Brutal, page 22
‘You are wrong,’ Irena replied quietly. ‘Nick was the one who find house, and they would have done this with or without me, because Karel needed place to—’
‘Oh, I know what he needed,’ Frank cut her off. ‘A place to hide out while he gets his filthy business up and running again. What I don’t get is what’s in it for you? You’re the one who had to do all the dirty work, but he’s not exactly bending over backwards with gratitude, is he?’
‘You do not know him like I do,’ Irena protested, trotting out the same line she always used whenever Frank criticized Karel. ‘He is good man, and he—’
‘Oh, give it a break, for Christ’s sake,’ Frank groaned. ‘Are you seriously that blind? If he had any respect for you, he wouldn’t be flaunting that girl under your nose. But you don’t even seem to care that he’s screwing her.’
Two bright spots bloomed on Irena’s cheeks, and Frank sighed and shook his head.
‘I don’t get you at all. I know you’re scared of him, because I’ve seen how you react when he gets angry. But you’re not stupid, so why do you stay with him when he treats you so badly?’
A veil came down over Irena’s eyes, and she said, ‘We need finish shop and go home. Karel will be wonder why we are take so long.’
‘I very much doubt he’s sitting there watching the clock,’ Frank sniped. ‘He’ll be too busy fucking your replacement.’
Irena turned and walked away without answering, and Frank followed as she snatched items off the shelves and tossed them into the trolley. She claimed that she and Karel were in love, but Frank had seen little evidence of that so far – definitely not from Karel’s side. The man exuded power, and Frank imagined it was easy for him to fool women into thinking he cared about them when he turned on the charm. But Irena wasn’t a love-struck teenager; she was an intelligent woman in her thirties, who ought to have the sense to walk away when a relationship turned as sour as theirs clearly had. But if she was content to be used as a doormat, there was no point trying to reason with her.
39
Three of Karel’s men were outside admiring a Range Rover with a full body kit and blacked-out windows when Frank and Irena arrived back at the house after calling in at the pharmacy. It was parked behind the Transit, so Frank pulled up alongside it and turned off the engine. Irena went straight inside, leaving him to unload the shopping. As he was struggling up the path with several bulging carrier bags, one of the men walked over to him and held out his hand.
‘Let me take them for you, mate.’
Surprised by the man’s civility, because it was such a huge contrast to the violence and threats he’d received from Karel and Nick, Frank thanked him and passed the bags over. That tiny act of kindness had brought tears to his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away before hefting the boxes of wine inside.
The living room door opened as he entered the hallway, and Viktorya came out wearing a short, tight-fitting red dress, and a pair of high-heeled shoes. Her pretty young face was perfectly made-up, and the glossy curls in her long hair bounced around her shoulder as she tottered unsteadily into the kitchen. Frank guessed that the bag Karel had given her that morning must have been the one she’d arrived with, and that this outfit was one of the ones she had chosen for the glamorous life she’d been promised in England.
Irena was already in the kitchen, and she flashed the girl a dark look before hanging her coat behind the door and pushing up her sleeves to empty the shopping bags.
Viktorya caught it and, a mean light flaring in her eyes, she said, ‘What is problem, old woman? Are you jealous because Karel want me more than you?’
‘You are just doll he is play with,’ Irena retorted dismissively. ‘He will soon tire of you and put you back with others. But I will still be here.’
‘You are the one he will tire of,’ Viktorya countered, a sly smile on her glossy lips as she ran her hands over her breasts and down over her hips. ‘Why would he want you when he can have this?’
Irena’s brilliant-blue eyes sparked with rage, and she slammed down the plastic bottle she was holding so hard the lid popped off and milk exploded all over her. Sensing that she was about to lose it when Viktorya started laughing, Frank rushed over to her and thrust a tea towel into her hand, whispering, ‘Don’t rise to it; that’s what she wants.’
‘What’s the joke?’ Karel asked, appearing in the doorway.
Frank glanced round and saw that the man had changed into an expensive-looking suit. He’d also shaved, and his freshly washed hair was slicked neatly back. He looked good, and Frank could almost physically feel the confidence radiating from him. Whoever his guests were, Frank figured they had to be important for Karel to go to so much effort for them.
