Page 93 of Savage Protector
“I don’t know, the Man never said. Just that she should have known when she was well off and not gone running off. He said she betrayed him, took his kids.”
“Abid?” I whisper. “He means Abid Malik. But how? He’s been banged up in Barlinnie for the last ten years.”
Tony shrugs. “With access to cash, and a phone, he could be pulling strings from inside. Makes sense.”
“How did he trace them? And does he know where his children are?” If he does, Bilal and Sarah could be in danger, too.
Freddie can’t be helpful enough by now. He nods eagerly. “He does, he does. He ordered me to keep an eye on the boy ready to grab him when we needed him”
“Another snuff movie?” I feel sick. If we’d left it just a few days later…
Freddie nods again. “Yeah, I reckon. Or maybe just one of the other sort. He’s a good-looking lad…”
“Fuck!”
“Is that who you work for? Does the Man run all of this? The movies? The porn, the snuff reels?”
Freddie is still nodding like one of those dogs in the back of a Ford Cortina. “He phones me every few days, gives me instructions. He paid for the equipment, got someone to set up the online stuff. I just do what he says. It’s not my fault, I never wanted to?—”
Tony swings his gaze to each of us in turn. “Anyone got any more questions?”
We all shrug.
I answer for all of us. “No, I don’t think so. You just about covered it all.”
Beck and Rome are of the same mind.
“Right. Can you finish off here, Zee?”
I know better than to make a lot of unnecessary mess, so my tried and trusted garrotte comes into service again. Neat, tidy, silent.
Beck and Tony help by hauling Freddie up to a sitting position. The stupid shit actually thinks we’re helping him to his feet.
“Thanks, lads. If you could just drop me off?—”
I drop the cord over his head and pull it tight. The idiot finally gets it. His remaining fingers claw at the line strangling him, but he has no chance. I’m good at this, it won’t take long.
I twist the ends in my hands to tighten the noose. It makes deep furrows in his pudgy neck, finally getting through the flab to his windpipe. I tighten, then tighter still.
His eyes roll, his mouth sags open, the remaining teeth stained with blood, his tongue lolling over his chin. His hands drop away, he goes limp.
I maintain my grip for a minute or two, just to be sure.
Tony appraises my work. “Nice job, lad. Right.” He produces one of those polythene zip-up food bags from the toolbox. “Put the teeth and finger in there and shove it in his pocket. We don’t want to leave anything behind for some fucking hiker to find in the morning. Then wrap him up again and we’ll get him back in the car.”
It takes the four of us a good forty minutes to drag the lifeless Freddie back across the moorland and get him safely tucked up in the boot again. That sorted, we all pile in.
“We can drop him off on the way back to the hotel,” Tony informs us. “Then we can all get some sleep before heading back up north.”
“Where are we dumping him?” Rome asks.
“Reservoir, about ten miles east. Make sure he’s weighed down, and he’ll not be surfacing anytime soon.”
“Fair enough.” Rome starts the engine.
Now that the main business is completed, I’m keen to head back. I really do need to talk to Leila. “Boss, I was wondering if I could split soon. I need to get back. I thought I might hire a car…”
Tony turns in his seat to regard me. “You in a hurry, Zee?”
