Now her only child was being held captive, and that was harder for Josephine to comprehend than anything else in her life so far. That her daughter’s dire predicament had still not been enough to make her use a telephone, was something she was finding very hard to forgive herself for. But it was actually her Michael’s reaction that she was really worried about. She feared he wouldn’t be forgiving her any time soon.
A part of her hoped that this unknown man would come here and give her the chance to take him out. It might be her only opportunity to redeem herself.
Chapter One Hundred
and Thirty-One
Timothy Branch was watching Michael Flynn as the man tried to take in the news of his mother’s death; the woman had been slaughtered on her doorstep. It was unbelievable – no one could have predicted anything like this. Who would have thought that a man like Michael Flynn could ever have been game-played by a fucking toe rag like Steven Golding? Golding was a fucking no-mark. But, somehow, he had managed to get the better of Michael Flynn. He had not only taken the man’s daughter, he had also stabbed the man’s mother to death in her own home.
It was Steven Golding’s complete disregard for the consequences of his actions that truly bothered Timothy Branch. His was the mindset of a terrorist, someone whose only aim in life was to carry out the duty required of them, regardless of their own safety. It was only about the end game. This man Golding didn’t seem to have an agenda that any of them could understand – there wasn’t room for bargaining; he honestly didn’t seem to want anything of value from any of them. He was only interested in hitting Michael Flynn where it hurt. All he seemed to want was revenge. That was the only thing this could be about – not that Michael Flynn had been very forthcoming about his dealings with the man in the past. But he had read the man’s medical reports, knew that his family had been wiped out in a fire – a fire that had been started deliberately. It didn’t take an Albert fucking Einstein to work out that Michael Flynn had been involved in that shit somewhere along the line. Branch had been around long enough to suss out what was really going on, but it wasn’t in his interests to pursue this train of thought – he knew when to leave well alone.
‘I’ve had your mother’s body taken to the morgue, and I have hushed it up for the moment, but you have to understand, Michael, I can’t sit on this for too long. None of the neighbours saw anything – it was very fast. And, from what I can gather, your mum wasn’t a woman who encouraged her neighbours’ friendships, if you get my drift.’
Michael laughed wryly. ‘You got that right. My mother was the female equivalent of Jack the Giant Killer. She saw most people in her orbit as completely fucking useless ponces. She wasn’t known for her sparkling personality.’
Declan Costello could detect the catch in Michael’s voice underneath his bravado. He had loved his mother, in spite of everything. She wasn’t a woman who encouraged displays of affection, but she had loved her son too.
Timothy Branch was aware of Hannah Flynn’s reputation as a woman of limited patience; it was well known she had a tongue in her head and she used it to her advantage. He sighed. ‘Look, Michael, the bottom line is, this bloke is either very fucking clever, or very fucking lucky. In all my years on the force I have never seen anything like it. He’s obviously watched you for a while and he’s aware of your daily routine. How else could he know so much? One thing I do know, though, is he’s not that far away. I’d say that he’s operating from within an hour’s journey of your house. He has to be. It stands to reason.’
Declan and Michael exchanged glances; at last the man was making sense. It was about time he earned his fucking keep! Branch was like all bent Filth – he wasn’t liked or trusted by the people who paid his extra-curricular wages, or the people he had to work with in his capacity as an Old Bill. They would all know that he wasn’t kosher or to be completely trusted. Word travelled fast, and that was something no one could prevent. It was a double-edged sword. He was paid a good wage to ensure that he was on their side if it ever went pear-shaped, but he was automatically suspect because he was selling out his own. Treachery wasn’t looked on lightly in either of the circles Timothy Branch moved in.
Declan poured Michael another drink; he needed it – the man was in absolute shock. ‘Come on, Michael, sit down and drink this. You’ve had a shock to your system.’
Michael allowed himself to be seated and took the drink offered to him. He had never felt so useless in his whole life. He kept seeing Jessie, the fear on her face, and the picture of his mother, dying in front of his eyes. No one seemed to be able to give him any information of use. He had a very large workforce, and not one of them could find out even the simplest thing about Steven Golding.
Timothy Branch cleared his throat noisily. ‘I’ve had my blokes comb through his medical records, and there’s nothing of value, Michael. They have been to every address where he’s been registered, checked with his doctors, and not a fucking whisper.’