The Boro Phallacy by Mick Richardson

Author:Mick Richardson [Richardson, Mick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New
Amazon: B01M0RNV7Z
Goodreads: 32063864
Publisher: Sixth Element Publishing
Published: 2016-09-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Severely corroded and an unroadworthy death trap, Maddog McClane’s battered mark three Escort spluttered and banged its way through the bendy country lanes of Picton. A rusty red in colour, it sported XR3i pepper pot alloys with bald Pirelli tyres and a car sticker that said Zenith Data Systems Cup Final 1990. It was a car that could hardly be labelled as inconspicuous in a posh village such as Picton, and it certainly had a few curtains twitching as the exhaust blew clouds of blue smoke into the fresh countryside air.

“Nice to see you chose the stealth option,” said Ron sarcastically, rubbing the seats with his hands.

He was soon shot down by the irate driver. “I’ve just about had enough of your shite,” said Maddog. “All the way over here, it’s been moan, moan, moan, and if I get another peep out of you, I’ll bury you in that field over there and be done with it.” Maddog was in a dark mood, purely down to the fact that he hated driving. Or more to the point, he wasn’t very good at it. Something everybody in the car was fully aware of because they’d been covering their eyes for most of the journey. The big lummox had already run through two red lights and narrowly escaped several head on collisions but only Ron had the balls to say anything.

“It won’t be difficult for the cops to find you though, will it?” said Ron, continuously poking more fun at the simmering bouncer in the driver’s seat. “They’ll just have to follow the trail of oil dripping from this heap of shit and you’ll be done for.”

It was one insult too many for Maddog who stamped on the brakes and screeched the car to a halt outside the Station pub, a noise that attracted stares from the beer-swilling farmers sitting on the benches outside. Maddog unbuckled his seatbelt and readied himself to pummel the waspy little shit, when he was suddenly pulled back at the last minute by Mary.

“Leave it, Maddog. Don’t cause a scene. He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough,” she said, smiling at the locals and giving a little wave. In response, Picton’s well-to-dos muttered something about fresh air, pollution and the chavs inside the car, until somebody recognised Mary’s face and forced a wave back. “Drive on, Maddog, and slowly.”

Maddog, still seething inside, knew Mary was right. They had already moved safe houses once, due to the commotion they’d caused at the last one, and the last thing they needed was another scene here, especially in a peaceful village such as Picton. Fumbling with the gear stick, he applied some revs to the accelerator and slowly released the clutch, but the car didn’t move. Instead, it back-fired and stalled, sending a plume of black smoke from the exhaust blissfully into the sky. It was a bang that brought even more attention from the crowd outside the public house and the more the numbers started to swell, the more Maddog felt pressured.

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