The Double Tap (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Read Online Free Page B

that?’ hissed Davie.
            ‘We might need it.’
            ‘McCormack said we were to watch and report on this guy until the boys get here.’
            ‘So?’
            ‘So the word was watch, not shoot. We won’t be needing a gun, Paulie.’ He took it from his brother and shoved it under the front seat. ‘McCormack would have your balls if we got caught with that.’
            ‘Who’s gonna catch us? This isn’t the North.’
            Davie glared at him. ‘Just do as you’re told, will you? We watch, we wait, and that’s it.’
            ‘Then the boys from Belfast get the glory?’
            ‘That’s the way it goes. Don’t you worry, our turn will come.’ He climbed out of the car and walked down the path to the front door of the pretty bungalow with its views of the sea below. The garden was well-ordered, the grass neatly clipped and there was a stone bird bath in the centre of the lawn. Paulie followed him, glowering resentfully.
            Davie rang the doorbell and the front door opened imämediately. Twomey squinted at his two visitors as if he needed spectacles. ‘Hello, boys, your dad’s in the car, is he?’
            ‘No, we’re . . .’ began Paulie, but Davie silenced him with a baleful stare.
            ‘Thomas sent us,’ said Davie.
            ‘Oh, it’s Thomas is it, not Mr McCormack?’ said Twomey. He grinned impishly. ‘I’m only messing with yer, lads, come on in.’
            He ushered them into his sitting room and poured them large measures of whiskey without asking. He handed them brimming glasses and sat down on a flower-printed sofa. ‘Is it just the two of you, then?’ he asked.
            ‘There are four coming from Belfast,’ said Davie.
            ‘Do you know their names?’
            Davie shook his head. He felt his cheeks redden as he realised it was a sign of how low down he was in the organisation. ‘Thomas wanted us to keep tabs on the Sass-man until they get here.’
            Twomey drained his glass. ‘I’d best be showing you where he is, then. We’ll use my car. I’ll get my coat, it looks like it’s going to rain.’
           
           
           
           
    Mike Cramer stood on the sea wall, his back to the harbour. His face was dripping wet and when he licked his lips he tasted the tang of salt. Through the misty rain he could see the huge hump of quartzite rock called Ireland’s Eye, sitting in the boiling sea like a massive iceberg. The rain lashed against his face but it was a fine spray rather than a soaking downpour. If it hadn’t been for the chill wind it would have been refreshing.
            The wall curved around the marina, sheltering the yachts from the rough water, and at the far end was a lighthouse, its beam already flashing out to sea, guiding the fishing boats home. A black Labrador, its fur shining wet, walked over and sniffed at Cramer’s boots, wagging its tail. Cramer patted it on the head absent-mindedly. He turned to walk back along the wall to the harbour. A solitary car was parked in the yacht club. There were three men sitting in it, an old man and two who couldn’t have been much more than teenagers. ‘It’s started,’ he said to the dog. The dog growled as if he understood, and Cramer smiled. An old man and two kids. There’d be more on the way, guaranteed.
           
           
           
           
    The uniformed cop pushed back his wooden chair and stretched out his long legs. He yawned and turned to watch a pretty black nurse walk down the corridor. Her hips swayed sexily and as she turned a corner she looked over her shoulder and grinned. The cop grinned back. A cup of cold coffee sat untouched by the side of his chair, next to the afternoon edition of the Baltimore Sun .
            The cop stood up and arched his back. He didn’t enjoy sitting for long periods, especially in the corridor of a crowded hospital.