man in the woods. He had his hair shaved up the sides and back with a crest of hair on top like a grown-out Mohawk. He looked pissed at my inconsiderate blocking of the road and he’d twisted his face into a mask of rage. When he glared at me I saw that there was something unusual about his eyes. A touch of the David Bowie look.
‘Don’t make me get out this truck,’ the giant shouted at me. ‘Move your fuckin’ ass!’
I gave him a weary nod, stepped up on to the kerb. I watched as the SUV swung into the alley, my eyes on the driver now. I’d only seen his face in darkness, and a relaxed state of unconsciousness, but there was no doubting that the driver and the man I’d knocked out were one and the same. Judging by the dark stain on his jacket the cut on his skull was still bleeding.
As he gave the SUV throttle and drove down the alley, I moved off the kerb and watched the vehicle’s progress. The alley ran between two tall buildings. Even in the darkness I could make out a loading dock about a hundred yards down. The SUV stopped, brake lights flaring, and the big man with the mismatched eyes got out. He reached for something that I guessed was a padlock. His curses were discernible even at that distance. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a roller shutter forcefully thrust upwards.
Serendipity.
I put down the bag, held my SIG against my thigh, then walked along the alley.
Chapter 11
When he’d wakened from his enforced slumber, Larry Bolan should have been apoplectic with rage. However, surfacing from the thick cloud of confusion with his brother patting his cheeks, he found he was only mildly annoyed. Some of the turnaround in his mood had to be down to the fact he was still alive, but even more to the fact that he would get another chance at killing this man. A bullet in the dark would have been too painless. This way he got to do it with his hands.
‘Your head’s split wide,’ Trent remarked, helping him to his feet.
Larry touched the cuts on his skull. ‘Tell me about it.’
A rifle cracked almost by Larry’s ear and he flinched from the noise. Looking towards the trail, he caught a glimpse of tail lights as the Grand Taurino sped round the curve.
Larry looked at the tall youth with the smoking rifle.
Without warning, he grabbed the boy’s throat between his massive fingers and squeezed. The boy was lifted off the ground, toes scrabbling for purchase on the dirt.
‘The hell you doing shooting at my wheels , Jeb?’ he roared in the youth’s purpling face. Then he tossed Jeb aside and the gangly youth cartwheeled into the nearby bushes. He landed awkwardly on his back, twisted among branches.
Larry and Trent stomped down on to the road. Looking in the direction where their vehicle had disappeared, they both stood in silence. Behind them, the rest of their friends dragged Jeb out of the undergrowth.
Larry turned and looked dispassionately at the dazed youth. ‘You OK, Jeb?’
Jeb nodded in confusion, wiping at scratches on his forehead.
‘Be thankful I’m not in a bad mood,’ Larry told him. Then turning to the group of men surrounding him, he warned, ‘Any of you motherfuckers mess up again, believe me, I’ll rip your fucking heads off.’
The men all nodded in acquiescence.
‘Any of you idiots got a phone with a signal?’
One man handed over his phone. ‘One bar only, but it might be enough, Larry.’
‘Go get the fucking cars,’ Larry told the men. ‘We ain’t achieving nothing standing round here, are we?’
The men scattered, and only Trent was with his brother as he reported in to Huffman.
‘How did he take it?’ Trent asked when Larry hung up.
‘In his usual way,’ Larry said. ‘He’s bringing in some help for us.’
‘We don’t need help.’
Larry touched the tender spots on his head. ‘No,’ he said.
Before they returned to town, they backtracked up the hill. They laid out the four dead men in the living room of Imogen Ballard’s house, then
‘Don’t make me get out this truck,’ the giant shouted at me. ‘Move your fuckin’ ass!’
I gave him a weary nod, stepped up on to the kerb. I watched as the SUV swung into the alley, my eyes on the driver now. I’d only seen his face in darkness, and a relaxed state of unconsciousness, but there was no doubting that the driver and the man I’d knocked out were one and the same. Judging by the dark stain on his jacket the cut on his skull was still bleeding.
As he gave the SUV throttle and drove down the alley, I moved off the kerb and watched the vehicle’s progress. The alley ran between two tall buildings. Even in the darkness I could make out a loading dock about a hundred yards down. The SUV stopped, brake lights flaring, and the big man with the mismatched eyes got out. He reached for something that I guessed was a padlock. His curses were discernible even at that distance. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a roller shutter forcefully thrust upwards.
Serendipity.
I put down the bag, held my SIG against my thigh, then walked along the alley.
Chapter 11
When he’d wakened from his enforced slumber, Larry Bolan should have been apoplectic with rage. However, surfacing from the thick cloud of confusion with his brother patting his cheeks, he found he was only mildly annoyed. Some of the turnaround in his mood had to be down to the fact he was still alive, but even more to the fact that he would get another chance at killing this man. A bullet in the dark would have been too painless. This way he got to do it with his hands.
‘Your head’s split wide,’ Trent remarked, helping him to his feet.
Larry touched the cuts on his skull. ‘Tell me about it.’
A rifle cracked almost by Larry’s ear and he flinched from the noise. Looking towards the trail, he caught a glimpse of tail lights as the Grand Taurino sped round the curve.
Larry looked at the tall youth with the smoking rifle.
Without warning, he grabbed the boy’s throat between his massive fingers and squeezed. The boy was lifted off the ground, toes scrabbling for purchase on the dirt.
‘The hell you doing shooting at my wheels , Jeb?’ he roared in the youth’s purpling face. Then he tossed Jeb aside and the gangly youth cartwheeled into the nearby bushes. He landed awkwardly on his back, twisted among branches.
Larry and Trent stomped down on to the road. Looking in the direction where their vehicle had disappeared, they both stood in silence. Behind them, the rest of their friends dragged Jeb out of the undergrowth.
Larry turned and looked dispassionately at the dazed youth. ‘You OK, Jeb?’
Jeb nodded in confusion, wiping at scratches on his forehead.
‘Be thankful I’m not in a bad mood,’ Larry told him. Then turning to the group of men surrounding him, he warned, ‘Any of you motherfuckers mess up again, believe me, I’ll rip your fucking heads off.’
The men all nodded in acquiescence.
‘Any of you idiots got a phone with a signal?’
One man handed over his phone. ‘One bar only, but it might be enough, Larry.’
‘Go get the fucking cars,’ Larry told the men. ‘We ain’t achieving nothing standing round here, are we?’
The men scattered, and only Trent was with his brother as he reported in to Huffman.
‘How did he take it?’ Trent asked when Larry hung up.
‘In his usual way,’ Larry said. ‘He’s bringing in some help for us.’
‘We don’t need help.’
Larry touched the tender spots on his head. ‘No,’ he said.
Before they returned to town, they backtracked up the hill. They laid out the four dead men in the living room of Imogen Ballard’s house, then
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