The Dons of Warrington Trilogy E-Book

Isobel Wycherley

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

All three books in Isobel Wycherley's 'The Dons of Warrington Trilogy', now in one volume!

The Dons of Warrington: In this thrilling crime novel, Detective Constable Tim Shelley refuses to carry out an Italian Mafia family's hit, so they kidnap his twin daughters, Al and Sonny Shelley. After realizing the girls' exceptional intelligence, the Fontanas enlist them for their first drug-smuggling mission to Amsterdam, followed by a request to kill the Detective who defied them. As the police close in, a raid on the Fontanas results in a devastating revenge plot that sets off a chain of events leading to the assassination of the German mafia Don, Helmut Baulsack. The Shelley twins, with help from other mafias, corner Helmut at his family restaurant, but the mission uncovers something more sinister than they ever imagined.

World War Warrington: In the second book of The Dons of Warrington series by Isobel Wycherley, two novice gangsters are tasked with a crucial mission - to assassinate the notorious Helmut Baulsack. Failure would result in global disaster. However, with the aid of German mystic Bertolt Bertalt III, the impossible becomes possible. Readers can expect a journey filled with cruelty, mistrust, cunning plans, and blatant stereotypes.

Don's Vendetta: DC Tim Shelley and his daughter's twin sister Sonny are on a mission to avenge Al's death, with Shelley teaming up with Bertolt to find the killer, while Sonny trails ex-mafia colleague Mario Fontana. Anastacia Smirnoff also plays her part as they make their way to the ultimate showdown in Milan. But who will emerge victorious in the final battle?

Leseprobe

THE DONS OF WARRINGTON TRILOGY

THE COMPLETE SERIES

ISOBEL WYCHERLEY

CONTENTS

The Dons Of Warrington

Acknowledgments

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

World War Warrington

Acknowledgments

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

Don's Vendetta

1. Introduction

2. Shelley

3. Sonny

4. The Don

5. Luca

6. Mario

7. Shelley

8. Matteo

9. Sonny

10. Luca

11. Reinhold

12. Shelley

13. Anastacia

14. Maria

15. Sonny

16. Luca

17. Mario

18. Anastacia

19. Shelley

20. Maria

21. Mario

22. Sonny

23. Shelley

24. Anastacia

25. Final

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2023 Isobel Wycherley

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

THE DONS OF WARRINGTON

THE DONS OF WARRINGTON TRILOGY BOOK 1

Dedicated to my not-so-twin sister Georgia Wycherley

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, thank you to my family, friends, and strangers that buy my books. It gets harder to write acknowledgments every time, as I feel like I’m mentioning the same people, but I really couldn’t do it without you all- Especially the language translations, provided to me by: Francesco Barone, Jorn Vis, Maximillian Tassev and Merlin Pinkepank.

Even without knowing, you encourage and influence my writing with every interaction we have. There are a lot of new people coming into my life at the moment and I think that’s reflected through the mass of interesting characters in this new trilogy.

I hope you enjoy reading this first book, and if you’re not begging for the second one, I haven’t done my job properly.

Buona Fortuna, mio amico!

PROLOGUE

The SWAT team begin slowly scaling the stairs in formation, their guns swinging from side to side trying to cover all potential vantage points. But it isn’t enough. Most of the soldiers are shot dead on the way up, their rigid bodies, covered in heavy armour, slumping down the stairs headfirst like useless, tangled Slinkies.

Sonny reloads using her last ammo clip; she desperately needs to finish them all off with this remaining round of bullets. Within seconds, she guns down over half of the squad with deadly precision. The last two surviving enemies make it to the top of the split staircase, one heading either side towards the girls

They take refuge behind the final pair of columns on the landing, the only ones to not be riddled with bullet holes.

“How much ammo do you have?” Sonny asks her sister quietly.

“Not a lot,” Al replies worriedly.

Sonny exhales heavily. “How long do we have?” she asks, referring to how much time until they’re shot by their impending assailants.

Al thinks carefully before she answers, “Five seconds.”

Sonny nods defiantly. “Now.”

They both quickly drop to their knees and peer around the pillar, their pistols out in front of them. Al squeezes the trigger and the bullet pierces a hole right in between her target’s eyes and he slowly slumps to the floor in phases. The legs are the first to go, then the arms, and finally, he falls flat on his face. A crimson river pools out of him and absorbs into the cream carpet, just like syrup trickling into a snow cone.

Sonny pulls the trigger, and the dreaded click of an empty barrel seals her fate. She takes a quick glance from her target to the pistol, and back to look into his eyes. He smirks at her. Her muscles loosen and her blood drains as she comes to terms with death. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and a deafening shot echoes against the high ceilings.

CHAPTERONE

Detective Constable Tim Shelley inconspicuously parks his black BMW M5 in a dimly lit, private car park in the centre of Manchester. He opens the driver’s side door and places a steady right foot on the tarmac. He makes sure to scour the area first before taking his left foot out of the car, just in case.

He is a man of average height and looks young for his age. His hair is still a dark shade of brown, but is encroached by a few strands of silver bristles at the side of his head. He has a serious face that never seems to break into a smile, unless he’s around his loved ones, and he carries with him an air of respect.

