Tight Lies by Ted Denton

Author:Ted Denton [Denton, Ted]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781911583769
Publisher: Urbane Publications Limited
Published: 2019-07-03T22:00:00+00:00

The freak lay slumped over moaning in pain and I pushed him onto his back on the floor. He wheezed. His thick muscular neck looked too thick to snap. I picked up a chair lying next to him, positioning one of the legs over his face. He looked up at me pitifully. I stamped down on the seat of the chair driving it into his eye socket and down through to the back of his skull.

What the fuck was it with me and using impromptu pieces of furniture to kill scumbags? First tables and now chairs! I guess if the hostage recovery game ever stopped paying so well I could always take my uncanny product familiarity and make a new career move working at an Ikea store.

I scrambled to my feet and piled down the steps of the hut. The hunt was on for a fleeing hyena.

And it didn’t take long to spot him. In fact he hadn’t got far at all, making the basic strategic error of heading through the open space of the car park to escape when he could have covered his movements by cutting through the trucks back onto the golf course. Gripping my shoulder to try and stem the flow of blood, I started after him hard. Gaining ground, I shouted for him to stop, gesticulating ominously with the barrel of my empty gun.

Razor wasn’t to know that I hadn’t been able to reload and I figured that a warning of impending violence may be sufficient to jolt him into compliance given that he couldn’t get away quick enough from the recent fire fight. He stood panting next to a gleaming, new red BMW, waiting for me to reach him with hands raised. I greeted him by throwing a hard right cross, catching him square on the jaw and knocking him backwards over the bonnet of the car. Picking him up by the lapels I shook him hard. Yelling into the contorted face before me, ‘What do you know about Daniel Ratchet you piece of shit? Where the fuck is he?’

‘Nufink man, I swear it. Please. Please don’t kill me,’ came the rasping reply. His hands feebly gripped my forearms in a vain attempt to free himself from my grasp. The gleam of an old fashioned gold watch on his wrist, incongruous with the trendy casual sports gear he wore, caught my eye. I followed a hunch, recalling Bob Wallace’s comments on Daniel’s distress at having had his grandfather’s watch stolen earlier that week.

Intense. Aggressive. Inches from his face. ‘Tell me why you are wearing Ratchet’s watch then you pathetic little fuck? You want me to shoot you in the face right now you worthless runt? Don’t fucking lie to me unless you want to die.’

I held my gun against his ear. Hot breath on his cheeks.

‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please just ease up man. It wasn’t my idea, I swear. It was Andy what made me take it. Sergei wanted the pressure turned up to push through some player deal, to get the new agent in our pocket.

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