The Hunted. Kerry Barnes

I didn’t think about the ol’ man.’

      Mike sighed. He loved his brother, but there were times when he was really irritated by him. Why his brother could be so lax when he should have his mind on the task ahead was beyond him. He thought that perhaps Eric was distracted by the stupid notion that he could surreptitiously go after Zara.

      Eric had once had his eye on her years ago, but it was made clear to him that Zara wasn’t interested. In fact, her exact words were, ‘I find him a bit creepy.’

      ‘So, Eric, now we won’t know what we’re potentially walking into.’ He didn’t raise his voice; he’d made his point.

      The pained look on Eric’s face said it all: once again, he felt inferior.

      Easing his car into a space just three doors down, Mike paused and looked up to see if the street had any cameras. Then he craned his neck to address both Eric and Willie who were seated in the back.

      ‘When we go in, I want quiet. No shouting. These neighbours are too close. I want you to act like the fucking SAS, got it? I want whoever is inside that house shitting hot bricks with a shooter in their face, and then I want them away from here, back to the lock-up.’

      Willie lit up a cigarette.

      ‘Put that fucking thing out. I’ve just had me motor valeted! Jesus!’ yelled Mike.

      After looking up and down the road, he stepped out of the car, followed by the others, and confidently marched up to the house. He nodded for Willie to accompany him and whispered to Eric to stay out of sight of the window, but to stand by the front door, in case anyone tried to escape.

      Mike and Willie hurried up the side of the house and into the rear garden where they noticed the back door was ajar. In a flash, Mike pulled his gun from his belt and pushed the door open. As he walked into the kitchen, he detected the sweet smell of cakes being baked. Then he strained to listen, putting his finger over his lips, indicating to Willie not to make a sound. Slowly, Mike crept along the hallway and opened the front door, flicking his head for Eric to enter.

      Once they were all in the hallway, Eric gripped his gun and poked his head into the living room, only to find the television on and no one there – as if the house had suddenly been vacated. He strained his ears again, listening; he could have heard a pin drop. That was until, suddenly, they heard the toilet flush. He held his gun, pointing it to the staircase, awaiting the appearance of a Harman. There was silence for a few minutes until the toilet flushed again. Motionless, they waited. Again, the toilet flushed. Mike nodded and raised his brow for Eric to go and investigate. Gingerly, Eric climbed the stairs and listened at the bathroom door, the only one that was shut; once again, the toilet flushed and made him jump. He rapped hard on the door and waited.

      ‘I told you, Harry, I’m not leaving this house,’ came a woman’s voice from the other side of the door. ‘Now, please, leave me alone, and if you want to use the toilet, then do so downstairs and do not invade my privacy.’

      Mike took the stairs two at a time and knocked himself. Again, the person called out. ‘Harry, I’m busy. Leave me in peace. I’m not going to repeat myself, so go, and don’t bother to come back.’

      Mike looked at Eric and whispered, ‘Let’s go.’

      They headed back down the stairs and gathered in the kitchen. ‘Well, I can only conclude that the Harmans have made a practical realization that the best move is to run, ’cos they know the bogeyman and his posse are after them. Wanting to get their mum away tells me they know there’s gonna be bloodshed, and they’ve a good idea of what we’re all about,’ stated Mike.

      Now that Eric knew there were no men in the house, he felt brave. ‘Let’s kick that door in and drag her out. It’ll give them something to be shitting themselves about.’ Just as he was about to head towards the hallway, Mike’s hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and fiercely yanked him back.

      ‘What the fuck!’ shrieked Eric.

      Willie looked away. He knew Eric had cocked up again, just by the look of anger in Mike’s eyes.

      ‘What the hell are you doing? Jesus! Eric, since when do we hurt dear ol’ mums? You are one stupid dickhead.’

      Red-faced and boiling, Eric glared at Mike. ‘And since when did they abide by the rules, fucking killing Staffie’s dog, eh?’

      ‘Keep ya bloody voice down. I don’t want the ol’ girl ’aving a bleedin’ heart attack. Now, we’re gonna wait ’cos she’s expecting her boy back. From what she said, it’s my guess that they’ve upped and gone, but they’ll return for her.’ He pointed his finger up at the ceiling. ‘I mean, think about it. If they believe we’re on the rampage, they ain’t gonna leave her behind, are they?’

      Still sulking, Eric replied, ‘Who knows, Mikey? You seem to know probably more than they do. So tell me, then, if they left her behind, why would they come back for her?’ he asked, with a knowing smirk on his face. He wasn’t going to let his brother walk all over him.

      ‘Well, think about it. If I asked our mum to do something and she refused, I’d get you to go in and ask, wouldn’t I, or the other way around?’

      Eric was seething; this was getting so personal now. He knew exactly what Mike was getting at. Their mother, Gloria, would do anything Mike asked of her, but she always questioned him, since he was the son who messed up all the time. ‘Why can’t you think more like your brother?’ she would say. And Arthur, their father, was even worse with his comments. One of his favourite pieces of advice was ‘Take a leaf out of Mikey’s book, and you won’t go wrong there.’

      Thinking of his mother, he wondered why she had to be so patronizing towards him. When she rubbed his arm or hugged him, she always gave him that sympathetic expression followed by, ‘Something will come along for you, just you see.’ She used that saying for everything: girlfriends, a good lucky earner, or even a bargain motor. But her advice never worked because Mike seemed to have all the luck.

      Willie could feel the tension building and decided to intervene. ‘I’m gonna wait in the living room to see if any of the brothers pull up.’

      Mike stared at Eric. ‘You go with him. I’ll wait in the kitchen, in case they come in through the back door.’

      Eric was still smarting. ‘Why are you doing that? We’ll see them if they pull up, won’t we?’ His tone was airing on sarcasm.

      ‘Eric, look at the fucking garden.’ He pointed out of the kitchen window. ‘That rear fence has a gate. They could easily come in from the road the other side, yeah?’

      Once again, Eric realized he’d been caught out. Another thing Mike was good at was casing a joint. If he hadn’t been a criminal, he would have made a good detective. Just as Eric walked off in a huff, Mrs Harman appeared, standing there in the hallway. Mike quickly held his hands up, showing he was harmless.

      Doris had heard all the commotion downstairs and was about to give the person she thought was Harry a piece of her mind. At that moment, she was drying her hands on her pinny and not taking her eyes off the big man.

      ‘It’s okay, love. Me name’s Mike. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.’ He edged forward as if he was trying to calm a rabid dog. Yet Doris seemed unperturbed.

      ‘Excuse me, but my cakes need taking out of the oven.’

      Willie appeared. Having been so intent on keeping a lookout, he hadn’t heard her come down the stairs or past the living room.

      Although this tall man with a deep scar down his face, twisting an ugly jagged knife in his hand, would probably frighten the life out of most people, his presence left her unruffled.

      ‘Put that away,’ Mike ordered. Willie instantly shoved it in his belt.

      Doris calmly turned back to face Mike. ‘I need to get to the oven.’

      Mike was almost taking up the doorframe. ‘Oh, sorry, love,’