He locks the car as he strides towards the small Italian restaurant, Fonty’s, on the corner of Princess Street. Its grand-looking, cream marble staircase invites you in with its whispers of elegance. As he approaches, the front doors swing open and the smell of freshly baked garlic bread spills out onto the streets outside. He takes a deep breath; his mouth begins to water.

“Hello, Mr Shelley,” announces a tall, gentle-looking man who has dark features, but completely lacks hair on his head and face and probably on the rest of his body, too, thinks Tim. “If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you to your table.” He holds out his arm and smiles, welcoming Shelley in.

Shelley trails behind the man, taking notice of the hordes of customers who are chatting rapidly, and eating even quicker. There’s something about Italian restaurants that make them louder than any other cuisine, Shelley thinks to himself.

They reach an empty, red velvet booth and the waiter beckons Shelley to sit. He takes another look around the restaurant before stiffly sitting down on the soft-cushioned bench.

The man smiles. “Can I get you a drink, a menu?”

“I’ll have a water… and maybe some of that garlic bread, please,” Shelley requests, unable to resist his temptations and hunger.

The man smiles more brightly now. “Excellent choice, sir. Our garlic bread is the best in the city.” With that, he spins around to fetch Shelley’s order.

Shelley can’t help but feel on edge. The meeting was set up in a friendly manner, but there’s always the possibility that the Mafia are just coaxing him into their territory to get rid of him quietly and without witnesses. Thankfully, he decided to bring his gun with him tonight.

The waiter returns with a glass of water and a plate of garlic bread. He carefully places them onto the table, then leans in closer to Shelley.

“My name is Calvino. My father, Don Fontana, will be with you shortly.” He says this without expression, straightens up, and continues to serve other customers.

Shelley begins to shift in his seat now, but is comforted by the fact that the meeting will take place in the midst of a bustling restaurant. He takes a gulp of cold water and picks at the edges of his garlic bread. It’s as delectable as he had imagined.

As Shelley is demolishing his first slice of garlic bread, the staff door swings open casually, and a short, broad-shouldered old man emerges, wearing a stylish pinstripe suit. For a man of his age, he has a thick head of salt and pepper hair, combed into a stylish sweep across his forehead. He has a little curly moustache, like Poirot, that makes his face look even more handsome. It is clear to Shelley that this is The Don. There is a shield of intimidation surrounding the man. The waiting staff rush to look busy and avoid even glancing in his direction.

“Mr Shelley, how wonderful to see you!” He extends his hand for Shelley to shake.

Tim stands up to greet him, taking his hand firmly. “Mr Fontana,” he says bluntly, making sure to hold defiant eye contact.

“What do you think of the garlic bread, it’s delicious, no?” The handsome old man smiles as he sits down on the opposite side of the booth.

“Yes, it’s very nice.”

“Do you mind if I have a piece myself?” Don Fontana asks, with raised eyebrows.

“Go for it.” Shelley waves dismissively, grabbing a slice for himself as well.

Don Fontana takes a hefty bite out of the bread. “Mmm, fantastico.” He kisses his fingers. “So… Mr. Shelley, you wanted to talk with me about something.”

“Yes. It’s about the Baulsack family,” Shelley explains.

Don Fontana licks the melted cheese off of his thumb and throws his arms up in disgust. “Ugh! Those barbarians. I condemn the day they arrived in this city, bringing with them their vile behaviour and unsolicited violence. Did you know they killed my cousin’s son? He was no trouble to them; he had just started university.”

“I’m aware of that, yes. How come you didn’t retaliate?” Shelley quizzes.

“We are not usually violent, Detective. My cousin just wanted to move on with his life, and his remaining family, they went back to Italy. Those Germans on the other hand, they love violence.”

“I know. I’m trying to eradicate them from the country, but, as you probably know, the other detectives are receiving bribes from the family and won’t help me. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

Don Fontana’s eyes light up and he leans a little closer to Shelley over the table. “You want my help?” He smiles.

“Yes. Nothing much, I just need you to tell me where I can find Helmut Baulsack. It’s a win-win for us both. I get to do my job and keep people safe and you get to put your family’s killer behind bars.”

Don Fontana lets out a little laugh, raspy from chain-smoking. “You won’t find Helmut here. He is still operating in Germany. The man you’re looking for is his brother, Holdis.”

“Holdis Baulsack… Is that a real name?” Shelley asks.

“None of them sound like real names, they’re ridiculous!” Don Fontana lets out a hearty laugh.

Shelley smirks slightly, too. “So where can I find him?”

“I will write down an address. That is where he lives, you should find him there. Excuse me while I retrieve the information for you.” He stands up from the table in a slow and intimidating manner, nods gently to Shelley and strolls back through the staff door.

Shelley continues to eat the rest of the now slightly cold garlic bread on the plate as he looks around at the customers. He wishes he could bring his own family here for dinner one night, but that’s too dangerous.

Don Fontana reappears, this time holding a small piece of paper in his hand. Shelley rises from his chair, ready to leave after receiving the tiny scrap of hope.

