Barking Boy Page 25

  In the pitch-black darkness, Danny and Moray hauled the holdall containing Mark Hopper’s body across a wet and muddy field. “Are you sure we’re even going in the right direction?” Heaving up his end of the bag, Moray blew out his cheeks. With each step they took, the bag seemed to get heavier.

  “Yeah, it can’t be much further. I can fucking smell them from here. Either that, or Hopper is starting to stink already.”

  Moray pushed his nose toward the bag. “It’s not him. We must be close.”

  They continued walking. “See, what did I tell you? I said we were going the right way,” Danny said. Up ahead, they could just make out the outline of the farm.

  “We’re gonna have to strip him though.” They dumped the bag on the ground, and began the grisly task of stripping Mark Hopper of his clothes and belongings.

  Careful of where they trod, they manoeuvred the body through the dense slippery earth. “Talk about pig in shit.” Danny groaned, as they made their way toward the nearest pigsty. “Fuck me, they don’t half stink.” He wrinkled up his nose, before holding his breath, not wanting to breathe in the foul stench of pig excrement. “We’re gonna stink of pig shit after this.”

  “They say it takes a pig eight minutes to get through a body.”

  About to climb over the fence, Danny had placed his foot on the first rung of the wooden fence, ready to launch himself over. He looked across to Moray. “Cheers for that. I’ll bear it in mind.” He took his foot away from the fence, placing it back on the ground. “Right, well, we’ll have to just chuck him over. I’m not getting in there with that lot now. Fuck that.”

  Moray began to laugh. “What’s fucking wrong with you?” They hauled up Mark’s body and pushed him over the fence, jumping backwards as he fell to the ground with a loud squelch.

  The splash of the body hitting the squelching mud, caused the pigs to squeal and run in all directions. Conscious of being seen, Danny looked around him, before nodding down at the body. “Shouldn’t they be eating him by now?”

  “How would I know? I’m not a pig farmer, am I? Get in there and push the pigs toward him.”

  Danny’s eyes widened. “You can fuck right off! You get in there.”

  “We need to move them this way.” Moray was thoughtful. He began searching on the ground for something he could throw at the pigs. Picking up a small rock, he aimed it forward, launching it into the air. “Go on, go that way,” he shouted, trying to shoo the pigs toward the body.

  The pigs squealed even louder. “For fucks sake, Moray, leave it out will you? You’re making them go Garrity.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do, eh?” Moray ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe they’re not hungry?”

  “It’s a fucking pig. They’re always hungry, ain’t they?”

  Moray shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”

  “Well, I ain’t sticking around to find out. Come on, let’s go.” Danny bent down to collect up the holdall and Mark’s belongings.

  “And what if they don’t eat him?” Moray glanced behind him at the pigsty.

  Danny sighed. “Surely, by the time morning comes around, they will. We can’t sit here all night waiting, can we?”

  “Nah, I suppose not.” They began walking back across the field toward Danny’s car.

  “Look at the state of me,” Danny grumbled. He looked down at his jeans and boots. They were ankle deep in mud. “I only bought these boots last week, and now, they’re fucked.”

  “We’ve got to get in the motor like this yet.” Knowing just how particular his mate was about his car, Moray gave a small grin. “Your boots are the least of your worries, mate.”

  Danny groaned. “Fucking Mark Hopper. Even when he’s dead, he’s giving me grief.”

  Moray began to laugh. “No wonder them pigs didn’t wanna go near him.”

  Stacey was in the kitchen, ironing. Beside her, sat a small, plastic basket full of freshly washed clothes. The steam iron hissed, as she ran it over one of Tommy’s shirts. Unlike some women, she didn’t find ironing a chore. There was something therapeutic about watching the creases disappear in front of her eyes, as she ran the hot iron over them. She heard a key turn in the lock, and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was barely ten o’clock. “Tommy, is that you?” she called out.

  Tommy walked through to the kitchen. He threw his keys onto the kitchen table, and pulled out a chair, the wooden legs scraping against the lino, which was loud in the small confines of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing back so early?”

