Barking Boy Read online

  Jonny threw a succession of punches into the air and nodded his head. All he wanted to do, was to get into the ring and get the fight over and done with.

  Sitting back on the wooden bench, Frank looked up at his elder sons. They leant their backs casually against the metal lockers, which ran across the far wall. “Come on, you lot out, give your brother some breathing space, and go and get you seats.”

  The brothers did as their father bade, wishing their brother luck on their way out of the changing room.

  Tommy pulled Jimmy aside. “I’m gonna go and look for McKay and Garner. Save me a seat, yeah?”

  Don’t be long, otherwise they’ll start asking questions.” He nodded ahead to their younger brothers. “And I can only give them excuses as to where you are for so long, before they start getting suspicious.”

  Mark Hopper’s lips were set in a straight line. He nodded his head, as Jason spoke privately into his ear.

  “He’s wearing a white shirt, dark hair.”

  “Wait here for me, and make sure you’ve got your phone switched on. When I ring you, go and get the car, and then come straight back for me. I’m gonna need help carrying the bags.” Mark gave Jason a cold stare. His dark, emotionless eyes bore into his skull, as he waited for the man to nod his head in agreement. Satisfied, he began to walk toward the changing rooms, taking his phone out of pocket as he did so. He scrolled down to the last incoming call he’d had, and pressed dial, bringing the phone up to his ear he spoke. “Hello, it’s Mark Hopper,” he spoke into the mouth piece, his voice gruff. “Meet me where the changing rooms are, and make sure you have my gold with you, no fucking about. I’ve got some business I need to take care of first.”

  He switched off the call, and looked up to see someone fitting Tommy Carter’s description walking toward him. He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and held out his arms, blocking the man from passing him by. “You Tommy Carter?”

  Tommy stopped abruptly. He raised his eyebrows. There was trepidation in his voice as he answered. “Yeah.”

  Mark’s arm shot out, grabbing the younger man around the throat. He pushed him backwards, inside the nearest changing room. Luckily for him, it was empty, not that it would have mattered. If it had been occupied, he would have soon told them to fuck off out of it.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  With great difficulty Tommy nodded his head. Of course he knew who he was.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got a message for you from a very good pal of mine.” He drove his fist in to Tommy’s stomach. “That’s from Dean Johnson.”

  He tightened his grip around Tommy’s throat, and pushed him farther into the changing room, slamming him up against the metal lockers. “And this is from me.” Using his full strength, he drove his fist forward a second time.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Moray and Danny walked into the changing room, in time to see Tommy being slammed up against the lockers, Mark’s hand grasped tight around the younger man’s throat. They turned to look at one another, before simultaneously stepping forward.

  “What’s going on here?” Moray kept his voice light. He nudged Danny in the ribs. This wasn’t exactly how they had expected events to pan out. Shouldn’t it have been Mark being slammed against the wall?

  “Fucking hell, put him down, will you? People will start talking.”

  Mark turned his head. “Well, well, look who it is. Bill and Fucking Ben.” Mark released his grip from around Tommy’s throat. A snarl spread across his face, as he turned to look over his shoulder at the two men. “What did you bring that prick with you for?” he asked, giving Moray a cold stare.

  “Who are you calling a prick? You better not be referring to me?” Danny’s green eyes flashed dangerously. His body immediately tensed, his muscles straining against the cotton shirt he wore.

  “Yeah, I’m fucking talking to you. So, Freddie’s finally let you out to play, has he?” He threw Tommy away from him, and turned to face the younger man. The corners of Mark’s lips curled into a smirk. He took a step closer to Danny, his head cocked to one side, arrogance seeping out of him. “And what are you gonna do about it, eh?” His beady eyes full of contempt, he looked Danny up and down. He held out his arms. “Well, come on then, I’m waiting. If you wanna act the big man, go ahead and take a shot.”

  Moray slammed his arm across Danny’s body, restraining him. He gritted his teeth. “Leave him. He ain’t worth it.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows and began to laugh. “Bottle gone has it, prick?” He nodded his head toward Danny, goading him, a smug grin spread across his face. “You look like you’ve just fucking shit yourself.”

