Authors: Kimberley Chambers
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Contemporary Fiction, #Crime Fiction
The Victim
Contents
ABOUT THE BOOK
Life is looking bleak for Frankie Mitchell – not only has she lost custody of her two children to their sadistic, gypsy-bred father, Jed O’Hara, she is also pregnant and banged up in Holloway awaiting trial for attempted murder.
In Frankie’s absence, her father, underworld boss Eddie Mitchell, is determined to get his own back. He wants revenge not only for his daughter’s imprisonment, but also for the death of his beloved wife, Jessica. Determined to get his grandchildren back home where they belong, Eddie plans the O’Haras’ demise slowly and precisely. But then he finds out a secret and learns the real reason why his daughter is in the slammer and all hell breaks loose.
Essex had never seen anything like the bloodbath that followed, but were either family actually capable of winning this long-running feud, or would they all become the victims of their own past mistakes?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kimberley Chambers lives in Romford and has been, at various times, a disc jockey and a street trader. She is now a full-time writer and is the author of
Billie Jo, Born Evil, The Betrayer, The Feud
and
The Traitor
.
Also by Kimberley Chambers
Billie Jo
Born Evil
The Betrayer
The Feud
The Traitor
THE VICTIM
Kimberley Chambers
In memory of a wonderful man and publican
Lou Smith
(The Corner Pin, Tottenham High Road)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly, I would like to thank my publisher Random House for giving me the initial opportunity to get my books and my name out there. A special mention to Ruth Waldram, who has been a fantastic publicist to work with, and Nicola Taplin, who has always been so wonderfully efficient.
As per usual I would like to thank my fabulous agent, Tim Bates, who I am sure would like to strangle me at times, and my amazing typist and friend, Sue Cox.
I have purposely left my editor Rosie de Courcy until last, as this special lady deserves her very own special mention. Thanks for everything, sweetheart. I will never forget you and will always love you loads xxx
A strong, successful man is not the victim of his environment. He creates favourable conditions. His own inherent force and energy compel things to turn out as he desires.
Orison Swett Marden
PROLOGUE
Trussed up like a dead chicken, the man was in agony as he lay on the cold, concrete floor. His left arm was definitely broken, and he suspected his right leg could be as well. As his captor picked up the gun and pointed it at him, the man shut his eyes. His colourful life had finally caught up with him; there was no way out this time. Images of his family flashed through the man’s mind. He pictured his beautiful wife and children whom he loved so very much. He wasn’t afraid of death – he never had been – but he was very afraid of never seeing his family again.
Laughing at the man, his captor aimed a kick at his head and put the gun back down on the floor. The captor had waited years for this moment and he wanted to torture his prey as much as possible before he finally killed him off.
The man opened his eyes again. Every second that passed seemed like a minute and every minute like an hour.
Out of the shadows, the captor’s accomplice reappeared. ‘You not killed him yet? What you waiting for?’ he asked.
The captor laughed, his tone full of evil. ‘I was waiting for you. I thought you’d wanna watch the cunt take his last breath an’ all,’ he replied, picking up the gun once more.
The man clenched his eyes firmly shut as he felt the steel of the metal barrel pushed into his temple. This was it now, and with his past sins, he wondered if God would accept him in heaven or banish him to hell.
The captor put his finger on the trigger and ordered the man to open his eyes. He wanted to feel his anguish, see his fright.
‘Wanna make one last wish?’ he said mockingly.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ the man croaked. He had never bowed down to anyone in his life and he wasn’t about to start doing it on his deathbed. If he was going to die, then he would die the way he had lived, with pride.
Hearing four gunshots, the man shut his eyes and prayed. He was no Bible-puncher, had never really believed in God, but what choice did he have now? Surprised that he wasn’t feeling even more pain, the man wondered if he was already dead. Did the pain start to leave your body as your spirit left the earth? he wondered.
Frightened to open his eyes in case he came face to face with the devil, the man froze as he heard a familiar voice. It couldn’t be! He must be dreaming – he had to be. He opened his eyes and gasped. This was no dream and, in that split second, the man realised that there must be a God after all.
