Read Online The Blue Notes by J. J. Salkeld - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. J. Salkeld
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place lay behind the ones on the far side. Hood watched for twenty minutes, just as he always did, and saw nothing unusual. The only risky part was getting the chain off the old, wrought iron gates. It made a noise, and there was no innocent explanation for it that he could think of, if someone came past. But he’d walked up to the gates in daylight the previous weekend, and had a quick look at the chain that they’d used to replace the one that he’d cut through last time. It looked just as cheap, so the bolt-cutters would take it, easy.
Sure enough his short-handled cutters did the job in a second, and he slipped them back up his sleeve, then carefully removed the chain and slowly opened the gates. Then he walked back to the van, and drove straight into the yard. As he’d expected the big security lights came on, and as before he didn’t bother finding their power supply. The light was useful to work in, and the CCTV footage would be of no use to anyone. His hood was up, and his van was out of sight of both the cameras, only backed just into the entrance of the yard.
Next job was to get the diesel pump working. There was a chain on it now, but again it took mere moments to cut. The electrical control box was just as insecure as it had been before, so it took thirty seconds to get into, and to force into ‘pump fuel' mode. Then Hood jogged back to the van, opened the rear doors, slid out the ramp, and then rolled the big plastic barrel onto the tarmac. He rolled it back to the pumps quickly, and was just starting to slow it down with his hands, using them like a friction brake, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Lately he’d been wondering if his reactions had slowed and his awareness of danger diminished in the time since he’d left the army, and this was his answer. Because when the baseball bat came down it missed Hood by a foot, and bounced off the top of the barrel.
It didn’t swing again, because Hood hit the man hard in the gut, and he went down fast. But there were two of them, Hood had sensed that from the start, and the other one caught Hood full in the back with his bat. He fell forward, and hit the barrel, face-first. It rolled forward, and Hood slipped off it and onto the yard surface. He couldn’t get his breath, and the pain was intense, but he knew that he needed to move, right now. He rolled, felt his lungs fill, and saw splinters fly off the end of the baseball bat as it struck the tarmac inches from his head. He didn’t have time to get up, that was obvious, so he swung round as best he could, like an ill-coordinated but enthusiastic break-dancer, and lashed out with his legs. He made contact, solid contact, and he saw the other man pull back, out of reach. ‘I fucking know you,’ he said, pointing at Hood with his splintered bat.
Hood had a precious second now, and that was just enough. He was on his feet before the next blow came, and he managed to dodge it, and get a couple of solid body shots in. But the big man’s next swing of the bat was shorter, and faster. He learned fast, and Hood couldn’t avoid it this time. It caught him full on the side of the head, and his right ear felt as if it was on fire. But he still stepped forward and punched much harder and faster than his opponent expected, and Davey watched him go down in instalments. The man was unconscious before he bit the tarmac.
Then Hood sank to his knees, wondered if he was going to pass out, and felt the blood on his neck. It was his all right, but there wasn’t too much of it. Not yet, anyway. He stayed in that position until his head cleared a bit, and he was sure that he wouldn’t pass out. Then he got up, crouched by each of the men in turn, didn’t bother to look at their faces, and just felt for a pulse. Both were strong, and steady. They’d be fine, he knew it, and they probably wouldn’t be out for long, either.
He rolled his barrel round to the far side of the
Sure enough his short-handled cutters did the job in a second, and he slipped them back up his sleeve, then carefully removed the chain and slowly opened the gates. Then he walked back to the van, and drove straight into the yard. As he’d expected the big security lights came on, and as before he didn’t bother finding their power supply. The light was useful to work in, and the CCTV footage would be of no use to anyone. His hood was up, and his van was out of sight of both the cameras, only backed just into the entrance of the yard.
Next job was to get the diesel pump working. There was a chain on it now, but again it took mere moments to cut. The electrical control box was just as insecure as it had been before, so it took thirty seconds to get into, and to force into ‘pump fuel' mode. Then Hood jogged back to the van, opened the rear doors, slid out the ramp, and then rolled the big plastic barrel onto the tarmac. He rolled it back to the pumps quickly, and was just starting to slow it down with his hands, using them like a friction brake, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Lately he’d been wondering if his reactions had slowed and his awareness of danger diminished in the time since he’d left the army, and this was his answer. Because when the baseball bat came down it missed Hood by a foot, and bounced off the top of the barrel.
It didn’t swing again, because Hood hit the man hard in the gut, and he went down fast. But there were two of them, Hood had sensed that from the start, and the other one caught Hood full in the back with his bat. He fell forward, and hit the barrel, face-first. It rolled forward, and Hood slipped off it and onto the yard surface. He couldn’t get his breath, and the pain was intense, but he knew that he needed to move, right now. He rolled, felt his lungs fill, and saw splinters fly off the end of the baseball bat as it struck the tarmac inches from his head. He didn’t have time to get up, that was obvious, so he swung round as best he could, like an ill-coordinated but enthusiastic break-dancer, and lashed out with his legs. He made contact, solid contact, and he saw the other man pull back, out of reach. ‘I fucking know you,’ he said, pointing at Hood with his splintered bat.
Hood had a precious second now, and that was just enough. He was on his feet before the next blow came, and he managed to dodge it, and get a couple of solid body shots in. But the big man’s next swing of the bat was shorter, and faster. He learned fast, and Hood couldn’t avoid it this time. It caught him full on the side of the head, and his right ear felt as if it was on fire. But he still stepped forward and punched much harder and faster than his opponent expected, and Davey watched him go down in instalments. The man was unconscious before he bit the tarmac.
Then Hood sank to his knees, wondered if he was going to pass out, and felt the blood on his neck. It was his all right, but there wasn’t too much of it. Not yet, anyway. He stayed in that position until his head cleared a bit, and he was sure that he wouldn’t pass out. Then he got up, crouched by each of the men in turn, didn’t bother to look at their faces, and just felt for a pulse. Both were strong, and steady. They’d be fine, he knew it, and they probably wouldn’t be out for long, either.
He rolled his barrel round to the far side of the
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