“Here you are, my friend.” They shake hands and Don Fontana deposits the note into Shelley’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr Fontana.”

“Please, call me Don.” He smiles. “We’re friends now.”

He nods. “Pleasure doing business with you, Don.”

* * *

“You’re home late,” Karen says to her husband.

“I was just finishing up on a lead. I think I’ve got them.”

“The Germans?” She spins around from the sink to look at him.

He lets out a small sigh. “Well, not all of them, but it’s a start.”

“That’s great. Well done, honey.” She smiles and kisses him on the cheek. “You smell of garlic. Have you had your tea?”

“Erm, yeah. I got something from the canteen at work, thank you, darling.” He kisses her cheek this time.

“The girls are outside.” She smiles at him and wanders back into the kitchen.

Shelley walks out of the back door and spots his daughters smoking and chatting on the swing bench. He doesn’t like them smoking, but even Shelley himself cannot fight the urge.

“Hey, girls. How are you both?” he asks, sitting on the small wicker stool next to the garden table.

“Good, thanks!” they both chirp,

“How are you?” Sonya asks him.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He sighs. “Could do with one of those, though.” He points to their cigarettes.

Alice slides the pack across the table to him. He puts one in his mouth and looks cross-eyed at the end while he lights it, breathing it in as it burns.

“What did you do at work today?” Alice quizzes.

“Nothing new really, you know I’m not supposed to discuss it with you. I made a lot of progress on it today, though.”

“Well, that’s good then. One step closer to having your very own Baulsack!” Sonya jokes and they all laugh.

“You know he’s got a brother, Holdis?” Shelley tells them, waiting for them to pick up on the funny side.

“Holdis Baulsack?” The girls burst into laughter. “That can’t be a real name!”

“That’s what I said!” Shelley joins in.

“His parents mustn’t have liked him,” Alice reckons.

“At least they didn’t call him Sonya.” Sonya rolls her eyes; she’s always hated her own name.

“What – Sonya Baulsack? Ha-ha,” Alice teases.

“You’ve got a lovely name!” Shelley tries not to laugh. “What’s wrong with Sonya?”

Her face is deadpan. “Everything.”

Alice nods. “She’s got a point. Right, I’m off to bed.” She pushes herself up from the bench.

“Me too.” Sonya joins her.

They both give their father a hug and a kiss before re-entering the house. They carry out the same ritual with their mother, and head upstairs to bed.

CHAPTERTWO

Early the next morning, Tim Shelley prepares to ambush Holdis Baulsack at his Manchester residence. He sits at his desk in his cosy office, contemplating his plan of action. Every scheme he’s conjured up so far has resulted in him being dead when he simulates it in his mind.

How the hell am I going to do this alone? he thinks to himself. He cups his head in his palms, trying to think of a new plan. He has to get it done today.

“Alright, Dad?” Alice asks through the crack in the door.

He jolts in momentary surprise and swizzles around on his chair to face her. “Yeah, I’m alright, darling. I just can’t think of a way to catch Holdis without getting myself killed,” he admits reluctantly.

Alice walks over to his desk and rests her hand on his shoulder. She looks at the desk and observes the blueprints of Holdis’s residence.

“Wait, is that in Deansgate?” Alice asks.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been there before! Dad, I know how you can get in.” She smiles excitedly and rocks him back and forth by his shoulders. All that truanting from her first year of college is finally starting to pay off.

“How?” he asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to get her involved, but he’ll take all the help he can get.

“This balcony here.” She points to it on the paper. “If you look at the apartment blocks next door…” she explains as she pulls up maps on the computer, “you could easily jump from there onto the balcony, then through a window, or the door if you want to be boring about it.” She nudges him.

Shelley checks the plan over, simulating it in his head again. “That won’t work, he has guards there with him all day.” He shakes his head glumly.

“I can distract them for you. They’re not going to be suspicious of me, are they?”

He shakes his head more viciously now. “No. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“What’ve you been training us for then, nothing?”

“Your own protection!” he shouts.

“What’s going on?” Sonya appears in the doorway now.

They stop their arguing to look at her.

“Nothing,” Shelley quips.

“Dad won’t let me help him pull off the only plan that’ll work,” Alice counteracts.

“What plan?”

Alice explains it to her briefly and all the while Shelley sits back, listening, impressed with her planning but still not willing to let them help.

Sonya’s eyes light up. “I’ll help, too.”

“No! Neither of you are getting involved in this,” Shelley insists.

“Come on, Dad. You know we can do it! Plus, we’ve got nothing to do now college is over.”

“And how am I supposed to get him into my police car, hey? Walk him right past his guards, straight through his front door?” Shelley procrastinates.

“No, Dad, don’t be stupid… Out the back door. His guards won’t be there because we’re going to lure them outside. Jeez, don’t you know I’m better than that?” Alice rolls her eyes.

“Come on, it’s worth a shot, innit?” Sonya urges him to agree.

He thinks about it for a very long time before answering, “Let’s give it a go then, girls. Don’t tell your mother I’ve let you do this, or anyone for that matter. She’ll have a heart attack.” He wipes his damp forehead with the back of his hand.