  “I didn’t fancy it tonight,” Tommy sighed.

  “Are you all right, babe?” Stacey peered at Tommy closely. He looked shattered. She placed the iron in its holder, walked across the kitchen, and took a seat opposite her husband. She raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing, because I know you, and I can tell when something’s on your mind.”

  Tommy shook his head. “I just wanted to be on my own, and away from everything, that’s all.”

  “What? Even away from me?”

  Tommy could hear the hurt in Stacey’s voice, and he reached across the wooden table to hold her hand. “Course not.” He gave her a small smile. “You and the kids are the only ones keeping me sane at the moment.”

  “Well, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  Tommy shook his head. How could he tell her? He knew the moment he opened his mouth, he would see disgust written across her face at what he’d done. He shrugged his shoulders. “Just me dad, that’s all. You know what he’s like.”

  Stacey gave a small smile. Tommy was right, she knew full well what Frank was like. Ever since he’d quit boxing, her husband and father-in-law had had a volatile relationship, and that was putting it mildly. “Would you like a cuppa?” Stacey stood up and walked across to the kettle, flicking on the switch. She set out two mugs on the worktop and began spooning sugar into them. “You can’t change what’s already happened, Tommy. You just have to get on with things. You had your reasons for what you did, and your dad’s gonna have to accept that. Don’t let him get you down.”

  Tommy nodded his head. Without realising it, her words had hit the nail on the head. He’d had no other choice, but to kill Mark Hopper, and now that the man was gone, he could get on with the rest of his life, without having to look over his shoulder, or worry about keeping everyone he loved safe. A smile spread across his face. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.

  Stacey fell into her husband’s arms. Pushing herself further toward him, she breathed in his familiar scent of aftershave and cigarette smoke. She kissed the top of his head and smiled. “Everything will work out okay. You just watch and see.”

  Unbeknownst to her, Stacey couldn’t have been more wrong. Thousands of miles away, Dean Johnson was waiting patiently for his cut of the gold. It would only be a matter of time, before he came looking for answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dean Johnson stepped off of the plane at Gatwick Airport. This was the first time he’d stepped foot on British soil in almost three years. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents around him deep into his lungs. How he missed good, old blighty.

  Walking through arrivals, Dean headed straight outside the airport. He was a man on a mission, and God help anyone who got in his way. Frankie Sullivan was stood beside his car, waiting for his boss. The two men shook hands, and with his lips set in a straight line, Dean spoke. “Where the fuck is Hopper?”

  Frankie had been expecting the question, and he gave a shrug of his shoulders, his mouth opening and closing as he chewed on a piece of gum. “I dunno, boss. He’s disappeared off the face of the earth. No one has seen head, nor tail of him.”

  It wasn’t the answer Dean had wanted to hear. He handed Frankie his suitcase, and climbed into the front passenger seat. With every passing second, it was becoming clearer, to see that Hopper had had him over, where the gold was concerned. He narrowed his eyes. He would fucking kill hi
m over this. He waited for Frankie to climb into the driver’s seat, before speaking. “Tell me everything. I wanna know where Hopper went, and who he spoke to while he was here. Who was the last person to see him?”

  Frankie glanced toward his boss. “That would be Jason Moore, and he’s just as stumped as we are.”

  Dean turned in his seat to look at Frankie. The constant smacking of the man’s jaws as he chewed on the gum, was already beginning to grate on his nerves. “Right, take me straight to Jason Moore, and he’d better have some answers for me. And for fuck’s sake, stop smacking your lips together.”

  “Sorry, boss.” His cheeks reddening, Frankie nodded his head. He knew better than to antagonise Dean Johnson.

  As Dean was entering Britain, Jimmy and Aiden were leaving. Tommy had dropped them off at Stanstead Airport, in the heart of Essex. Earlier that day, he’d slipped a scrap of paper into Jimmy’s hand, containing the address of an acquaintance in the business of melting down gold. “Don’t forget to go and see him while you’re there. It’s important, Jimmy.” He glanced across to Aiden. “And make sure you go on your own. Don’t take him with you. This is family business.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I won’t.”

