Read Online Green Ice: A Deadly High by Christian Fletcher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christian Fletcher
Ads: Link
separate pumps and Mancini plumped for a glass of ‘ Dos Equis .’ The two guys muttered to each other then turned back to glare at Mancini. He tossed a ten dollar bill onto the counter, ignoring the intimidating stares. The bar felt stiflingly hot and Mancini hoped he wouldn’t have too long to wait before Hector showed. He couldn’t nurse a solitary beer for a long period of time without aggravating the bartender. Nobody wanted a guy on his own, lingering in a bar without drinking. In Mancini’s experience, those types of guys were either cops or somebody up to no good.
One of the girls called out something Mancini didn’t understand so he pretended he hadn’t heard and continued to sip his beer.
“That chica would like to know if you are looking for a good time,” the barman said in perfect English to Mancini.
The two guys snickered and muttered to each other.
“Tell her, I’m exceedingly flattered and under normal circumstances, I would like nothing more than to spend a while in her company but unfortunately, I’m waiting for somebody,” Mancini said , without turning away from the counter.
The bartender translated, repeating Mancini’s words in Spanish. He heard whispers from the women behind him. Maybe they were all thinking he was a cop. Mancini kept glancing at the door, wishing Hector would show up.
Thirty long minutes ticked by that felt like hours to Mancini. He slowly sipped his beer and tried to ignore the obvious jibes, dirty looks and hostile mutterings from the other bar dwellers.
Everybody looked around when the door swung open and a tall man with thinning black hair strolled towards the counter. The bartender seemed to know him and they conversed for a few seconds before he turned to Mancini.
“You are here to meet Hector?” he asked.
Mancini nodded and downed the remainder of his beer. “Are you Hector?”
“He’s waiting outside,” the tall guy said bluntly. “Follow me.”
Mancini dumped his empty glass on the counter and nodded briefly in gratitude to the bartender. He cautiously pursued the tall guy towards the bar door, turning briefly to smile at the three girls. The tall guy led Mancini around the front of the bar to a narrow side street spurring off the main road. Mancini glanced behind him. Was this guy leading him into some kind of trap?
The tall guy approached a stationary battered, green Nissan car, parked facing them amongst the shadows of the surrounding buildings. A big guy with a bushy beard and wearing big sunshades sat in the passenger seat. Mancini felt apprehensive and slowed his pace. The tall guy waved him forward towards the Nissan’s trunk.
“Come on, hurry,” the tall guy hissed. “We need to be quick.” He raised the trunk cover and was hidden from Mancini’s sight.
Mancini reluctantly rounded the side of the vehicle, half expecting the tall guy to pull a gun on him. Thankfully, he was wrong. The tall guy beckoned him forward towards the trunk space.
“We have some things you will like, my friend.” He zipped open a brown sports bag and Mancini peered inside.
He saw two metallic black handguns, four spare magazines and a few boxes of ammunition.
“Both weapons are Heckler and Koch USP,” the tall guy said. “German made, nice guns. They have just been cleaned and oiled and good to go. Each magazine takes fifteen, nine millimeter rounds. These will allow you to get your job done without any fuss. We have provided you with some tactical gloves also. Please wear them in case you have to use the firearms. The gloves will prevent any gunshot residue going onto your hands. It goes without saying to dump the weapons and the carrying bag when the task is done.”
Mancini nodded. He knew the drill but listened to the guy out of courtesy anyhow. The tall guy closed the zipper and handed Mancini the holdall.
“Good luck, friend,” the tall guy said, slamming the trunk lid down. He then moved quickly towards the driver’s door, bundled
One of the girls called out something Mancini didn’t understand so he pretended he hadn’t heard and continued to sip his beer.
“That chica would like to know if you are looking for a good time,” the barman said in perfect English to Mancini.
The two guys snickered and muttered to each other.
“Tell her, I’m exceedingly flattered and under normal circumstances, I would like nothing more than to spend a while in her company but unfortunately, I’m waiting for somebody,” Mancini said , without turning away from the counter.
The bartender translated, repeating Mancini’s words in Spanish. He heard whispers from the women behind him. Maybe they were all thinking he was a cop. Mancini kept glancing at the door, wishing Hector would show up.
Thirty long minutes ticked by that felt like hours to Mancini. He slowly sipped his beer and tried to ignore the obvious jibes, dirty looks and hostile mutterings from the other bar dwellers.
Everybody looked around when the door swung open and a tall man with thinning black hair strolled towards the counter. The bartender seemed to know him and they conversed for a few seconds before he turned to Mancini.
“You are here to meet Hector?” he asked.
Mancini nodded and downed the remainder of his beer. “Are you Hector?”
“He’s waiting outside,” the tall guy said bluntly. “Follow me.”
Mancini dumped his empty glass on the counter and nodded briefly in gratitude to the bartender. He cautiously pursued the tall guy towards the bar door, turning briefly to smile at the three girls. The tall guy led Mancini around the front of the bar to a narrow side street spurring off the main road. Mancini glanced behind him. Was this guy leading him into some kind of trap?
The tall guy approached a stationary battered, green Nissan car, parked facing them amongst the shadows of the surrounding buildings. A big guy with a bushy beard and wearing big sunshades sat in the passenger seat. Mancini felt apprehensive and slowed his pace. The tall guy waved him forward towards the Nissan’s trunk.
“Come on, hurry,” the tall guy hissed. “We need to be quick.” He raised the trunk cover and was hidden from Mancini’s sight.
Mancini reluctantly rounded the side of the vehicle, half expecting the tall guy to pull a gun on him. Thankfully, he was wrong. The tall guy beckoned him forward towards the trunk space.
“We have some things you will like, my friend.” He zipped open a brown sports bag and Mancini peered inside.
He saw two metallic black handguns, four spare magazines and a few boxes of ammunition.
“Both weapons are Heckler and Koch USP,” the tall guy said. “German made, nice guns. They have just been cleaned and oiled and good to go. Each magazine takes fifteen, nine millimeter rounds. These will allow you to get your job done without any fuss. We have provided you with some tactical gloves also. Please wear them in case you have to use the firearms. The gloves will prevent any gunshot residue going onto your hands. It goes without saying to dump the weapons and the carrying bag when the task is done.”
Mancini nodded. He knew the drill but listened to the guy out of courtesy anyhow. The tall guy closed the zipper and handed Mancini the holdall.
“Good luck, friend,” the tall guy said, slamming the trunk lid down. He then moved quickly towards the driver’s door, bundled
Similar Books
