Harry felt the blow hit him hard against his jaw. The pain was excruciating and he felt something snap in his chin and mouth. He fell back onto the sacks lay out against the wall of the cellar, feeling dazed and allowing the mind numbing pain to subside a little. Mick the Mong looked down at him, the perfect resemblance of a James Bond Odd Job, waiting to throw another hard punch. Harry could not speak or gain his balance as he tried desperately to stand.
"Wait Mick, not yet." Martin O'Grady gave his order. "Let him come around. He'll tell us soon enough without the violence." The big man backed off, as Martin walked over to Harry, kneeling beside him. "So Harry, where did you hide the two grand?"
Harry looked back at Martin, his mouth pouring with blood from a few broken teeth. "Look... Martin..." He tried to speak, but the pain was coming back hard and fast. "I don't even know what you are talking about." His words were slurred. "For fucksake mate, give me a break will ya..."
"Stand up!" Martin ordered. Harry slowly raised himself to his feet, swaying. He looked at Mick the Mong waiting to throw another punch at Martin's orders. "You know about the cash. We have good information that you were hiding it. Don't even deny it. Now where is it?"
"Look Martin. I really don't know what you are talking about. You have the wrong person."
"I don't think so. You need to ask Kenny." He wiped his mouth, smearing the blood onto the back of his hand and felt the loosened and painful teeth with his tongue. "Fuck, that hurts. Look what you did to me. Call Mick off." He looked over at the big Chinese henchman, who was snarling back at him.
"You say Kenny? Your old man? Now that is sad." Martin replied. "Not one of my boys would even think of dropping me in the shit. Because, you know what I'll do to Kenny if I have to drag him in here."
"Well, I don't know anything about your money. Nothing."
"Why did you run away from my boys? Isn't that guilt?" Martin gave Harry that raging look of his.
"I thought they were going to do me over. Wouldn't you run?"
"Mick, give him another."
"Wait! No," Harry held up his hand as Mick the Mong made ready to let his fist fly once more. "I'll tell you. I know where it is. One favour though. If I tell you, you have to let me go, ok?"
"I don't have to do anything. Infact, you're going to take us to the money like a good boy."
Harry realised what he had said. There were no dealings with the likes of Martin O'Grady, the notorious head of the family of small time gangsters. He was a man who knew the right people to get him out of trouble, along with his sons and nephews who did most of his dirty business. The thing was, Harry really did not know where the money was and he had to think fast. He felt the blood running down his throat and coughed. A loose tooth spat from his mouth. "Oh shit Martin, did Mick have to hit me so hard? It's going to cost me an arm and a leg at the dentist."
Martin grabbed hold of his arm and pushed him up the basement steps and through the house followed by the mighty Mick. Outside, a saloon car was waiting. Martin was determined to find his money at any cost. If Harry did not take them to it, then the next stop for him was a hole on the moors, forever.
Harry noticed one of Martin's nephews at the wheel. Barney was another feared member of the family and probably one of the cruellest of all when it came to convenient disposals. He had murdered and maimed atleast a dozen as far as Harry knew. They were considered as "low life" victims, fellow criminals whom the police had wrote off as bad surplus to societies requirements. Harry did not want to be added to that list.
A rush of adrenalin and fear helped Harry break free from Martins grip. The leather jacket he wore was an asset and like the wind he was free to run. Mick and Barney followed with haste, but Harry was fitter than them, out running them as he dodged through alleyways and hid behind trash bins. Housing projects were one of Harry's battlefields from his youth days and hiding from bad guys was no mean task for him. He found a safe place behind an abandoned and wrecked car. He stayed low as Barney and Mick became lost and confused just metres away. Finally they gave up their search and headed back to Martin and his wrath. Harry relaxed, staying put for a while until the coast was clear and cursing the blood on the front of his best white shirt.
