Read Online Daring Dooz (The Implosion Trilogy (Book 2)) by Stan Arnold - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stan Arnold
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seconds, she rapidly
withdrew both hands, at the same time. It was supposed to cure headaches, and
was the only thing she could think of. The manual said do it three times. After
the third time, she got a result.
‘Shit!’ cried
Aubrey. ‘Th-th-this is Charlie’s office!’ As he turned to sprint off down the
corridor, Mrs Hathaway grabbed his collar and tie and twisted tightly. It was a
move she’d learned from a course entitled, How
to use your opponent’s casual clothing as a weapon. It worked. Aubrey stood
to attention, and his expression pleaded for oxygen. She relaxed her grip, and
made a mental note that doing these moves on a real person was different from
doing them on the course, and maybe she ought to try and go easy on the level
of attack she used - at least, as far as Aubrey was concerned.
She turned and
knocked on the door.
‘Mr Sumkins, this is
your 10 o’clock appointment.’
A surprisingly
cheerful voice answered.
‘Come in, come in. Let’s
get acquainted.’
She opened the door.
It was a room she knew well. A huge office with expensive oak panelled walls
and a creaky Singapore fan.
Charlie was obsessed
with Ealing Comedies from the late 1940s and 1950s, and regularly dressed as
characters from the films. Anyone who so much as smiled at his outfits would
soon have that smile removed, possibly with an industrial grinder.
Today, he was
dressed a Donald Houston, who starred as David 'Dai Number 9' Jones in the 1949 film, A
Run for your Money , directed by Charles Frend. The film was about two Welsh
miners who win a trip to London. Charlie was wearing a long mackintosh, a
rumpled suit with a leek sewn on near the top pocket, a cream, soft-collared
shirt, a tie and a cable-knit V-neck pullover.
Mrs Hathaway walked
slowly towards Charlie with her hand behind her back. That hand still had a
firm grip on Aubrey’s collar and tie, and she manoeuvred him so he was hidden
from Charlie’s view.
‘Take a seat, my
dear,’ smiled Charlie. And, in the same pleasant tone, added, ‘And dump the
little shit on the stool.’
She let go of Aubrey
and he scampered to the stool, which was where he normally sat when being
grilled by Charlie.
‘You noticed?’ she
said, with a faint smile.
‘Noticed?’ said
Charlie in a much more aggressive tone. ‘Noticed? What do you fink I am - an
amateur?’
He pressed a button
on his desk and part of the oak panelling slid back to reveal around 30 CCTV
monitors.
‘I’m better
protected than Fort Fuckin’ Knox. I saw you getting’ out of the taxi. I saw you
in the lift. I saw you doin’ that head-patting thing. I saw the pox-ridden
ferret start to panic. If you’re within 100 yards of this building, I know
exactly what you’re doing. This isn't your fuzzy, Crimewatch was-that-a-human-being-or-a-dog type TV stuff. This is
state-of-the-fuckin’-art, high-definition cameras and monitors. So don’t try
any fuckin’ subterfuge with me darlin’.’
When he had
finished, there was a lot of spit on the top of his desk.
‘Right,’ said Mrs
Hathaway, ‘let’s get down to business’.
‘My thoughts
exactly,’ said Charlie.
And that said, he
put his hand in the desk drawer and pulled out a handgun, complete with silencer,
and aimed it straight at Aubrey.
Chapter 15
As Charlie’s gun
reached the horizontal, Mrs Hathaway was in like a flash. In fact, you could
say she was in like three flashes. First, she shoved her little finger of her
left hand down the end of the silencer. Second and third, she, simultaneously,
shoved the index finger and second finger of her right hand as far as she could
up Charlie Sumkins’ flaring nostrils.
She looked straight
into his eyes and spoke with a surprising amount of authority, considering the
position she was in.
‘Before you pull the
trigger, Charles, I want you to look very, very carefully at my cleavage.’