‘I spill milk, and she think is funny,’ Irena muttered, using the tea towel to wipe her top.
‘She slam bottle because I tell her she is finish,’ Viktorya said, linking a possessive arm through Karel’s. ‘She is ugly old woman, and you should make her work with other girls to punish her for disrespect me.’
‘You’re a smart-mouthed little bitch, aren’t you?’ Karel grinned, looping his arm around her waist.
‘I am pussy cat,’ she replied silkily, staring seductively into his eyes as she pressed her breasts against his chest. ‘But I have sharp claw,’ she added, casting a sly glance back at Irena. ‘And I will fight for what I want.’
‘Yeah, well, you can save all that for later,’ Karel chuckled.
Nick walked in behind them, and smirked when he saw the murderous look on Irena’s face. Glaring at him, she turned her back and unwrapped the huge slab of beef she’d bought at the supermarket.
‘Leave that,’ Karel said when she slapped the meat down on the chopping board. ‘I’ve got a job for you.’
‘It need to go in oven, or it will not be tender for dinner,’ she replied tersely.
‘I said leave it,’ he repeated, dropping the arm from around Viktorya’s waist.
Irena stopped what she was doing and turned round when he walked over to her. The blank expression she’d perfected was firmly in place, but Frank could tell she was nervous when he saw the vein pulsing in her throat.
‘What you want me do?’ she asked.
‘Not me, Abdul,’ he said, brushing the hair back off her face and looping it behind her ear. ‘He’s asked for you, so go get changed and wait for him in the bedroom.’
Irena’s cheeks had been flushed, but every ounce of colour had now drained out of them, and her eyes widened.
‘No . . .’ she croaked, shaking her head. ‘Please do not make me do this, Karel.’
‘Aw, sweetheart,’ he crooned, making her flinch when he raised his hand and cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘You know I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, but he’s asked for you, so what can I do?’
‘Send her,’ Irena said, jerking her chin up at Viktorya. ‘She is younger and prettier. He will prefer her.’
‘He wants you,’ Nick piped up, using his knife to slice open one of the boxes of wine Frank had carried in. ‘And you’re getting on a bit now, so you should be flattered he’s still willing to pay for it.’
‘Karel, please,’ Irena implored, ignoring Nick. ‘I will do anything you ask of me, but not this.’
To the side, Frank stared at Irena as Nick’s words sank in. So that was why she accepted the shit Karel threw at her, he realized. The story she’d told him – about being tricked into coming to England and forced into prostitution – had been true. Karel owned her, just like he owned the other girls, and the partial freedom she’d gained from being his woman was infinitely preferable to being forced to sleep with multiple strangers.
Irena was crying now, and Karel grasped her face in his hand, and hissed, ‘Pack it in before he hears you, you stupid bitch. If you fuck this up for me, I’ll make you wish you’d never been fuckin’ born. D’ya hear me?’
‘Please . . .’ Irena sobbed, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. ‘Don’t make me do this!’
Irritated, Karel slapped her hands away and pushed her up against the ledge. Then, raising his hand, he snapped his fingers at Nick, saying, ‘Get something to shut her up. Oral not spike.’
Nick walked over to the fridge, and a chill skittered down Frank’s spine when the man took out a bottle of Oramorph. It was one of Maureen’s, and he’d meant to return it to the pharmacy after she passed away. But like so many other things he’d meant to do in those dark days, it had completely slipped his mind.
‘You can’t give her that,’ he said when Nick shook the bottle. ‘It’s dangerous.’
‘Not as dangerous as sticking your beak in where it ain’t wanted,’ Nick replied, shoulder-barging him into the table.
Wincing when his hip connected with the wood, Frank said, ‘I’m serious. You can’t mess with that stuff. It’s lethal if you give it to someone who doesn’t need it.’
‘Best shut your gob, then, or you’ll be having some an’ all,’ Nick warned, yanking a drawer open and pulling out an oral syringe.
