[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.While you’re a patient on my ward, you’ll do as you’re told, do you hear?”Last StrawBirch came out to see what all the fuss was about.He saw the dope and the gun on the green baize table.He saw Layla, holding a wad of money.And he flushed with anger.“You evil little snitch!”She dropped the money.It fluttered to the floor – over a dozen shabby white notes – all in fifties.Most of the men let their gaze follow the money – thinking only of what if could buy – but Birch kept his eyes on Layla.“Hello,” she said, and raised her chin, almost defiantly.“I can see what you’re doing, girl.You might fool these amateurs but I’ve been in business longer than you’ve been alive.”“I don’t know what you mean, Mr Birch.”“Did anyone check her for a wire?”Layla flinched, visibly.“See.Look at her! Guilty as sin!” Birch was sure now.Surer than sure.He went over to the table, where Glenn was sitting ready to receive the money.“She’s a snitch.And you, my son, will be appearing in court charged with trafficking in drugs and firearms.What kind of moron are you?”Birch struck the boy’s head, almost playfully, like an old-fashioned schoolmaster.Glenn whitened.He looked at the gun and the dope like he was wishing there was some way he could disassociate himself – but couldn’t see it.Then Birch looked at Layla and smiled.The girl was trembling, uncontrollably.To him, this was irrefutable proof of her guilt.Then, for the benefit of the policemen and women sitting in their cars outside, he said, “And how dare you do this in my club? I run a respectable establishment, and I will not have this wrong-doing in here.”At the same time, though, he covered Layla’s mouth with his hands and nodded to his men.They knew, he thought smugly.He had them well-trained.He wanted them to strip her clothes off her and look for the wire.She struggled and wriggled and tried to bite Birch’s hand.But he laughed loud to cover the sound.Yes, bite me, darling, my hand’s as tough as old shoe leather – and so’s my heart if you only knew it.When they’d stripped her of the bloody wire, he’d get one or two of the guys to take her somewhere and quietly kill her.Glenn moved first.The boy was angry, Birch understood that, no one likes being called a moron.He came over and ripped open the front of Layla’s flimsy shirt, exposing a lacy black bra – but no sign of a wire.Glenn frowned and grabbed the edge of her flirty little skirt.Pulled it up and ran his hand around her thighs, while her eyes flared above Birch’s fingers.Finding nothing, he repeated the manoeuvre, searching with increasing anxiety.“Nothing.She ain’t wearing one, guv.”“She must be.” Birch sighed.If you wanted anything done properly you had to do it yourself.He flung Layla onto her back on the floor, willing her to be silent if she valued her life.He frisked her, with a kind of clinical professionalism.Searching for the bloody wire.Nothing.Nothing.Nothing.“Did she have a bag?” he snapped.“A purse of some kind?”“No,” said Glenn.“She had the money in her bra.”Birch was furious.The little bitch had made him look a fool.He had been so sure about the wire.“Looks like she’s legit, then,” said Glenn.“Legit?” Birch looked up.“Nothing about this is legit! Show a little respect, you piece of pond scum.”But Glenn was smug now – he didn’t look like such a moron, after all.“Just sayin‘.”Birch had to work hard to hold on to his temper.Glenn sauntered over to where the fifty pound notes lay scattered on the floor.“Alright if I pick up my money now, Mr Birch?”Birch didn’t like that.He didn’t like that at all.“Your money? Your money? Who gave you that gun, you fucking retard? And the goods? And what makes you think you can go selling it to the first pretty little tart who asks you to hand it over?”* * *Outside in the squad car.Naomi Wilks was getting worried.“I want to call it.She’s done her best.”“No,” said the other detective.“It sounds like it’s just getting good.”Naomi shook her head, sick with worry.“The girl’s in danger.And the men are on the verge of fighting each other.Someone’s going to get hurt.”“So much the better,” breathed the other officer, callously.“She’s just a tart.And he’s a−”“They’re people, not throwaways.I want to call an end to it now.I want to send people in and do the best we can with what she’s got for us.”* * *Layla lay on the floor hoping like hell the police would come soon.Nothing they’d said in the lead up to this had prepared her for the raw fear of this moment.Birch, kneeling beside her, had one hand on her throat to suppress any attempt to scream.Glenn a few feet away.The other men watching.She saw Glenn walking towards her, still obsessed with the idea of getting his money.Birch released his hold on her throat – and she would have screamed if she had dared to.But she was too afraid, and no one out there seemed to be listening.Birch pulled a gun on Glenn.Glenn reached forward to get his own gun from off the table.Then a third man said, “Don’t fucking shoot! What if she IS wired and we ain’t found it?”So Birch shook her, violently, “You’re doing my head in, you little tart! Where is it?”He rummaged violently through the remaining shreds of clothing she was wearing – still wanting to be proved right.As his hands roved over her body, Layla was acutely aware that he was still gripping his gun.Oh, God, what if it went off accidentally? She willed herself to do something to calm him down.She forced herself to look up at Mr Birch’s gnarled sun-tanned face.Up close he was all lines and crevices like a craggy old headstone.“I… wouldn’t do that to you…really, I wouldn’t.” She even reached up and touched the side of his face.Hand trembling.Eyes locked on his.“I’m a rook.You said I was a rook just like you.”He was confused now, and frustrated.“Then why the fuck does this feel like a set-up?”“I don’t know…” she murmured.He stood up, leaving Layla lying on the floor.He turned to stare at his men, who were all staring at him with a mixture of fear and loyalty.Except Glenn – always the loose cannon.She dared not move.Perhaps, if Birch turned his fury on anyone else, she’d crawl under the table – or better still, behind the bar – if she could do so without attracting attention.But he had other ideas.“You’ve gotta go.I don’t trust you.” He came and stood over her and pointed his gun at her face.“You said not here,” Glenn reminded him.“No mess in the club, that’s what you said.”“Shut the fuck up!” said Birch.“Or I’ll shoot you first.”He turned back to Layla and took aim again.“Sorry darling.You’re a liability.”“If you do that, Mr Birch,” said a resonating voice from behind the bar.“You’ll go down for murder.”Birch swung round.Jacob.The ebony barman.The one who used to be always smiling.Except he didn’t smile so much anymore.A bereavement in his family.“She’s not the one with the wire, you see,” said Jacob.“You!” Birch said and fired, out of pure, senseless anger.The first bullet whizzed past Jacob’s cheek, shattering the mirror behind the bar, sending smithereens cascading around him.In the car, Naomi knew that had to be the signal.The force ran on protocol and fear of supervisory censure.Shots had been fired.She knew what to do.She picked up her radio and without even looking at her colleague, she said “Go, go, go.”“Go on,” said Jacob.“Shoot me, Mr Birch [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

listy-do-eda.opx.pl