Kerry Barnes - The Hunted - A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked

Mike sat as cool as a cucumber, not even blinking, his eyes firmly fixed on Izzy’s face, although he knew only too well that Izzy was more than capable of pulling out a shooter and blowing him through the walls into the greengrocer’s next door.

‘No, Izzy, I came because I wanted to pick your brains, not ’cos I owe you or anyone an explanation. You had a business deal with me. Five grand to pair me up with a buyer for my guns, that’s all the deal was. You got your money, and I got the name of the buyers. That, Izzy, is where our business was concluded.’

Izzy slapped his hands on the desk and stood up. Mike looked him over. He was dressed in a suit, complete with waistcoat and collarless shirt. A gold watch hung from his waistcoat pocket and three heavy gold chains swung from his neck. A distorted smirk showed his gold back teeth as he glared at Mike.

‘You, Mike, are forgetting a very important fact. I have a reputation and that means more to me than money.’

Mike laughed out loud. ‘Never, Izzy. I don’t believe it.’

‘You and everybody else think I’m all about money, but you’re wrong. My family and my honour mean far more. So, listen to me.’ He walked around the desk and lowered himself to sit on the corner as he leaned close to Mike’s face. ‘You give me the names of the grasses, and I’ll make sure they don’t see their next bowl of porridge. The Lanigans want more than ammunition. That’s just small fry. I’m in negotiations for bigger wares, and that, dear boy, is why you need to keep me well and truly in the loop. Now, I want names!’

Mike shook his head. ‘Nah, Izzy. Let me deal with it because it’s just got fucking personal. The little firm that grassed me up also killed Staffie’s dog. I assume that was a warning.’

Izzy rose from the desk and pulled a cigar from his top pocket and lit the end, puffing away with his back to Mike. ‘A dog, you say? And a warning? A warning for what?’

Mike realized it sounded stupid, but, nevertheless, like Izzy’s honour, it meant a lot to him. But it wasn’t so much about the dog – that was bad enough – it was the upset it had caused his friend.

Just as Mike was about to explain, the side door opened and in breezed Zara Ezra, Izzy’s daughter. In her early thirties, this tall, slender woman had a swan-like neck accentuated by a wavy multitoned bob. To Mike, she was the epitome of class and grace with an unforgiving, deadly sting in her tail. Her copper, cat-like eyes slowly blinked when she noticed Mike, yet her face remained inscrutable, with not even a trace of a gentle smile. Totally ignoring Mike, she went over to Izzy, pecked him on the cheek and pulled a wad of banknotes from one of the desk drawers.

Mike noticed how Izzy’s face had lit up when she’d walked into the room.

‘Is it all here?’

‘Yes, my darling.’

‘Good. I’ll be back at teatime. Before you say anything, I have Joshua with me.’

Mike watched her every graceful step as she left the room.

‘Nice-looking woman. Is she—’

He never got the rest of the words out of his mouth. Izzy slammed his hands down on the desk. ‘Yes! My fucking daughter.’

Mike couldn’t restrain himself from a slight smirk. He’d definitely got under Izzy’s skin.

‘I didn’t think you swore. Besides, Izzy, I was only gonna pass a compliment.’

Izzy glared with his beady eyes. ‘Anyway, were we talking about a war over a dog?’

Mike nodded heavily. ‘Yep, over a bleedin’ dog. But you and I both know that it’s a statement. So, Izzy, it seems that a little firm run by three brothers, Harry, Vinnie, and Scottie have taken serious liberties, and although we sent them a clear message via their informant, they saw fit to brutalize Staffie’s dog. And in my world, if not in yours, Izzy, that goes against the grain.’

Shaking his head, Izzy smirked. ‘You lot are nuts. Okay, you do what you need to do, but if these Harmans are not found and dealt with in the next forty-eight hours, I’ll take over, and you, Mike, will be owing me … Harmans, you say?’

Mike watched as Izzy’s fingers, which displayed a variety of rings of all shapes and styles, wiggled as if he were about to play the piano.

‘I didn’t, but you knew it was the Harmans all along, didn’t ya, Izzy?’

Izzy gave a slow, deliberate nod. ‘Yes, I just wondered how long it would take you to work that out, Mike. I’m a shrewd man. I watch and listen. I backed off and allowed you to deal with the situation. But I was testing you to see how long it would take you to be upfront and inform me of the issues. You passed that test.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Now, you have forty-eight hours, or you will be working for me.’

Mike huffed. ‘Well, that ain’t gonna happen – ever!’

Izzy leered. ‘Our deal was that if you messed this little arrangement up, then you would be on my firm under my control. Remember, Mike, you are a man of your word. I hope your sidekicks are preparing to be answerable to me.’

Mike got up to leave. He bit his tongue before he said something he would regret because there was no way he would be working for Izzy the Jew – not while he had a pair of balls.

Izzy grinned to himself as he watched Mike leave. He was fully aware of the clout Mike had. He wanted him on his firm, as head honcho if need be, since Mike was gaining a reputation faster than Durex sales during the Aids scare.

Once outside, Mike clocked the tall figure, leaning with her back arched against a newly built brick wall. She was drawing on a long black cigarette holder. For a second, Mike saw her as a flapper girl from the 1920s. Bonnie and Clyde sprang to mind. He stopped and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his inside pocket and flicked open the lid to his engraved silver lighter. Before he put it back into his pocket, he looked at the etched image of his son. He made a mental note to call and make sure Jackie and Ricky had reached Spain safely.

‘Have you upset Daddy, by any chance, Mikey?’ Her words were cold and oozed confidence. He stepped closer and noticed her milky white skin had just a hint of pink, especially on her bare shoulders.

‘You need sunscreen in this weather, Zara.’

She looked his way, ignoring his comment, and then she turned to blow smoke in his direction, her eyes narrowing in displeasure.

‘How are you?’ he asked, with a smirk across his face.

She pushed herself away from the wall. ‘I’m fine, Mikey. Why shouldn’t I be?’

Removing the cigarette butt from the holder, she threw it to the ground and placed her open-toe shoe over the top, stubbing it out.

She started to walk away, acting as if she had no interest in him, but he knew she rarely smoked and had been waiting for him – maybe just to see if there was still a little spark between them.

‘So, you’re back then?’

She shot him a look of anger. ‘I have been for a while. How’s Julie … Joanne, or whatever her name is?’

‘You mean Jackie? She’s a pain in the arse, a nightmare … but, hey-ho, life’s a bitch, and I certainly married one.’

She searched his eyes for any sign that he still had that sexual hunger for her, knowing she could never read him. ‘Well, you made your bed, Mikey. Your circus, your monkey.’

He sighed and looked her up and down. ‘Yep, Zara, you got that right.’ There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. She assumed he still had feelings, or he would have waved and said goodbye – not stood there, looking her over.

‘Well, Mikey, you bred with her.’

Mike had to bite his tongue. That comment was crass and in fact quite vile. His son was his world, and so the words stuck in his throat.

She clocked his stern expression. ‘Don’t look so offended, Mikey. It’s true. You married her and had a kid, so she must mean something.’ Zara took a step closer with a sneer plastered across her face. ‘Unless, that is, Mikey, she is just an exceptionally good fuck.’