Read Online Blood Whispers by John Gordon Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Gordon Sinclair
Tags: Crime thriller
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overhead street lamp. The top of the little creep’s head was only just visible above the headrest. Besnik couldn’t make out whether he was reading or sleeping, but E Zeze’s head was tipped forward slightly.
A rap at the window made him turn.
The girl inside nodded to him that his fish was ready.
Besnik flicked the rest of his cigarette along the pavement and ducked back inside the shop.
The fried fish was sitting on a sheet of greaseproof paper waiting to be wrapped.
‘Salt and vinegar?’ asked the girl as she shovelled on a pile of chips.
‘A lot, please.’
The girl used both hands to pour on the salt and vinegar simultaneously, then expertly wrapped the food into a neat little bundle.
‘Six pounds fifty, please.’
Besnik handed over the money, then, after waiting a few moments for his change, exited the shop.
He had only travelled a few metres along the pavement when he stopped dead and swore under his breath.
The space where the car had been was empty.
The Mercedes was gone.
Nine
At 2.30 a.m. Edi Leka noticed a missed call from Besnik Osmani’s phone. When he returned it, Engjell E Zeze answered.
‘I need your address.’
‘Where is Besnik?’
‘Let me speak with Mister Abazi.’
‘Mister Abazi is sleeping. I’ve to wake him up when you get here.’
‘So, give me your address.’
‘Put Besnik on.’
‘Besnik is not here. What is your address?’
Edi wasn’t sure what to do. They were expecting the Watcher’s arrival, but this was a variation from the plan. Reluctantly, he told E Zeze the address, then added, ‘When you get to the front gates stay in the car and don’t speak, or wind down the window. We’re being watched. When the gates open drive straight ahead into the garage and wait for someone to come and get you. Don’t get out of the car. Just turn off the engine and wait. Do you understand?’
‘I’ll be there shortly.’
Edi took a long draw on his cigarette and wondered what the hell had happened to Besnik.
Twenty minutes later the black Mercedes appeared on the large computer screen he was monitoring. Several other images of different areas of the house were displayed in boxes that came to life whenever any motion or heat source or sound was detected. The car had just drawn up at the wrought-iron gates leading to a small inner courtyard in front of Fisnik Abazi’s house, triggering the camera and setting off a small alarm that beeped every couple of seconds until it was attended to.
The headlamps flashed and Edi pressed the gate release.
*
Fisnik Abazi and Engjell E Zeze greeted each other with a firm handshake and a head-over-the-shoulder embrace. Both wore blank expressions, so it was difficult to tell if they were pleased to see each other. Even though he wasn’t in the Clan, Abazi had used Engjell’s services on several occasions back home. The guy was prim and prissy, everything had to be neat and tidy, but he was a pro who never screwed up and always did what he said he would do.
‘Engjell, my friend, I would say it’s good to see you, but I know when you arrive – and I mean no disrespect by saying this – it’s Death that’s carrying your luggage.’
Engjell nodded slightly, but that was all.
Fisnik pointed to one of the two large sofas facing each other adjacent to the fireplace and gestured for Engjell to sit down.
They were in a large triple-aspect lounge where everything, including the furniture, looked new and there was a lingering smell of fresh paint. Fisnik saw Engjell checking it out and answered the question before it was asked. ‘We’ve just done the place up . . . one of many. We don’t actually live here, we move from property to property, keep the authorities guessing. We’re making so much money over here, but we need to take it to the laundry. Property is still the best way: high-end only, though. No point scrabbling around with the poor folk when you don’t have to. Where you got your money stashed? You must
A rap at the window made him turn.
The girl inside nodded to him that his fish was ready.
Besnik flicked the rest of his cigarette along the pavement and ducked back inside the shop.
The fried fish was sitting on a sheet of greaseproof paper waiting to be wrapped.
‘Salt and vinegar?’ asked the girl as she shovelled on a pile of chips.
‘A lot, please.’
The girl used both hands to pour on the salt and vinegar simultaneously, then expertly wrapped the food into a neat little bundle.
‘Six pounds fifty, please.’
Besnik handed over the money, then, after waiting a few moments for his change, exited the shop.
He had only travelled a few metres along the pavement when he stopped dead and swore under his breath.
The space where the car had been was empty.
The Mercedes was gone.
Nine
At 2.30 a.m. Edi Leka noticed a missed call from Besnik Osmani’s phone. When he returned it, Engjell E Zeze answered.
‘I need your address.’
‘Where is Besnik?’
‘Let me speak with Mister Abazi.’
‘Mister Abazi is sleeping. I’ve to wake him up when you get here.’
‘So, give me your address.’
‘Put Besnik on.’
‘Besnik is not here. What is your address?’
Edi wasn’t sure what to do. They were expecting the Watcher’s arrival, but this was a variation from the plan. Reluctantly, he told E Zeze the address, then added, ‘When you get to the front gates stay in the car and don’t speak, or wind down the window. We’re being watched. When the gates open drive straight ahead into the garage and wait for someone to come and get you. Don’t get out of the car. Just turn off the engine and wait. Do you understand?’
‘I’ll be there shortly.’
Edi took a long draw on his cigarette and wondered what the hell had happened to Besnik.
Twenty minutes later the black Mercedes appeared on the large computer screen he was monitoring. Several other images of different areas of the house were displayed in boxes that came to life whenever any motion or heat source or sound was detected. The car had just drawn up at the wrought-iron gates leading to a small inner courtyard in front of Fisnik Abazi’s house, triggering the camera and setting off a small alarm that beeped every couple of seconds until it was attended to.
The headlamps flashed and Edi pressed the gate release.
*
Fisnik Abazi and Engjell E Zeze greeted each other with a firm handshake and a head-over-the-shoulder embrace. Both wore blank expressions, so it was difficult to tell if they were pleased to see each other. Even though he wasn’t in the Clan, Abazi had used Engjell’s services on several occasions back home. The guy was prim and prissy, everything had to be neat and tidy, but he was a pro who never screwed up and always did what he said he would do.
‘Engjell, my friend, I would say it’s good to see you, but I know when you arrive – and I mean no disrespect by saying this – it’s Death that’s carrying your luggage.’
Engjell nodded slightly, but that was all.
Fisnik pointed to one of the two large sofas facing each other adjacent to the fireplace and gestured for Engjell to sit down.
They were in a large triple-aspect lounge where everything, including the furniture, looked new and there was a lingering smell of fresh paint. Fisnik saw Engjell checking it out and answered the question before it was asked. ‘We’ve just done the place up . . . one of many. We don’t actually live here, we move from property to property, keep the authorities guessing. We’re making so much money over here, but we need to take it to the laundry. Property is still the best way: high-end only, though. No point scrabbling around with the poor folk when you don’t have to. Where you got your money stashed? You must
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