Talking Of The Dead: The exciting new detective crime thriller by Michael Dylan

Author:Michael Dylan [Dylan, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

25

Beanz peaked through the curtains at the street below. For the thousandth time, he checked the cars parked along both sides of the street as best he could, trying to spot any Feds lurking, but saw none.

There were only civilians out and about as best he could tell; a couple arguing while they pushed a kid in a stroller, two old girls having a natter at the bus stop, an Amazon delivery man dropping a box off three doors down, and some kids in hoods vaping on the corner. None of them looked like undercover cops to him. Even better than that, though, was the fact that none of them looked like fucking gangsters. And he was especially happy to see that none of them looked like Ollie Konza.

Beanz was safe for now.

He let the net curtain fall back into place and mooched back to the sofa, pushing his sleeping bag to one side before sitting down. He thought about rolling a spliff and having a smoke but quickly decided against it. Getting high didn’t feel right. He needed to be sharp. He needed to be on his game.

That was easier said than done, though. It’d been three days since he’d done Cam and nicked his gear. Since then, he’d been lying low, holed up in Tyrell’s flat. Going stir-crazy. Getting paranoid. A million thoughts rattling through his brain. A billion fears.

Beanz glanced down at the sports bag beside the sofa and thought of the drugs inside. Cam’s drugs once, now his. Drugs he wanted rid of as quickly as possible.

Sitting up, he opened up the bag and had a look inside. Seeing the wrapped-up bricks of gear was enough to calm him down and make him smile. Two bricks of heroin and one of cocaine, each one weighing a kilo. Together, they were worth three hundred grand easy. And ten times that once everything was all cut up and diluted down.

God only knew why Cam had been showing off that he had so much gear in his place, telling Beanz how much it was all worth, playing the Big Man. He’d wanted Beanz and his crew to sell it for him, making pennies while Cam raked in the serious cheddar. But Beanz was no idiot. He might’ve flunked out of school, but he could add up and he knew it was better to have all the drugs than flog a few bags here and there for someone else.

He might not have no education, but he had ambition. And, in his book, killing a man for three hundred K was a good day’s work. Except the drugs weren’t actually Cam’s to begin with. He was merely the middleman for Ollie Konza and all the money in the world wasn’t worth having that mad fucker coming after him. In fact, the last fool to steal from Konza had ended up tied to a lamppost with a burning tyre hung around his neck.

But then Beanz had spotted The Turk eating in that fancy restaurant when he’d gone to give the chef his coke.

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