‘Karel, I love you,’ Irena sobbed. ‘And you say you love me. We are meant to be marry and have children. You promise.’
‘And how d’you reckon that’s gonna happen when you’re getting hitched to him?’ Karel replied smoothly, nodding at Frank.
‘But this was your idea,’ she reminded him desperately. ‘You say I must marry him so we can take house. I did not want any of this. All I want is you.’
‘Shouldn’t have fuckin’ lied to me then, should you?’ Karel said coldly, reaching for the oral syringe when Nick had finished filling it. ‘Now quit whining, and open up.’
Irena clamped her lips together and shook her head, but she couldn’t move, because Karel had her pinned against the ledge.
‘Stop it!’ Frank yelled, lurching round the table when Karel grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.
‘Don’t even think about it!’ Nick warned, leaping in front of him and thrusting the knife under his nose. ‘Unless you want me to make a call and have your fucktard son’s head blown off? And, trust me, I’ll be more than happy to oblige if that’s the road you wanna go down. Now, what’s it to be . . . her, or him?’
Every fibre of Frank’s being screamed in frustration and rage as he watched Karel force the plastic tube into Irena’s mouth and depress the plunger. He’d never hated anyone as much as he hated these two men right now, but he’d be putting Evan’s life in jeopardy if he tried to fight them, so he had to back down.
Sinking onto a chair, he dropped his face into his hands, unable to watch as Irena spluttered and choked on the liquid. Still holding her hair, Karel held her head back until she had no choice but to swallow.
‘There we go,’ he said, releasing her when she gulped. ‘Now you won’t feel a thing, and it’ll all be over before you know it.’
‘I’ll go and top up Abdul’s glass while we wait for that to kick in,’ Nick said, reaching for a bottle of wine.
‘Nah, we’ve wasted enough time,’ Karel said. ‘Just give him some gear and take him up to the bedroom. The farmer’s, not mine.’
Nick put the bottle down and, taking a plastic bag out of a cupboard, extracted a wrap of white powder from it before leaving the room. Frank heard him talking to someone, then, seconds later, a huge shadow passed by the crack in the door, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. As the thudding steps moved along the landing above, Frank looked at Irena out of the corner of his eye. The fight had drained from her eyes, and he guessed the morphine was already taking effect when her shoulders sagged and her head began to loll forward.
Karel slipped his arm around her waist to hold her up, and then turned to Frank.
‘You’ll have to do the cooking tonight,’ he said. ‘My friend’s going to be hungry by the time he’s finished, so make sure there’s plenty. She’ll help you if you need a hand.’ He nodded at Viktorya.
‘I am not cook with him,’ she protested. ‘I am stay with you.’
‘Women, eh?’ Karel rolled his eyes at Frank. ‘Give ’em an inch, and they want the whole ten – with balls on top.’
Disgusted, his voice as cold as ice, Frank said, ‘I don’t need any help.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Karel shrugged. ‘But you’ll be tasting everything before any of us touch it, so think again if you were planning on adding any special ingredients.’
With that, he half-walked, half-carried Irena out of the room, and Frank released a shuddering breath and placed both hands on the tabletop when Viktorya tottered behind him. He’d never felt so powerless in his entire life, and the guilt and shame was burning like acid in his gut.
40
It was almost three hours before Abdul came back downstairs, by which time Frank had finished cooking. Karel, Nick, Viktorya, and the guests ate in the living room, and the men who were standing guard ate outside, leaving Frank alone in the kitchen.
He was still sitting at the table, his plate of food untouched, when Nick brought a stack of empty plates in and dumped them on the ledge. Watching as the man opened the cupboard and took out the bag of drugs, he said, ‘Where’s Irena?’
Nick walked out without answering, and Frank shoved his chair back and scraped his now-congealed food into the bin. As he was running hot water into the sink to do the washing up, the man who’d helped him with the bags came in with his and his friends’ plates.
‘Cheers for that,’ he said, putting them down on the ledge.
Frank paused what he was doing and, twisting his head, watched as the man walked out of the room.
