Read Online The Undertakers Gift by Trevor Baxendale - Free Book Online

that characterised his kind. Eventually, without looking up, he asked, ‘What do you want to know?’
    ‘I want to know about the pitbullfrogs for a start.’
    ‘What about them? They were just a bit of fun.’
    ‘They’re killers. Wild and unpredictable and full of God knows how many alien pathogens. I killed one but we need to find the other one, Kerko. Where’s it likely to go? Any ideas?’
    ‘How should I know?’
    ‘We’ve had one confirmed sighting,’ said Ianto. ‘Police cornered an unidentified – and unidentifiable – animal in a garage near Splott. They had to bring in a dog unit to deal with it.’
    Kerko looked intrigued. ‘And?’
    ‘Two Alsatians dead – necrotic inflammation from infected bites.’
    ‘Huh.’
    ‘I like dogs,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t like pitbullfrogs. Where would it go, Kerko?’
    He shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
    ‘You’re not being very helpful, Kerko.’
    ‘What have I got to gain? Or lose?’ The Blowfish curled a wet lip and sat back in his chair, folding his arms. A little of the old spark had come back. ‘You’re stuck with me here, aren’t you? You can’t send me back. You either keep me here in your prison cell or kill me.’
    ‘There’s always the deep freeze,’ suggested Ianto.
    ‘Might as well be dead.’
    ‘You want me to make you an offer?’
    Kerko shrugged.
    ‘How about I promise you that if you tell us what we want to know, I won’t put you back in the same cell as our pet Weevil.’
    ‘You’ve got Weevils here?’ A smirk. ‘Figures. They stink, eat crap and fight. Should fit in on this planet just fine.’
    ‘It’s not just the pitbullfrogs I’m worried about, Kerko. It’s them, you, the guy in Cell One. We’ve even had Grolon rats swimming in the canals. Last week a load of them dragged an angler into the water and stripped him down to the bone.’
    Kerko snorted. ‘Never did like anglers.’
    ‘Something’s going on with the Rift,’ Jack continued. ‘We’re being flooded with aliens, and I wanna know why .’
    Kerko made no reply. He just sat and stared at the desk.
    ‘Let me ask you another question,’ ventured Jack. ‘Have you ever heard of something called the Undertaker’s Gift?’
    ‘Up yours,’ said Kerko.
    ‘Weevil’s waiting. And she’s hungry. Maybe she fancies a fish supper, what do you think Ianto?’
    ‘More than likely, I should say. I think I’ve got a bottle of Tartar sauce somewhere.’
    Jack rewarded him with a tiny smile and then looked back at Kerko. ‘Well?’
    ‘Go screw yourself. I’m a 77er, remember, and you don’t scare me. You killed my kid brother and I’ve got nothing to lose, so tell me what you expect me to do? Sit here and answer all your stupid questions or break your neck with my bare hands?’
    And with this he launched himself across the table, fingers fastening around Jack’s throat with sudden, wild anger. Such was the unexpected savagery of the attack that Jack found himself momentarily stunned, aware only of an agonising pain in his neck and a complete inability to breathe. Even handcuffed, Kerko had succeeded in getting a good, solid grip and his fingers were digging in like steel clamps.
    Jack’s chair crashed back as he struggled to his feet, teeth bared. Kerko was still holding him, locked onto him with a crazed strength forged from sheer, hard-as-iron hate. Jack tried to tear the Blowfish away but he just couldn’t get the leverage. They gripped each other in a rigid dance of death until Ianto calmly stepped forward and pressed the muzzle of a stun gun against the back of Kerko’s neck.
    Pow.
    The fish dropped to the floor without a sound and lay there, trembling as the electric charge dissipated through his nervous system.
    Ianto picked up the fallen chair and helped Jack into it. ‘You took your time,’ Jack complained hoarsely, rubbing his throat.
    ‘The stunner was in my pocket. I had to get it out, check the charge, take off the safety catch, aim it and pull the