muddy track he had driven over an hour earlier.
He had thought he would be nervous, frightened, but now he’d set things in motion he had no real feelings either way. This was something that had to be done, and he had no option other than to get it over with, and get on with his life. He had already killed – a whole fucking family – even though he had not known what he was doing at the time. But he had learnt how to deal with it. Once you accepted something it was so much easier to live with – no matter how bad it might be. He had planned every step meticulously this time and, so far, it had all fallen into place. He hoped that everything else would be as easy.
He was not a fool, and he had made sure that he had every contingency in place. He had pondered this for hours on end, planned every detail, trying to work out as many different scenarios as possible. He was convinced that he was covered, no matter what might happen.
He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, pleased at how calm he appeared. If the police should happen upon him, and ask why he was sitting alone in a car in the middle of nowhere, he had a perfect alibi ready. He had blankets, a flask of soup, and a pair of binoculars. He was a twitcher he’d claim; tell them he often slept in his car so he could get up at the crack of dawn and pursue his hobby. He even had a notebook prepared to show them, if necessary, filled with times, dates, places and what species of bird he had seen. It was probably a step too far, but he had been determined to make sure he had covered every angle. Now he just wanted to get it over with. He was bored, cold, and dying for a decent drink.
As he arched his back to loosen his muscles, and allowed himself a large, noisy yawn, he saw the glare of headlights as a car crawled slowly up the dirt road ahead of him. He relaxed back into his seat, took a long breath, and held it deep inside, until the car pulled up beside his, then he exhaled slowly.
This was it.
He got out of his car quickly, and the cold night air was enough to chase away the last vestiges of tiredness. He smiled amiably as he slipped into the passenger seat of Terry Gold’s Mk IV Cortina. Michael was pleased to see that Terry had used his usual car. That would make things much easier for him.
‘Brass monkeys out there, mate, I’m freezing.’
Terry smiled apologetically. ‘I had a bit of trouble finding this place, Michael. Not exactly the A13, is it?’
Michael smiled, and Terry Gold was impressed at how straight and white Michael’s teeth actually were.
‘You got the gear then, Terry?’
Terry Gold sighed in mock exasperation. ‘’ Course I have. Be a bit pointless coming all the way out here if I didn’t, for fuck’s sake!’
Michael laughed. Terry Gold had to be as thick as proverbial shit. There was no way in hell he would have fallen for any of this. But greed was a great incentive to so many people. When Michael had told Terry casually that, if he could lay his hands on a couple of keys of coke, he had a buyer who was new to the game, caked up with money, and who wanted the transaction to be as private as possible, Terry Gold had nearly bitten his hand off. Terry had always had one eye on the main chance, it was second nature to him.
It didn’t matter that Terry suspected Michael had had a hand in his nephew’s murder. Jimmy’s death had been overlooked, but everyone in the know was aware that the Costellos had wanted it. Terry Gold had no choice but to swallow – what else could he do? And this was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down.
‘It’s in the boot, Michael.’
They got out of the car together, and Terry lit himself a cigarette. Michael watched as he busied himself opening the boot, pulling up the carpet where he had hidden the three keys of coke in the space where the spare wheel should have been.
Michael shook his head. How fucking predictable could you get? The first place the Filth would look if they were to
He had thought he would be nervous, frightened, but now he’d set things in motion he had no real feelings either way. This was something that had to be done, and he had no option other than to get it over with, and get on with his life. He had already killed – a whole fucking family – even though he had not known what he was doing at the time. But he had learnt how to deal with it. Once you accepted something it was so much easier to live with – no matter how bad it might be. He had planned every step meticulously this time and, so far, it had all fallen into place. He hoped that everything else would be as easy.
He was not a fool, and he had made sure that he had every contingency in place. He had pondered this for hours on end, planned every detail, trying to work out as many different scenarios as possible. He was convinced that he was covered, no matter what might happen.
He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, pleased at how calm he appeared. If the police should happen upon him, and ask why he was sitting alone in a car in the middle of nowhere, he had a perfect alibi ready. He had blankets, a flask of soup, and a pair of binoculars. He was a twitcher he’d claim; tell them he often slept in his car so he could get up at the crack of dawn and pursue his hobby. He even had a notebook prepared to show them, if necessary, filled with times, dates, places and what species of bird he had seen. It was probably a step too far, but he had been determined to make sure he had covered every angle. Now he just wanted to get it over with. He was bored, cold, and dying for a decent drink.
As he arched his back to loosen his muscles, and allowed himself a large, noisy yawn, he saw the glare of headlights as a car crawled slowly up the dirt road ahead of him. He relaxed back into his seat, took a long breath, and held it deep inside, until the car pulled up beside his, then he exhaled slowly.
This was it.
He got out of his car quickly, and the cold night air was enough to chase away the last vestiges of tiredness. He smiled amiably as he slipped into the passenger seat of Terry Gold’s Mk IV Cortina. Michael was pleased to see that Terry had used his usual car. That would make things much easier for him.
‘Brass monkeys out there, mate, I’m freezing.’
Terry smiled apologetically. ‘I had a bit of trouble finding this place, Michael. Not exactly the A13, is it?’
Michael smiled, and Terry Gold was impressed at how straight and white Michael’s teeth actually were.
‘You got the gear then, Terry?’
Terry Gold sighed in mock exasperation. ‘’ Course I have. Be a bit pointless coming all the way out here if I didn’t, for fuck’s sake!’
Michael laughed. Terry Gold had to be as thick as proverbial shit. There was no way in hell he would have fallen for any of this. But greed was a great incentive to so many people. When Michael had told Terry casually that, if he could lay his hands on a couple of keys of coke, he had a buyer who was new to the game, caked up with money, and who wanted the transaction to be as private as possible, Terry Gold had nearly bitten his hand off. Terry had always had one eye on the main chance, it was second nature to him.
It didn’t matter that Terry suspected Michael had had a hand in his nephew’s murder. Jimmy’s death had been overlooked, but everyone in the know was aware that the Costellos had wanted it. Terry Gold had no choice but to swallow – what else could he do? And this was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down.
‘It’s in the boot, Michael.’
They got out of the car together, and Terry lit himself a cigarette. Michael watched as he busied himself opening the boot, pulling up the carpet where he had hidden the three keys of coke in the space where the spare wheel should have been.
Michael shook his head. How fucking predictable could you get? The first place the Filth would look if they were to
Similar Books
