The Survival Game (16 page)

An uncontrollable sigh of relief burst from his chest. At the same time, he had to put his hands on his knees to let out a long, tired breath. He was proper knackered, feeling physically sick.

I gotta stop smoking,
gamota.

Get out of this
skata
first,
re
, then think about crap like that…

It was true. Once he got his breath back, he darted round to the driver’s side of the car and got in. He slammed the door shut, and went to put the key in the ignition when a thought slapped him hard in the face.

The front door,
re
. You left it open!

He hit the steering wheel in frustration. This was torture beyond torture,
gamota
! He got back out the car and looked around again, feeling proper sus. Cars just continued to drone by, but regardless, it still felt like they were watching his every move. He ran to the front door, his Reeboks bouncing off the pavement. By then, he was more than sure someone must have seen this strange episode, and had begun asking questions. Neighbourhood Watch and all that
skata
. There was no way he wanted to hang around any longer to find out, so he slammed the front door shut, raced back to his car, and got in.

Finally, he was all set. Everything was cool. He quickly stuck a
cigarro
in between his lips and sparked it up, relief suddenly washing over him like cool crystal water. When the coast was clear, he jumped into the traffic and drove away. Well away from the North Circ, the old man with him in the back.

Snug as a bug in a rug.

Radek Maza pulled up behind Adrian Kolovski’s car and killed the Techno hammering out of the stereo. ‘They must be in the house,’ he said to Marek Kolovski, who was in the passenger seat next to him, staring anxiously from the car to the house.

Marek shook his head. ‘No, something’s wrong,’ he replied. ‘Adrian usually phones after Papa’s appointments. Every time. Now he’s not answering his phone…’

Radek shrugged. ‘Maybe he has it on silent.’

Marek gave him a confused stare. ‘Why would he?’ he responded. He looked around him, nervous, edgy. He didn’t like being out, exposed on the streets. He sighed. ‘We better go and check…’

Radek got out of the Land Rover, Marek following cautiously, keeping his head down. He didn’t want any
gliniarze
spotting him, asking him questions. He tried to see inside the house through the front windows, but couldn’t see anything beyond the net curtain. He followed Radek to the house, taking a look into Adrian’s car as he walked past it. There was nothing suspicious about it. Everything was normal.

Radek’s correct, they must be inside,
he thought to himself reassuringly.
But maybe they have bad news…
a more cynical voice countered.

He took out his keys—one of which was to
Papa
’s house—opened up the front door, and they both stepped inside. ‘
Papa? Adrian?
’ Marek shouted.

No one answered.
Where are they? Did they go somewhere? But why’s Adrian’s car outside?
He didn’t like it. It was too unusual.

‘Come on,’ he said to Radek as he went straight into the front room to see exactly what was going on here. The instant he stepped inside, he was stopped dead in his tracks like he’d walked head on into a strong blizzard. He stared in confusion at the furniture thrown around the room. Then at the bloodstains. Then at his cousin’s dead eyes staring at him from the sofa.

Suddenly, he came back to life. ‘
Adrian?
’ he shouted before he jumped towards the sofa. He dropped to his knees and reached down for his cousin. He put his arms carefully around his shoulders and tried to lift him. But it was a lot more difficult than it should have been. His body was dead and heavy. Dead lead. He shook his head in disbelief, unable to absorb what he was seeing. He looked back at Radek, who was standing in the doorway, stunned, his jaw slack. Marek bit into his fist hard, just as a sudden wave of rage exploded from his chest outwards. The inner dragon bolted from its cave and breathed that eternal fire into him, staining the world around him red. Blood red.

‘Who did this!’ he began shouting at his cousin’s face, grabbing hold of his bloodstained shirt. ‘Who fucking did this to you? Tell me! Tell me! Who did this!’ He shook Adrian’s body violently as he spoke, making his head flop back and forth like he was a rag doll; it smacked softly against the sofa. Adrian’s glazed eyes just stared coldly back at him, not giving him an answer at all.

