Dead or Alive by Ken McCoy Read Free Book Online

life while Vince’s still on the loose, Shan. There’ll be nowhere safe in the world, never mind Spain, which is only a couple of hours away. I need him and his people banged up. When the courts bang him up they’ll clean him out completely. All his bank accounts, his investments, all his property, cars everything. It’s the way they do things nowadays. Proceeds o’ crime they call it.’
    â€˜How d’yer know?’
    â€˜My copper told me. They’ve got details of every last thing he owns, includin’ how many of them flash suits he gets from Bond Street, which is fifteen apparently – two grand each. Fifteen suits at two grand each. I’ve just got that one what I bought from TK Maxx for fifty-two quid, the last time I was up in court.’
    â€˜Yer looked flash in that suit, Lee. I reckon it knocked six months off yer sentence.’
    â€˜It’ll be more than two years in the nick if I get picked up as part of Vince’s mob. Takin’ kids isn’t my fuckin’ style at all, Shan.’
    â€˜Yer’d not much ter do with it, Lee. All yer did was drive the car.’
    â€˜I had ter wear a bloody wig ter look like a woman.’
    â€˜There’s no law against wearin’ a wig.’
    â€˜It were me who picked ’em up, disguised as a woman. They’ll throw the book at me. My copper’s already told me that.’
    â€˜Them kids – what’s happened to ’em?’
    â€˜No idea. The whole thing went tits up when the cops got wind of it.’
    â€˜Will he have killed ’em?’
    â€˜I think he might have, Shan. It’s bad stuff is that – killin’ kids. That’s why I’m deffo out of it. When they bang Vince up he won’t have a penny ter scratch his little Maltese arse with. In this business money’s power. Take away Vince’s money and he becomes a loser and no one respects a loser – especially a loser who kills kids. Inside the nick he’ll be two rungs down the ladder from a dog turd. Lower in the peckin’ order than all them twats who take their orders from the wing’s main man, who won’t never be Vince fuckin’ Formosa, not with him killin’ them kids. I reckon he’ll ask to go on the block and stay there fer his own safety.’
    â€˜So, we both go straight? I don’t have to shag any holidaymakers or Spaniards?’
    â€˜No, only me. From now on we’re straight as an arrow, both of us. Man and wife when we get there. We’ll get married on a beach in our cozzies while Vince is rottin’ in a cell in Wakefield nick.’
    â€˜Bloody hell, Lee! This is scary shit.’
    â€˜It’s the only way, Shan.’
    â€˜We’ll have ter learn ter speak Spaniard.’
    â€˜We’ll pick it up before long and there’s plenty of English over there, Shan.’
    They didn’t hear the knock on the front door.
    The four in the other room were watching
Britain’s Got Talent
where a dog act was impressing Simon Cowell. It was a polite knock, possibly an acquaintance come to call on one of the residents. One of the men in the other room went to answer it. On opening the door a gun was thrust in his face and he was pushed backwards until he backed into the television room.
    Spud had a Glock 17, Sharky was holding a sawn-off shotgun which he aimed at the television and pulled the trigger. The 45 inch flat screen disintegrated before the noise had died away. The cannabis haze suddenly cleared from four heads as they all became alert to the mortal danger arriving in their midst. The woman screamed, as did Chantelle in the bedroom.
    â€˜Where’s Lee fuckin’ Dench?’ enquired Spud. ‘An’ I’d like an immediate answer or I’ll blow someone’s fuckin’ head off.’
    The screaming woman pointed a shaking finger at the wall, beyond which were Lee and Chantelle, both of them now terrified.