Danger by Association: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3 Read online

  Danger by Association

  The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 3

  By Heather Burnside

  Published by DM Publishing June 2016

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  © Heather Burnside 2016.

  Heather Burnside reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be published, copied, transmitted or reproduced by any means whatsoever, i.e. electronic, photocopying or recording, without the written permission of the author.

  Any person who carries out any unauthorised act in relation to the publication, copying, transmission or reproduction of this work may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

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  Cover design by Chris Howard: [email protected].

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  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Disclaimer

  Excerpt from Bad Brother and I

  Introduction

  ‘Danger by Association’ is set in Manchester in 1996. As with book 2 of the Riverhill Trilogy, ‘Danger by Association’ takes place during a period of unrest due to inter-gang rivalry. This period saw high levels of gun crime, gang warfare and drug-related crime in the city. Thankfully, the levels of these types of crime in Manchester have decreased substantially since that time, following a series of measures adopted by the authorities.

  Although this book is a work of fiction, it is a gritty crime novel covering the topics described above as well as others. This is therefore reflected in the content, which includes violent scenes and bad language. I apologise if readers find these aspects offensive, but I have included them because I want to give a realistic portrayal.

  Part of the novel is based on an actual event. However, I have fictionalised certain parts of that event. Therefore, the characters featured were not involved in the incident, but they are a representation. The name of the hospital and the newspaper are also fictitious.

  ‘Danger by Association’ contains a lot of local vernacular. It is usually possible to understand the meanings of words from the context in which they are presented. However, if you want to check out any of the meanings, you can find a good online dictionary of slang at: http://www.peevish.co.uk/slang/.

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  Prologue

  Iraq 1991

  The men were directed to an Iraqi installation with a communications tower. Their job was to destroy the tower and the control buildings surrounding it. John was part of the fire support group. He would provide cover while the demolition teams completed their task.

  They carried out a recce beforehand, checking the size and security of the compound. The heat registered by a thermal imager had established that there were bodies inside tents. There was no movement within, indicating that the inhabitants were probably asleep. Acting on this information, the soldiers followed the safest route of entry.

  They crept into the compound in the middle of the night; their chosen time of operation when it was easier to remain obscured. The arid, sandy ground was uneven, forming small hillocks, which they used for cover as they made their approach. Despite the heat of day, it was now bitterly cold.

  The chill of night, mingled with anticipation, sent a spontaneous shiver through John’s body. It was so quiet that he could hear the steady patter of booted feet heading towards the compound, and could almost detect his own thundering heartbeat.

  As they sneaked through the entrance to the complex, John felt his adrenalin surge, aware of their proximity to the sleeping Iraqi soldiers. He was surprised how easy it was to enter and wondered why none of the Iraqis had been on guard. Someone would be in the shit after this, he thought sardonically.

  Once inside, John’s job was to find cover and keep watch. The tower was in an area at the centre of the compound. The outlying areas were like a tented village, full of sleeping soldiers, vehicles and other equipment.

  John and his mate Steve headed for a bank of sandbags, taking care to remain quiet. They secreted themselves behind the bags and took up firing positions. Either side of the wall of sandbags were Iraqi army vehicles: a Land Rover to the right of John, and another to his left, nearer to Steve. The backs of both Land Rovers were aligned with the sandbags. Other members of the fire support group spread out around the compound, keeping themselves concealed.

  John faced towards the tower, his night vision picking out distant shadows in the gloom. The group watched for a signal from the demolition team, letting them know the charges were fitted and the timers set. Then they could make their retreat.

  John’s heart beat in rhythm like the seconds on a clock as they waited in eerie silence. He remained alert; his senses fine-tuned to respond to any sign of danger. He was perspiring in spite of the cold, and could smell a potent mix of spicy food, dust and fear.

  Then the silence was broken by a thud coming from the other side of the Land Rover near Steve. It was somebody alighting from the vehicle. Without speaking, they both knew what they needed to do.

  Steve crept behind the Land Rover ready to take aim. John moved in closer to the right side of the vehicle. He crouched low behind the sandbags. While taking position he listened for oncoming footsteps. He identified them, moving away from the vehicle and round the front.

  Steve moved round the vehicle so he could attack from behind. John anticipated that someone would emerge from in front of the Land Rover at any moment. Unless Steve stopped him. But John was there first.

  The Iraqi soldier turned to face John as though sensing a presence. John held off momentarily, wary of breaking the silence. Once Steve reached him, they could take him prisoner. He stared at the Iraqi. A boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen. Their eyes met for an instant. Long enough for John to see the fear on the young boy’s face. He knew the boy had spotted him. As the Iraqi aimed his rifle, John beat him to it. He didn’t have a choice. He had to take him out at close range.

