Chapter 4
FRANKIE
“Seriously, Zach, what the fuck are we doing here?” The cold wind sets an icy chill over my body as I look around the rooftop. We’re on top of the highest building in Birmingham, I can’t see anything more than a few feet in front of me thanks to the thick smog that smothers the air.
I have a bad feeling about this.
“All in good time, my young apprentice.” Zach gives me a smirk that twists my stomach into knots.
That sense of unease in the pit of my stomach worsens. I follow him across the rooftop, all the way to the other end.
Shit.
This cunt is going to throw me off the roof.
Sweat pools across my forehead even though it’s freezing up here. My body aches from being waterboarded not even an hour ago. I want to go home. I need to sleep before the meeting later.
As I get closer to the farthest of the low walls that block the edge, a large figure emerges from smog.
“Good to see you again, my friend. My condolences for your recent losses. You look like shit.” It was Malachi.
The bald headed prick from Russia. He looks Zach up and down warily, his beady brown eyes narrow into sharp slits.
“What’s with the rooftop theatrics? Could we not do business elsewhere?
And who is this? Are there new players we were not notified about? ”
I’m about as clueless as him. I know why Zach wants a word with him, but I don’t know why he chose to meet here.
Malachi’s gaze turns to me and I can’t help but gulp. This bloke is twice my fucking size. He’s a mountain! “No words from the mighty house of Garrick? You are as pathetic as they come.” Malachi laughs and my face reddens with embarrassment.
“Come on Frankie, show me your skills.” Zach taunts as he leans against a large air vent and lights a cigarette.
Right. This is a test. Of course it fucking is.
I roll my shoulders back, the way I’d seen my dad do many times whilst doing business, and turn back to Malachi. “Watch your fucking mouth you bald cunt. You’re here cause I told you to be here. Don’t fucking question me.”
Malachi’s eyes harden at my tone. His hands ball into tight white fists as he seems to grow a foot taller.
“Remember you’re a fucking Garrick.” Dad’s voice is clear as day in my head.
“You’ve got something I want. Information.” I dare a step closer to Malachi, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket so I can hide the fact that I can’t stop shaking from all of the adrenaline.
Dad’s face swims to the forefront of my mind.
Disappointment is etched into the fine lines across his face as he shakes his head at me.
Suddenly I feel fifteen again. I’m not on a rooftop with two psychos, I'm in my bedroom being taught a lesson. Posters of video games and boxing champions line the walls. Am I hallucinating? I can’t tell anymore.
“The only way you can rule is out of fear, my son. All it takes is for you to drop the fucking ball once and the vultures will pick you apart. Don’t ever show them you’re afraid.
I’ve seen you in the ring, son. You’re a fucking good fighter, but it aint enough.
You gotta make them believe you’ll end their life without blinking.
Do you understand?” I nod my head, the words caught in my throat.
“Your sister gets it. So it shouldn't be hard for you to grasp.” Dad straightens up before his fist crashes down on my face. Blood drips from the fresh cuts that his golden sovereigns have left. Stars dance across my vision. From the corner of my eye, a dark shadow slithers across the floor.
“If I find out you’ve dropped the ball, I’ll kill you myself and give your sister the seat. You won't be buried with all the glory of being a Garrick, you’ll rot alone, boy.”
Dad’s face disappears and is replaced by Malachi’s ugly mug.
I blink several times to bring myself back to the present, silently praying that nobody had noticed.
“What information do you think I have? Are you not the ruler of this almighty kingdom? Or is keeping the seat too hard for the Garrick heir?” A twisted smile stretches across his face.
I could punch him now and think about it later.
That would be Dad’s advice, and I haven't had a decent fight in a while. But my odds aren't good against this huge motherfucker. Plus, we’re on top of a roof. One wrong move and it’s bye bye for me.
I know what Lou would say. She would tell me to gather the information first before I went in all guns blazing.
She was tactical, always had been. Fuck knows where she got it from.
“You’ve got fingers in all sorts of pies. I’m interested in one pie in particular.”
Malachi’s eyebrow rises to record breaking heights.
For fuck sake. Pies? What the fuck am I going on about? Pies aren't terrifying enough to make you shit yourself.
“My sister is still missing. She was kidnapped by that fucking rat Oscar. I want her back. Besides, the rules state he has to pay for his crimes since he committed treason and murdered my dad in cold fucking blood. Do I have to remind you and the others what happens if you don’t put some manpower into finding him?