The girls shout in excitement and hug each other like they’re footballers who’ve just won the league, pushing and shoving each other around playfully.

* * *

Shelley has never been so nervous as he pulls into the multi-storey car park, not far from the apartment blocks and the building that Holdis bought and had renovated into his personal home. Sonya is in the passenger seat, Alice in the back.

“Right. Let’s go over the plan,” Shelley orders.

“Okay, so, Dad, you need to get to the roof of the apartment building. I’ve done that before, you literally just need to take the lift to the fifth floor, go through the double doors and then up the stairwell to the top,” Alice explains.

“Why’ve you been on the roof before?” Shelley frowns.

“Dad, please, I’ll take questions at the end,” she diverts tactically. “Me and Sonny will make our way to his house and lure the bodyguards out into the street. You can then bring Holdis round the back, out of sight. Then we’ll finish up and drive this car back home.”

“Sounds good.” Shelley nods.

“Is your patrol car in place?” Sonya asks.

“Yeah. Everything’s ready,” Shelley confirms.

“Let’s go then.” Alice pats them both on the shoulder from the back seat.

Before they part, Shelley gives his daughters a long-drawn-out hug and kisses them on the forehead.

“Please be safe,” he tells them.

They both roll their eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.”

Shelley paces to the apartment building and waits for the lift to appear on the ground floor. The girls, trailing behind slightly, wait until they see the doors meet and their dad disappear behind the metal curtains before they make their way to Holdis Baulsack’s front door.

“Ready?” Sonya asks her twin sister.

“Ready, lad,” she replies, before running a few paces down the road and collapsing on the ground.

Sonya takes a deep breath and thinks upsetting thoughts like dead puppies and losing yet another game of chess. Her eyes begin to swell with tears. She’s ready. She frantically knocks on the door and begins to shout for help.

“Please help me! My sister has just collapsed! Please help!”

Two guards appear at the door with angry expressions on their faces – that is, until they spot a young, baby-faced girl with tears streaming down her face. Her short, mousy brown hair flicks carelessly over her forehead and she’s wearing an all-black outfit, apart from the colourful overshirt that dances around her in the breeze.

“Vhat’s going on?” The German guard’s expression softens and he looks slightly worried.

“I’m not sure, she just collapsed. I’m not sure if she’s breathing,” Sonya explains.

She points to her sister, a little heap on the ground. Her blonde plaits are sprawled above her head like devil horns – an unplanned allusion that will surely be missed by the guards. She isn’t hard to spot in bright red tartan dungarees, with metal chains that glimmer in the sunlight.

The guards rush out of the house and over to her, leaving the front door open behind them. Sonya takes a quick peep inside but sees nobody. They crouch down next to Alice and turn her onto her back. Alice tries her hardest not to breathe too heavily so that they can’t see her chest rising and falling. Sonya joins them and tries to distract them for as long as possible.

“She’s still got a pulse,” one guard proclaims, his sausage-like finger pressed against Alice’s neck.

Sonya lets out a puff of air. “Thank God!”

“Vhat’s her name?”

“Sandy.”

Sonya clocks Alice’s eyebrow twitch slightly. She knows she hates that name.

“Zandy, can you hear me?” the other guard asks the unresponsive stranger on the floor.

No response.

“Try singing to her, she likes that.”

The guards frown. “Vhy don’t you zing to her?”

“Vocal injury.” She pouts, holding her throat, making her voice croaky now.

The guards look at each other for a moment, both trying to urge the other to sing,

“I know an old German lullaby…” one of them says sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah, do that!” Sonya beams.

He leans in closer to her, clears his throat, and in a hushed warble begins to sing,

“Weißt du, wie viel Sternlein stehen…” (Do you know how many stars there are…)

Meanwhile, Shelley has made it to the roof. He looks down at the drop to the balcony. It doesn’t seem too far. He braces himself and jumps off the edge. He lands with a crash and rolls forward towards the door. It is quiet for a while as Shelley regains his bearings, but not for long.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The ominous noise gains speed, the closer to Shelley it gets. Startled, he straightens himself up and pulls out his gun.

Holdis, a fat, red-faced man, strides through the balcony doors, his chins wobbling violently with even the slightest bit of movement,

“Who ze hell are you? Guaaaaaards!” he bellows. His voice is so deep and broad, you can almost feel yourself falling endlessly through his giant lungs.

“I’m Detective Tim Shelley, you’re under arrest!”

Holdis looks around for his guards, but once he realises they are nowhere to be seen, he scowls and holds his hands up in surrender. He begins rambling angrily in German and Shelley makes no attempt to decipher what he’s saying. His daughters would know, though, he thinks momentarily, but that just makes him panic about what is going on downstairs and so he snaps back into detective mode.

Shelley quickly cuffs Holdis and forces him down the couple of flights of stairs to the ground floor, though he doesn’t go easily. Sonya takes another look towards the house and spots her dad carting Holdis through the bottom floor of the building. Holdis clocks that the door is open and begins shouting in German, in order to get his guards’ attention,

“Dass sie nun so fröhlich sind…” (And they’re all so happy now…)

“Ahhhhhh!” Sonya interrupts the song to cover up Holdis’s pleas. “Our dad is going to be so worried!” Sonya says, turning to her sister again and taking hold of her hand.