  Tommy leant across the passenger seat and shouted through the open window. “Don’t forget, Jimmy. I’m counting on you.”

  Jimmy raised his hand in acknowledgement, as he and Aiden walked toward the departures entrance.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.” Jimmy remained tight-lipped. He could feel Aiden’s eyes on him, and sighed. “Just something I have to go and do for me brother. Family stuff.”

  “What? Something while we’re in Spain?”

  Jimmy could hear the confusion in Aiden’s voice and he nodded his head. “Yeah, it shouldn’t take me long to do though. Hopefully just one or two days.”

  Aiden placed his suitcase onto a conveyor belt, and passed across his passport and booking confirmation to a member of the staff. He gave the woman behind the desk a stiff smile, bristling at Jimmy’s words. “So,” he hissed. “This was never about us spending quality time together? This was an excuse for you to go to Spain, and do work for that brother of yours?”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was for him and Aiden to fall out. They hadn’t even stepped foot on the plane yet. “Of course, I want us to spend time together,” he said, placating the man. “It’s just, while I’m there, I need to go and do something, that’s all.”

  “And what am I supposed to do when you’re flaunting off to do this family stuff, huh?”

  “Sunbathe, get pissed, do some shopping, I don’t know. Do what you want.”

  Aiden puffed out his cheeks. “You better make this up to me.” He sulked.

  “Yeah, I will,” Jimmy answered, passing over his own passport. Yet again, he wanted to curse Tommy. No doubt trying to make it up to the Irishman was going to cost him dearly.

  Dean Johnson climbed out of Frankie’s car. They were in Dean’s old neighbourhood. Born and bred in Dagenham, one of England’s largest council estates, he stood outside Jason’s house and looked around him. He smiled to himself. The place never seemed to change, only the people changed, as the previous tenants moved out of the area trying to better themselves, not realising that no matter how far they moved away from the place, their Dagenham roots never left them. The two men walked down the path and reaching the front door, Dean thumped his fist against it.

  Cautiously, Jason inched open the door. He’d left the chain across, as a precaution and he peered out. “Yeah?” he enquired.

  “It’s Dean Johnson. Open the fucking door.”

  Sliding back the chain, Jason sighed with relief. “Fuck me! You’ve got a knock like a copper.” He ushered the two men inside. Steering them into the lounge, Jason indicated for them to take a seat. Quickly, he swept aside the discarded newspaper and empty crisp packets from the sofa. His house was a shit hole, over filed ashtrays and stained coffee mugs littered the small table. Empty cigarette packets had been crumpled and thrown into the corner of the room. And that was without the smell omitting from the over used cat tray. Even he could smell it, and his nose had become accustomed to the stench. Cleaning had never been his misses strong point, and shame flooded through him, as he watched the men glance around them. He’d need to have a serious word with his wife when she came back from bingo. They couldn’t go on like this. He gave her more than enough money each week, and she never seemed to be without a spray tan. The least she could do, was buy a can of polish and a duster.

  Jason pushed his hands into his trousers pockets. “What can I do for you, Dean? Can I get you a drink or something?”

  Swiping crisp crumbs to the floor, Dean wrinkled his nose, as he cautiously took a seat. He shook his head, declining the offer of a beverage. From the state of the lounge and the stained mugs, he didn’t fancy taking a chance on a drink. “Let’s cut to the chase, eh? Where the fuck is Mark Hopper? Frankie here tells me you were the last one to see him.”

  Jason gulped. He had nothing to hide as far as Hopper was concerned, but still, he could feel his hands begin to shake. “I don’t know,” he swallowed deeply. “He went into the hall and never back came out.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, he never came back out? He couldn’t have just disappeared.” Dean spat out his words. He stared across at Jason, anger clearly evident across his face.

