It wasn’t the invitation she had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. ‘Bye Luke.’ Ending the call, she felt pleased she had called, but disappointed with the outcome. He hadn’t seemed bothered if he saw her again or not, but at least she had passed on to him that Alex was okay.

23 MISSING PERSONS

Paul Pereira banged his fist on the table, making his plastic coffee cup wobble and slightly spilling the contents. ‘You’re telling me that they are still bringing the court case to trial? I thought you had come to tell me I will be out of here. I know there is a fucking court case looming! Why are you wasting my time – and my money?’ His eyes widened, and his face flushed red as he glared at his lawyer. Spit dribbled from his mouth as he shouted. He was angry, bloody angry. When he had been told his lawyer was coming to visit, he had expected good news, not this!

‘Mr Pereira, please calm down. I only came to tell you that they are setting a date for the trial and if there is anything you wish to go over, now is the time.’

‘Go over with you! We’ve talked for a lifetime, now I want some action. Get me out of here. That is what you’re being paid for!’ Paul’s anger was such that he couldn’t stop shouting. He hadn’t heard a word about Alex Silva’s demise. He had heard nothing about Alex at all, and now this! If this court case went ahead, he would be serving a full life sentence. It had also crossed his mind that he could be deported. Knowing he had more enemies in Portugal than he did in England disturbed him.

Standing up, the lawyer started gathering his files together. ‘Mr Pereira, I will be in touch when there is a definite date. I suggest you practice calming down. If you start shouting like this in court, the jury won’t look upon you favourably. You will do yourself no favours, believe me.’

Throwing his hands in the air and standing up, Paul paced around the table till he was looking his lawyer directly in the eyes. ‘Favours? Are you living in a bubble? They are not going to look upon me favourably anyway, given who I am. Go and fuck off out of here and don’t come back until you have a freedom date for me…’ He turned away from his lawyer and then, as an afterthought, Paul stopped him. ‘Wait. Does Alex Silva know the case is soon? Has he been informed?’

‘I can only presume that Mr Pereira, although, there have been no new statements from him over the last week and no other evidence has come to light.’

Paul looked his lawyer up and down. ‘You have heard nothing about Alex for a week? I thought you had regular meetings with the police and lawyers about his accusations?’ A wry grin crossed Paul’s face; maybe without saying anything, his lawyer had given him the news he’d been waiting for. Not a word had been heard from Alex. Now that was good news indeed.

Picking up his briefcase, his lawyer shrugged. ‘Well, he hasn’t come up in any conversation I have had Mr Pereira. But he isn’t the only one making accusations against you. I’ll be in touch.’ Walking towards the door, his lawyer knocked on it and looked through the small square glass.

Escorted back to his cell, Paul couldn’t help feeling optimistic. His lawyer had heard nothing about Alex in recent days? He would call Leon later and find out what he knew. But if Alex was dead, he would have been informed by now surely?

Twitching in his cell, Paul wanted no company today. The sound of the dinner bell seemed to take forever, and that was what he was waiting for. Everyone, including the guards, would be busy during this time and then he could make his call in private. Smiling to himself, he fantasised about being free. This time next week or so, he could be drinking whisky in his own home. Oddly enough, as much as he loved his wife, being at home with her had used to annoy him. She was a good woman, mother and cook, but home matters bored him.

Now, the idea warmed him. To be sat in the comfort of his own home, being waited on hand and foot by her seemed like paradise. These grim walls were getting him down, no matter how he dressed his cell up.

Standing on the balcony, he looked around, watching everyone march in the opposite direction towards the dining room. Shutting his cell door, he removed the brick in the wall and pressed the speed dial that connected him to the outside world. Leon answered instantly. ‘Boss, how you doing?’

‘Stupid question Leon, I’m not doing much. Not much at all. Well, do you have news for me?’

‘Not heard anything yet boss. But no news is good news, eh?’

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ Paul whispered, trying to control his temper.

‘Boss, no one has seen or heard about Alex. Jacob never told anyone when he was going to do the job, but it’s been a week. I sent one of the lads to have a drink in the pub and to ask about Alex, but they were given some cock and bull story that he’s got Covid. Personally, I think the police are keeping this close to their chest. If Silva is dead they will have to use other evidence they have, we know that. A lot of rats have turned on us Paul. No bloody loyalty, considering what they have had out of you. Some of them are even killing each other; this place is like a war zone. Believe me, you’re better off where you are – well out of it. I don’t know anything else boss, sorry.’

Frowning, Paul was puzzled. ‘What do you mean they are killing each other? No one has said anything to me about this.’

‘Boss. The police are up to speed with the trafficking. People take that very seriously these days. Everyone is pointing the finger about those containers you had to transport people while they were taken out of the country to the brothels that you and Matteo owned.’

‘I never got my hands dirty with that stuff Leon, that was all Matteo’s doing.’

‘No boss, but the word on the street is that you and the other families arranged it. Like I say, everyone is jumping ship, and your name is the forefront of everyone’s tongues.’

Paul’s heart sank. It seemed it was much worse than he had imagined. Surely not everyone had turned on him, had they? This was only the tip of the iceberg of what they were going to throw at him in court, which meant Alex was not the only one who was giving evidence against him. Suddenly fear gripped him. The cold light of day was looming, and God only knew what they were going to throw at him, whether Alex was dead or not. He obviously hadn’t been quite kept up to speed as much as he thought he had. ‘Let me know if you hear anything Leon, I will check in on you in a couple of days’ time.’

Leon ended the call and looked up nervously. Swallowing hard, he took in the man before him, who sat smoking his cigar listening to the call. ‘How was that John?’

