Payback Time 13 ( Irish Celebrations)

Paul Fletcher paced up and down the long snooker room like a caged animal in a third world Zoo. Ross knew better than to interrupt him when he was in this sort of mood so got on with organising the teams of men to go to the Morgue in East Ham and Murphy’s family home in Poplar.

The message to them was clear and simple, spot Murphy then bring him in.

Paul needed to rant at someone; he called Tom Marks his Solicitor. Tom answered the call on its first ring.

“Morning Paul, you’re early, what’s up?”

“Fuck me Tom, where do you want me to start, once again it seems no one can do their fucking job properly, especially you!”

Tom went silent for a second then spoke softly. The last thing he wanted was a row with Paul Fletcher.

“Hold on a minute Paul, what’s happened now? I’m representing Craig, that should all be okay, he’ll get bail once he’s out of hospital, I heard about Murphy’s brother and spoke to Cornwell about it, that’s also sorted, some drugged up scumbag did it and then overdosed on the proceeds, that case will be closed in a few days, so now I’m just waiting for Murphy’s brief to call and set up a meet for you two.”

“What you obviously don’t know you soppy cunt, is that Kathy’s been beaten and raped and is in intensive care and Terry Murphy has disappeared off the face of the fucking earth.”

There was another pause.

“What? When? I thought he was with McGinley.”

“Yesterday, I just spoke with McGinley and his guys lost Murphy sometime during the night and now no one knows where the cunt is, so I need you to call his brief and get him to sort this out.”

“I’m sorry about Kath, Paul, is Cornwell on the case?”

“He’s about as useful as a fucking chocolate tea pot.”

“Look, I’ll talk to Cornwell and see if he needs any help and then call Murphy’s brief and find out if he knows anything, okay?”

Paul had already hung up.

The workmen had begun to arrive at the house and the diggers were being started up. Every single one of them had to produce their I.D cards to John and Tony outside in the Range Rover before they were allowed onto the grounds.

Paul looked over at Ross.

“Make fucking sure John and Tony are on the ball today, there’s gonna be a lot of workmen on site finishing the dig.”

Ross made a call to the two men at the front of the house, then looked over at Paul.

“Okay, they know the drill, what now?”

“Take me back to the Hospital.”

Ross looked surprised, he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.

“Why don’t you stay here Paul, just until we find Murphy, the Hospital will call you if there’s any change in Kathy, if there is, I’ll come and get you and then we can both go there, it’ll be safer here.”

Paul exploded with rage.

“Safe, you cunt, there is no way that fucking Murphy is gonna keep me hiding indoors like some frightened kid whose afraid of the school bully, he’s the one who should be fucking worried, not me, I’ve shit bigger turds than him, so no, there is no fucking way that I’m gonna be staying cooped up like some fucking chicken.”

“Okay, okay, it’s your call, but you pay me for advice and that would be my advice, that’s all.”

“No Ross, I pay you to do what you’re fucking told, now take me to the Hospital.”

They left the snooker room by the big sliding doors that led onto the gardens, then went round to the front of the house where Paul’s many cars were parked. Ross got into his Range Rover and Paul sat in the back.

Thirty minutes later Ross was pulling up outside Queens Hospital in Romford. Paul got out at the main entrance and walked through the doors and into the main reception. He and Ross hadn’t spoken all the way there.

Ross sat there for a few moments deciding whether to go and meet some of the other guys or go home and control things from there. He decided it would be best to go home, if Paul needed him he would only be twenty minutes away.

He drove away completely unaware of the motorbike that was parked just a few yards away in one of the Ambulance Only bays outside the hospital. Two people mounted the bike, both wearing full motorcycle leathers and black helmets. It started up and followed Ross through the barriers and onto the main Road.

After driving along the main road for fifteen minutes, Ross took a right turn into a quiet tree lined street; he was now only a few minutes from home. He looked in the rear view mirror and saw the motorbike just about to overtake him. He swore out loud.

“Slow down you wankers, we’re going passed a fucking school.”

The motorbike drew alongside and as it did so Ross turned to give them some abuse. The passenger on the bike seemed to be pointing something at him, for the first time in his life Ross was slow to react; he saw the side window smash and then felt his face sting and burn, then everything in Ross’s world went silent and seemed to happen in slow motion. He was hit with three shots, one full in the face the other two in his neck. The car swerved to the left, hitting three parked cars and then finally coming to a stop as it smashed into a tree. The driver’s door opened.

Ross, still alive, released his seat belt and crashed onto the pavement. He crawled a full ten metres before life left him. His phone started to ring.

The Motorbike roared away, back along the quiet street and then onto the busy high road.

Frank McGinley was sitting in a Kilburn bar having coffee with two of his sons when his mobile rang. He took the call, listened and smiled. He put the phone back into his pocket.

“I know it’s a bit early boys, but let’s leave the coffee and have a drop of the good stuff, a celebration is called for, things are finally coming together.”