Wolf Tickets by Ray Banks Read Free Book Online Page A

needed somewhere to lie low for a bit after. There was this mate of mine, Baz, he specialised in that kind of thing. He had a load of caravans up around Sandy Bay, all of them spaced out so the nearest neighbour was about a mile away. Nice and private. And because I was a mate, I was promised a double-wide. What I ended up getting was a two-berth tin can that shook like a dog shitting razor blades when the wind blew. Which it did. A lot. And that was the least of its problems. The floor was greasy and there was a smell of old beef coming from the fridge. It was the kind of place you'd have to be piss-mortal to stay in, so we set about achieving that state as soon as possible.
    After a while, it got a bit tight in there. Only so many times you can play gin rummy before it loses its fuckin' lustre. So I reckoned fuck this for a game of soldiers, I was going to trot out into the marl and get some shooting done. Had enough booze in my system to get a bit reckless, enough empties to line up as targets and a loaded revolver that was going to be unloaded now or as soon as Farrell's snoring got on my last fuckin' nerve.
    There was something immensely satisfying about firing off a gun half-pissed. The old cliché was that it had to be a part of you, an extension of the fist and bam , all the release of a good solid punch without the scuffed knuckles, and it was true to a certain extent. It was a looser experience when I was swaying drunk, mind. I set up the bottles so they wouldn't fall over in the wind, then lit a menthol and squinted down the sights.
    Make my fuckin' night.
    Three right off. Bam-bam-bam. Trio of dead soldiers, hear the bugle playing. I took a swallow of whisky to keep us warm and aimed again, hand aching from the kick-back, coke jag still cackling in the back of my head.
    Bam. Another bottle in pieces.
    Then a voice out of the blue: "The fuck are you—"
    Spiked us, twirled us, then this shape in front of us.
    Coke grabbed us, shit us up, and I fired.
    Bam. I put a bullet in Farrell. But what was worse for Farrell was that I also put a bullet in his Italian leather.
    "One of a kind," he said now.
    "Howeh, you've got to let that go."
    "Still hurts, y'know. The cold weather makes it ache."
    I said, "You sure she's going to turn up?"
    "Could've already been there." Farrell looked at his watch. "She hasn't been over here that much longer than me, mind you, so it's doubtful. She'll need to find out how to get there first, then take the time to make sure it's safe. But if you're asking is that where she's going, then yes, she'll go there because that's where I told her we buried it."
    "Buried it. Jesus, you make us sound like a right couple of amateurs."
    "We are, Jimmy. And Nora doesn't give a shit about whether we're professional or not. All she cares about is the money."
    "Which isn't there."
    Farrell nodded. "Which isn't there."
    "Right then," I said, getting up. "I suppose I'm going to have to phone Baz, then, aren't I?"
    "We're not staying that long."
    I picked up the phone, pushed an old newspaper out the way, looking for my phone book. "Aye, but if we show up and Baz has someone in there, and them someones are armed and jumpy, then they might fuckin' shoot at us. And I know from personal experience that you're not at your best with a bullet in you."
    "Try it yourself some—"
    There was this loud bang at the front door. We both looked at it. I put down the phone.
    "Did you hear—"
    Another bang.
    "Ya bastard," I said. "The fuck was that?"
    "How'm I supposed to know?" said Farrell. "It's your flat."
    "Fuck that," I said.
    Then the door came in, splinters flying.
    And that was my fuckin' cue to do one.

     

FARRELL
     
    I was out of my seat the moment Cobb disappeared. I was about to tell him to get his arse back in here when the chubby lad made a show of kicking down the rest of the door. When the lad saw me, he grinned wide and pointed.
    "You," he shouted.
    "Jimmy," I said, "there's one of your neighbours out