ll help you, I’ll help you get them back.’ Abel’s voice shook with emotion and his dark eyes glittered in the dim morning light. ‘But come with me first, I need to show you something.’

  Alfie nodded, following Abel in a state of shock. Besides the fact that the Russos now had them, what spun in his head were Franny’s words: Bree was pregnant. He couldn’t think straight, there were so many questions in his head, but there was one he desperately needed answered: Was the baby his? He just
couldn’t believe it. Bree might be having his baby.

  Suddenly it hit him. Bree had been trying to tell him something for a week or so – she’d been evasive and coy – so maybe this was what she’d been trying to tell him, that she was pregnant. Was he that difficult to talk to that she couldn’t have told him straight? Though what had he done when she’d wanted to talk? Sweet FA! He’d been too absorbed in his own life, his own mess, even to worry about her, and now they were all paying a heavy price.

  Coming to a door along the corridor, even though his mind was racing from the phone call, Alfie, limping in and trying to push Franny and Bree out of his thoughts, found himself standing with his mouth open, amazed at what he was looking at.

  The rest of the house might sit lifeless and frozen in time, but this little room off the main corridor was a hub of information, a centre of activity. Alfie stared around in astonishment as he studied the walls, which were entirely covered with cuttings, printouts, photographs and documents, all about …

  ‘The Russos.’

  Abel nodded. ‘I’ve spent years trying to find a way to bring them down. Waiting for them to make a mistake.’

  Alfie, not usually stuck for words, shook his head. ‘Abel, Jesus, it’s—’

  Suddenly, Abel, who’d been gazing up at a photograph of Nico Russo cut from a newspaper, snarled, ‘What, Alfie, what is it? That it ain’t healthy, that it ain’t good for me, that I should be focusing on other things? That I should be marvelling at me fucking roses?’

  ‘Abel, you know I never meant that.’

  Abel turned back to gaze at Alfie, his blue eyes piercing. ‘What else have I got, Alf? What else do I deserve? Peace? Rest? How can I rest knowing that Nico, Salvatore and Bobby are out there whilst Natalia …’ He stopped.

  ‘But, Abel, look around you, all this stuff, all this—’

  Angered by Alfie’s seeming resistance to what he was being shown, Abel hit his chest, his eyes wild, burning rage pouring out of his voice as he ripped Nico’s picture off the wall and banged it into Alfie’s face. ‘Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be doing this, don’t tell me that I should be doing something else, cos this is my life now. Him. Nico. And it’ll be the same for you, now that he’s got Franny. It’ll drive you crazy, you won’t be able to think straight anymore, you won’t be able to sleep, you won’t be able to eat, and every second the thought of him will consume you.’