'Stop, stop it. You nearly fucking stabbed the kid, you mad cunt.'
Dave's voice seemed to be the catalyst for them to stop and they were now silent, their ragged breathing loud in the quietness. Pat Junior was wracked with sobs and he heard himself crying and calling out 'Dad, Dad', over and over, even though he knew his father would never answer his call again.
Lil, lying in the doorway that led to the kitchen, had watched her husband die as she felt the baby inside her kicking as if trying to escape the madness around them. She kept attempting to pull herself up but she couldn't move; she was a ball of white-hot pain and it was a while before she realised her waters had broken.
She saw Dave sitting on the stairs, his head in his hands as he stared down at what was left of her husband's body. He was unrecognisable as a man, they had literally hacked him to pieces. It was only then that she saw her son, her Pat, dripping with his father's blood and lying across his father's body with his little arms spreadeagled, trying to protect what was left of his father's carcass. It was like a nightmare and she was convinced that at any moment she would wake up and they would be going to the party as planned and none of this would have really happened.
But it had happened. Patrick had been butchered in front of her eyes and her son had been witness to it all and had tried to protect his father. It was his birthday, it was her little Pat Junior's birthday and he was drenched in his father's blood. His new, white shirt that he had been so proud of, his first Ben Sherman shirt, was now crimson and dripping his father's blood all over the hall floor. As Lil looked around her she saw the blood sprayed up the walls and on the staircase. She could hear Dave Williams heaving, watched him empty his stomach contents on to the floor. She knew it was all true, she knew that her husband, her soulmate, was really dead and she was about to deliver his child into the world and he would never see it. He would never hold his child. It was then that Lil started to scream and it was her screaming, the sheer animal ferocity of it, that seemed to snap the Williams brothers out of their combined stupor.
Pat Junior saw them leave the house as if they were going for a stroll. There was no sense of urgency, no fear of capture; they walked out quietly, closing the front door behind them gently, as if all their anger had been spent on his father, which of course it had.
Patrick Brodie Junior was still crying, only it was now a dry, tearless sobbing. Getting up off his father's body he went to check on his mother. With her screams still resounding off the walls he finally managed to stop shaking long enough to ring 999.
Chapter Eighteen
Spider walked out of the hospital with Jimmy Brick; both of them were still in shock. Lil, God help her, had given birth to another boy; that was all she needed now, another fucking kid. They had hung about and stayed with her because they had not known what else to do. When the driver had come in and told them what had happened they had thought it was some kind of macabre joke. When they had gone round there and seen the carnage for themselves, it had still been unbelievable.
Patrick's death had been such a shock that no one seemed to believe it was true. They were still unsure, although Spider had identified the body. But it had been unrecognisable as a human being, let alone Patrick. Cain's death had hit Spider hard but Patrick's death had hit him in more than just an emotional sense; it was the catalyst for a whole new set of problems.
As Jimmy and Spider stood in the cold air they looked at each other and neither knew what to say about the night's events. It was so unbelievable that Patrick Brodie had been taken out by the Williams brothers: that it had been well-planned and well-executed was outrageous enough but that it had been the Williamses behind it was staggering. It seemed Ricky Williams was a law unto himself and within hours of Brodie's death he had made himself busy. He had been ingratiating himself with Pat's main contenders and displaying an acumen and intelligence that had brought for him, if not the friendship he craved, the respect that was his due off the people who mattered. The police had made a point of investigating the event with as much fervour as they would a black-on-black killing, meaning they wouldn't break a sweat. Which told them that someone was already onside with the Williams brothers and that whoever it was had plenty of sway where it counted.
'Fucking outrageous. Killing Patrick Brodie like that.' Jimmy's voice was loud and a couple of men smoking cigarettes nearby while waiting for a friend to get his head stitched looked over quickly and, seeing the men's demeanour, decided not to rattle anyone's cage. Jimmy looked bad enough with his scarred face and his obvious aggressiveness and the coon looked a handful and all, but the mention of Brodie and the night's events was enough to quiet even their natural belligerence. A tear-up was one thing, certain death was something else entirely. They were strictly bully boys; a row in the pub, a nicking, and home in time for pub opening once again.
'Had your fucking look, you cunts?'
Jimmy wanted to vent his anger and these muppets looked good enough for his purpose. He was paranoid at the best of times but now he was convinced they were tailing him and he was not going to let anyone mug him off. Brodie's death had certainly fuelled his paranoia. For all he knew these were on a wage and were waiting to jump him and take him out. In their fucking dreams.
Jimmy moved towards them and Spider grabbed his arm.
'What the fuck you doing? They ain't worth a wank.'
Spider gestured to the men with his free hand, dismissing them with a wave. They did not need any more encouragement and hurried off into the shadows.
Jimmy shrugged Spider's restraining arm away, clenching his fists in anger.
'They mullered him, Jimmy' Spider shook his head. 'He was completely destroyed. I said it was him but all I recognised was his ring, you know, the black onyx one. But truth be told, it could have been a side of beef lying on that slab.'
Jimmy nodded. He had seen Patrick lying in the hallway and he would never forget that sight. Poor Lil's terrified screaming and the wide-eyed children huddled together on the sofa. Poor Pat Junior covered in his dad's blood, his eyes red-rimmed from crying and still trying to protect his siblings. He knew the boy was terrified the Williams lot would come back. He wasn't a stupid kid, he knew the score, he knew he had been lucky to escape. He had been told how they had nearly stabbed him and he knew then that the boy would never feel safe again. It was a disgrace, a diabolical liberty.
And it had thrown him off course, that was the worst of it. Patrick had left Spider to deal with the Williams brothers and Cain and he had made a fucking serious mistake. That error had led to him being taken out by a family of morons; it was the equivalent of the Boy Scouts creaming the fucking Paratroopers.
He looked at Spider then as the reality finally kicked in.
'I ain't sucking no one's fucking cock, especially not a Williams' cock. They are scum, fucking Irish scum and they can expect a visit from me in the near future.'
Jimmy Brick was beside himself now the actual events had sunk in. Him and Pat had made a nice niche for themselves and he had liked the man and respected him. That the brothers had the audacity to butcher the man in his home in front of his pregnant wife and his children was, to him, the act of animals. It wasn't the death so much; in their game you knew you were a target but it was the way it had been executed, the way they had descended on him like a pack of fucking animals in full view of his kids. The twins were babies, little dots who Pat had doted on. The death had made a mockery of everything they held sacred; you didn't touch family, civilians or the elderly.