The Lost Children by Steve Parker

Author:Steve Parker [Parker, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime, thrillers, and mystery
Published: 2018-08-25T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The White Ghost parked his motorcycle a few cars behind them, took off his crash helmet and sat watching the two men make their way through the pub doors. From inside his jacket he pulled out a mobile phone and found one of the only two numbers in its contacts list before dropping it back in his pocket.

After a minute or two, he got off the bike and walked over to the big glass windows that ran all around the building. He opened a pack of cigarettes, pocketed the cellophane and lit one up before mingling with the little crowd of early drinkers that stood outside the front door, smoking and pissing away their benefit money before midday. He chatted with them a while. He knew that people don’t really look at faces, not people like these anyway. But they looked at his. Everybody did. He was the one most likely to be picked out in an identity parade. But whatever he looked like, they knew one of their own and because of that, they wouldn’t talk to the police.

They would say very little about him when they were asked later, and they wouldn’t ID him for the life of them. He talked like them, moaned about the weather, moaned about the fucking price of beer and asked who they’d bet on at Goodwood later that day. And all the while he chatted to his newfound friends, he watched Paterson and Clocks at the bar, saw them order their food and take their seats. He noticed Clocks looking around the room, guessed he was looking for the toilets and grinned when he headed off to find them. He wouldn’t have long.

Taking the cellophane and the phone out of his pocket, he dialled the number and watched Paterson pull out his phone from inside his jacket. ‘Hello, is this Detective Superintendent Pat . . .?’ he crackled the cellophane in front of the phone, masking out his voice, making it sound like static.

‘My name is Ron . . .’ Crackle. ‘Jones and I have som . . .’ Crackle.

Inside the pub, Paterson was struggling to hear. Head down, he plugged a finger into his free ear, straining to make out what was being said. ‘Hello? I can’t hear you. The line is—’

‘I have information that . . .’ Crackle. ‘. . . With the kid who was killed.’

That got Paterson’s attention. He stood up quickly, caught the table with his leg, slopping tea over his side of the table. ‘I can’t hear you. The line is really bad. Hold on, hold on.’ Paterson went toward the door, hoping for a better signal.

The White Ghost watched him make his way towards him. The simple tricks are often the most effective.

Paterson pushed through the door and walked out into the street, straight toward the White Ghost. ‘Hello. Hello! Can you hear me now?’

The White Ghost dropped the cellophane. He pulled out a gun and strode rapidly toward Paterson. He pushed him to one side, away from the drinkers, catching him off balance.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.