Alice begins to rouse and she blinks rapidly, looking around as if she hadn’t really been here this whole time.

“Mein Gott, I sink ze singing vorked!”

“What happened?” Alice frowns.

“You’re okay. Let’s get you home.” Sonya picks her sister up off the floor with the help of one of the guards.

The higher they lift her, the more weight she puts on their hands, so that they keep dropping her to the floor, her limbs loosely flapping around. Sonya tries not to laugh, knowing what she’s doing. Finally, they drag her to her feet. They say thank-you to the guards before stumbling off down the road.

Once the guards are back inside the house, they break into a sprint back to their dad’s car in the multi-storey.

“What was all that about? You looked like Gillian McKeith.” Sonya laughs.

“I was just making it a bit light-hearted.”

Sonya shakes her head in disbelief. “You could’ve got us killed!”

“Didn’t though, did I?” She raises her eyebrows, “And, also, Sandy?” She pulls a face. “Come on.”

They drive home and await a phone call from their dad. It arrives a couple of hours later.

“We got him. Thanks for your help, girls, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Shelley booms through the loudspeaker.

“No probs, Dad. It was a fun day out,” they say respectively.

“Well, don’t get used to it, it was a one-time thing,” Shelley orders.

The girls look at each other in disappointment. “Alright,” they chorus.

“I’ll see you tonight, love you,” he tells them.

“See ya,” they reply, before hanging up.

“I wish he’d let us get more involved, that was fun,” Alice says to her sister.

Sonya nods in agreement. “I know. We need something that lets us use all these mad skills he’s been teaching us our whole lives. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Maybe one day,” Alice hopes.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a six-foot penis, but it’s never gonna happen, is it?”

CHAPTERTHREE

Detective Shelley does not receive a hero’s welcome when he arrives at the police station herding a giant, angry German, as he’s just captured the man that bulks up their pay cheques. But Shelley has him now, and there is nothing they can do about it publicly. Hordes of reporters are waiting outside, desperate to capture a picture of the man the country has been in fear of for years.

Shelley gets a stern talking-to from his peers about how he didn’t act on official police business to make the arrest, and they force him to be the one that addresses the mob that’s forming outside.

“I will. A great justice was done today,” he says defiantly.

“Why can’t you just take bribes like the rest of us? I can’t afford to take my family on holiday this year now, thanks to you!” one of the detectives whines.

“Maybe you’re in the wrong profession then.” Shelley stands his ground.

He walks out of the main doors to address the media.

“Hello, everybody. At one-fifteen pm today, an arrest was made on… Holdis Baulsack.” A few chuckles arise from the crowd. He ignores them and continues.

“Holdis is the brother of the German Mafia’s leader, Helmut. With this arrest, we have weakened the Mafia family’s power within the Manchester district, and, hopefully, going forward, we can make more arrests to completely eradicate this disease that has plagued our country in recent years.” He concludes, “That is all, thank you.”

He retreats back into the station, allowing reporters to scream questions at the back of his head as he leaves.

* * *

The live news reports do not go unnoticed by Don Marco Fontana, who is sitting in his home office, sipping cognac and smoking cigarettes with his son and consigliere, Mario Fontana.

A call comes through on the landline. The Don’s secretary informs him it is Detective Leaver calling from the Metropolitan Police. She puts him through,

“Yes?” Don Fontana answers bluntly, a cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth.

“Marco. I want you to know that everybody in the force knows it was you who gave Shelley that address. If one Mafia family is going down, then you all are. We’re coming for you, you fucking greaseballs.” The phoneline drops and the high-pitched ringing buzzes through Don Fontana’s ears.

His face never changes. He gently places the phone back on the receiver, takes a drag on his cigarette and turns to his son. “Get Shelley on the phone, set up a meeting for tonight,” he orders Mario.

“Of course, Don. Where?” Mario asks.

“The restaurant is fine,” he says and waves his son out of the room.

* * *

Shelley rushes towards the restaurant, hoping he’d never have to come here again. The charm only worked the first time. As Calvino opens the door to greet him, he walks straight past him with no more than a quick nod. This time, however, the restaurant is empty and scarcely lit. Shelley panics and turns to head back for the door, but Calvino blocks his path.

“Don’t worry. Don Fontana will be here any second,” he mutters.

Right on cue, he appears. “Detective Shelley! Come, sit.” The Don beckons to the seat in front of the one he’s just perched on. “Come, it won’t take long,” he urges a reluctant Shelley again.

Shelley cautiously strolls over and sits on the small, elegant chair and declines any food or drink this time. “What’s this about?” he asks.

“Remember that little favour I did for you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, now it’s your turn to repay me.”

“No. You didn’t say anything about returning the favour.” Shelley shakes his head.

“Oh, but I did. I told you that you are my friend. Friends help each other out, no?” He frowns.

Shelley doesn’t reply, he just stares at the floor shaking his head, thinking that he should have seen this coming.

The Don tries to persuade him. “It’s only a little favour.”

Shelley finally replies, “What is it?”