You’ll be tying your own nooses if you don’t give me your fucking soldiers.
” It was an old rule, set by the first Garricks to keep the peace in Birmingham, and a failsafe to stop outsiders from attempting an assassination.
If one member of the co-operative fell, they would all have to fight. It was written in blood on a very old piece of paper I’d never been allowed to see by all of our ancestors.
“I don’t know anyone of that name.” Malachi’s face is deadpan, except for the tiny ticking of his jaw. That alone tells me all I need to know.
“I’m bored of all this talk, Frankie. He’s lying, and he’s not going to tell you anything because he doesn’t respect you.” Zach calls out. I had almost forgotten he was there.
“Let's take this up a notch shall we?” He grins as he swaggers over to Malachi. Zach puts him on the floor with one hit, the sound of his body hitting the concrete echoes around me with a deafening crack.
I blink. How the fuck did he manage that?
“Hello, mate. I work for Frankie, we spoke on the phone. I’m his personal lackey.
” What the fuck was a lackey? To be fair to the posh prick, he doesn't miss a beat. He climbs on top of Malachi and punches him over and over. Blood sprays from Malachi’s mouth as his head lolls at an award angle on the floor.
“Please, I don’t know anything!” He shouts to Zach.
“Hm… Did that sound sincere to you Frankie?” Zach asks. His eyes are as wild as they were earlier.
I look down at the Russian. Fear clings to his beaten face. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “No,” I mutter.
“You heard the boss. Now, let's see how long it takes that enormous body to hit the street below.” Zach is off him in a split second and dragging him along the unforgiving concrete by his leg. I watch in awe. This twat makes Malachi look like a doll by the way he manhandles him. He doesn’t even break a sweat as he ignores his kicks and protests.
It all happens very quickly.
Malachi pleads with Zach to let him go up until he is flung over the side of the building. I prepare myself for his fall, but it doesn't come.
“Open your eyes, you dickhead, and come here.” I didn’t realise I’d closed them.
Shit.
Zach has Malachi dangling by one foot. How the fuck is he doing this? That cunt weighs a tonne!
I walk over, keeping my hands in my pockets.
“Take his foot, it needs to be you that scares the shit out of him, not me.” Zach says.
My eyes go wide. “You’re joking aint ya? I’ll drop him!” I splutter.
I can’t do this.
“No you won’t. Take his fucking foot or I’ll let go.”
“Don’t you dare; he’s the Russian leader, you’ll start a war if he dies!”
Zach’s eyes darken. “Maybe that’s what's needed. I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here Frankie. My brother and I would gladly burn Birmingham to the ground if it meant getting her back. Besides, wars are always a good way to stuff the Grenville Bank.” He smirks and loosens his grip.
I lunge for Malachi, my ribs crashing into the low red brick wall, winding me as my hands wrap themselves around his foot. “ZACH, YOU CUNT!” I shout as I try to pull him up. The weight of him is insane, and my arms shake with the effort
“It would have been easier if you’d simply done as I’d asked in the first place.” Zach rolls his eyes and lounges while the blood rushes to my head.
The veins in my head feel like they're going to burst from the pain. “Tell him where she is, Malachi or I’ll drop you!” I shout down to him.
Malachi screams as my sweaty palms start to lose their grip. “I’ll tell you everything! I have it all on my phone, just pull me up!” He shouts.
But it’s too late.
My body gives in and Malachi slips from between my fingers. His body falls into the smog in an unnatural dance, his fingers grasp at the air as if there were an invisible rope he could catch and save himself on.
I do what any true coward would and close my eyes again.
I don’t hear the thud.
“Well, that’s an inconvenience.” Zach drawls from beside me.
“Why would you do that!? You knew I wouldn’t be able to hang on to him!”
“I wanted to see if it would motivate you. I must say, you and your sister are nothing alike.” He smirks as he looks me up and down.
“No. We’re not.” I spit onto the floor, get off my knees and stand up. My stomach churns violently. I need to get off this roof.
“Where are you going?” He calls after me.
“Home, I have a meeting I need to clean up for.” I throw over my shoulder as I keep my vision tunnelled on the exit door up ahead.
“Fine, get his phone on the way will you? Let me know what you find there, I need to call my brother.”
Each of my steps are heavy as I reach the exit to the stairs that lead to the bottom of the building. Darkness ebbs around the corners of my vision. The shadow of a snake drifts over my feet.
“I’m going mad.” I mutter as I brace myself against the door.
The rum burns my mouth on its way out.