Read Online The Murder Exchange by Simon Kernick - Free Book Online

delivered a ferocious uppercut
that sent him flying. He landed on his back,
absolutely sparko, narrowly missing the traffic in
the next lane, and his cap rolled off, only to be immediately
crushed by a passing minibus full of
pensioners.
    'Oi!' shouted his partner, going for his extendable
baton.
    There was too much traffic to cross the road
before he caught up with me so I ran round the *
front of the Range Rover, mounted the pavement,
and charged him before he had a chance to actually
extend the baton. I punched him full in the face,
knocking him off balance, then got my leg round
his and tripped him up. He went down, his nose
bleeding badly, and I ran back round to retrieve my
keys.
    But cars were stopping all over the place now to
watch the drama unfolding and the lights had gone
red again. A well-built workman was getting out of
his van and glaring at me, looking worryingly like
he was about to carry out a citizen's arrest. Then,
from up the street, I heard the sound of a siren. It
meant a quick decision.
    Run for it.
    So that's what I did, and as I tore off at a rate of
knots in the opposite direction to the siren, past the
surprised expressions of passing civilians, it struck
me then that however bad I thought my predicament
was ten minutes ago, it was now a hundred
times worse.
    If anyone ever wanted to kill Johnny Hexham, he
    66
would not be a difficult man to find. Every
lunchtime between one and two, as regular as
clockwork, he was in the Forked Tail public house,
a mangy dive off Upper Street, gossiping with his
lowlife cronies and plotting his next poxy moneymaking
scheme. Sometimes he'd be there earlier,
sometimes he wouldn't leave until the early hours
of the following morning, but, without fail, he was
always in residence for that one hour. I got there at
ten to two, and waited in the doorway of a
boarded-up shop across the street, trying to look
inconspicuous. As it was a Friday, I guessed that the
la/y little shit would be in for an all-dayer, but, like
the creature of habit he was, I thought he'd probably
whip out for a few minutes to place some bets
on the horses, having picked up some tips from the
Paddy barman. I didn't much want to approach
Johnny in the bar where there were too many
people with big ears, but I would if I had to. Things
were not going well for me and I wanted some
answers quick.
    And bang, like an assassin's dream, there he was,
coming out of the door, already filling out one of
the betting slips he always carried with him. I
looked at my watch - one minute past two - and
crossed the street, coming up behind him.
    'Johnny Hexham. Long time no see.' And it was,
too. Getting close to six months.
    He swung round and clocked me straight away.
He didn't look too pleased but worked hard to hide
it. 'All right, Max,' he said, coming to a halt. 'How's
it going, mate?'
    I walked up and took him casually by the arm.
    67
The grip was light but firm enough to let him know
I wasn't fucking around. 'Not good, Johnny. Not
good. There are a few questions I need answers to
fairly urgently, and I think you might be able
to help.'
    'What's the Bobby, then?'
    'Eh?'
    The Bobby Moore, score.'
    'It's about a certain Mr Fowler.'
    'Fuck/ he said. 'I knew he'd be trouble/
    Tou don't know the half of it.' I let go of his arm
and we walked down in the direction of Chapel
Market.
    Johnny looked at me nervously. We might have
been old schoolmates but he was switched on
enough to notice that that wasn't going to count for
much in this conversation. I am a man of compassion
but, to be honest, you don't want to get on
the wrong side of me.
    'What happened, then?' he asked.
    Tou put this bloke, Fowler, on to me. Why?'
    There was nothing bad about it, honest. I just
thought the two of you could do some business. He
needed some security--'
    'How do you know him?' I had to remember not
to use the word 'did'.
    'I don't really. It was Elaine who put me on to
him. Elaine Toms.'
    'Jesus. Is she still around?'
    Elaine had been