To Fight For by Phillip Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

name, my business. But I think he was doing it to bait me too, to get his little bit of revenge in. That’s why he was being so fucking loud. Christ.
    â€˜I can see I’ll get no sense from you,’ the bloke said.
    â€˜I sincerely hope not, William,’ Browne said.
    I heard the door close.
    â€˜That was the old bugger from next door,’ Browne said when he came back. ‘Name’s William double-barrel. Major Pennington-Jones, or something. Ha. Fool. Thinks everyone who isn’t a white, middle-class Daily Mail reader must be a criminal or part of some communist conspiracy to deprive him of his bloody right to be a bigot.’
    â€˜Don’t wind him up,’ I said. ‘We don’t need more trouble.’
    â€˜Oh, hell. He’s not worth bothering about.’
    With that, he made himself a sandwich, humming as he did it. I think he’d completely forgotten what he’d said to me a few minutes before, about Brenda and death and my need for blood – mine or anyone’s. That was something, at least. Some peace.
    I left him to it while I went to have a shower. All that shifting stuff about had made me sweaty and dusty.
    I was just finishing up in the bathroom when the bloke came back. I heard him talking with Browne, but couldn’t make out what was said. It was a short conversation. Then the door slammed.
    When I went downstairs, Browne was back in the lounge, a glass of Scotch in his hand. He was watching some cooking programme on the TV and I swear his hair had gone whiter, if that was possible.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    He wouldn’t look at me.
    â€˜Uh …’ he said.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜He’s called the police.’
    I glared at him. He still wouldn’t look at me. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the TV. Someone was chopping onions. Suddenly that was fascinating to Browne. I took a deep breath.
    â€˜Alright,’ I said. ‘He’s just some nosy old geezer. The law won’t bother with him.’
    Browne didn’t say anything to that, but he took a deep breath.
    â€˜Will they?’ I said.
    â€˜Uh … well …’
    â€˜What?’
    Now he looked at me.
    â€˜He runs the local neighbourhood watch.’
    â€˜Christ. And you didn’t think of that when you told him I was a criminal?’
    â€˜And … uh … he’s a Rotarian.’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜The Rotary Club. He’s a member. So are lots of the senior policemen at the local stations. Or he might be a Mason or a Conservative. Or something. Anyway, he’s part of the conspiracy.’
    I reached for his Scotch and pulled it from his grip.
    â€˜Hey.’
    â€˜Stay sober. When they come, have a good excuse. Say you heard a bunch teenagers one night and got scared. Say I was someone you met down the pub, you paid me a score to make the place safe.’
    â€˜They’ll think I’m an idiot.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    After that he sulked. I left him to it. I had things to do. I was sick of being useless.
    I decided I’d better try and do something to find Glazer. My arm was okay to use and my side didn’t hurt so much. I wasn’t going to heal any more than I had already.
    If the law was going to pay Browne a visit, now would be a good time to disappear, for a while anyway.

SEVEN
    I called at the bakery in Stepney but the manager told me Green had finished for the day. I phoned Green’s number, but there was no answer so I asked the manager where Green lived. I got a cold look.
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜I need to talk to him.’
    â€˜He know you?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    Customers were strolling in, picking up the bread, bagels, pastries. There were two girls behind the counter. One of the girls was short with thick-rimmed glasses, the other was tall, dark-haired, with large, oval eyes. They both flicked glances our way. I guessed they knew something of Green’s background.
    â€˜But