threw that in there to secure his own life. The man knows too much about me. How the hell he does is a mystery, but the fact is, he does. But I have to hand it to him. He employed the oldest trick in the book. Give your interrogator something that sounds convincing and they’ll buy it. Well, it worked, didn’t it?’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘Okay, now we know that Barak is not behind this, we’d better put out a few feelers and find out as much as we can about this Torvic bloke.’
She paused as she watched Mike’s eyes focus on one of the kitchenette cabinets. Ignoring her, he squatted on his haunches and placed his cheek on the cold concrete floor.
‘What are you doing, Mikey?’
Still ignoring her, he tried to stretch his arm under one of the units that was attached to the back wall. He groaned as he reached further. Then, suddenly, he was on his feet, holding a piece of paper. ‘Zara, your hangar, as you once told Staffie, is always as clean as a surgeon’s scalpel, so what’s this?’ He unfolded the tatty piece of paper as Neil, Zara, and Shamus hurried over to see for themselves. The note was partially printed and in the corner was part of an address. At first, they all looked dumbstruck: no one recognized it for a moment.
‘It may have just blown in with the wind. The back room’s been open to the elements,’ said Shamus.
But then, Zara looked at Mike’s face. He was staring as if what he was seeing meant something.
‘Mike?’
He snapped out of his gaze and slowly turned to face her. ‘I’ve seen this before, but … no, there must be some mistake. I, er …’
‘Mike, spit it out! What’s going on?’ demanded Zara.
He scratched his head. ‘This is mental. When Jackie was at mine, I tipped her bag out. She told me that on one of her court summonses there was an address of the Flakka supplier. It was Number Three, Sycamore Cottage. To me, this looks like the start of that address. And look at the corner of this paper. It has a reference number and serial numbers. That’s an official letter, like a court summons.’
Zara stepped back and screwed her face up. ‘Aw, come on, Mike. This has to be a coincidence. I mean, Jackie, your fucking ex-wife, in cahoots with Torvic? Give me a break. The bird’s a tent short of a circus, as thick as pig shit, and twice as stupid. No way!’
As Mike stared at the paper, he tried to remember if it was the same one he’d read at his home at the time of finalizing the divorce with his wife.
‘Zara, this is no coincidence. Who writes down addresses in pen these days? In fact, who uses a pen? Nah, this was in her bag, I’m telling ya.’
Stunned by the find, Zara paced the floor. She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, removed the cellophane with her teeth, and, after lighting up, she puffed away like a steam train.
‘I’m going to fucking kill her,’ Mike said. ‘Doesn’t the stupid bitch realize what she’s done? My Ricky could be in fucking danger because of her. Right, I’m going to Essex, and I’m gonna burn her fucking caravan down, with the ugly prat in it!’
‘No! Don’t be so reckless. That piece of paper may not confirm she was the one who released Torvic and Tiffany. For all we know, he may have been in her company, and, in some way, that piece of paper ended up with him.’
Mike stood with his hands on his hips and gave her a defiant glare. ‘Give over, Zara. It’s more likely that he’s given her a stash of money, and we all know she’ll do anything for cash. I ain’t gonna stand here and leave her be. I’ve had enough. She’s been the fucking thorn in my side for years now. It ends today.’
‘Mikey Regan, you might just find yourself back in the same position you were thirteen fucking years ago, with you inside and no help to anyone …’ She paused, allowing the words to filter. ‘Listen. Torvic was one step ahead of the game, but we have something now. We have Jackie. We ain’t going in like escaped maniacs, we’re gonna plan this out and find a way to get to Torvic. Jackie can wait. There’ll be plenty of time later to deal with her.’
Mike rolled his eyes and bit his lip. Zara was right, of course, so he had to control his urge to let rip.
* * *
As the Spanish sun dipped beneath the horizon and the cold crept in, Arty went inside. He decided to make a fire. It would give them all something to focus on and they could enjoy time snuggling up on the sumptuous sofas with the big screen on. It was essential, he reasoned, for them to keep their minds firmly on doing things. Otherwise, too much time spent on reflection would bring all their worries to the fore. Poppy and Brooke were fun to be around, the three lads were tight, and all five of them seemed to gel effortlessly.
The screeches and laughing simmered down as they slowly wandered inside. Poppy and Brooke were both huddled in the entrance hall, shivering inside their towels. Their eyes lit up when they spotted see-through bags of what looked like tracksuits, T-shirts, and jumpers. Arty was prodding the logs, stopping them from sliding off the grate.
‘All right, girls. We should be warm pretty soon unless you want the heating on as well.’
Poppy looked tired. The pool was great for the recovery of her leg injury, but she still hadn’t really had enough time to recuperate from her ordeal.
Brooke, however, was still lively and wandered over to the bags. ‘Arty, are these for us?’
Arty was still kneeling on the floor, attending to the fire, but he looked over to see what Brooke was referring to. ‘Oh, yeah. Terrence stopped by. He dropped off some clobber. He doesn’t want us to leave the villa unless it’s an emergency.’
Brooke was trying to see what exactly was in the bags; it wasn’t every day she was given new clothes.
‘Can I have a look? I need to get something warm and clean on.’
Poppy sat shivering close to the fire. ‘Y-e-ss, me-e to-o.’
With the go-ahead, Brooke began opening the bags. To her delight, they were crammed with designer clothing, with authentic labels, no less. Two fleece-lined Nike tracksuits in pastel shades caught her eye and instantly she looked at the size. They were spot-on. ‘Here, Poppy, this will warm you up. They’re lovely, so soft, and, Poppy, they’re Nike. Wow, I love them. Do you think we could keep them?’ she asked excitedly.
Arty stood up and helped Brooke to carry the bags into the lounge. ‘Of course, babe. I don’t think they’ll look much cop on Terrence.’
Brooke giggled and blushed, and then turned to her sister, who, by now, had blue lips and was covered in goose bumps. ‘Hey, are you okay?’
Poppy nodded. ‘I’ve just got too cold, I think. Maybe I overdid it a bit.’
Brooke quickly got her sister to her feet. ‘Come into the other room, get out of those wet bits, and I’ll help you get dressed. You will warm up soon enough.’
While the girls left to get changed in the games room, Liam and Ricky came into the lounge, still laughing. Both looked like drowned rats. ‘Where are the girls?’ asked Ricky, clearly concerned for them.
‘Getting changed, I believe. Oh, yeah, there are tracksuits for you two. Terrence dropped them off. We ain’t to leave the villa, apparently. He brought us some big steaks an’ all, so we can
