Read Online To Kill a Grey Man by D C Stansfield - Free Book Online Page B

there was something strong and dependable about him that
people liked.

 
    For his part, the pub was always busy as was he, so he did not have
to make the small talk that he hated, but he was always listening in and
enjoyed the stories that he overheard about the village and the people all living
such nice, safe, ordinary decent lives.

 
    This particular night, Mel the busman sat at the bar.   A big, round, friendly man in his late
forties who always held court and had a big circle of friends.   Everyone knew Mel and he knew everyone, a
nice ordinary guy.   He often stopped in
town between bus stops on his route to pick up the old village residents who
struggled to make it to the regular bus stops, even though it was totally
against the health and safety rules and everyone knew their kids were safe if
he was on the late run from the city as he took no nonsense from intoxicated
youngsters.

 
    He ordered a large whisky which was rare as Mel was a beer man.   Surge could see that Mel was very upset, his
eyes were red and a wave of sadness hung over him.   He was joined by his best friend Mickey, a scaffolder , who could see Mel was not his usual self.

 
    “What’s wrong?” Mickey asked.
    “I have just had a run in with those three big bastards who are selling
drugs.   They got on the bus without
paying and when I went to have a word, two of them grabbed me and the other
knocked me about,” said Mel.
    “Oh no.   You have got to go to the police.   They can’t do that.”
    “I would,” said Mel.   “But
that big bastard knows where I live.   He
threatened to come round and rape Kathy and slit my little girls’ throats and
they are high enough on drugs to do that so I am going to have to suck it up
and do nothing.”
    He turned to Surge who had overheard everything.
    “More whisky, please,” he said, setting his glass down on the
counter.   “And make them large ones.”

 
    In the corner, Ian sat reading his paper.   He had been in the pub for a couple of hours
after sitting in a cafe earlier where he had seen Surge go for his early
morning run.   He was careful not to study
Surge too closely using peripheral vision as much as possible.   These kind of operations were dangerous, normally
in surveillance you would have a team of ten to fifteen operatives all
constantly ringing the changes, clothes, hair, glasses, shoes, etc so Ian felt
quite exposed, but this so called ‘Surgeon’ looked easy to him, just an average
height average looking, fit middle-aged barman.   In fact he did not look like a player.   Not once during his morning run was he looking round or doubling back to
see if he was being followed and definitely he had no interest in anyone coming
into the pub. When Ian had bought his drink, he hardly looked at him or said a
word. Legends are built on reputations which are built on stories.   Ian bet all this guy’s stories were behind him.   Thirty more minutes then he would swap with
Damien.

 
    At 7.00 pm Surge went upstairs into his study and picked up the
phone The Grey Man had given him on their last mission.   Whilst it looked ordinary, it was secure and
untraceable and represented the latest in high tech equipment for special
services operatives.   He pushed the speed
dial to get Collins.
    “Hi,” said his friend.   “I was
just about to call you.”
    “How many have you got?” Surge asked, as usual not bothering with the
pleasantries.  
    “Two little ones,” said Collins.   “Fatty and Skinny.”
    “I have the same two,” said Surge.   “One who is quite good and one a joke, who
will not look at me no matter how much I get in his face.”
      “Amateurs?” said
Collins.
    “No.   I don’t think,”
so replied Surge.   “They have definitely
had some training.   I would think ex-operatives
or new boys, but they both should go on a refresher course.   Any ideas why we are being
watched?”
    “No,” said Collins.   “Unless we are part of