‘Yo, Gaz . . . check this vid,’ one of the men in the porch said when he opened the front door and stepped outside. ‘It’s one of them—’
The door closed before Frank could hear any more, and he frowned thoughtfully as he turned back to the dishes. The man, Gaz, wasn’t like the others. There was intelligence in his dark eyes that made Frank wonder why he’d got himself mixed up in all this. He appeared to be around Evan’s age, and he was a good-looking lad, so why was he holed up here with these criminals when he could be making something of his life?
Before Frank could think any more about it, the living room door opened, and he glanced back over his shoulder when Karel, Viktorya, and Nick came out into the hall, followed by two strangers, one of whom was quite tall and muscular, while the other was as wide as he was tall, with thick rolls of fat cascading down his neck that made it impossible to see where his bald head ended and his shoulders began.
Nick suddenly turned and walked into the kitchen, and Frank quickly averted his gaze and reached for a tea towel to dry the dishes. It was pitch-dark outside, and he could see the reflections of the people in the hall clearly in the window. Watching as Karel, Viktorya, and the strangers left the house, he switched his gaze to Nick, and saw that the man had laid a pack of syringes on the table and was now unwrapping a bag of brown powder. Guessing that he was preparing injections for the girls before he took them to work, Frank clenched his teeth. He despised drugs and the destruction they wreaked in ordinary people’s lives. That was why he’d ploughed his redundancy money into the farm in the first place: to get his young son and daughter away from the heroin and cocaine that had been flooding the streets of Manchester at that time, before they reached the age where he could no longer control who they hung about with – or what they got sucked into. Yet, now, because of his own bad decision, those very same drugs were wreaking havoc right under his roof, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
The sound of a powerful engine roaring to life outside broke the silence, and a few seconds later the front door opened. Frank had expected Karel and Viktorya to walk in, but, instead, it was Gaz and the other two men who entered. They were speaking quietly, so he didn’t catch everything they were saying, but he gathered from what he did manage to hear that Karel and the girl had gone off with the men to celebrate something.
Nick had finished preparing the syringes by then, and he carried them upstairs while the other men helped themselves to a glass of whisky. Unsure what he was supposed to do, Frank pottered about putting away the dishes and wiping ledges and the cooker.
Nick came back down a few minutes later, and dumped a handful of now-empty syringes in the bin.
‘Yo, Granddad, it’s bedtime,’ he said when he noticed Frank was still there. ‘But I think you might wanna change your sheets before you get your head down,’ he added, grinning slyly. ‘It’s a bit of a mess up there.’
Frank went into the utility room. A neat stack of sheets were sitting on a shelf alongside a stack of towels, and he took one of each and carried them upstairs. As he passed the bathroom, he hesitated when he heard the sound of running water. Guessing that Irena must be taking a shower, he walked on to his bedroom and switched the light on.
The scene made him stop in his tracks, and he stared at the bed in horror. He’d expected there to be bodily fluids on the sheet, but what he hadn’t expected was blood. And there wasn’t only a bit, there was a lot. It was everywhere . . . on the sheets, the headboard, even on the wall; and there was a thin trail on the carpet leading from the bed to the door.
Heart pounding, he stepped back onto the landing and peered down over the bannister rail. He could hear the men talking in the kitchen, but nobody was in the hallway, so he tiptoed back down to the bathroom and tapped quietly on the door. The water stopped, and he whispered, ‘Irena . . . it’s me. Are you OK?’
No answer came, but he heard what sounded like a groan.
‘I know you’re probably too scared to talk, but I’m worried about you,’ he whispered, his lips pressed up against the wood. ‘If you can hear me, just tap once to let me know you’re OK. Can you do that?’
A few seconds passed, and then a tiny tap came through the wood.
‘Thank God,’ he murmured, releasing a shaky breath. Then, aware that he didn’t have much time, he said, ‘Karel and the girl have gone out with those men, and Nick and Gaz will be taking the other girls to work soon. The rest of them are drinking in the kitchen, but they’ll probably go out to the caravan when the others have gone, so if you want to talk . . . well, you know where I’ll be. OK?’