‘Tell Me!’ Marek shouted one last time before Radek stepped in and pulled him away, forcing Marek to drop his cousin’s body back down on the sofa. He shook Radek off and raised his arms to the ceiling. He let out an almighty roar, his body boiling hot, his mind overwhelmed by rage. The dragon whirled and clawed away inside him, exploding fire out of every limb. He’d never felt as angry as he did at that moment, so full of rage, so overcome by it, so
consumed
.

In the next instant, everything went black. He grabbed the coffee table and slung it at the bloodstained wall. There was a loud crack as it split in two under the impact. He raced over to the TV and sent a boot into it as hard as he could, obliterating the screen. He stepped back, grabbed a nearby lamp, and began smashing it into the floor, grunting loudly every time he pummelled it into the carpet. It disintegrated under the pressure. By the time there was nothing left but a small piece of plastic in his hand, he was completely out of breath, and as a result, the dragon was finally forced to retire back to its cave.

Now that Marek was seemingly calmer, Radek stepped towards him. Marek’s stomach then rumbled and he doubled over. He threw up uncontrollably all over the carpet, making Radek step back again. Marek dropped to his knees. He threw up again, and again, dry retching once his stomach was empty.

Radek finally stepped towards him again. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, rubbing him on the back.

Marek remained where he was—on the carpet on all fours, trying his best to catch his breath—while he stared at Adrian lying on the sofa. It was all too much, too quickly. Too much. He focussed on deep breathing to try and control himself, and it began to help him. After a few moments, something resembling calm took over.

‘Are you okay?’ Radek repeated as he helped him to his feet.

Marek nodded and wiped his mouth. When he was steady, he looked around him, and began thinking hard.
Who would do this? Who could do this? Who was his enemy?
Then another thought hit him. One that should have hit him a long time before that moment.

He stared hotly at Radek. ‘
Papa!
’ He immediately marched back out to the corridor and went to the stairs. He put a hand on the banister and looked upwards. ‘Papa?’ he shouted. There was no answer. He didn’t hesitate any longer and went up to look for himself, Radek following. A morbid part of his mind suddenly believed he’d find
Papa
in bed, strangled to death, his dead eyes staring up at him just like Adrian’s. He prayed to God that was what he would
not
find. Anything but that.
Please anything but that…

Once upstairs, he pointed to the bathroom as he headed for Adrian’s room.

Radek went. ‘Empty,’ he said over his shoulder, poking his head into the bathroom.

Marek scanned Adrian’s room. Empty.

They glanced at each other before slowly approaching
Papa
’s room together.

Marek took a long, deep breath. ‘
Papa
?’ he asked, knocking on the door before pushing it open. He put his head inside and stared eagerly, his eyes hot and wide-awake. The first thing he saw was an empty bed. A strange kind of relief washed over him. One where the worst possibility wasn’t a reality, but an equally bad one still existed. If
Papa
wasn’t here, then where was he?
Where was he?

He looked back at Radek and shook his head.

‘Where is he?’ Radek asked.

Marek stared down at the floor and tried to think. ‘Who could have done this?’ he asked himself out loud.

‘Bartosz?’ Radek suggested.

The name made Marek’s head flinch upwards and he met Radek’s concerned stare. ‘I should call Valeria to make sure she’s okay,’ he said.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and went to make the call. But just as he did, it began ringing in his hand. He checked the caller. The screen read
Adrian
. Reading that name caused another wave of rage to wash over him. His cousin was dead downstairs, so whoever this was using his phone had to be the
kurva
who killed him.

He pressed the ‘call’ button. ‘Who is this?’ he answered angrily, his eyes bulging.

‘
The man who’s got your dad,
’ came the reply as cold as ice.

Marek didn’t recognise the voice, but placed the accent as English.

‘
I take it you’ve seen your cousin,
’ the voice continued. ‘
Now, if you don’t want the same thing to happen to your dad, you do as I say. Okay?
’

‘Who are you? Why you doing this?’

