The Crime Trade by Simon Kernick Read Free Book Online Page B

Pete had got nicked, along with several of the other customers, Stegs had continued to drink there now and again (no-one had ever suspected that he'd been the one who'd put them behind bars), and it was always the place he adjourned to when he needed time to think. They knew him as Tam in here, and thought he was the son of Irish immigrants hailing from County Cork.
The pub was busier than usual and all the tables were full, although there were still seats at the bar. Stegs nodded to a couple of blokes he recognized, then took a seat at one end - his usual spot, if it was free - and waited for Patrick, the barman, to come and take his order.
'All right, Tam. Long time no see,' grunted Patrick in that less-than-charming manner of his. He'd been here for years and Stegs had never seen him smile once. 'What'll it be?'
'Pint of Stella,' said Stegs, thinking that he should be thankful A for men like Patrick. A lot of barmen'll take it as an invitation to talk if you sit at their bar, and talking was something Stegs had done enough of for one day. At least he knew Patrick would leave him alone.
He took the pint when it came to him, and handed over the exact money. He gulped down at least a third of it, savouring the much-needed taste of alcohol, before putting the glass down ; on the bar and sparking up a Marlboro Light. The missus was always on at him to give up the fags, even though she continued to smoke three Silk Cut Ultras religiously every evening (giving her teeth a ferocious clean after each one). Stegs never smoked in the house any more; apparently the residue on his breath could potentially be harmful to an infant (hence the missus's tooth cleaning). It was the same with the booze. Next she'd be telling him not to eat curries.
He dragged on the Marlboro and looked at the clock on the wall- Two minutes to eleven. Gill Vokerman would have been told by now what had happened to her husband, and Stegs wondered how she'd be coping. Badly probably. They had two kids: Jacob and Honey (not a name Stegs would have chosen -too gooey). Jacob was six and Honey either two or three, he couldn't remember which. Gill was a committed Christian, so maybe her beliefs would help get her through it. He hoped so. She'd always struck him as a stoic sort, one who could call upon the old 'spirit of the Blitz' to help her through adversity, but losing a husband suddenly, violently and unexpectedly was as adverse as you were likely to get. He was going to have to go and see her, offer his condolences. It wasn't going to be easy, especially as she didn't like him anyway. Yokes had told him once that she looked upon him as a bad influence, although quite how he'd deserved that accolade, he didn't know. Perhaps Yokes had blamed him for the occasional night the two of them had stayed out late. That was the problem with their job. You spent so much time living on the edge, acting out roles in environments where things were always on a knife-edge, that you had to be able to unwind. That meant sinking a few beers, coming in late, sometimes not making it in at all. Whatever Gill Vokerman might have thought, there was no way round it. If you couldn't unwind with your mates, you'd go mental.
He was going to miss Yokes, who'd been a good mate to him. They'd known each other for about three years, ever since they'd been thrown together on an assignment to trap a team of luxury-car thieves. That particular case, in which the two of them had posed as potential buyers with heavyweight contacts in the Middle East, had lasted close to two months, and with its successful conclusion (four members of the team had ended up with prison time totalling twenty-three years), so their partnership
had been cemented. They'd worked together wherever possible since and each had learnt to cover the other's back in even the most dangerous situations. When you're an undercover copper, everything's based on trust. If you're working with another SO10 operative you've got to know that