This was an offer
even Charlie didn't get every day. He thought for a second. What had he got to
lose?
withdrew both hands, at the same time. It was supposed to cure headaches, and
was the only thing she could think of. The manual said do it three times. After
the third time, she got a result.
‘Shit!’ cried
Aubrey. ‘Th-th-this is Charlie’s office!’ As he turned to sprint off down the
corridor, Mrs Hathaway grabbed his collar and tie and twisted tightly. It was a
move she’d learned from a course entitled, How
to use your opponent’s casual clothing as a weapon. It worked. Aubrey stood
to attention, and his expression pleaded for oxygen. She relaxed her grip, and
made a mental note that doing these moves on a real person was different from
doing them on the course, and maybe she ought to try and go easy on the level
of attack she used - at least, as far as Aubrey was concerned.
She turned and
knocked on the door.
‘Mr Sumkins, this is
your 10 o’clock appointment.’
A surprisingly
cheerful voice answered.
‘Come in, come in. Let’s
get acquainted.’
She opened the door.
It was a room she knew well. A huge office with expensive oak panelled walls
and a creaky Singapore fan.
Charlie was obsessed
with Ealing Comedies from the late 1940s and 1950s, and regularly dressed as
characters from the films. Anyone who so much as smiled at his outfits would
soon have that smile removed, possibly with an industrial grinder.
Today, he was
dressed a Donald Houston, who starred as David 'Dai Number 9' Jones in the 1949 film, A
Run for your Money , directed by Charles Frend. The film was about two Welsh
miners who win a trip to London. Charlie was wearing a long mackintosh, a
rumpled suit with a leek sewn on near the top pocket, a cream, soft-collared
shirt, a tie and a cable-knit V-neck pullover.
Mrs Hathaway walked
slowly towards Charlie with her hand behind her back. That hand still had a
firm grip on Aubrey’s collar and tie, and she manoeuvred him so he was hidden
from Charlie’s view.
‘Take a seat, my
dear,’ smiled Charlie. And, in the same pleasant tone, added, ‘And dump the
little shit on the stool.’
She let go of Aubrey
and he scampered to the stool, which was where he normally sat when being
grilled by Charlie.
‘You noticed?’ she
said, with a faint smile.
‘Noticed?’ said
Charlie in a much more aggressive tone. ‘Noticed? What do you fink I am - an
amateur?’
He pressed a button
on his desk and part of the oak panelling slid back to reveal around 30 CCTV
monitors.
‘I’m better
protected than Fort Fuckin’ Knox. I saw you getting’ out of the taxi. I saw you
in the lift. I saw you doin’ that head-patting thing. I saw the pox-ridden
ferret start to panic. If you’re within 100 yards of this building, I know
exactly what you’re doing. This isn't your fuzzy, Crimewatch was-that-a-human-being-or-a-dog type TV stuff. This is
state-of-the-fuckin’-art, high-definition cameras and monitors. So don’t try
any fuckin’ subterfuge with me darlin’.’
When he had
finished, there was a lot of spit on the top of his desk.
‘Right,’ said Mrs
Hathaway, ‘let’s get down to business’.
‘My thoughts
exactly,’ said Charlie.
And that said, he
put his hand in the desk drawer and pulled out a handgun, complete with silencer,
and aimed it straight at Aubrey.
Chapter 15
As Charlie’s gun
reached the horizontal, Mrs Hathaway was in like a flash. In fact, you could
say she was in like three flashes. First, she shoved her little finger of her
left hand down the end of the silencer. Second and third, she, simultaneously,
shoved the index finger and second finger of her right hand as far as she could
up Charlie Sumkins’ flaring nostrils.
She looked straight
into his eyes and spoke with a surprising amount of authority, considering the
position she was in.
‘Before you pull the
trigger, Charles, I want you to look very, very carefully at my cleavage.’
This was an offer
even Charlie didn't get every day. He thought for a second. What had he got to
lose?
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