Steven Golding looked so much smaller than Michael had expected. He was almost puny. It was hard to believe that this was the man who had caused him so much grief, who had been so fucking elusive. It was a joke, surely?
Golding laughed. ‘You’re too late, Mr Flynn. We waited for you, but you never came. Now your little Jessie is dying, I’m afraid.’
Michael stepped towards the man, intent on murder, and Declan grabbed him. ‘Stop it, Michael. That’s what he wants. Let’s find Jessie first. I wouldn’t believe a word this slippery fucker says.’
Michael knew that Declan was right, he couldn’t do anything until he had found his daughter.
Steven Golding shrugged. ‘Be my guest, she’s down there.’ He gestured towards the basement door. ‘She’s been down there since day one.’
Declan grabbed the man by his throat, and dragged him unceremoniously down the basement stairs behind Michael. The music was much louder inside the room, and it added to the surreal feeling that was enveloping them.
Declan was unsure for a few moments if he was actually seeing what was before his eyes. The stench alone was bad enough, but Jessie, if that really was Jessie, was like something from a horror film.
She was so bloated, and her feet, her lovely little feet, were almost devoid of skin. He looked at Michael; he could see the man’s disbelief at what he was witnessing. He too was wondering if this was some kind of joke, even though they both knew that wasn’t possible.
The photo Michael had been sent had been bad enough but, in the hours since then, it was obvious that Jessie had deteriorated. She looked dead already.
Declan went to the CD player and, kicking it with all his might, he watched as it rose up into the air, and then hit the wall. The ensuing silence was almost deafening.
Michael looked at his daughter, at the condition she was in. It was like a fucking nightmare, beyond anything he could ever have imagined. This was his baby girl – no matter what had happened in the past, she was his only child, and he loved her with a passion.
‘Oh my fucking God. Oh dear God. Please don’t do this to me . . .’ Michael was trying to pick his daughter up in his arms, trying to comfort her. But she was unresponsive, her eyes were closed. Michael was openly crying, sobbing in despair.
Declan punched Golding in the side of his head, and he watched as the man skidded through the shit that was everywhere, and sprawled on the floor. Then grabbing him back up, he bellowed into his face, ‘Where’s the fucking keys, you fucking piece of shit!’
He was already pulling the man’s jacket off him, and searching his trouser pockets. He finally found a set of keys in the man’s jacket and, calling out Michael’s name, he threw them to him.
As he did so, Jessie let out a long slow breath and opened her eyes. She tried to follow the sound of her father’s voice, as he shouted loudly, ‘Jessie darling, Jessie, it’s me, your dad. Stay with me, love. Please . . .’
Declan screamed at his friend with annoyance, ‘Will you unlock her, Michael? For fuck’s sake! We need to phone a fucking ambulance! Get her some help! Pull yourself together, man. She needs you!’
Michael seemed suddenly to understand what was needed from him. He was visibly shaking as he picked up the keys from the floor and, taking out his mobile phone, he called for an ambulance. He was as coherent as possible, and he gave the address of White Farm, quickly and succinctly. He also explained the seriousness of his daughter’s condition. Then he turned to Declan. ‘It’s not a key we need. He’s fucking screwed these fuckers into place. We need a spanner.’
He turned on Steven Golding then, and, after kicking and punching him to the floor, he grabbed him by his prematurely grey hair and, pulling him back on to his feet, he pushed his face into his and demanded, ‘You shackled her, so you can fucking get her loose.’
Both Michael and Declan watched as Golding dropped to the floor. He then crawled through the filth and, pulling himself up with difficulty, he took a spanner from the windowsill, and he held it out to the men like an offering.
‘It’s too tight, I can’t undo it. Her blood has dried all over it. Now it’s like fucking glue.’
He was still taunting them. Declan moved quickly to stop Michael from attacking him once more. ‘This is like suicide by cop, Michael, but the ambulance will be here soon, remember? Get her free, get her help, and I will keep this cunt on ice, OK? I’ll take him to the scrapyard. You’ve got Branch to smooth your path with the hospital et cetera. He will make sure this doesn’t bite anyone’s arse. All you need to do is get her help, OK?’