‘
Because I don’t like cricket, Marek. You never gave me a chance to answer…
’

An image immediately jumped into Marek’s mind like a bad dream. One that he could see very clearly. The Arab
kurva
. The one they robbed in the alleyway. ‘
You?
’ Marek blurted in confusion. ‘It can’t be…’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘
Believe it, Marek. It’s me. So you better listen and understand something—that shit you took from me is mine, not yours. Now, we’ve both got something the other wants. So, the deal is self-explanatory. You bring me what you stole; I give you your father back. Simple.
’

Marek stared at
Papa
’s empty bed while he contemplated what he just heard. He badly needed what he stole from the Arab. And there was no time to get more. Not enough time.

But, Papa…

‘My father is sick…’ Marek then said without even realising he was speaking.

‘
I know. And he’ll be back at home today. You know what to do to make that happen… Listen to me. There’s an abandoned warehouse in north London where we’re gonna meet for the exchange. Keep your phone on ’cos I’m gonna direct you. Now, these are the rules—One. You come alone. Two. You bring what you stole. Three. You hand my stuff over first, and then I hand over your dad. Understand?
’

Marek stared coldly at
Papa
’s empty bed. ‘Yes. I understand.’

‘
Good. Go and get the stuff. I’ll call you back in half an hour.
’

The line then went dead.

Marek clicked ‘end call,’ and calmly replaced the phone in his pocket. He glanced at Radek, who shrugged in return, before he headed back downstairs in a daze, like he was hypnotised. The conversation he just had stunned him. Someone was controlling him, telling him what to do, and he wasn’t used to it. He stepped into the front room. Adrian was still there. Dead. Marek rubbed his forehead. The rage began building inside him again, the dragon stirring.

Who did this
kurva
think he was making demands like this?

Killing my cousin!

Kidnapping my father!

He was a dog. A nothing. A piece of
govno
on the bottom of his boot.
He couldn’t do this!
The Arab
kurva
had no idea who he was dealing with, no idea what he’d soon be facing. Marek had built up an army—the Gladiators. And a big chunk of that army was here, in England. And this dog was nothing compared to that. He was just a worm. A worm that Marek took from, and discarded like a used tissue. And that was how things would remain.

No compromise.

No deals.

No surrender.

And as for
Papa
. He’d return safely. Once the Arab
kurva
saw the extent of Marek’s power—of his army—he would wet himself like a little girl, and then hand him over.

Marek faced Radek, took in a deep breath, and puffed his chest out. ‘We’ll put this fucking dog to sleep. And then we’ll bring Papa back home so he can carry on watching Polsat.’

Radek nodded stoutly, and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Sounds good, brother.’

Marek stared down at his cousin’s dead body. ‘I’m sorry, Adrian,’ he said to him in a soft voice. ‘I’ll fuck
him
harder! You know I will.’

Adrian just stared endlessly at him with glass-like eyes. Marek rubbed his clammy face, and then looked up to the ceiling, a feeling of regret straining him. He’d underestimated how ruthless the Arab
kurva
was, but in turn the Arab had underestimated Marek’s power. And he would see it. And he would feel it.

He took out his mobile phone, and began making calls.

*****

John pushed ‘end call’ and replaced Moleface’s phone in his pocket. He sparked up another
cigarro
just as he pulled out onto the High Road. Everything was set. He’d just directed Marek to the car park outside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of north London. It was the perfect place for the confrontation; the warehouse sat in its own cul-de-sac at the end of a long lane, which branched off the main road. The surroundings were nothing but a thicket of trees and bushes making it nice and secluded. The ideal place for dodgy people to get up to dodgy shit. Which was exactly what was about to go down. From John’s perspective, it all looked sweet as, but he was a little apprehensive all the same. His reverse mugging plan
might
or might not work. Only time would tell…

He pulled into the warehouse lane and crawled along it. He scanned the end of the road with edgy eyes to clock a lonely Land Rover sitting in the warehouse car park. John nodded. It
had
to be Marek. He looked around, getting that million-eyes-zoning-in-on-him feeling again. But all he could see surrounding him was foliage, most of it turning red with the onset of autumn. However, enough leaves remained on the trees to conceal their dealings. No one would be disturbing them. He had his gun in his belt ready and waiting for action if need be. No doubt Marek would be tooled up as well and so it may come down to a pistols at dawn scenario. A straight up gunfight. John was ready for that though. If that’s what it took, that’s what it took.