Justice for the Damned (24 page)

When Bryan came within reach, Tyler hauled him onto the floorboards and tore away the duct tape. Bryan’s breath came out in a gasp of saliva. His eyes bulged at Edward. The pain seemed to have rekindled the light in them. Edward smiled inside at the sight. He liked to see a bit of fight in people. Not too much, mind, but enough to keep things interesting.

Tyler waited for Bryan’s breathing to settle down. Then he pulled out a handgun and pressed its muzzle against the gangster’s head. ‘This doesn’t have to be hard. It can be quick and easy. We know you weren’t acting alone. Just tell us who put you on to Mr Forester, and it’ll all be over in a second.’

Bryan’s bloodshot eyes moved to Mabel. His voice came in a hoarse whisper. ‘You must be so proud to have a child-raping piece of filth for a son.’

Mabel gave no sign of having heard Bryan. Tyler slapped the gag back on him. He turned towards the barn’s entrance, cupping his hands to his mouth. ‘Sooee!’ he called in a high pitched voice, rising to a near shriek. He repeated the call several times in thirty-second bursts.

‘I hear them,’ said Stan.

From outside there came the sound of rapidly approaching grunts and snorts. A drove of twelve pigs ran scuffling into the barn. Some were pink like human flesh, others were mottled with black patches. They ranged in size from a couple of curly-tailed piglets to a boar as big as a bullock. Led by the monstrous boar, they thrust their snouts into troughs in search of food. Finding none, they set up an eardrum-piercing squealing.

Tyler jerked Bryan into a sitting position so he could see the pigs. ‘I imagine a man in your line of business already knows this, but for the benefit of these people,’ he indicated Edward and Mabel, ‘I’m going to tell you anyway. There’s no better way to get rid of a body than feeding it to pigs. A pig can and will eat just about anything – flesh, ligaments, bones. But best of all, when that meal comes out the other end, there’s no trace left of what it used to be. There’s only one part of the body a pig can’t digest.’ Tyler tapped the gun against his teeth. ‘Teeth are harder than bones. They pass through the digestive system too fast for the stomach acids to break them down. So there’s only one thing to do. You have to pull them all out first.’

Without having to be told, Stan fetched Tyler a pair of pliers and a long butcher’s knife. Edward had the feeling he was watching a well-rehearsed routine as Tyler continued, ‘Before we get to that, I think you should get more closely acquainted with my friends down there. Especially him.’ He pointed to the huge boar. ‘His name’s Kong. You and him should get on well. Last week there would have been four piglets down there, but he’s eaten two of them since then. And when their mother tried to stop him, he killed and ate her as well. He did it right out there in the yard. Like he wanted us to see. I know he’s only a pig, but sometimes when I look in his eyes I think I see this glimmer of something. This little twinkle of malice.’

‘He’s an evil old bastard, that’s what he is,’ said Stan.

‘Or perhaps he was just hungry.’ Tyler briefly seemed to muse this over. Then with a sudden movement of the knife, he made two deep slashes in Bryan’s thighs. Bryan squirmed and moaned. ‘What was that?’ asked Tyler. ‘Did you say something?’

Bryan gave a spasmodic shake of his head.

At a glance from Tyler, Stan took hold of the winch’s handle again. Tyler pushed Bryan over the edge of the loft. Blood coursed down Bryan’s legs and dripped from his feet. The pigs milled about underneath, snouts raised, sniffing the air eagerly. As Bryan came within reach, Kong barged his way through the scrum and got the gangster’s whole foot in his powerful jaw. Bryan was jerked around like a bundle of cloth as Kong swung his muscular neck from side to side. Even through the gag, Bryan’s screams were loud enough to be heard above the cacophony of grunts and squeals.

‘Bring him up,’ said Tyler.

Stan worked the winch, rocking back on his heels like a fisherman reeling in a big catch. Bryan’s screams grew louder as his body was stretched taut between Kong and the rope. Tyler added his weight to the winch, and with a wet tearing sound Bryan jolted free of the boar’s jaw. The screams stopped with equal suddenness, and Bryan hung limp as a fresh corpse as he was hoisted back into the loft.

‘My God,’ breathed Edward, staring wide-eyed at the mangled remains of Bryan’s foot. ‘That thing’s taken almost his entire foot off.’

‘Is he still alive?’ asked Mabel.

Tyler stooped over Bryan and checked his pulse. ‘Yes.’ He removed the gag and slapped Bryan’s face. ‘Wakey wakey.’

