Izzy, you can shove ya threats up your arse. I’ve more pressing things to deal with. I want the Harmans alive and kicking with answers.’
‘Answers?’
‘Yes, Izzy. So, before you go hunting them down and blowing their brains away, I need to question them regarding my son. Now, get off the phone because I ain’t got time for this bullshit.’ Red-faced with anger, he abruptly ended the call.
Willie and Staffie just stared wide-eyed, mouths open. They couldn’t believe that Mike was so staggeringly reckless. No one, absolutely no one, got away with talking to Izzy like that – not if they wanted to live.
As old and small as Izzy was, his facade was merely a front; he gave the impression that he was just an inoffensive Jewish jeweller trying to make a few bob. But buying and selling hooky gear was only a little hobby of his. Really, he could give Mossad a run for their money. His primary business was with the Italians and the Colombians, as well as a few influential firms in Ireland.
Although half of the small firms in London, Manchester, and Hull were under Izzy’s umbrella, Mike had kept his own firm out of Izzy’s organization. That had been the case until the Irish arms deal was arranged. Now, he wished he’d never got involved, nor even clapped eyes on Izzy. He knew full well that if he refused to honour his promise, then the guy had the power to take over his manor and even do away with him.
Without warning, Mike snatched the heavy cut-glass decanter from the sideboard and hurled it across the room. The sound of the glass hitting the wall and splintering in all directions stunned the men into silence.
‘Calm down, Mikey, we’ll find ’em,’ said Willie.
Lou got off the phone and shook his head. ‘Sorry, Mikey, but all the planes that took off today had available seats. None of them were fully booked. She could have got on at least three planes.’
* * *
Zara sat opposite her father, with a deadpan face. ‘So, why do you want Mike Regan on your firm?’
Izzy peered up through his hooded eyebrows. ‘I know, Zara, about you and him.’
Her flushed face was a dead giveaway. All those years she had tried to keep it a secret. Remaining quiet, she hoped her father would elaborate.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I want him on the payroll … for security.’
She frowned. ‘Security? You don’t need that, do you?’
‘No, I don’t, but when you take over, Zara, you will. I know he would be the one man to take a bullet for you.’
Casting a questioning look, she asked, ‘Why act like you never knew? Why let me carry on stealing secret moments with him?’
Izzy was about to answer her, but she threw her hands in the air. ‘Oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s married now and I …’ She paused, the words trapped in her throat. ‘I have a business to run.’
Izzy allowed a wide crooked smile to adorn his face. ‘Yes, my child. But you will need Mike Regan, because I will not always be around. And some people have bigger grudges than others.’
* * *
Mike’s phone rang; it was a number he recognized. He stared for a few seconds before he answered and wandered away from the men.
‘Zara?’
‘Yes, Mikey, it’s me, with a message from Izzy. I hope you realize that you only have twenty-four hours, or he’ll be on the case.’ Her voice was unintentionally cold and made Mike want to laugh.
The once sweet woman was now turning into a clone of her father. Unbeknown to Mike, the cold stares and the stern tone were gaining her a reputation in the underworld – she was Izzy’s daughter all right.
‘I told Izzy to leave off, and Zara, me little princess …’ His words were sarcastic. ‘You tell him, if he interferes and the Harmans go missing before I get a chance to find out what they have fucking done with my son, I’ll rip his insides out with a rusty fucking claw hammer.’
There was silence. ‘Mikey—’
He didn’t give her a chance to get a word in. ‘Zara, acting like some cool gangster doesn’t suit your sweet arse. Leave this shit to the big boys, honey. And didn’t you just hear me? These Harmans, they have my son. So now you can understand why I ain’t afraid to wage war on whoever stands in my way. So, if you’re the go-between, then tell Izzy that.’
A sudden feeling of hurt whipped through her, followed by annoyance. How dare he have a go at her? She was only trying to calm the situation between her father and Mike, but he had just made it clear how he felt about her. Feeling hurt and belittled, she retaliated.
‘And, Mikey, having an unchartered temper doesn’t suit your sweet arse either. I’m sorry about your son, but I would take Izzy’s words seriously, if I were you.’
Mike was about to have another go when the phone went dead.
She was right: he did have a temper. And, deep down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control it, not while he believed the Harmans had his son.
He stormed back into the lounge. ‘Right, call the men. I want them plotted outside all the homes of the Harman brothers. I want someone in the Three Palms, the Cedars Arms, and the Jolly Roger. I want all of fucking South-East London hunting down these bastards.’
Willie, having snorted a line of charlie, stepped forward, his foot tapping and his eyes wide. ‘I’ll go and show me face in the Cedars. That’s their main drinking hole. I can’t stand the fucking landlord, the sly fucker. He may have the little scrotes hidden upstairs.’
Mike could see he was fired up; he was always the same. The cocaine was a great motivator, and Willie was lethal, once he’d had a toot. He could also be a touch too reckless at times, but Mike could always be relied upon to reel him back in if required. However, right now, Mike had no intention of reeling anyone in. When needs must the devil drives, he thought. He was going to do whatever it took to get his son, and if that meant hurting people in the process, then so be it. He was blinded by his need to find Ricky and couldn’t give a shit how he did it.
‘Mikey, ’ave ya checked Jackie’s muvver’s? Maybe, she’s gone there,’ Staffie said. He could see Mike needed to focus on the positive.
The clock was ticking. He knew that the longer the Harmans had his boy, the more likely they were to kill him. But if they did have him, surely they would have sent a message by now, with some form of a deal? With his hands together and two forefingers resting on his lip, Mike broke out of his thoughts.
‘She doesn’t get on with Gilly.’ He let out a deep sigh and sat down heavily on the sofa. ‘I dunno. I can’t think straight.’
Staffie knew he had to take charge. ‘Willie, you go and round the boys up, check out the pubs, and go and visit that landlord. Call us if ya hear anything. Lou, call Eric and tell him to get his arse back ’ere.’
Mike felt sick. Every nerve at the back of his head was on end; it was like a numbing sensation he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t in control, and he knew if he didn’t get a grip soon, he would lose it.
‘Mikey, where does Gilly live?’
Mike rubbed his face in deep contemplation. ‘Just up the road, ten minutes away …’ He stood up, towering over Staffie. ‘I’ll pay her a visit. If the Harmans don’t have my boy, then it means that Jackie has just fucked off. Jesus, give me strength if she has. I’ll throttle her, the bitch.’
* * *
Driving once more like a lunatic, Mike arrived outside Gilly’s house. He stared for a while at the patchy old pebbledash walls, the overgrown lawn, and the cracked front window held together with gaffer tape. It wasn’t until he’d married Jackie that he found out where she came from. She was too embarrassed to take him to her house, always keeping up the pretence