A Man Alone by David Siddall Read Free Book Online Page B

doesn’t belong here, a cunt who thinks he can get away with murder. Well think again. You started this and you can take the consequences.”
    Doyle closed his eyes and listened to the rant of indignation, the self-styled justification, and bit down on his anger. “Look,” he said and kept his voice reasonable, “we can sort this out. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”
    “Fuck you, Doyle. I’ve known Josie Mac for years and what she’s doing with a prick like you defies logic. If she’s with you, then she’s involved.” Doyle felt him leer into the phone. “And when I’ve finished with you, I’ll make sure no man looks at her again.”
    A chill ran through Doyle.
    “You’re a maggot Doyle, a worm with your belly on the ground and I’m going to tread you into that ground and make sure you never get up.”
    Doyle said nothing. He knew better than give Wood more ammunition. There was a pause on the line and he could almost see the man’s eyes glitter, could almost see the satisfied smirk of a man who knew he had hit the mark.
    He sighed into the phone. “So this is where we are.”
    “No,” said Wood, “this is where you are.”
    “So it is Mr. Wood. Just one thing, if you try and hurt my family, I’ll kill you.”
    Wood’s laugh was a tight, sinister wheeze. “Think you’re a playa, do ya?”
    His voice mocked him. “Good,” he said, “very good.” He must have pushed the phone closer to his mouth for his voice hardened and became more intimate as if this were information for Doyle and Doyle alone. “You’re just one man Doyle. A man alone. What the fuck can you do to hurt me?” He let his words hang for a few seconds then spoke again. “I know where you are, so I know where to come. And I’ll be coming very soon.” He ended the call.
    Doyle sat a little while longer then tossed his phone on to the settee. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them he looked around the room. There wasn’t much of him there. A battered guitar in a corner, a half read book on the sideboard. If he slipped away would anyone notice? Would it be any great loss? His eyes lighted on a photograph of Josie and April and he remembered the loneliness and despair of his life before. It wasn’t an option.
    Stroking the arm of the chair where he sat, a tiny sliver of glass dug into his palm. Pulling it from his skin, he watched a drop of blood form and well from the cut. Some men were relentless in their spite; cutting until they bled you dry and you were no longer able to offer any resistance. Wood was one of them. And Doyle knew there was only way to deal with such men.
    Rising from his chair he went to the bookcase and got down the yellow pages.
    Later that day, Doyle went shopping.
     
    I T WAS MIDDAY WHEN Doyle drove into town. He parked his Fiesta in the multi-story on Mount Pleasant and walked past the Adelphi Hotel toward the shopping center. On his way he stopped at the mobile phone store to buy six pay-as-you-go phones. From the model shop in St John’s, he bought a pack of rocket igniters and motors, and at the hardware store, he bought two three-foot sections of plastic drainpipe and a dust mask. Back home, he put the materials into the backyard shed then switched on the computer in April’s room. It took him ten minutes to find what he wanted on eBay. Ticking the next day delivery box, he powered down the computer and looked out of the window. Night would shroud the streets in a little more than an hour and he could continue his business. He waited, staring at the wall. This was the calm before the whirlwind he was about to unleash on Barry Wood. He needed time to clear his mind. When he was ready, Doyle put on his green fishing jacket, pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes, and pushed a pair of mini bolt cutters into his pocket. He slung an empty rucksack over his back, locked the doors, and slipped into the alley at the back of the house.
    A little more than a mile