Bryan’s eyelids flickered. The whites of his eyes, then his pupils came into view. Like someone surfacing after a long time under water, he sucked in a gasping breath. His eyes bulged vacantly as if he didn’t know where he was. ‘Look at me, Bryan,’ said Tyler.

Bryan focused on Tyler’s face. A light of horrified realisation lit up his eyes.

‘Give me a name.’ Tyler’s voice was low, almost a whisper. ‘Just one name and all this will stop.’

Bryan was trembling uncontrollably. His pupils kept trying to roll back. But somehow, from somewhere, he managed to summon up the strength to shake his head. Tyler glanced at Stan, who nodded as if to say,
Fair play. He’s one tough bastard.
They carried Bryan to the workbench and chained him down.

As Stan gripped either side of Bryan’s head, Tyler pushed the pliers savagely into the gangster’s mouth. Bryan let out a muffled, gagging scream as Tyler clamped down and began to yank and twist. Neck veins bulging with the effort, he tore out a couple of teeth whose roots glistened like grisly pearls. Bryan choked on the blood gushing from the deep sockets they’d occupied. Stan turned Bryan’s head to the side so that the blood ran out of his mouth.

Tyler squatted level with Bryan’s face. ‘That’s two. Only another thirty to go.’

Bryan’s mouth opened and closed. A whistling, gurgling sound that might have been words came out. Careful not to get within biting range, Tyler bent closer. ‘What was that?’

Bryan’s lips formed another slur of agonised sound, this time just barely identifiable as words. Tyler’s brow wrinkled uncharacteristically.

‘What did he say?’ Edward asked.

‘Jim Monahan.’

‘You mentioned that name once before. Who is he?’

‘Are you sure that’s what he said?’ Stan asked, his face screwing into a doubtful frown.

‘Yes.’

‘But how the hell could Jim Monahan have found out about Mr Forester?’

Irritation stirred beneath the surface of Tyler’s dark, unreadable eye. The question was immaterial. What mattered was that he had, and what they were going to do about it. ‘Could he be on the take?’

‘No way. I used to work with him. He never took dirty money in his life.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Edward, his face paling with realisation. ‘He’s a policeman.’

‘He’s one of the lead detectives on the Baxley case,’ said Tyler.

Edward raised his hands halfway to his head in panic. ‘Christ, I’m finished.’

‘Don’t talk foolish, Edward,’ snapped Mabel. ‘Use your head. If this Detective Monahan is in cahoots with a gangster, he’d hardly want his superiors to know about it.’

‘She’s right,’ said Tyler. ‘The situation might not be as bad as it seems. If Monahan’s dirty, I don’t see why we – or more accurately, you – shouldn’t be able to pay for his silence.’

Stan shook his head. ‘Jim Monahan, dirty? I just can’t see it. The guy would have had to have a complete personality transplant.’

‘Well let’s hope he has, because if he’s on some sort of personal crusade, we could be in trouble.’

Edward pointed to Bryan. ‘Could he be lying?’

Tyler looked searchingly into Bryan’s bloodshot, bleary eyes. He saw no defiance there, only pain and resignation. ‘No. He’s done.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We make some inquiries, find out a bit more about DI Monahan.’

‘And what if we find he’s not interested in money?’ Edward asked with a flickering smile, as if doubting such a thing could be possible.

‘Then our options would be very limited.’ As if to illustrate his words, Tyler gestured at the metal tub. Stan dragged it halfway out from under the bench, positioning it beneath Bryan’s head. ‘You should stand well back,’ Tyler said to Edward and Mabel.

As mother and son retreated to the far side of the hayloft, Tyler and Stan each put on a raincoat and goggles. Stan took hold of Bryan’s head again. With a swift, precise movement of the butcher’s knife, Tyler cut Bryan’s throat. Arterial spray fanned into the air. Bryan made a noise like a drain emptying. His eyes bulged. Tyler turned his back on the gangster, leaving him to bleed out like a pig. He hoisted a bag of feed onto his shoulder and emptied it over the edge of the loft. As the pigs stormed the food, Tyler descended the ladder. Stan threw several more bags of feed down to him. He split them open and filled the troughs.

‘You can climb down,’ Stan said to Edward and Mabel. Seeing them peer uneasily at the pigs, he added, ‘Don’t worry, they won’t bother you now they’ve been fed.’

Edward glanced at Bryan. ‘What about him?’

‘We need to cut him up into small enough bits for the pigs to swallow. You don’t want to be around for that.’