“Kill Detective Leaver.”

“What? You don’t actually expect me to do that, do you?”

Don Fontana nods. “I help you, you help me.”

“No. I can’t do that. I won’t kill another human being, let alone one of my colleagues.”

The Don thinks this answer over and slowly nods again. “Okay, Mr Shelley. But on your head be it.”

“So, you’re threatening me now?”

“I will do what I have to do.”

They stare each other down across the table for what seems like forever, before Don Fontana breaks the tense silence. “You can go now,” he says, staying in his seat.

They watch each other for a moment longer before Shelley uses the table to push himself out of his chair, looking around for any Italians lurking in the darkness, ready to pounce on him. But there aren’t any. He leaves without another word from anyone and makes his way back to his car.

On the drive home, he is constantly looking in his rear-view mirror for anyone that might be following him. He makes it back unscathed and hugs his family tight, to their confusion. He calls his daughters into his office to talk in private, out of earshot of their mother.

“I’m in a lot of trouble over this, girls, at work and with the Mafia families. I want you to promise me that you’ll stay safe and stick together. Come to me if you come across any trouble from anyone,” he orders them.

“Alright, Dad,” they say, unconcerned.

They exit the study and grin at each other. They think he is overreacting and being too protective of them, or maybe he just doesn’t trust them enough. But they know their own capabilities, and soon, the Fontanas will, too.

CHAPTERFOUR

After a couple of weeks of following the girls, they have a good enough understanding of what their schedule is, and finally decide to ambush them as they leave their regular Wednesday activity – shooting. It’s a new hobby of theirs, Sonya’s especially, since it requires very minimal movement.

She sits steadily on the chair; the bolt action rifle is pushed firmly against her shoulder. She takes a long, deep breath in, her eyes focus on the target. She slowly releases the air through her nose and, once her body reaches the peak of its stillness, she unleashes a storm of golden slugs, one after another, reloading in the blink of an eye.

Ten rounds of bullets pierce a perfect hole in the centre of the bullseye before she even needs to take a breath in.

“I can do better than that,” Alice jokes.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Alice places the gun on her shoulder, lines the sight up with the bullseye and steadies her breathing. At peak stillness, she pulls the trigger. The gap between reloads is longer than Sonya’s and there are ten bullet holes speckled in the bullseye.

“Well, it did the job, that’s all I can say.” Alice shrugs.

“Unless I was there, then they’d already be dead by the time you’d shot one bullet.”

Alice raises her eyebrow at this. “Ooh, you’re hard!”

* * *

They both emerge from the entrance of the shooting range, chatting and laughing with each other. They are standing outside the car having a cigarette when they are grabbed from behind, handcuffed and blindfolded in a matter of seconds. They put up a struggle, but strong hands grip their arms tightly against their bodies, so that any movement is impossible.

They are loaded into a car; by the sound of the doors closing, Alice reckons it’s an Alfa Romeo. As they’re driven to their unknown destination, she also memorises the directions in which the car is turning. Whilst Alice is doing this, Sonya manages to free herself from the handcuffs, and discreetly begins unlocking Alice’s as well. They wait patiently for the car to come to a stop.

The brakes squeal, and the handbrake is applied. The two men in the front seats get out of the car to begin to escort the girls into the family restaurant. They open the doors simultaneously as they both scout out the area, checking for police or other enemies.

“Nice Alfa.” Alice smiles, blindfold still intact.

Sonya, also blindfolded, throws her cuffs out of the door, onto the floor of the car park and removes her own blindfold. “Bet you can’t guess what colour it is,” she says to her sister. All the while, the Italians look on in astonishment.

Alice ponders the question for a moment. “I’m gonna go with… black,” she says, taking her blindfold off after her guess.

She leans her head out of the door and sees the black paintwork reflecting the street lights. “Get in!” She fist-bumps the air.

“That was such a fluke!” Sonya laughs.

They get out of the car and shut the doors behind them.

“So, where are we? Considering the journey lasted fifteen minutes, travelling primarily south, I would say we were in Manchester… or somewhere round there.” Alice smiles at the tall, muscly Italian man towering over her.

“W-we’re in Manchester,” Mario stutters.

“Is that an Italian restaurant?” Sonya asks, pointing to the building, excited at the thought of some good food.

“Erm… yes,” Mario replies.

“Look, if you wanted to take us out on a double date, kidnapping us wasn’t the way to go about it. We never turn down Italian food, though, do we, Sonny?”

“We definitely do not,” Sonny replies, beginning to strut towards the back entrance of the building.

Mario follows behind them, confused and astonished by how calm they are after being kidnapped and taken hostage. The driver gets back into his Alfa, making his way back to the Fontanas’ gated community.

Mario takes them to a red velvet booth in the empty eatery and tells them to wait there while he gathers the rest of his family who are in the restaurant. Three well-dressed men and a beautiful, stylish woman appear, standing in front of the table, sizing up the girls with no subtlety whatsoever.

The first man is Mario Fontana. Tall, well-built and handsome, he has thick, pitch-black hair scraped back onto his head, minus the tiny curl of hair that sits perfectly on his olive-coloured forehead. He has a small scar across his right eyebrow that fits in well with the darkness that seems to surround his smouldering hazel eyes.