CHAPTER ONE
1993
Eddie Mitchell’s mind was working overtime as his motor crawled towards his aunt’s house in Whitechapel. The A13 was chocka with roadworks, as per usual, and the five miles an hour he was able to drive gave him plenty of time to ponder over his decision.
For the first time since his father had been murdered and Eddie had taken control of the family firm, he’d been stumped over what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do – he wanted to wipe out every single one of the bastard O’Haras but due to what his dickhead brothers had done, that was now impossible for the time being.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Eddie thought back to the past. The feud with the O’Haras had originally started in 1970. At the time, Ed’s father Harry was running an extremely successful pub protection racket in the East End of London, until one day a bunch of travellers turned up out of nowhere and tried to muscle in on their patch.
Ed and his brothers, Paulie and Ronny, had all worked for Harry at the time and an all-out war with the travellers to take control soon followed.
The O’Hara firm was run by the old man, Butch, but it was his son, Jimmy, whom Eddie despised the most. Ed still bore the scars of his tear-ups with Jimmy, but at the time he’d got his own back by putting Jimmy in hospital for a long spell. Not many moons later the O’Haras disappeared. Harry, Ed’s father, finally got rid of them by shooting Butch in the foot. Ed thought he’d seen the last of them but, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t.
It was many years later, when Ed was living in Rainham with his beautiful wife, Jessica, and their twins, Frankie and Joey, that Jimmy O’Hara reappeared. He bought a house nearby, so they became neighbours. A kind of truce was called and was sort of kept until Ed’s daughter Frankie began dating Jed, Jimmy’s youngest son. Then all hell broke loose.
The ringing of his mobile phone snapped Eddie out of his daydream. It was his fiancée, Gina, whom he’d sent away for safety reasons while he sorted things out. ‘All right, sweetheart? How’s tricks?’
‘Oh, Ed. Claire’s gone back to work today and I’m so bloody bored. I miss you so much and I swear I can look after myself, so please let me come back home. If I leave now, I could be back by teatime.’
Eddie sighed. He missed Gina dreadfully and the decision he’d made was partly because of that. ‘Listen, I’m nearly at me aunt’s now. I’ve come up with a plan that I’m gonna put to the lads and hopefully that will set the ball rolling so you can come back home. It won’t be today though, babe. Stay put for now and hopefully you’ll be home by the weekend. I have to be sure we’re all safe first, so just trust me on this one, Gina.’
Eddie and Gina continued their conversation until he pulled up outside his Auntie Joan’s gaff. When Ed’s father was alive, he’d always insisted that any important meetings should take place in a room upstairs in Joanie’s house and Ed had continued that tradition.
‘You can never trust too many eyes and ears,’ was Harry Mitchell’s motto.
Ed said goodbye to Gina, then hugged his aunt as she opened the front door. She’d been baking, as usual, and the smell of her house was always a comfort to him. Joanie had brought him up as a kid after his mum had died of TB, and she was very special to Eddie.
‘I’ve made you two plates of sandwiches and some rock cakes. Now you go on up, ’cause the boys have been waiting ages.’
Eddie took the stairs two at a time and entered what he called their office. The room hadn’t been decorated since the seventies and Ed liked it that way, as it reminded him of the good old days when his old man was still alive. A large mahogany table sat in the centre of the room, with eight mahogany chairs around it. An old-fashioned bar stood in the right-hand corner and, apart from a massive picture of Harry Mitchell, which Eddie had blown up as a tribute and had placed on the main wall, the room had little else in it.
‘What time do you call this?’ Gary asked jokingly.
Eddie sat down at the head of the table. The firm at present only consisted of four of them. Himself and Raymond, who was Jessica’s brother, and his two eldest sons from his first marriage, Gary and Ricky.
Ricky poured everybody a neat Scotch and then opened the door so Joanie could bring in the sandwiches and cakes.
‘Well, what you decided?’ Gary asked as soon as the door was shut.
‘Let’s eat first and talk after,’ Ed replied.
Raymond studied Eddie carefully. He knew Ed better than anyone, probably even better than Eddie’s sons did. When Eddie had mistakenly shot and killed Jessica, Ray had never envisaged being good pals with Ed again or returning to the firm, but he had done both, and was now raring to go. In Raymond’s eyes, Jessica’s death had been Jed O’Hara’s fault, not Eddie’s, and for the sake of his sister’s memory, Raymond now wanted revenge. Not even remotely hungry, Ray slung his sandwich back onto the plate.