  The sound of gunfire awoke the sleeping Iraqis. They swarmed from their tents, half-dressed but armed, firing a deluge of bullets. Steve raced towards the sandbags while John fired covering shots. But Steve didn’t make it. A shot in his right thigh felled him. John had to break cover and drag him back.

  They made it to the sandbags. A bullet narrowly missed John, piercing one of the sacks, which spewed a stream of sand onto the dusty terrain.

  “Keep firing!” shouted John, and Steve responded. As he gasped in pain from the open leg wound, he carried on shooting at the oncoming Iraqis.


  They held their position for several minutes. The enemy were still at a distance, and John was rewarded by the occasional sight of an enemy soldier dropping to the ground. Eventually, three other team members came to join them behind the sandbags.

  “Come on, we need to get the fuck out of here!” ordered one.

  “Steve’s injured,” said John, “You’ll have to help me get him out while the others cover us.”

  They headed towards the exit, firing continuous shots to hold the Iraqis off. John and a colleague supported Steve between them, his legs dragging behind and leaving a trail of blood on the ground. John was thankful when they reached their vehicles and broke away from the enemy.

  While he was caught up in the firefight, John didn’t have time to think about the young boy he had killed. That would follow, in the months after he returned from Iraq. The young boy’s terrified face and splattered insides would return to him in sweat-drenched dreams night after torturous night.

  Chapter 1

  Saturday 8th June 1996

  Rita walked in front of her family and greeted them before taking her seat at the front of the church. Her mother, Joan, was seated to her left, resplendent in her new outfit from C & A. To the left of Joan was Rita’s father, Ged, looking uncomfortable in his one best suit. As Rita cast her eyes across the front pew she noticed him loosening his shirt collar and adjusting his tie.

  Furthest away from Rita, and occupying the inside seat of the pew, was her brother, John, nervously awaiting his bride-to-be, with his best man Tony buoying him up. Rita smiled at John before switching her attention to her husband, Yansis.

  Rita felt mixed emotions as she thought about the absent family member. It was five years since her sister, Jenny, had died but on days like today she missed her more than ever. This was the first time Rita had returned to Manchester since Jenny’s death. She lived in Greece, where she and Yansis ran a restaurant.

  Her sister’s demise was such a traumatic event that Rita had taken a lot of persuading before she agreed to return to Manchester. But how could she miss her brother’s wedding? So here she was. But only on the condition that she went nowhere near the Riverhill Estate. The place where it had happened. The place where her parents still lived.

  Although Rita no longer lived in Manchester, she thought of her sister daily. She always would. Every time she looked at her son’s face she was reminded of Jenny. Because, even though Rita and Yansis called Daniel their son, it was Jenny who had given birth to him. As Rita thought about Jenny, she gazed with affection at Daniel who was shuffling impatiently in his seat between her and Yansis.

  “It won’t be long now till the bride gets here,” she whispered as she took in his familiar features and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  As though in response to her words, the organist began to play the wedding march. Rita, along with almost everyone else, turned to see the bride walk up the aisle, which was lined with exquisite blossoms in a delicate pink and white colour scheme.

  Rita had never met Paula in person; she had only seen her in photographs. She was a stunning girl, and Rita felt happy for John who gazed proudly at her as she approached. Paula looked radiant in her beautiful off-the-shoulder wedding gown with sweetheart neckline. The onlookers were captivated as she progressed down the aisle, the layers of tulle flowing from a tiny fitted waist against which she clutched a lovely bouquet. Yes, John had definitely done himself proud and, if her parents were to be believed, Paula was a lovely person too.

  As the bride drew closer, Rita caught the eye of her best friend, Julie, sitting a few rows back with her husband, Vinny. A few seconds later, the bride joined John at the front of the church, and the wedding march died down. The congregation cleared their throats and hushed their children, and the vicar allowed them time to settle down before beginning the ceremony.

  Joan had already broken out her tissues and sat sniffing throughout the entire service. Rita wondered whether it was through happiness for John or sorrow at her missing child. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Rita’s mind wandered again to the last time the family had been together, apart from John who had been stationed abroad in the army.

  The hospital. The endless wait. Desperately hoping she’d pull through. The devastating news from the doctor. Rita stopped herself, determined not to succumb to tears. This was a happy occasion and she’d make damn sure she enjoyed it. She tried to ignore her mother’s whimpering as she focused on the ceremony.

  Once outside, the emotional strain was forgotten amidst the excited chatter, words of congratulations and organising the photographs. Rita was too busy to think about emotions as she and Yansis had resolved to keep Daniel clean and tidy at least until the pictures were taken.