"Ay! Are you ok?" The voice appeared as if from nowhere. Harry looked up and he saw the girl standing next to him. She was dark haired and an obvious member of the rough local community. He dress sense was cheap, yet reasonable, a short skirt and a top that revealed ample cleavage with a plastic zipper jacket in luminous pink.
"Does it look as if I'm ok? Give us a hand." Harry held out his hand for a helping pull back onto his feet. He looked around to see if it was safe. Another lucky escape it seemed and just one of many. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Saskia." The girl replied. Harry reckoned she was in her mid teens, on of many who would rather spend time at home and with mates rather than finishing off the state education poorly offered. In a community like that, with unemployment running high it was the norm. Sometimes the poverty was self-induced through drug addiction or alcohol dependency, people loosing touch with the real world. However, Harry was a little cut above the rest of them. He used his wits to perfect his scams and fiddles in life. It was enough to get on and survive, his drugs and alcohol addiction kept to a reasonable minimum.
"Have you been beat up?" Saskia asked. "You look awful."
"Yes, you could say that. Where do you live?" Harry asked. The girl pointed to one of the nearby flats on the third floor. Harry needed help with his one punch injury. He needed to clean up and seek medical help as his lips and face swelled up. Even talking was becoming more and more difficult and painful.
Saskia's flat was humble and tidy. It was a small place that was issued by the local council for rent. "Where are you parents?" Harry enquired. "This place is a bit small isn't it?" She looked back at him with a quizzical look. "What?"
"This is my place. I live here on my own."
"Oh right." Harry reasoned that Saskia was old enough to rent a flat and not as young as he thought. "I need your bathroom." Saskia shown him the way and left him to it as she tried to be sociable by making coffee in the kitchen. Harry looked into the mirror and saw the extent of his injuries. One tooth missing and a very swollen bottom lip and tongue. He washed out his mouth with tepid water from the tap and then washed his face, discovering that his jaw ached like hell. Coffee was not what he wanted. He moved his lower jaw from side to side feeling a click and a sure sign of dislocation. Mick certainly knew how to throw a heavy punch. The thought of more punches being delivered scared Harry. He considered himself very lucky, until next time.
Saskia laid a cup of coffee on the low table in the lounge with two painkillers for him to take. It was all she could do for him. He was a stranger and she was unsure of his background. In a community like this she had to be careful. Running away and hiding as a police witness to a murder hundreds of miles away, the flat was a security location. She was just coming to terms with it and trying to fit in as best she could. She was also lonely, absent from old mates and her parents. The whole thing was becoming a living nightmare.
Harry settled down on the easy chair and looked around. His host sat watching him very closely. She was quite a looker he thought after some consideration. His curiosity was getting the better of him as he swallowed the pain-easing tablets without the coffee. "So, how does a girl like you get to live alone in a place like this?" he asked. A bad statement.
"I can't tell you, it's private." She sipped the coffee. "So, how come a guy like you got beat up?" She turned his question around. Harry tried to smile but it hurt. "You need a hospital. You look a mess. Want me to take you. I do have a car."
"A car? In an area like this? How do you stop it from getting stolen or worst still, wrecked?"
"The garages are secure. It's just a risk getting in and out of them. Tell me what happened?"
"I can't tell you. Do you have a phone I could use? I need to call someone."
"You need a bath. You don't half pong mate."
"Yeah I know, I've been kept in a cellar for a few days."
"Kidnap? Did someone think you were rich and famous, then discovered you wasn't and beat the fuck out of your face?" Saskia was straight to the point, but then Harry expected her to be. He tried to laugh of the question. Him, rich and famous? He wished he were. Saskia found her cell phone and handed to him. With haste, he tapped out the number he urgently required.
Helen lay soaking amid the bubbles in her bath, listening to soothing ambient music through her ear-phones oblivious to the fact her phone was ringing in the spacious living room. Jack was putting on his tie to attend a business meeting later that day. He realised that Helen was otherwise occupied and he answered it with curiosity. The display telling him that a person named Harry was calling.
