The Trophy Room (Laura Scott Book 3) by Michael Kerr

Author:Michael Kerr [Kerr, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

IT took Andy another hour and a half to get the piece of shit van roadworthy. He needed to trade it in for a new one, but couldn’t afford to. The job he had sucked, but needs dictate. It seemed that the country was really sliding down the pan. There used to be a stronger sense of stability. His late father had worked for the same firm for over forty years, before retiring on a decent company pension, plus his state pension. But those days were gone. Nothing was certain in this day and age. It was all cutbacks. Great Britain was no longer great; just a shadow of what it had been, back when it had more industry than people working in fucking call centres or sat tapping computer keys all day. The only saving grace, for him, was that the house was bought and paid for. It was damp and draughty and could’ve done with a lot of refurbishment, but the roof was sound and he had a wood burning stove that he fed logs to.

Switching off the overhead lights in the outbuilding, Andy opened the side door and saw two men walking towards him. Something about their demeanour rang warning bells. It was late and dark, and so he took precautions, reached out to the inside of the door and plucked a hand axe from where it hung between two nails – as were most of his tools ‒ that he had hammered into the thick wall planks.

“Police,” the first and taller man said, stopping at a distance just outside what Andy considered to be his personal space. “We need to have a word with you, sir.”

“Show me some ID,” Andy said.

Shane took a step to the left, and Ricky reached into his pocket for the gun. Andy saw the pistol, and before the silencer on the end of it cleared the pocket he brought the axe from behind the door, darted forward and lashed out with a sweeping blow.

Ricky grunted as the sharp, heavy blade tore through his sleeve, to sink into his right arm just above the inside of his elbow, to sever the lower tendon of the biceps and fracture the radius bone.

Ricky dropped the gun and hugged his right arm with his left as he staggered backwards to avoid another blow, to fall on his arse in the mud.

Shane went down on one knee to retrieve the fallen weapon, only to lose three fingers as the axe head bit through them and lodged in the wet but compacted earth.

Andy picked up the gun with his left hand and aimed it at the kneeling man, who was staring at the bleeding stumps of where his fingers had been.

“Toss me your wallet,” Andy said.

Shane didn’t move. He didn’t even hear what the axe man had said to him. He was fully concentrated on the blood that was bubbling out of his now mutilated hand, and assimilating the throbbing pain.

“Your wallet,” Andy repeated, pulling the trigger of the gun and putting a bullet in the ground next to him.

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