Read Online All or Nothing by Stuart Keane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stuart Keane
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to buy some security cameras when he got settled again - and change the locks.
The dining room seemed darker than usual. He knew the decor, the furniture and all the items in the room by heart. They now looked as if someone had thrown dark paint all over them. Goes to show you rarely see the room this early in the morning, he realised, and if he did, he was usually drunk. Note to self: get a fucking job .
Turning left, Francisco walked into his lounge slowly. The ‘furniture in darkness’ effect was similar in here, except that there was a window that was spraying light onto the items like a distorted torch beam. The street light directly outside his window was welcome right now. He had never thought that before, usually shutting the curtains to shut it out while he was watching TV. Working his way around the sofa, he headed for the stairs. When he stood at the foot of the staircase he listened. Waiting for a noise of some description, anything, a snore, and, if it had been possible, maybe the sound of a heartbeat.
But all he heard was the fridge humming in the kitchen and his cat-shaped clock ticking away on the wall. Nothing else, nothing more.
He reached the peak of the stairs silently in less than thirty seconds. Then he listened again. He strained his ears for anything. He heard nothing.
Dead silence.
Four doors.
Master bedroom, kid’s room, bathroom and man cave.
All the doors were closed. The hallway was dark because of it. No windows helping him here. The bathroom was on his right, nearest to him. He levered the door with his right hand, his left hand free, and pushed it open. No noise, the hinges were oiled effectively. No window in the bathroom either, he had been told that this was unavoidable, a design fault because the room backed onto another house. Never mind, he thought, he could see that the room was unoccupied.
He pulled the door closed and heard the latch lock. Francisco stepped onto the landing and leaned against the wall.
The man cave was next, his private room. This is where he kept his valuables, like his signed sports tee shirts, his collectible figures, his DVD collection and his PC. The door was actually ajar, so he just shoved it and leaned back out of sight, in case there was someone in there. After two minutes he leant in and peered into the room. Nothing of interest here. Just as it normally was, his PC was switched on, the monitor screen off, but he always kept his PC on for updates and downloads. It hummed steadily, making the odd buzzing noise.
Closing the door, he stepped past it towards the other end of his small landing.
Kid’s room next.
No, do yours, it’s nearer , he thought.
Francisco adjusted himself and gripped the door handle. Sweat was pouring off his brow, he felt it run down his back beneath his vest. He wiped it from his top lip and focused on the handle. Gripping it tightly, he rotated it down and pushed. The door opened and he walked straight in.
The curtain was billowing up into the room from where the window was gaping open. It was as if a white ghost was in the centre of the room, and at first it took Francisco aback. When he realised what it was he smiled to himself.
The bedroom was untouched, it was exactly how he remembered it. The wardrobe and bed were the only furniture of any significance in the room, apart from the bedside tables and a lamp in the corner. The bed was neatly made. No one was here. Francisco walked out of the room, opened his kid’s room and entered. Again, the room was empty, the bed was neatly made and nothing was touched.
The house was empty.
Francisco felt sick.
And light-headed.
They had got his family too.
FUCKING CUNTS!
Francisco felt the rage build up inside him, and didn’t know if giving in to the surge of anger was the right thing to do, for rage can make you sloppy and prone to miscalculation. But he was beyond caring. Kidnapping him was one thing, especially considering he hadn’t done anything
The dining room seemed darker than usual. He knew the decor, the furniture and all the items in the room by heart. They now looked as if someone had thrown dark paint all over them. Goes to show you rarely see the room this early in the morning, he realised, and if he did, he was usually drunk. Note to self: get a fucking job .
Turning left, Francisco walked into his lounge slowly. The ‘furniture in darkness’ effect was similar in here, except that there was a window that was spraying light onto the items like a distorted torch beam. The street light directly outside his window was welcome right now. He had never thought that before, usually shutting the curtains to shut it out while he was watching TV. Working his way around the sofa, he headed for the stairs. When he stood at the foot of the staircase he listened. Waiting for a noise of some description, anything, a snore, and, if it had been possible, maybe the sound of a heartbeat.
But all he heard was the fridge humming in the kitchen and his cat-shaped clock ticking away on the wall. Nothing else, nothing more.
He reached the peak of the stairs silently in less than thirty seconds. Then he listened again. He strained his ears for anything. He heard nothing.
Dead silence.
Four doors.
Master bedroom, kid’s room, bathroom and man cave.
All the doors were closed. The hallway was dark because of it. No windows helping him here. The bathroom was on his right, nearest to him. He levered the door with his right hand, his left hand free, and pushed it open. No noise, the hinges were oiled effectively. No window in the bathroom either, he had been told that this was unavoidable, a design fault because the room backed onto another house. Never mind, he thought, he could see that the room was unoccupied.
He pulled the door closed and heard the latch lock. Francisco stepped onto the landing and leaned against the wall.
The man cave was next, his private room. This is where he kept his valuables, like his signed sports tee shirts, his collectible figures, his DVD collection and his PC. The door was actually ajar, so he just shoved it and leaned back out of sight, in case there was someone in there. After two minutes he leant in and peered into the room. Nothing of interest here. Just as it normally was, his PC was switched on, the monitor screen off, but he always kept his PC on for updates and downloads. It hummed steadily, making the odd buzzing noise.
Closing the door, he stepped past it towards the other end of his small landing.
Kid’s room next.
No, do yours, it’s nearer , he thought.
Francisco adjusted himself and gripped the door handle. Sweat was pouring off his brow, he felt it run down his back beneath his vest. He wiped it from his top lip and focused on the handle. Gripping it tightly, he rotated it down and pushed. The door opened and he walked straight in.
The curtain was billowing up into the room from where the window was gaping open. It was as if a white ghost was in the centre of the room, and at first it took Francisco aback. When he realised what it was he smiled to himself.
The bedroom was untouched, it was exactly how he remembered it. The wardrobe and bed were the only furniture of any significance in the room, apart from the bedside tables and a lamp in the corner. The bed was neatly made. No one was here. Francisco walked out of the room, opened his kid’s room and entered. Again, the room was empty, the bed was neatly made and nothing was touched.
The house was empty.
Francisco felt sick.
And light-headed.
They had got his family too.
FUCKING CUNTS!
Francisco felt the rage build up inside him, and didn’t know if giving in to the surge of anger was the right thing to do, for rage can make you sloppy and prone to miscalculation. But he was beyond caring. Kidnapping him was one thing, especially considering he hadn’t done anything
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