‘I have already got people out there searching for her, the Old Bill included, useless fuckers that they are. But I swear on my fucking eyesight, when I find out what’s gone down, I will fucking kill the bastards responsible with my bare hands. How dare they! How dare anyone think they could touch my daughter and live to tell the fucking tale!’
Michael was stalking around the office of the nightclub in Ilford. He was so angry he couldn’t even breathe properly. There was no doubt in his mind now; his Jessie was missing. It was over three days, and that wasn’t normal, even for her. She was a fucking nuisance, living her life like a fucking hippy but, as much as she thought she was some kind of enigma, she was actually very predictable. Not that he would ever explain that to her, the dozy little mare. It suited him for her to think she was a fucking maverick, a fucking independent woman. As if. Without him and his protection she would have gone under a long time ago. She had more problems than the euro and, in real life, if she had to sort things out for herself, she would be seriously fucked. But she was still his baby, and he couldn’t turn his back on her.
Declan Costello watched Michael as he stalked around the small office; it was unusual to see him so flustered. He always kept his cool, no matter what happened. But this was different, Declan understood that; this was about his kid.
Declan sat back in his chair, heart-sorry for his friend. ‘It can’t be a kidnapping, Michael – you’d have heard from them by now. It’s fucking mental! No one can just disappear like that.’
Michael sighed heavily. ‘That’s just it though, Declan – they can.’
Declan knew what Michael was trying to say, and he shook his huge head violently in denial. Who would bother to kill Jessie? People disappeared, that was a given, but there was always a reason.
‘Fuck off, Michael! Will you listen to yourself? Why on earth would anyone want to kill young Jessie? It’s ludicrous.’
Michael Flynn stood in front of his old friend, and he said honestly, ‘Think about it, Declan. You know what she’s like. I want to kill her myself half the time. She’s got a fresh mouth on her, she talks to people like they’re shit. I warned her time and again that, one day, if she wasn’t careful, her big mouth would get her into real trouble. She pushes everything, pushes everyone.’
Declan laughed. ‘Can you hear yourself, Michael? Ninety-nine per cent of the population couldn’t kill a fucking earwig unless they had to. It’s why people like us can do what we do. But you have to remember that there is no one on this planet who would dare to touch a hair on your daughter’s head. She knows that herself – why do you think she acts like she does? For all her fucking arrogance, she knows that without your name she wouldn’t last five minutes.’
Declan could see the real fear in Michael’s face, could almost feel the worry the man had for his only child. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve any of this. Michael Flynn, for all his faults, was basically a decent man, a good man where it counted. Even he acknowledged that, and he had been on the receiving end of the man’s temper.
‘You haven’t even had a stand-off with anyone for years, Michael, so this can’t be about payback, can it?’
Michael could see that Declan was speaking sense, but it didn’t take the fear out of his chest. He had traced her calls, and there had been nothing for days to or from her number. Her ‘friends’ – and he used the word loosely – had been as baffled as he was about her whereabouts.
The office door opened, and Michael smiled nastily as Jonny Parsons was pushed into the room roughly. He tripped over his own feet, and just about stopped himself from falling flat on his face. He was absolutely terrified; that was more than evident to both the other men in the small room. The man looked what he was: a cheap imitation, a wannabe gangster, a fucking thug.
Jonny looked at Michael Flynn’s hard face, and his heart stopped in his chest. He hadn’t realised the power that the man radiated, the menace that surrounded him. This was what he had wanted: a meeting with Michael Flynn. It was why he had romanced Jessie, but he had not understood until now exactly what that entailed.
Michael Flynn towered over him and, in the confines of the room, the man looked almost demonic. It was easy to see why people were so wary of crossing him, why he had accumulated so much power over the years, why he was so respected by everyone around him. He was the main man throughout Europe, the boss of everyone around him, and that was not an easy task.
He could see Declan Costello sitting behind the desk like a big, overweight leprechaun, all smiles and expectation. Declan was watching him closely, waiting to see what was going to happen and, by the looks of him, he was going to enjoy it.