  Danny gritted his teeth. He curled his fist into a ball, and mumbled underneath his breath. “Just let me crack him one, just once, and then I’ll walk away.”

  Moray shook his head. He had no concerns for his mate’s safety where Mark was concerned. Danny could look after himself, and he better than anyone knew that to be a fact.

  Mark began to laugh. “Yeah, I thought as much.” He began waving his arms in and out, mimicking that of a chicken. “Lost your bottle now, ain’t you? Watch out, I think he’s gonna cry.”

  “Leave it.” Moray raised his voice, and pushed Danny away from the situation. He stabbed his finger toward Mark. “If he goes for you, then believe me when I say this. I’m not interfering, you fucking asked for it.”

  Laughing, Mark took a step backwards. He screwed up his eyes, staring at the two men intently. He’d had his fun, and now it was time to get back to business. “So, where is it then?” He looked around him, his eyes narrowing.

  It was now Moray’s turn to grin. “Do you want the good news, or bad news first?”

  Mark lunged forward, his face reddening, spittle gathered at the corners of his lips. “Where’s my fucking gold?”

  Tommy rubbed at his throat where Hopper had dug his thumbs into the flesh of his neck. He staggered toward the adjacent shower room, coughing and gasping for air. Each time he swallowed, he felt as though his throat were on fire. Leaning back against the tiled wall to steady himself, Tommy took a deep breath. He could feel his erratic heart begin to slow back down to his normal rhythm, and he was thankful for the familiar thumping inside his chest. He wiped his hand across his face, his fingertips gliding across his cold and clammy skin.

  He leaned his head backwards for a few moments, and closed his eyes, before pushing himself away from the wall. He began to walk back inside the changing room, before stopping abruptly. A white cotton bath towel had been thrown carelessly into the corner of the shower room. Tommy walked forward, picked the towel up, and then walked over to the sink. Twisting on the hot tap, he watched the steaming water flow down onto the thick cotton towel, saturating it. He switched off the tap, wrung the towel out slightly, and pulled the material taut between his fists, oblivious to the water that dripped down his wrists, soaking the cuffs of his shirt. Only now, did he walk toward the changing room.

  Stepping out from around the doorway, Tommy heard Mark’s irate shouts before he saw him. As far as he was concerned, there were no exceptions, this cunt had to go. He took a step closer. Mark’s back was toward him and he crept further into the room. With as much force as he could physically muster, Tommy leapt forwards, and threw the steaming hot towel over Marks head, ensuring his face was covered and pulled hard, twisting the towel in his fists. He could sense Mark’s shock, and twisted even harder, as the man’s hands desperately clawed at the saturated thick material covering his face.

  Twisting and turning his body, Mark’s knees began to buckle, as he fought for his life. Tommy battled to keep his grip. He couldn’t fuck this up now; he had to finish what he’d started. He pulled on the towel harder. He could hear muffled groans. He could hear and feel the panic, as Mark struggled to breathe—the hot, thick, heavy, wet cotton towel suffocating him. The man dropped to his knees, and pushing his foot against Mark’s back, Tommy pulled even harder. Using all of his strength, he p
ulled and twisted the towel until he could sense the man’s life slowly begin to ebb away. Only when Mark fell to the floor, did Tommy collapse in a heap beside him.

  His cheeks scarlet from the exertion, Tommy gasped for air. He scrambled to his feet, looking down at Mark’s lifeless body. He didn’t need to ask if he was dead, just one glance at his red and purple mottled complexion, his bulging eyes, and the thick tongue, which protruded out of his slack blue lips, was enough to tell Tommy. Mark Hopper was a goner.

  “Right, well, now that this cunt is brown bread, what now?”

  All eyes turned to Moray. They shrugged their shoulders. “We need to get him out of here,” Tommy said.

  “No shit, Sherlock. There are no flies on you, are there? Fucking hell, I know we need to get him out of here.” Moray rolled his eyes. “My point is, how exactly are we going to get him out? There’s at least five hundred people through that door.” He looked toward the two men expectantly, before holding up his hand. “Please tell me you actually have a plan.”

