Feminist Revenge Read online

  Feminist Revenge

  (Trilogy Collection)

  LINDA CORBY

  Copyright © 2013 Linda Corby

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1479119417

  ISBN-10:

  1479119415

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated with thanks to Harry Patterson (Alias Jack Higgins). For being a good neighbour and a lovely man in giving me good advice on how to write a fiction novel, this fiction novel would not have been written without Harry’s tips on fiction authorship.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Page

  1

  (Part One)CHAUVINISTIC PIGS.

  1

  2

  Backlash.

  12

  3

  SMOKESCREEN ISLAND.

  19

  4

  DESPOSABLE NATURE OF A WOMAN’S WRATH.

  32

  5

  .

  LOVE AND LUST GROW IN THE STRANGEST OF PLACES.

  41

  6

  REVENGE CAN AND OFTEN DOES GO WRONG

  51

  7

  (Part Two. Coming together.)

  Love will Out.

  64

  8

  The Morning After.

  72

  9

  LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT.

  81

  10

  THE GUESTS ARRIVE.

  87

  11

  THE BEST LAID PLANS.

  Page

  93

  12

  IN THE PICTURE.

  100

  13

  STORM BEFORE THE CALM.

  103

  14

  (PART TWO.UPRISING) 14 LICKING OLD WOUNDS.

  108

  15

  TAKEN.

  120

  16

  BOLLOCKS.

  125

  17

  REPERCUSSIONS.

  125

  18

  DEEP CUT.

  155

  EPILOGUE.

  175

  aBOUT THE AUTHOR

  176

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to my beautiful daughter April for retyping it out for me from a faded old printed copy, to my husband Brian who said “go for it, why not”.

  Also to my many friends who encouraged me to actually publish this book You know who you are!

  Especially Vicky.

  (Part One) 1 Chauvinistic Pigs.

  Zaneen Dean had purchased the home of her childhood, and as she strolled calmly in the grounds of the beautiful mansion, the crisp autumn leaves crunched beneath her feet, she felt the fresh autumn breeze across her face and the sweet smell of lavender caressed her nostrils leaving her free of all thoughts of responsibility. She pulled the ribbon from her ash blonde hair and it fell to elbow length gleaming as the sunlight caught it through the trees. She glanced at the lily pond remembering the joy she had felt as a child watching the flitting Dragon flies there, with a lightness of heart she had felt when she had found the frogs had still been by the water tank in the old greenhouse.

  Zaneen snapped back to reality when the hackles went up on her dog Tarbra’s back, and a low pitched snarl could be heard from her throat. “Sit” commanded Zaneen as she waited to see who had come into her grounds. Simon Peters one of Zaneens’ patrol guards was approaching her from the patio section of the lily ponds, he stopped at the edge of the lawn keeping a good distance between himself and Zaneens dog. Zaneen knew his fear of Tarbra, and did not blame him, after all his first meeting with her Collie cross Alsatian had cost him his right ear. “Mr Fletcher is here to see you madam. I’ve escorted him to the cocktail bar and served him a drink.” He waited for Zaneen’s reply knowing the tone of his voice had given away his dislike for Andrew Fletcher. “Thank you Simon, I’ll go and see to him now, if anyone else should call kindly take their details and inform them that I will contact them as soon as possible.” With that she dismissed him and ascended the steps to the top lawn, with Tarbra close at heel she made her way into her home.

  Zaneen crossed the marble hallway she wandered what Andrew Fletcher had up his sleeve this time, whatever it was it must involve a considerable amount of money for him to call without telephoning first. She flicked the antique gong with a long red elegant fingernail as she passed it at the bottom of the stairs, and strode elegantly down the long passage to the cocktail bar.

  Andrew was sitting in one of the hide chairs with his legs sprawled out in front of him, Zaneen could feel is sexual magnetism even through his air of arrogance, his hair was going grey in places, but this only added to his refined masculinity. “It’s nice to see you Andrew, to what do I owe this visit?” she asked smiling discerningly at him. Andrew replied “I have a client in need of your services; he’ll pay one million pounds into your numbered Swiss bank account as soon as you agree to do the job.” Which of my services does he require?” Zaneen queried as she poured herself a drink from the bar. “He wants a hit man who has been blackmailing him disposed of; the hit man’s name is George Milton. My client has never had anyone disposed of before, he wants to stay anominous, and he is very frightened of any repercussions.” Andrew had been looking straight into Zaneens’ sage green eyes as he spoke he was fascinated by their incalculable vibrant beauty, while feeling wary of the deeply calculating mind behind them.

  Zaneen mused carefully through the detailed report Andrew had brought with him, putting it down while she poured them another drink, returning to finish going through the file, then looking back at him with a captivating glance. “Let’s see how long it takes your client to transfer the cash? If it is in my account by midday tomorrow I’ll sort things out for him, otherwise he can forget it.” “Ok” Andrew replied, then finishing his drink and leaving. Zaneen was not surprised when she received a telephone call two hours later confirming that the funds had arrived anonymously in her account, she smiled to herself as she planned how she would dispose of George Milton.