The second is Mario’s youngest brother, Luca. He is much smaller than the other two men and he wears a pair of stylish round spectacles that bring out the greenness of his eyes. He has a head of jet-black curly hair, almost to perm standards. His body language is also a lot more cautious and he gives off the vibe that he is not a very confident man.

The final man is Calvino Fontana, The Don’s least favourite son, though he won’t admit it. Not only does he want nothing to do with the illegal dealings of his family, but he also looks completely different to his entire family, having no hair whatsoever, not even eyebrows. But he doesn’t look old at all, more like Mark Strong. There isn’t a single wrinkle or crease on his face, he’s like a pristine, shiny egg on legs.

The woman, an absolute beauty, is Bella Fontana. Out of her and her sister, she is her father’s favourite daughter. She has thick, long, black hair, lightly curled so that it falls gently onto her shoulders. Her plump lips are painted scarlet, but the rest of her soft-featured face is makeup free, she doesn’t need it. She uses her beauty to persuade officials to look the other way whenever the Fontanas get caught out in something illegal. She hasn’t failed to change their minds yet!

“Who are you lovely bunch of people?” Sonya asks, smiling.

“We’re the Fontana family. This is our restaurant,” Calvino explains.

“Brilliant! Can we get a coupla menus, please?” Alice asks.

Calvino looks at Mario and he shrugs to signal why not. He walks over to the reception desk and picks up a couple of menus and hands them to the girls.

They run their fingers down the menu and tap their chins comically to seem as though they’re thinking their order over.

“I’ll have one of everything, thanks,” Sonya orders.

“I’ll have the same, cheers,” Alice adds, holding her menu out to Calvino.

“Everything? I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Customer’s always right,” Sonya quips.

Calvino takes the menus and plasters a fake smile on his face. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” He scuttles off into the kitchen, leaving the girls with Mario, Luca and Bella.

Nobody says anything for a long time. The background noise of Calvino bashing pots and pans around seems to be amplified in the empty restaurant. Alice looks around the room, noting the empty tables.

“Get a lot of customers then?” she asks, with a smirk that’s mimicked by Sonya.

“We’re closed,” Mario replies.

“Ah. So, we’re a private party, are we? Don’t remember booking this in.”

“You’re here as hostages, you idiots!” Bella butts in out of frustration.

Alice frowns. “Hostages for what?”

“Your father owes us a favour and he won’t do it for us. So, now we just wait until he notices you haven’t come home. He’ll know where to find you,” Mario explains calmly.

“You know our dad, how?” Sonya asks.

“We’re on the same football team,” Mario says sarcastically.

“Are you! Have you seen his right footers? Absolute shambles.” The girls laugh.

Mario frowns. “I was joking… Haven’t you heard of our family?”

The girls look at each other and shrug. “Nope.”

Calvino emerges with a plate of garlic bread and a bowl of meatballs. He places them onto the table, saying, “Your lasagne and risotto are still cooking.”

The girls dig in before the plate even touches the table. They haven’t eaten in two hours, that’s practically enough time to starve to death.

“We’re an Italian Mafia family. The Fontanas… I can’t believe you’ve never heard of us,” Mario says, his pride hurt a little.

“What’s our dad got to do with you lot?” Sonya asks, with a mouthful of garlic bread.

“He came to us, to help him find Holdis Baulsack,” Mario explains.

The girls begin silently giggling with their mouths full of food. “MeatBaulsacks,” Alice mumbles, pointing to the bowl of meatballs, making Sonya laugh even harder.

“What is with these two?” Bella whispers to her brothers, before walking back into the staff area, unamused.

Mario smirks; he quite likes their childish nature, something he and his siblings had had to grow out of very quickly. He takes a seat in the booth with them.

“So, what do you want from Dad, then?” Alice asks him.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Go on. We came up with the plan to help him capture lil ol’ Baulsack,” she urges.

He thinks about it for a moment, looking at Luca for advice as he’s always been the smart, sensible one.

“We need him to kill a detective that’s been giving us a hard time,” Luca explains.

“We can do it,” Alice offers, ripping the garlic bread with her teeth like a proud animal that’s just tucking into its freshly captured prey.

Mario laughs. “I don’t think you could.”

“Are you joking? You can’t say you weren’t impressed by what we did before,” Sonya says, her thumb pointing backwards in time. “We know exactly what we’re doing.”

Mario knows this is true. He ponders it, looking at Luca again, who also seems to be genuinely considering it.

“Here’s something that ought to be the clincher of deals,” Alice begins to tell the brothers. “There’s a man outside, one of Holdis’s guards. He’s been circling the building for five and a half minutes or thereabouts. It takes him twenty-five point four-six seconds to do a complete lap around the building. And I know exactly how to get him.”

The brothers look at each other, and then to the windows. There is nobody outside, apart from a couple, arm in arm, gazing into each other’s eyes like there’s nothing else going on in the world.

Luca turns back to Alice. “There’s nobody there.”

“Not yet, be discreet about it,” she orders, and they all begin to side-eye the window on the far side of the building.

