The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

great force. Boris the bull savagely illustrated his nickname by pounding the man’s head against a lamppost cracking it loudly. Charlie kicked a thug in the testicles hard enough to drop him to his knees, raised a brick he’d carried across the road and brought it down onto the man’s head making a cracking sound that could be heard up the street. Jack swung the edge of a cricket bat into a face. Other members of the kitchen meeting joined the melee with vigour and within seconds all five thugs were laid out. It was carnage.

Gunnymede got to his feet feeling his bruised face and cut lip having fared well considering. People stepped from front doors or looked through windows, wondering what had happened. Jack picked up the pistol in a handkerchief.

‘Krilov’s people,’ Gunnymede said.

‘They come for me?’ Jack asked. ‘Or you?’

A thug rolled onto his back, unable to get to his feet, moaning in pain. Gunnymede crouched over him. ‘What are you doing here?’

The thug shook his head.

‘I asked you what you’re doing here.’

‘Come for you,’ the thug said in a Slavic accent.

‘You came to kill me?’

‘No kill. Take you.’

‘Take me where?’

The thug looked away.

‘Boris is very good at getting answers out of people,’ Charlie offered.

Indeed, Boris looked enthusiastic at the mere suggestion. The thug recovered enough to sit up and wipe blood from his nose. The only other conscious colleague said something in Russian which the one sitting up found amusing.

‘What’s so funny?’ Charlie asked him.

‘He said we should’ve got girl. Much easier job than this one.’

They chuckled in pain. Hard bastards.

‘What girl?’ Gunnymede asked. ‘What girl?’

The thug continued to chuckle. Gunnymede dug out his phone and brought up Bethan’s number.

The phone rang. And rang.

Gunnymede grabbed the thug by his hair. ‘What girl?’

‘Police girl,’ he said.

‘Where is she?’

The thug’s response was to stare coldly at him.

‘Who’s he talking about?’ Jack asked.

‘A police officer I was working with. She helped me find Krilov. He’s kidnapped her.’

‘He’ll tell Boris,’ Charlie said.

Gunnymede took the thug around the throat. ‘Tell me where she is.’

The thug simply stared at him as if enjoying the attention.

‘Shots were fired,’ Jack said. ‘The police’ll be here any minute. Get him in the house. Sid, Billy. Keep the police happy. Show them the gun,’ he said, handing it to them. ‘Keep them away from the house.’

Charlie and Boris hauled up the thug and helped him across the road. Gunnymede and Jack followed. They guided him into Jack’s house, along the corridor and into the kitchen.

‘Clear the table,’ Boris said.

Charlie moved the mugs and plates away. Boris took the thug by his hair and pulled him onto the table, laying him flat on his back.

Gunnymede leaned over the thug. ‘Where is she?’

‘We need to prep ’im,’ Boris interrupted. ‘’Old ’im down.’

They held the thug down by his arms while Boris searched through Jack’s kitchen drawers. Boris returned holding a meat hammer and a fork.

The thug nervously eyed Boris and his tools but remained defiant. ‘I tell you nothing,’ he said.

‘I ain’t asked you nothin’ yet ’ave I?’ Boris replied testily.

Boris took a firm hold of the thug’s head, positioned the hammer above his mouth and hit his front teeth. The thug wriggled hard.

‘Hold ’im,’ Boris ordered.

They pinned the thug down and Boris set to with the hammer, tapping away until he’d broken several of teeth. The thug struggled in excruciating pain, blood and mucus spurting from his mouth as the others kept a firm hold of him.

Gunnymede leaned over to say something to the thug but Boris interrupted him again. ‘’E’s not ready.’

Boris took the fork, bent one of prongs to isolate it, grabbed the thug’s jaw to hold it steady and placed the tip of the prong into a broken teeth shoving it brutally inside and deep into the nerve. The thug screamed so loudly he could be heard beyond the walls of the house.

Boris removed the bloody fork and looked into the thug’s eyes. The thug was shaking with pain. ‘You don’t answer the questions, you get this all day.’

Boris stepped back. ‘’E’s ready for the first question.’

Gunnymede was impressed with the simplistic brutality of it all and leaned over the shaking thug. ‘Where is she?’

The thug hesitated.

Boris leaned in with the fork. ‘It can sometimes take several nerves to get them going?’

The thug shook his head and did his best to talk with his smashed teeth. ‘Nietsiperigon zavod.’

‘What’d he say?’ Charlie asked.

‘Dunno,’ Boris said. ‘Where is she?’ Boris shouted.

‘Re ... refin ... nery,’ the thug said.

‘Say it again,’ Charlie asked him.

‘Re ... finery.’

‘Refinery,’ Charlie said.

‘Refinery?’ Boris echoed.

The thug nodded.

‘Mean anything?’ Jack asked.

Gunnymede needed more. ‘What refinery?’ he asked.

‘Masla,’ the thug said. ‘Oil,’ he translated, keen for them to understand.

‘Oil refinery,’ Charlie said.

Gunnymede took out his phone and brought up the shots of the map and chart from Krilov’s man cave. The oil refinery was circled on both. ‘Where is the refinery?’ he asked. ‘Where?’

‘Sooth ... oom ... toon,’ he said.

‘Southampton?’ Gunnymede clarified.

The thug nodded enthusiastically. ‘Da. Da.’

‘Why? Why is she at the refinery?’

The thug shook his head.

‘Tell me why she’s at the refinery.’

‘Not know.’

Boris pushed through, shoving the fork deep inside a freshly broken tooth and wiggling it around for good measure while the thug wriggled and screamed frantically.

‘’E asked you why?’ Boris shouted after removing the prong.

‘Not know,’ the thug shouted back. ‘Not know! Not know!’

‘I don’t think he knows,’ Charlie said.

‘Is Krilov at the refinery?’ Gunnymede asked.

‘Krilov. Da! Da!’

‘Da’s yes in Russian,’ Boris offered.

‘Armia,’ the thug said.

‘What did he say?’ Charlie asked.

‘Say that again,’ Boris