  Zaneen had booked into the Trabridge Inn in advance to go and watch two horses that she sponsored jump at their local show, and as luck would have it George Milton lived on the outskirts of Trabridge, in fact he lived about four miles away bordering a small village called Dinkdale, on a secluded farm with a trout lake he had recently purchased.

  George Milton was a male chauvinistic pig who loathed children, animals, and especially women. His long winding driveway went past his trout lake where he spent much of his free time fishing. It gave him much pleasure to watch a fish writhing on the end of his line, it was in his sadistic nature to revel in the immense agony he liked to inflict upon his victims, be they human or animal.

  Milton never heard the engine of Zaneens’ estate car when it stopped at the end of his driveway, hidden from sight by the bend in the drive. The last thing he saw was the sparking sharp eyes of a big black Puma as it ripped into his jugular vein.

  Zaneen took hold of the ruby studded collar around Sultans’ neck, and pulled him back from Milton’s’ convulsive twitching body, feeling no remorse as she looked at the blood gushing, pulsating out of the raw gaping hole in his neck. She pointed and Sultan jumped into the lake, coming back out clear of the blood that had splashed over him, he followed Zaneen back to the car and jumped into the back of the vehicle. Zaneen gave him a large piece of raw meat for a job well done, and placed the protective clothing she had been wearing into a black dustbin bag, putting it under the back seat before driving off. She had used Sultan for this job, because of Milton’s reputation for callously killing dogs by splitting their front legs apart and bursting their hearts. The guy was worse than an animal, so Zaneen knew t
hat the world would be a better place without him in it.

  Simon Peters rendezvoused with Zaneen a few miles away from Milton’s farm, he had been with Zaneen’s team and gutted Milton’s property and car of all paperwork , then put a virus into his computers to destroy any of his blackmail reference information, and render it irretrievable , irrespective of who it related to. He dropped Zaneen back just up the road from the horse show grounds with Tarbra, so to all intense and purposes everyone would believe that she had just been walking her dog. She watched the estate car leave; smiling to herself knowing that the smoked glass windows would have prevented anyone from seeing who was driving it, or knowing that Sultan was in its rear. She knew that Simon was incinerating the black dustbin bag, along with all other evidence as soon as he got home. Andrew had already got all the relevant paperwork from Milton’s deed box at the bank, it was amazing what one could do with money, information or sex, nothing at a bank or solicitors office was every really safe, there was always a way to get what you wanted.

  Zaneen walked the short distance back to the showground with Tarbra at heel; to all concerned she had just been walking her dog which she often did. As she regularly went to horse shows she knew that her many friends, and acquaintances would be able to verify her alibi should there ever be any queries at any time in the future. Zaneen had a small laugh to herself as she put Tarbra back into her self-designed custom build car, that had been parked at the ringside all day, knowing everything had gone off like clockwork, and in all she had only been gone just over half an hour. Things didn’t always go to plan, then she had to sort out a cleanup operation but this time they had and it gave her a great sense of relief, plus of course the inevitable adrenalin kick. She just hoped that the Puma’s from Sefsgreen Zoo , which was conveniently situated only a few fields away from Milton’s farm, made it to his body following the meat trail she had left for them, after paying one of their keepers to have them escape.

  The incident was reported on the local news that night, the black Puma’s had been found munching on parts of George Milton’s body. They had been captured unharmed with tranquiliser guns and returned to the zoo. Foul play was not suspected, and the zoo keeper had been sacked for negligence. Zaneen knew this would not bother the keeper, because he had been well paid, and Zaneen had found him a better paid job with a friend of hers anyway.

  Zaneen drove the four hundred odd miles home the following day, she had enjoyed her weekend, the horses had gone well, the dinner dance had been fun, and the job had gone better than expected, plus paid well, and everyone involved had a water tight alibi.

  2 Backlash.

  The day after Zaneen got home from Trabridge she had arranged to meet Andrew for lunch at the Viclon Inn, which was an obvious choice as it was just up the road from her mansion, and she had shares in it that her father had left her, the other shares belonged to Roy Coal and his son Ricky who had been friends of her family since she could remember. When she arrived Andrew was sitting with his back to her at the bar, he turned round to greet her and she was stunned to see his face in a diabolical mess, he had stitches above his right eye, with numerous gashes and bruises all over the place. “Well, I must say you look in a sorry state, I’d like to know how the bloody hell you got that way?” she blurted out bluntly. “I’ll explain it over lunch, and for God’s sake stop looking at me so damned queer, you’ve inflicted worse than this on some people yourself.” With that he ordered her a drink, and Ricky came across to them with the menu as the barman passed it to her.