  Jason began to stutter. Dean Johnson was an intimidating individual, and that was on a good day. “He went into the Barking Assembly Hall, and he didn’t come back out. I looked everywhere for him. He must have slipped out of one of the side doors.”

  “Well, what did he go there for?”

  “The gold. He said someone was bringing the gold to him.”

  Dean looked to Jason expectantly. He lifted his arms in the air. “Well, who was bringing the fucking gold?” He was losing his patience, and felt as though he may as well have been talking to the brick wall.

  “I dunno.” Jason shrugged his shoulders, looking from Dean to Frankie.

  “Well, didn’t you ask him?”

  Jason shook his head.

  “To be fair, boss,” Frankie cut in, “Hopper isn’t exactly the type of person you question, is he?”

  Dean sighed. They had a point. It wouldn’t have been in Jason’s best interests to ask the man too many questions. Everyone knew what a loose cannon Hopper was, and to be on the receiving end of that temper of his, was not only dangerous, but terrifying. He stood up and began to make his way to the front door. Clearly, he would get no answers here.

  “Oh,” Jason chewed on the inside of his cheek. He cocked his head to one side. “He did go and have a chat with someone backstage, but I saw the man in question afterwards in the hall, and Hopper wasn’t with him.”

  “Who?” Dean came to halt. He turned to face Jason.

  “Tommy Carter. He used to be a boxer. Mark was keen to have a word with him, and so he went off looking for Tommy. That was the last time I saw him, but like I said, I saw Tommy in the hall afterwards, and Hopper wasn’t with him.”

  Tommy fucking Carter. Dean should have known his name would come up in his enquiries. He could feel the anger begin to bubble inside of him, recalling how he’d asked Mark Hopper to look for Tommy.

  Outside, Dean rested his arms on the car roof, while he thought through the situation. He wished now that he’d asked Hopper where he’d stashed the gold. He had a feeling that could well be the missing piece of the puzzle. He slapped his hand on the roof, and opened the car door, climbing inside.

  “Where to now, boss?”

  Dean sighed. “Just take me home.” He wasn’t getting any younger, and needed to recharge his batteries. More than anything, he needed to think. He knew he had a huge task ahead of him. He’d have to go right back to the beginning, and piece everything together. It was the only thing he could do, if he wanted to find Hopper, and more importantly, find the missing gold.

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nbsp; Jimmy squinted up at the bar, the sun blinding his vision. It wasn’t a huge property. It had a small bar area and dance floor, with six tables and chairs positioned outside, and despite the low price tag, it had been nicely decorated and furnished.

  “And it also comes with a nice two-bedroom flat upstairs.”

  Jimmy tore his eyes away from the building to look at the estate agent. He could feel Aiden squirming with excitement beside him.

  “Just think, Jimmy, our own little piece of heaven.” A wide grin was spread across his face. He tilted his head to the side. “That’s what we could call it: Heaven’s.”

  Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Jimmy was unsure. It was a huge commitment and him and Aiden hadn’t even been together that long, not to mention, he had a life back home in England.

  Roger Draper smiled at the two men before him. He couldn’t quite work them out. The Irish one, he’d bet every peseta in his bank account, was as bent as a nine bob note. But the tall, broad shouldered, dark haired fella, he wasn’t so sure on. He certainly didn’t come across as queer. “Would you like a few moments alone to think about it?”

  Aiden nodded his head, before looking up at Jimmy. “This could be a new start for us.” He gave a cheeky smile, knowing full well Jimmy would cave in.

  Roger took note of the way the queer fella touched the dark haired bloke’s hand. They were definitely gay all right. He’d seen it all now, and hiding his shock, he plastered a smile across his face.

  Jimmy turned to the estate agent. “Go on then, mate, we’ll take it.” Beside him, Aiden jumped up and down with joy, before slinging his arms around his neck.

  “I just need your details, and the name of your mortgage provider.” Roger gave a wide smile.

  “Mortgage provider?” Jimmy shook his head. “I’m gonna pay in cash, mate.”