“Ten… nine… three-two-one.” As soon as she says one, a man, dressed in all black, wanders past the window, looking in.

Sonya recognises him, too, from the day they helped their dad to capture Holdis. Maybe the Germans had been following them, too, but the Fontanas had just gotten there first.

“What’s your plan then?” Luca asks out of curiosity and the desire to be out of danger.

“You can watch it in action.” Alice smiles, then turns to her sister. “Did you see the ladder at the back of the building?”

“No,” Sonya admits. She never takes notice of anything.

Alice rolls her eyes, “Course you didn’t. Anyway, all you need to do is wait for him to be below you, drop down on him, then do ‘the thing’.”

“What is ‘the thing’?” Luca asks.

Sonya taps the tip of her nose; they’re giving away no secrets.

She shuffles out of the booth, Alice staying put,

“Right now, he’s pretty much where you’ll be, so count to twenty and you should be grand,” Alice instructs her sister.

“Will do,” she says, quickly heading through the front door and to the back of the building, so that they don’t cross paths.

The rest of the group inside sit back down at the booth to make it look natural. On his way around, the guard notices that one of them is gone, but he figures she must be in the bathroom.

Sonya counts to twenty and, bang on time, the German rounds the corner. She drops down from the ladder, landing on his back. She digs the tips of her fingers into the pressure point between his neck and shoulders, and he immediately collapses to the ground.

“I’m gonna help her drag him in,” Alice says, sliding out of the booth.

Luca and Mario follow her to the back door, where they find Sonya dragging the man by the bottom of his jeans.

“He’s heavier than he looks!” she proclaims.

They sit the German in the booth behind them, and they proceed to talk about their proposal.

“So, what do you say?” Sonya asks.

Mario looks at Luca again. “Let me talk to The Don,” he says, making his way to the staff area. “Keep an eye on these two.” His brother nods in compliance.

“Ooh, ‘The Don’… sounds cool.” Alice smirks and raises her eyebrows at Sonya.

Luca beams. “That’s our dad, Don Marco Fontana.”

“Our dad’s called Tim...”

“What’s your name?” Alice asks him.

“Luca,” he replies, “and you’re Alice and Sonya.” He tells them their own names.

“We prefer Al and Sonny. Only our relatives call us by our full, ugly names,” Sonya explains.

“Al and Sonny,” Luca repeats. “You would fit in well in an Italian Mafia family with names like that.”

Calvino returns with the last two dishes. “This is all I’m doing for you, we need to save some for tomorrow’s service.”

“It’ll do. Thanks, doll.” Alice winks.

“Yeah, thanks for that, mate. Appreciated,” Sonya adds, thrusting her fork through the middle of the lasagne.

Not long after, Mario returns. “My father wants to meet with you. We’ll let you go home now, but we expect to see you at our residence tomorrow. Here’s the address. Memorise it, then burn it.”

“We will. Can we bag this lasagne up for the way home?” Sonya asks. The risotto has already disappeared.

“Where did that risotto go, did you drop it or something?” Calvino frowns.

“Yeah, down my throat,” Sonya replies.

* * *

The Alfa picks them up again and drives them back to the shooting range, while the girls contently eat their lasagne out of Tupperware boxes with plastic forks in the back seats. Too busy eating to talk, the entire ride is enjoyed in silence.

Once the Alfa has driven off, they memorise the address, burn the note, and drive home like nothing even happened.

CHAPTERFIVE

The next day, early on a sunny Thursday morning, Alice wakes up, excited to meet her new ‘family’ tonight. She gets out of bed, brushes her teeth and hair and makes her way downstairs.

The low hum of her dad snoring, still in a tranquil slumber, travels through the landing. She silently roams through the house, making her way to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Once there, she spots her mum, Karen, sipping a brew and reading the newspaper on the patio outside. The morning sun provides her skin with a soft glow, and her spiky, short, blonde hair looks like a silky dandelion clock swaying in the cold breeze.

Alice goes to join her outside, mug in hand, the steam rising and dissipating into the late spring air.

“Morning, Mum.” She smiles.

Karen looks up from her paper. She hadn’t even heard Alice come outside. “Oh, good morning, little one.”

“Anything newsworthy?” Alice asks, nodding at the newspaper.

“Never.” She sighs. “How was shooting last night?”

“Good!”

“Did Sonya get a perfect bullseye again?”

“Of course she did.”

Karen laughs. “She loves anything that she can do sitting down, that girl.”

“I know, that’s why I get her at fencing,” Alice boasts.

“What are you two up to today, then?”

“We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, where are you going?”

She smiles. “An Italian.”

“Ooh, lovely.”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” Alice says, taking a long sip of her brew, smirking, out of sight, into the mug.

* * *

Sonya pulls her Volkswagen up in front of a set of tall metal gates decorated with a large coat of arms. The small box next to the gate crackles and the audio comes through from the house.

“Who is it?” a thick Italian accent questions them.

“Sonny and Al Shelley, we’re here to have dinner with the Fontana family.”

Another crackle. “Ah, the German car caught me off-guard, I was ready to shoot you. Drive through.” The gates slowly squeak open.