Page 52 of Damon
“Are you coming to see how true justice is dealt?”
***
London is an incredible city. For everything going on above ground, there is a whole world below which transports people to and from where they need to be. A maze of hidden tunnels and abandoned tube stations to be utilized. Over the years, some have been converted to museums or bought and used by businesses, but there are many more that the human eye hasn’t seen for decades. These lost and forgotten spaces provide perfect places for us to conduct business away from prying eyes.
The four of us wind our way through the tunnels, walking along unused tube platforms and around dark corners. Hunter leads—he knows this place better than anyone and has utilized the system for years. The only sound is our booted feet against the slabs. Greyson and I walk side by side, not speaking, both of us lost in thoughts of what’s to come. Luke hangs back slightly, clearly unsure. For the first time, the young man looks less like the cocky teenager and is rightfully nervous about where we are headed.
We arrive at a staircase headed downward. The walls run with dampness, and a rickety black handrail hangs off the red brick. The white paintwork disappeared years ago and lies in splatters on the floor. “Just down here,” Hunter says.
“What’s down there?” Luke asks.
“Righteousness,” Hunter replies over his shoulder as he descends the slippery steps.
The bottom of the stairs opens into yet another tunnel and platform; an old railway line runs through it. The sound of voices carry toward us from my right as I step out onto the platform. Three men dressed in suits stand at the end where the railway line disappears into the darkness on route to its next stop. Another man sits on what looks like a chair; his arms appear to be tied behind him, his feet flat on the floor. The lights are on but dim, so I can only see outlines and basic details. A black bag seems to be pulled over his head and secured around his neck. He is dressed in dark overalls.
As my group approaches the others, Harrison, Russell, and Connor turn in our direction. “Good morning, lads,” Hunter shouts as he leads us across the platform. “Lovely day for it.”
“Wouldn’t fucking know,” Connor grumbles. “There’s seventy-five meters of the River Thames above us, and I’ve been here since five a.m. babysitting this dickwad.” He gestures to his brother.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Russell barks.
“It means I was to keep this asshole alive until everyone got here. This isn’t your justice to deliver, it’s McKinney’s.”
“I want to cut something off the bastard,” Russell mumbles.
“You can remove something,” I tell him, and he looks up. “We’ll all get revenge today for Connie’s death, but first, I need some answers.”
“I’m glad I was here,” Connor continues speaking to himself. “That fucking rope around his neck mysteriously kept getting tighter.” He glances at his brother who shrugs.
“Ghost,” he says blandly. “This place always gives me the heebie jeebies.”
“When did you get here, Waite?”
“About ten minutes before you,” Harrison replies. “I had a meeting I couldn’t miss this morning. It’s the paycheck I need to upgrade my Ferrari.”
“Fair enough. And we aren’t doing this in the boardroom because…”
“I’m sick of having to clean blood off the wood floor,” Harrison says. “Do you know how fucking messy it is? It doesn’t matter what I do, as soon as I start cleaning, it goes fucking everywhere. And this impatient asshole.” He signals to Russell with his hand. “Even with the plastic sheet down, he makes it go bloody everywhere. From now on, there will be no interrogations taking place in The Level without meticulous preparation. As in the whole fucking place will be wrapped in plastic.”
“Plus,” Hunter interrupts, “when this bastard is screaming for his life, it will echo nicely off these walls. It will be a much better experience for all involved.” His captive moans beneath his coverings, and Hunter kicks him in the shin, causing him to wail in pain. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
Luke and Greyson stand outside our circle as this discussion takes place. They are very much aware they’re here because they deserve to be, but they’re not part of the immediate group. A cough catches in the young man’s throat, and everyone turns to him as Greyson hits him hard on the back. He flies forward onto his hands and knees.
“Young and fresh,” Hunter says, cheerfully offering the boy his hand to stand. “Always be ready, lad, someone will hit you hard on the back when you aren’t looking.” Greyson laughs, then we all fall silent.
“Shall we begin?” Connor suggests.
I step forward, untie the rope slightly and pull what is a black pillowcase from our captive’s head. He blinks up at me with wide, terrified brown eyes. His dark hair is overly long and flops forward onto his forehead.
“Name?” I ask.
“Jed.”
“What age are you, Jed?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Shame,” I mutter and walk in a circle around him. The others stand back slightly, surrounding him but giving me space. “A life lost so young is a tragedy.”