  Although he was a good child, he was a typical five-year-old boy. Carried away by the novelty and excitement of the occasion, he was more intent on racing around the manicured church lawns than posing for photographs in a stuffy suit.

  “Oh, it was lovely wasn’t it?” said Julie as she and Vinny joined them on the lawn after the photographs had been taken. “I was filling up when she walked down the aisle in that gorgeous dress.”

  “Don’t be so bleedin’ soft, you daft sod,” said Rita. “You’re supposed to be happy, not crying your eyes out. You’re as bad as my mam. I think she went through a full packet of man-sized by the time it was over.”

  “You’re bloody heartless you, Rita,” laughed Julie.

  They circulated for a while, chatting to friends and relatives until it was time to go to the wedding reception. Then they crowded into a minibus, which John and Paula had laid on especially for the occasion. Within minutes they arrived at the venue, which was a hotel.

  It wasn’t long before they were all seated ready for the wedding breakfast. But they had to go through the speeches first. This was the moment Rita was dreading. She knew it would be emotional. John was bound to mention Jenny. There was no way he would ignore her absence.

  Unlike the church service though, where she had a front row seat, Rita was now surrounded by people on all sides. If she became overcome by emotion it would be difficult to hide. And she didn’t want to get upset. This was John and Paula’s big day, and despite Jenny no longer being with them, it should nevertheless be a happy one.

  After dreading the speeches, she was surprised at how smoothly it went. John handled the matter well and she felt proud of him.

  “I want to propose a toast to all our loved ones who sadly can’t be with us,” he said as he held up his glass. Everybody raised their glasses in respect and John quickly added, “I’m sure they’d want us all to enjoy this day so I don’t want to see any tears.”

  Rita’s mother took a deep breath and shoved her tissues inside her handbag.

  Daniel was fidgety during the meal and couldn’t wait to run around outside with his newfound friends. Fortunately, the wedding reception was in a hotel within its own grounds so he could play out safely. Once he had eaten enough, Rita and Yansis let him go. Then it was time for the adults to relax. While Daniel played outside, Rita and Julie chatted to some of Rita’s older relatives. They were all interested in Rita’s life in Greece and she enjoyed telling them all about it, as well as discussing her wider family.

  When the meal was finished, Rita, Yansis, Julie and Vinny found somewhere else to sit while the hotel staff cleared the tables ready for the evening reception. Yansis and Vinny soon struck up a conversation while the girls chatted amongst themselves.

  “That grand aunty of yours was a card, Rita,” remarked Julie. “She could hardly take her eyes off Yansis.”

  “I know; did you hear what she said?” Rita asked, before answering her own question. “‘I’ve always liked the Mediterranean men myself. They’re really sexy.’ I had to wedge myself between her and Yansis to protect him. She might be in her seventies but there’s life in the old girl yet.”

  Rita and Julie laughed heartily, and Rita soon felt as though she had been teleported back ten years.
To the good times of her younger days. All the great nights out she had spent with Julie and the girls. That was before life got in the way, and a series of traumatic experiences had changed her and Julie irrevocably. But today she was going to be relaxed and carefree.

  “There are some right eccentrics in our family, Julie,” Rita continued, “The bloody Addams family have got nothing on us.”

  Then, spotting her Aunty Irene heading towards them, she added, “Talking of which, here’s one now, Aunty Irene, my dad’s sister, got a tongue on her like a viper.”

  She whispered the last few words as her Aunty Irene came within earshot.

  “Hello Rita, I thought it was you,” she announced once she reached them.

  “Hello Aunty Irene,” sighed Rita.

  “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me then? I’ve never met your husband; I wasn’t at your wedding. Is this him?”

  Rita made the introductions, and Yansis, Vinny and Julie shook her aunty’s hand politely. Once Aunty Irene had the attention of everyone around the table, she asked Rita, “Was that Jenny’s son I saw earlier? Good-looking little lad, isn’t he? Takes after his mother.”

  “No!” said Rita. “You saw Daniel, my son; mine and Yansis’s.”

  Yansis, Julie and Vinny looked on, aware of Rita’s feelings about Daniel, as the aunty continued.

  “Yes but, you know what I mean.”

  “As far as Daniel is concerned, me and Yansis are his parents and I don’t want anyone telling him anything different.”

  “But surely he’ll have to find out eventually?” Aunty Irene asked. “He’ll know there’s something amiss; even Yansis isn’t as dark as Daniel.”

  “He’ll find out when he’s old enough and when we decide to tell him. But that won’t be for a long time. He’s only five years old, for God’s sake! It’s too much for him to take in.”

  Rita could feel her temper rising but she tried to hold it in check. She didn’t want to spoil her brother’s wedding by having a set to with her Aunty Irene, but her aunty wasn’t finished yet.