  The two men shook their heads, and Moray threw up his hands. “Homework, Danny, fucking homework. This should have been one of the first things you pair of soppy bollocks thought through.” He shook his own head at Danny’s carelessness.

  “Homework? We’re not at fucking school. We’ll think of something.”

  “Well, you better think fast!” Moray stabbed his finger toward his mate. Muffled cheers echoed off of the main hall. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “That lot will be on us at any minute, and then the shit really will hit the fan.”

  Looking around him, Tommy nodded his head toward a black holdall. He sized it up. It could easily fit a body inside, albeit it might be a tight squeeze. He walked toward the bag and began emptying it out, tossing the contents across the room. “Stuff him in this. It’s the only way we’re gonna get him out unseen.”

  “And then what, eh? Come on, Einstein, what do we do with him afterwards?”

  “I don’t fucking know. I thought you two would know what to do with him.”

  “And why exactly would we know what to do with him? Killing people and disposing of their bodies isn’t our day job, you know. Fuck me, Carter! Who do you think we are, the Mexican cartel or something?”

  “I dunno, I just thought you’d know.”

  “Well, you thought fucking wrong.” Moray shook his head. He watched as Tommy threw the holdall toward Mark’s body, and he glared across at Danny. “You pair of muppets.” He crouched down, lifting up Mark’s feet. “Well, come on then, help me get him into the bag, or are you both just going to stand there watching me?”

  With the bag now firmly encasing Mark’s body, Tommy nodded his head. “There you go. I told you he’d fit inside. No one would even be able to guess what’s in it.”

  “No one would guess what’s in it? There was disbelief in Moray’s voice. “Are you for fucking real? Look at it! It looks exactly what it is, a fucking body in a bag. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Tommy’s cheeks flushed. “It’s not that obvious.” He turned his head from side to side inspecting the makeshift body bag.

  “Right.” Moray stood back, looking down at their handiwork, his arms crossed over his chest. “The way I see it, we’ve got one of three options. One, we throw him in the Thames and hope the cunt sinks to the bottom. Two, we take him out to Epping Forest and bury him. And three, we take him over to the farm in Brentwood and feed him to the pigs. The choice is yours.”

  Danny chewed on the inside of his cheek. He looked across to Tommy. “It’s your call. What do you wanna do with him?” He looked down at the bag. “What do you reckon?”

  Tommy rubbed his fingers across his neck, from where Mark had tried to throttle him. “Feed him to the fucking pigs.”

  Danny tilted his head toward Moray. “There you go, you heard the man. We feed him to the pigs.”

  “Now, we’re starting to get somewhere. Danny, you grab one end, and Einstein there can grab the other end. I’ll be lookout.”

  Hauling the bag up, they navigated their way out of the room, and moved down the corridor toward the nearest exit. “He’s a fucking dead weight.” Danny complained.

  “What did you expect? He’s dead, stands to reason he’d be a dead weight.” Moray rolled his eyes. They were starting to jar his nerves with their stupidity. He pushed open the fire exit door, stepping aside, so the two men could manoeuvre out of the door. “Wait here. I’ll get the car.” He held out his hand for Danny’s car keys.

  Dumping his end of the bag onto the concrete steps, Danny dug deep into his denim pockets and passed across the keys. He glanced around him. “Just hurry up,” he hissed. “The last thing we want, is to be caught red handed, with this.” He nodded down at the holdall.

  With the body safely concealed in the boot of Danny’s car, Tommy shoved his hands nervously into his pockets. He glanced behind him at the fire exit door. He was eager to get back inside the hall. He needed an alibi, and even more than that, he didn’t trust McKay and Garner not to decide to dispose of him while they were at it. After all, why stop at one body? Throwing a second to the pigs would be no hardship on their part. He stood back slightly, watching as the two men began to climb into the car.

  “Well?” Danny raised his head toward him. “Are you getting in the motor or what?”

  “I dunno, is it wise that we all go? I mean, shouldn’t I stay here and show my face in there?” Tommy jerked his thumb behind him.