John was an extremely suave and sophisticated, well-dressed, middle-aged man. His dark blue silk-like suit shone in the lamplight of Leon’s home. Each finger had a sovereign ring and his black hair was slicked back behind his ears, showing off his diamond stud earing in his left ear.

‘Very convincing Leon. If we’re lucky, he will shit himself and hang himself in his cell, if not… well, I will see to that. You did well and you tell a good tale. Let’s hope you don’t end up with a speech impediment from that sore throat of yours.’

‘I don’t have a sore throat. I told him what you told me to say, that’s all. What about Alex Silva? No one has seen or heard of him in days.’

‘Trust me Leon, you say a word about this, and you will have a sore throat and you will never speak again.’ With his finger, John drew a line across his neck, indicating that he would cut Leon’s throat. ‘And you leave Alex to me.’ John stubbed out his Cuban cigar and stood up, slapping Leon gently on the face as he did so. ‘You’re a good boy Leon, keep it that way. Fish will be in touch with you. You tell her if you hear anything from Paul.’

‘Fish? She’s working for you now?’ Stopping short, he looked down at the ground, cursing himself for asking the question.

‘She sure is. And Fish takes no prisoners Leon. Her only loyalty is to her bank manager and the Botox shop that gives her that name in the first place.’ Straightening his tie and jacket, John walked out.

Leon took a sigh of relief and sat down. Pouring himself a large brandy, he gulped it back quickly. John didn’t have a heart; in fact, he was a cold-blooded killer and drug dealer. And now he had Fish on his side. Her beauty hid the mask of the devil. She was a real psycho, and she and John had worked for the cartel for years and there were no lengths they wouldn’t go to to get what they wanted. It seemed in everyone’s absence John had taken the initiative and was building his own empire. As far as he was concerned it was out with the old and in with the new.

Hearing footsteps, Paul quickly squatted down and hid the mobile phone. Standing up, he rubbed off any plaster and brick work from his sleeves.

‘Pereira, the governor wants to see you.’ The prison guard stood at the door with his colleague, and waited for Paul to walk out of the cell.

Knocking on the prison governor’s door, the guard walked straight in. ‘Prisoner Pereira, sir.’

‘I’ll get to the point, Pereira.’ The governor sat behind his desk. ‘It has come to the police’s attention that a bank account which can be traced back to you was putting money into guard Barrow’s account. Do you want to tell me why?’

Numbly, Paul stared at him. He wasn’t prepared for this. ‘I’m as shocked as you sir. As you know, all of my accounts have been frozen, so how could I do that when I am locked away? All I can think is that someone is using an account in my name.’ He shrugged.

‘Are you taking me for a fool? Are you telling me the whole of your mafioso knew Barrow? Was he famous in your circles then? No, but he was known here by you. You’re to be transferred; that is, after the police have spoken to you, and put you in solitary confinement. Which is something they should have done a long time ago as far as I am concerned. His wife has found over a million pounds, which was paid to him days before he fell to his death.’

Shocked, Paul continued to stare at him, wide eyed.

‘Now Pereira your stuff is being packed into boxes as we speak. No goodbyes to your friends and the police are waiting downstairs.’ The governor waved his hand in the air. ‘Get him out of here, I’ve had enough of his slimy, greaseball lies.’

Paul flashed a look of hatred at him. ‘You will regret this, Governor. No one insults me.’

‘Really? Well, I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. You’re an old man living off a legacy. A parasite living off vulnerable stupid people. Personally, I think hanging is too good for you. Now, get him out of here.’

The colour drained from Paul’s face as the hurl of insults flew towards him. He had never been spoken to like that in here before. In fact, he’d never been spoken to like that ever! ‘I hope you die a slow and painful death. People who go looking for trouble, usually find it,’ he muttered to the governor. Turning, he followed the guard back to his cell, his mind in turmoil. He couldn’t get to his mobile phone. He didn’t know where he was going, and he hadn’t had time to tell anyone he was being transferred. Anger and rage built up inside of him. He felt helpless and he hated that feeling. As he walked down the stairs they walked in silence.

Once near the yard, Paul saw the mini bus revved up and waiting to take him to God knew where. The guard’s hut was in the corner, and once they checked the paperwork, two more guards walked out of the hut, each of them with baseball bats in their hands.

Paul stood rooted to the spot and looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as two more warders approached and took off their caps. ‘You know, big man Pereira, we didn’t like Barrow, but he was one of us. It’s a real shame you tripped down the stairs while leaving this shit hole.’ Raising the bat, he hit Paul in the guts, making him double in half and fall to his knees, while screaming out in pain. He knew there was no point in trying to fight back; all he could do was try and protect himself. Raising his arms around his head, as each of them rained blow after blow, his screams echoed around the yard.

One of them finally raised his hand to his colleagues. As each of them stared down at the bloody mess of a man curled up into a ball, whining like a child, they laughed. ‘Go on, get him out of here. The governor said he’s going into solitary anyway, so nobody is going to see his baby face.’ Abandoning the baseball bats, they dragged his half-conscious body off the floor. One of his arms hung awkwardly, obviously broken. Two of them put his arms around their shoulders and approached the back of the waiting mini bus and pushed him inside, slamming the doors while still hearing his moans as the driver drove off.

‘Not so fucking hard now, is he?’ they laughed to each other, mopping their brows and replacing their caps after wiping the blood off their hands. ‘Come on lads, it’s the end of our shift. Let’s go home after a job well done. Anyone fancy a pint?’ Each of them nodded and walked out of the yard to civvy street.

24 NO MAN’S LAND

‘What the hell is that noise? It sounds like World War Two,’ Alex asked, turning towards Maggie lying beside him as she ran her hands through her hair. ‘Oh God, it’s Monday; the builders are here.’