Read Online To Kill For by Phillip Hunter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phillip Hunter
Ads: Link
havenât been beaten by it, Joe. Youâve been gutted by it. Thereâs nothing left inside of you.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âThat woman back there. I donât know who she is. I donât want to know, but she was⦠Damn it, I donât understand this world any more.â
If heâd only just discovered that the world was a stinking pit of snakes, each turning on the others, there wasnât much I could do for him.
I said, âAre you telling me you donât want to be involved?â
âFor Christâs sake. No, Iâm not saying that. Cole went to Kidâs funeral. Then he does something like that to that woman. All you people, I just donât understand it. I justâ¦â
He sighed. He didnât seem to know what he was trying to say. He didnât understand that there was nothing to understand.
He ran a hand wearily over his head, over the thinning grey hair, over the years of wasted effort and forgotten ideals. He wanted something; order or hope or just a reason, and I couldnât give it to him.
âI know the bloke who did it,â I said. âIf I get the chance, Iâll fix him.â
Browne looked at me, gazing right into my eyes. I had the feeling he was trying to find something there, trying to find an answer, maybe. Finally, he turned and opened the car door and got out and walked away.
I pulled out and turned into Kings Head Hill. When I hit the top of the hill, North London lay before me, like a slug beneath a sluggish sky. The reservoirs were the colour of dishwater. Beyond them was Ponders End.
The traffic was getting heavy and it was another twenty minutes before I got to the site where, only a few hours earlier, Iâd put 7.62 mil rounds into Glazerâs car. By now there wouldâve been people who would have seen the car. If I was lucky they wouldnât have paid any attention. The car wouldâve looked just like a joy-riderâs wreck. There were plenty of those around. It was possible, though, that someone had seen the bullet holes and called the police.
I pulled into the car park and cruised slowly, ready to turn and leave quickly. There was no law. There was no car. I found broken glass and, further along, dried blood on the concrete. But the car was gone.
What did that mean? Had Paget been watching us? Had he driven the car away afterwards? No, that didnât make sense. For one, he wouldâve had to drive to Ponders End and that meant he wouldâve had his own car to drive, he wouldnât have been able to drive two cars. Besides, if heâd been there at all, he wouldâve tried to kill me. Of that I was sure. And he wouldnât have gone there afterwards.
Had Glazer waited around and gone back for the car? It was possible, but I didnât think so. Why would he risk it?
I got back in my car and drove over to Enfield. I stopped at a cafe and ordered fish and chips and coffee. I took a seat at the orange plastic table and tried to work out what that fuck was going on.
The first thing I did was call Cole and ask him if heâd sent his men back to collect the car. He said, âWhy the fuck would I do that?â
I listened to the nine oâclock news. There was still nothing about the shooting, nothing about this Derek. Had Carl lied about dumping him in Epping Forest? If Derek had been picked up from there, or anywhere near there, he wouldâve been taken to Whipps Cross Hospital or maybe to the Princess Alexandra in Harlow. I phoned both places and told them I was a newspaper reporter whoâd been given a lead. Neither one had treated a gunshot wound overnight.
I thought about things, as much as I could with my head all over the place. Paget had gone to ground. He was going to be a bastard to find. Plus, Cole was after him and if I went after Paget directly, Iâd have to deal with Coleâs mob at some point. I wasnât sure I was in the state to
âWhat are you talking about?â
âThat woman back there. I donât know who she is. I donât want to know, but she was⦠Damn it, I donât understand this world any more.â
If heâd only just discovered that the world was a stinking pit of snakes, each turning on the others, there wasnât much I could do for him.
I said, âAre you telling me you donât want to be involved?â
âFor Christâs sake. No, Iâm not saying that. Cole went to Kidâs funeral. Then he does something like that to that woman. All you people, I just donât understand it. I justâ¦â
He sighed. He didnât seem to know what he was trying to say. He didnât understand that there was nothing to understand.
He ran a hand wearily over his head, over the thinning grey hair, over the years of wasted effort and forgotten ideals. He wanted something; order or hope or just a reason, and I couldnât give it to him.
âI know the bloke who did it,â I said. âIf I get the chance, Iâll fix him.â
Browne looked at me, gazing right into my eyes. I had the feeling he was trying to find something there, trying to find an answer, maybe. Finally, he turned and opened the car door and got out and walked away.
I pulled out and turned into Kings Head Hill. When I hit the top of the hill, North London lay before me, like a slug beneath a sluggish sky. The reservoirs were the colour of dishwater. Beyond them was Ponders End.
The traffic was getting heavy and it was another twenty minutes before I got to the site where, only a few hours earlier, Iâd put 7.62 mil rounds into Glazerâs car. By now there wouldâve been people who would have seen the car. If I was lucky they wouldnât have paid any attention. The car wouldâve looked just like a joy-riderâs wreck. There were plenty of those around. It was possible, though, that someone had seen the bullet holes and called the police.
I pulled into the car park and cruised slowly, ready to turn and leave quickly. There was no law. There was no car. I found broken glass and, further along, dried blood on the concrete. But the car was gone.
What did that mean? Had Paget been watching us? Had he driven the car away afterwards? No, that didnât make sense. For one, he wouldâve had to drive to Ponders End and that meant he wouldâve had his own car to drive, he wouldnât have been able to drive two cars. Besides, if heâd been there at all, he wouldâve tried to kill me. Of that I was sure. And he wouldnât have gone there afterwards.
Had Glazer waited around and gone back for the car? It was possible, but I didnât think so. Why would he risk it?
I got back in my car and drove over to Enfield. I stopped at a cafe and ordered fish and chips and coffee. I took a seat at the orange plastic table and tried to work out what that fuck was going on.
The first thing I did was call Cole and ask him if heâd sent his men back to collect the car. He said, âWhy the fuck would I do that?â
I listened to the nine oâclock news. There was still nothing about the shooting, nothing about this Derek. Had Carl lied about dumping him in Epping Forest? If Derek had been picked up from there, or anywhere near there, he wouldâve been taken to Whipps Cross Hospital or maybe to the Princess Alexandra in Harlow. I phoned both places and told them I was a newspaper reporter whoâd been given a lead. Neither one had treated a gunshot wound overnight.
I thought about things, as much as I could with my head all over the place. Paget had gone to ground. He was going to be a bastard to find. Plus, Cole was after him and if I went after Paget directly, Iâd have to deal with Coleâs mob at some point. I wasnât sure I was in the state to
Similar Books