  “Yeah, just leave us to do all the hard work, why don’t you.” Moray blew out his cheeks. Carter was starting to take the piss now.

  “You do the hard work?” Tommy poked his finger into his chest. “It was me who did the hard work. I didn’t see either of you two getting your hands dirty.” He began to walk down the steps. “Hopper would still be alive if I hadn’t done him in.” He spoke with a low growl.

  “And if we hadn’t turned up when we did, it would have been you in the fucking boot of a car, instead of Hopper. Don’t forget that.”

  Danny held up his hand. “Enough! This ain’t gonna get us anywhere, is it? Tommy’s right, we can’t all go. It’s gonna look a bit suspect if he goes on the missing list as well. No one even knows he had a meet with Hopper, so if he isn’t in that hall, people will start asking questions.” Danny was thoughtful. He bit down on his lip before speaking. “Yeah, you stay here. Me and Moray will take care of the situation. But I am gonna be coming for you tomorrow to sort out that gold.” He stabbed his finger toward Tommy.

  Relieved, Tommy nodded his head. He walked back up the steps, and turned to watch Danny drive away. He waited until the car was out of sight, then made his way back inside the venue.

  Tommy entered the main hall in time to see Jonny climb out of the ring.

  “Where the fuck have you been? You missed the fight.” Gary eyed his brother suspiciously.

  “I had some business to take care of.” He could feel Jimmy’s eyes on him, and he turned his head toward his brother, giving a small nod to confirm the deed was done. Mark Hopper was dead.

  “Yeah, well, he won, not that you’ve even asked, or likely to even care come to that.”

  Tommy tore his eyes away from Jimmy to look at Gary. The contempt for himself written across his brother’s face angering him. “Of course I fucking care, so he won did he?” He forced a wide grin to spread across his face. He walked forward and clasped his hand on Jonny’s shoulder. “See, I told you, you’d win.”

  “Yeah,” Jonny beamed. “Done him in the third round. You should have seen it, Tommy, he went down like a sack of shit.” He felt exuberant and couldn’t contain his excitement at winning his first fight.

  Frank bounded behind his youngest son. “Come on,” he barked, pushing Jonny forward. He began to walk past Tommy, giving him a cold stare. “Where were you?” he spat. “Your brother’s big night, and you were nowhere to be seen.”

  “I …” Tommy could feel shame flood through him. He could hardly tell his dad he�
�d missed the fight, because he’d just killed a man. “I had something I had to do.”

  “Something more important than your brother’s first fight?” Frank shook his head, disgust clearly evident across his face. “Exactly what I would have expected from you. All you’ve ever done is think of yourself. Shame on you, Tommy.”

  Tommy stepped aside, as his father barged past him and ushered Jonny away. He could feel his brothers eyes on him, and he swallowed down his embarrassment. He looked to Jimmy and shook his head sadly, before walking out of the hall. The relationship he had with his father was beyond repair, he knew that now. Frank would never forgive him for quitting the ring, and he had a feeling, that missing Jonny’s fight may well be the final nail in the coffin, as far as Frank was concerned.

  He walked toward his car, his head bowed. All Tommy wanted to do was to go home. He’d had a gutful. No matter what he did, he was always in the wrong.

  Jason Moore looked down at his phone. Mark had been gone for more than an hour, and he still hadn’t given him a call. He’d spotted Tommy Carter across the hall, and looked around him. So, where the hell was Mark?

  He walked toward the back of the hall, unsure of what he should do next. He poked his head around the door leading to the corridor where the changing rooms were. Nothing. Hopper was nowhere to be seen. Wandering back to the main hall, Jason took out his phone and dialled Mark’s number. It rang off.

  “We’re closing up now.”

  Jason stuck his thumb up in the air. “Cheers, mate.” He dialled Mark’s number a second time, and again it rang off. With one last glance toward the back of the hall, Jason made his way to the exit. Outside on the concrete steps, he looked around him, before shrugging his shoulders and walking over to his car. Mark Hopper had, for all intent and purposes, disappeared.