Edward’s expression seemed to suggest otherwise, but he climbed down the ladder. Shooting nervous glances at the pigs, he waited for his mother to follow him. Tyler made to pick Mabel up, but Edward palmed him away. ‘I can manage, thank you,’ he said, with a note of jealousy in his voice that brought a delighted gleam to Mabel’s eyes.

Tyler shrugged and headed out the barn. His knees buckling slightly, Edward picked his mother up and followed him to the Range Rover. After lowering her onto the back seat, he breathlessly asked Tyler, ‘So what happens now?’

‘Like I said, we’ll make some inquiries. I’ll be in touch as soon as there’s anything to say.’

‘It’s always a pleasure dealing with a professional,’ said Mabel, extending her hand.

Tyler shook it just long enough to note how dry it was. Then he shut the door and turned to Stan. ‘Same drill as last time.’

Stan nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat.

As the Range Rover pulled away, Tyler took out a mobile phone. He swapped the SIM, scanned through the contacts to ‘Doug’ and pressed dial. A brusque voice came on the line. ‘What’s up?’

‘He came through with the money,’ said Tyler.

Doug barked a short, triumphant laugh. ‘Two million quid. Fuck me. We’re rich.’

‘Yeah, well, we may not get the chance to enjoy it. We have a serious problem. Reynolds gave up a name. Jim Monahan.’

‘Jim Monahan,’ repeated Doug, sounding even more dubious than Stan had. ‘No way. Reynolds was just fucking with your head.’

‘No he wasn’t.’

‘Believe me, Tyler, Jim Monahan is the last person in the world to have had dealings with Bryan Reynolds.’

‘And you believe me when I tell you, I looked in Reynolds’s eyes and there was nothing but the truth left.’

‘Well, if you’re right, we’re in deep shit.’

‘Sounds like you don’t think we’ll be able to pay Monahan off.’

Doug laughed again, only this time there was no amusement to it. ‘You’d have a better chance trying to pay off the pope. The guy’s a fucking crusader. If he’s involved in this, it’s got nothing to do with money.’

‘In that case, there’s only one thing we can do. And we’d better do it fast. Monahan’s got to be wondering what’s happened to Reynolds by now.’ Doug scanned the dark line of trees to the east of the farm contemplatively. ‘He may already be searching for him.’

‘That’s not very likely. Jim’s in hospital. He had a heart attack a couple of days ago.’

‘How serious?’

‘I’m not sure, but from what I’ve heard he’s not going to be doing much detecting for a while.’

‘So that buys us some time. But he’s not going to be in hospital forever. And when he gets out, it’s safe to assume he’s going to go after Edward Forester.’

‘If by that you mean he’s going to try to kill him…’ Doug blew a doubtful breath. ‘Look, I can just about buy the idea of Jim using Reynolds to do his dirty work. In a fucked up kind of way it even makes sense. He was probably hoping the pair of them would do each other in. But Jim kill Forester himself? No way would he do that. No way in the world.’

‘How do you know? Seems to me you don’t know this guy very well at all.’

‘I know him well enough. I’m telling you, Tyler, I’ve worked with the guy for years and he’s not a killer.’

‘Well let’s hope you’re wrong, because if he tries to bring Forester down legitimately he might very well achieve his aim.’

‘Jim’s got nothing on Forester. If he did, he wouldn’t have needed Reynolds.’

‘Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll take him long to find some skeletons in his closet.’

‘Freddie fucking Harding.’ Doug hissed the name into the receiver. ‘Do you think Jim knows about him?’

Tyler gave a mental shrug, seeing no point in replying to a question he couldn’t possibly know the answer to. ‘I think Edward Forester is the kind of man who’ll try to take the whole world with him if he goes down.’

‘So what are you saying? That we should do him before he does us?’

‘I’m saying this situation is starting to get out of hand. There are too many people involved, too many people who might talk. Forester, his mother—’

‘His mother!’ Doug broke in.

‘He brought her with him. And before you give me an earful, I didn’t have any choice in the matter. It was her money. She wasn’t going to hand it over without checking us out. Besides, she’s as sharp as they come. I don’t think we need to worry about her opening her mouth. Not unless any harm comes to her son. Right now I’m more concerned about your boy Reece.’

A defensive edge came in to Doug’s voice. Reece was his protégé, someone he was trying to mould into his own image. He felt a certain fatherly protectiveness towards him. But even more than that, he was acutely aware that if Tyler’s doubts proved to be well founded, the fallout would land on his shoulders. ‘Reece doesn’t even know you exist.’

‘That’s as maybe, but he’s on to Freddie Harding. And it doesn’t take a genius to work out where Harding might lead him.’