‘For fuck’s sake, Ed, spill the beans. What we gonna do?’
Eddie pushed his plate away and sipped his Scotch. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this and I think I should go round to Jimmy O’Hara’s house and call a truce. I shall tell him he can do what he wants with Paulie and Ronny. It’s the only way forward – for now, at least.’
Raymond was gobsmacked and Gary and Ricky looked at their father in complete and utter horror. Gary was the first to break the silence.
‘Have you fucking lost your marbles or what, Dad? How can you go round O’Hara’s house and shake his hand when he’s responsible for our whole family falling to pieces? Not only is Jessica dead because of them cunts, Frankie’s in Holloway and her kids have been kidnapped by the pikey bastards. You’ll mug us right off if you call a truce – O’Hara’ll think we’re a proper bunch of pricks.’
‘I agree with Gal. What about you?’ Ricky asked Raymond.
‘I want to get revenge for Jessica, but we have to get them kids back before we do anything else. She would have loved them grandchildren of hers and getting them home safe and sound would have been her priority.’
Eddie held his palms face up. ‘Hold your horses for a minute, the lot of ya. I run this firm and I make the decisions.’
Gary shook his head. ‘How can you offer your own brothers up on a plate, Dad? I know they’re a pair of fucking idiots, but they’re still our flesh and blood.’
Eddie’s eyes clouded over. He immediately stood up, picked up his glass and threw it at the wall, purposely missing Gary’s head by only inches. ‘Do you think I really want my brothers dead? No, they might be a pair of bell ends, but they’re still family. Remember, they’re in Belmarsh at the moment, and I know every face in there who’ll keep an eye on ’em for me. Use your loaves, lads, O’Hara is a fucking pikey and all he probably knows is two bob mugs in there. He ain’t gonna have many pals in a cat-A nick like Belmarsh, is he? If, by hook or by crook, O’Hara does somehow get to Paulie and Ronny, then that’s life, but I’m confident he ain’t got the brawn. But if he has and he wanted to do that, he could do it without my permission anyway. It’s our safety I’m more concerned about now. I want Gina back home with me and yous boys alive. Raymondo has got a nipper on the way – he don’t need the grief – and let’s not forget about Joey. Who’s to say that O’Hara wouldn’t try to top him? He’s an easy target, ain’t he? The way I see it, lads, is by pretending to hand Ronny and Paulie to O’Hara on a plate, we won’t have to look over our shoulders.’
Raymond immediately nodded his head in agreement. Gary and Ricky just stared at one another.
‘Do you think O’Hara will swallow it?’ Ray asked Eddie.
Eddie shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. It weren’t us that killed his son or his grandkid, it was Ronny and Paulie. He knows I ain’t had fuck-all to do with my brothers for years, so why shouldn’t he swallow it? You gotta remember, Jimmy might be fuming, but he’s also grieving. He’s already lost two of his family and if he won’t accept my handshake, he knows the rest of ’em, including that rotten, fat, ugly wife of his, are in danger.’
Gary shook his head. ‘I think we’re all forgetting something ’ere. What are we meant to say to Frankie, Dad? She’s tried to kill Jed, he’s got her kids, so what do we do? Tell her that you’ve shook hands with his father and everything is fucking hunky dory now?’
Ordering Raymond to top all their drinks up, Eddie gave a false chuckle and, for the second time that day, his eyes clouded over. ‘Son, you’ve got a lot to learn about me. For now, what I propose we do is just a temporary answer to our current problems. Then we start planning, and I mean properly planning. We’ll take our time, we have no choice.’
Pausing momentarily, Eddie stood up and stared at his dead father’s photograph. He then placed his hand against his heart and turned to Gary and Ricky. ‘I swear on your grandfather’s grave, that one day I will get revenge for what the O’Haras have done to this family.’
He then turned towards Raymond. ‘And I promise you, Raymondo, that I will also get revenge for Jessica’s death. Believe me, I will personally fucking kill them pikey cunts one by one, and may God be my judge if I fail.’