  Andrew explained over lunch that a local self made man, a Mr Russ Preston had paid him a visit. He had discovered that Andrew had contacts that he considered could well be of use to him, and he wanted Andrew to arrange the disappearance of his daughters’ boyfriend, preferably permanently. Preston had said that his daughter, Stephanie, at the age of nineteen was out of her mind going to live with a nobody called Anthony Williams, who according to Preston had no prospects, he was not interested in what Anthony’s character was like, let alone what his daughter’s feelings might be, or how his daughter might be affected by the actions he wanted to take. Preston had decided he wanted Anthony got rid of and his daughter back, irrespective of anything or anyone else. Andrew had told Preston that he didn’t know where he got his information from, but it was incorrect, and he didn’t have any such contacts, informing him that in his opinion he should try sorting things out amicably with his daughter and Anthony, that his money would be better off spent coming to some sort of mutual agreement with them. Preston was completely out of his brain box, and wouldn’t listen to anything Andrew said, he was insistent that Stephanie should in his words do what he bloody well told her. They had had a huge blow up and she had left with Anthony telling Preston where to get off in no uncertain terms. Stephanie was now living in Anthony’s terrace house in Rudmin, which was about a hundred and fifty miles away and defiantly not far enough away from Preston.

  After telling Andrew that he was incongruous, swearing at him in an indiscriminate manner, Andrew had him thrown out of his office threatening to call the police, telling Preston that he would go to the police if he heard anything had happened to Anthony or Stephanie, but as Preston left he was shouting his mouth off, that he could find plenty of people who would do the job for him if Andrew wouldn’t, that all it took was money to get it sorted.

  Preston’s visit to Andrew had been on the Friday that Zaneen had gone to Trabridge, so Andrew had not been able to contact her. On the Friday evening Preston had phoned Andrew at home, he had been well inebriated, informing Andrew that he had made a contact willing to do as he required, and threatened Andrew that if he interfered in any way before or after that Andrew wouldn’t know what hit him. At this point Andrew had lost his rag with Preston, called him an arrogant Pratt and a precocious bastard, stating that if anything happened to Anthony Williams he would be as good as his word and the police would be on his doorstep, then hanging the telephone up on Preston without waiting for a reply.

  Andrew had then got into his car and headed to Zaneens’ mansion with the intention of borrowing one of her guards for protection, thinking that Preston wouldn’t have time to organize anything before he had prepared himself. Unfortunately before he could get to Zaneens’ two pick-up trucks had forced him off the road, one of them crashing into the side of his gold turbo Porsche’s’ passenger door. The two thugs obviously hired by Preston had pulled him out of the car and the results Zaneen could see for herself.

  “Yes, I can certainly see the results, but are you sure the heavy’s were Preston’s. I mean, I can think of others that have got a grudge against you for one reason or another?”

  Zaneen was amazed at how Preston had managed to get up Andrews nose, because she knew how placid he was normally. Andrew voice rose as he spoke, “I know for a fact it was Preston’s heavies. One of the bastards took great pleasure in telling me so just before he put the boot in on my privates, no way is Preston going to get away with that! It’s a bloody wonder he’s daughter didn’t piss off and leave him long before she did.” “Ok Andrew, there is no need to get agitated with me I know how you feel, but for Christ’s sake keep the verbal down we are in a public place . I really think we should discuss this elsewhere after we’ve finish lunch. We’ll take my car Tarbra is in its back seat.” Ricky was outside in the car park of the Viclon when they went out; Andrew gave him the keys to his Porsche to give to his handy man Neville Long to pick up and deliver it to the garage to be repaired.

  Zaneen went and looked at the damage; she hadn’t noticed it when she had arrived, because Andrew had parked it alongside a wall so people wouldn’t see it. She was sure that Andrew was more upset about his car than anything else, because he was more fond of it than he like to let on, but in reality it was his ‘pride and joy’ and it looked to be in a right sorry state.

  Zaneen headed towards the Tunsmore Airfield through the country lanes, checking that she wasn’t being tailed by anyone. The airfield had been des
erted since just after the Second World War, and it was a good spot to go to when she didn’t want to be watch as it had quite a few old hangers there to hide inside. Once there she parked inside a hanger. Andrew let off a lot of steam verbally, then he got the car blanket out of Zaneens car and spread it on the ground and they sat down on it to discuss what would be the best course of action.

  Tarbra had a good run around the airfield, then coming back to make a fuss of them, Andrew envied the tender look of love that shone in Zaneens eyes when she looked at Tarbra, knowing either one of them would give their lives for the other, and he felt cheated by their mutual adoration of each other. It was the same adoration Zaneen he had had for her father ‘Charles Dean’, who had been tortured to death by terrorists when Zaneen had been just thirteen years old.

  Andrew informed Zaneen that he had not as yet managed to find out, who the heavy’s were, but Eddie Burns was the hit man Preston intended to use on Anthony Williams. Burns was well known to be a ‘prise prick’ to him money came first; morel/ethics meant nothing to him. Johnny Wellston had been Preston’s informant and put him in touch with Burns, Preston had had Burns dispose of for his trouble. Johnny had been a known drug addict but the only person he had ever harmed was himself, and the overdose Burns had supplied him with would mean that his death certificate would say, ‘accidental death.’ Andrew could see Zaneens brain ticking over as she spoke, “Yes, well I think we’ve talked enough about the subject for now. I’ll obviously have to help you sort this lot out before it gets any more complicated and too many people get involved.”