Last Request. Liz Mistry
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him so slowly. The figure slaps the bar against the palm of one hand causing the captive to glance up. With lightning speed, the figure strikes, jabbing the cattle prod onto the captive’s thigh.
The captive jerks back and screams.
‘Are you ready to listen to the rules?’ The figure raises the prod, waves it in sight of the captive. The specimen’s eyes water, a single stream of liquid rolls down his right cheek. He nods.
Bravo! Specimen is under control.
Sound-over – clapping and cheering.
Watch now as we find out the rules of play.
‘That’s more like it. Rule one – you must answer every question. Rule two – you may not pass on any question. Rule three – if you get five questions in a row right, you will be released. You will have earned your freedom. Rule four – for each incorrect answer you will be punished. Rule five – your fate is in your own hands. When you have had enough and don’t want to play anymore then we will move onto your last request. Do you understand?’
Ha! Now we see the typical response of a captive in denial. See how he shakes his head.
No matter. That will change. For now, enjoy his simple mistakes.
‘No, no – ’course I don’t. I don’t get it, not at all. Let me go. Let me go.’
You see what he’s done, don’t you? His rookie mistake? Now for the consequences.
‘Wrong answer number one.’
Watch the concentration as the figure picks up a knife, studies it. Runs his finger along the blade and then approaches the captive. It’s all about care and precision …
I hear a sound outside the door and quickly turn off the DVD. Never mind. There will be plenty of time later. Plenty of time.
‘Oy, Deano, get your arse over here, right now, ya tosser.’
Deano’s heart sank as the Ferrari pulled up to the kerb outside Chicken Cottage. Last thing he needed right now, when he didn’t know if Kayleigh was all right, was to have a convo with her old man. He burped, took a last swig from his Vimto and tossed the can into the gutter, before stuffing the last of his burger into his mouth and throwing the polystyrene food container after the can. Wiping his hands down the front of his joggers, he approached the car. Shoulders hunched, big-man glower on his face, he ignored the passenger and spoke over his head to the driver. In situations like this, the only thing you could do was brazen it out. He’d find out soon enough if Franco knew. ‘Y’aright there, Franco?’
Franco – tall but skinny, cap on backwards, pockmarked face and ice-cold eyes – cast a sideways look at Deano. He shook his head and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel twice. As if on some sort of preordained order, the prick, Big Zee, thrust the passenger door open, crashing it into Deano’s legs and jumped out, quickly repositioning himself in the back seat, beside another one of Franco’s goons. Deano wanted to slam his fist into the idiot’s sneering face, but contented himself with hoiking a gob of phlegm into the gutter. It was pushing it for Franco to come back to Listerhills. Thing was he didn’t get it – too arrogant. Didn’t he realise Parekh would never let him get away with supplying to her nephew?
‘Get in.’ Franco’s words were an order and Deano had no option but to obey. He was in too deep and Franco knew it … but did he know about him and Kayleigh? With a quick glance along the road, Deano wished that Nikki hadn’t disappeared off with that big Paki dick. He slid into the front seat, next to Franco and tried to angle himself to the side, out of arm’s reach of Big Zee and his sidekick in the back. Deano had been in too many similar situations in the past not to be aware of what was coming. How many times had he been the one to move to the back seat, ready to slip a chain round the neck of the idiot Franco was grilling in the front seat if he didn’t deliver the goods?
‘Little bird told me you were talking to that Parekh bint?’
Fuck, word travelled fast! Deano laughed, tried to look nonchalant, hoping his face wasn’t giving owt away. He was caught with his balls between a rapidly closing vice. On the one hand, Parekh had made her threat clear and Deano couldn’t risk Franco finding out about him skimming. No way did he want to end up as pig food on one of them farms in the Dales. He’d seen too many end up there. On the other, Parekh was no pushover. She’d made her intentions clear. The only option open to him was to strike some sort of deal with her. What the hell was he going to do? ‘Yes, frigid bitch. She needs a good seeing to, to loosen her up a bit.’
He sensed Big Zee leaning forward at the ready and, from the corner of his eye, he saw Franco glance into the rear-view mirror. His hands grew damp with sweat and relief swept over him as his next words gushed from his mouth. ‘She wants me to keep an eye on my stepdad. Tosser’s been beating up my mum. Had her in hospital twice. I told her I’d deal with the fucker.’
‘That all?’ Franco’s eyes honed right in to his soul, red hot like a soldering iron.
Deano ignored the sounds from the back of the car – the rattle of metal, the squeak of leather as Big Zee edged forward. Deano could feel the big man’s breath on the side of his face, and the smell of his aftershave made him want to choke. He shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s all. Cow think’s that cos she’s a copper she’s got the right to sort everyone out. Don’t worry, my man, I’ll keep her sweet. I’ll keep her out of your hair.’
Gaze razoring Deano’s face, Franco leaned towards him, encroaching on his space and then, slapping the steering wheel, he laughed and jerked his head to one side – presumably the signal for Big Zee to step down. ‘You better, D. We don’t need some half-caste whore messing up our plans now, do we? This estate’s gonna be mine this time and you’re gonna help me.’
As Deano watched the streaming rain splatter down the windscreen, every fibre of his being screamed a warning. Franco could give the order and anything could happen inside the car without anyone outside noticing. Even if they did, chances were they’d ignore it. Franco was just that little bit too unpredictable, that little bit too dangerous for folk to risk annoying him. No one here ever volunteered a witness statement! ‘We did all right in Oldham, didn’t we? Ousted them Pakis and took control. Listerhills will be a doddle. Don’t worry, I’m on it. I’ve got my ears to the ground. Like you say – get the kids with us and the rest follows on. Parekh won’t fuck things up this time.’
Franco lifted his hand and angled it palm upwards, finger moving in a ‘gimme it’ gesture to Big Zee and Tyke in the back seat. A bit of rummaging and then a package wrapped in a plastic bag was given to Franco who passed it to Deano. ‘Here, go do your job then.’
Taking the package, Deano stuffed it up the front of his hoodie. No point in advertising what he had to everyone. There was always some tosser waiting to grab your stash, and that wouldn’t go down well with Franco. The man expected returns on his produce and Deano would have to make sure he paid up. ‘Usual rate?’
‘Yeah, keep the cost down, get ’em hooked, then, BOOM!’ Franco laughed like he’d cracked the finest joke ever – head back, furry yellow rabbit teeth on show. ‘Right, piss off then. I’ll be in touch.’
Deano slid out of the car, his legs shaking, and watched as Franco squealed off down the road towards town. Fuck! That had been a close one. All he’d wanted was a lousy Chicken Cottage and what did he end up with? Fucking Nikita Parekh on his case and then Franco. He glanced round. Who the hell had told Franco about his meeting with Parekh? Shit, he’d have to be extra careful now. Seemed like Franco had eyes everywhere.
Huddled over against the rain, Deano retraced his steps back to his house, wondering as he went how long he could keep his secrets hidden from Franco. He suspected it wouldn’t be for much