eyes.
“Do it, you fuck,” hissed the wounded man, defiantly into Chris’s face. “
Do it!
”
Chris spotted the other gunman, a split second too late, instinctively ducking as the gunman’s fat handgun fired three consecutive shots.
Kabammmm! Kabammmm! Kabammmm!
The first two dum-dum bullets missed their intended target, lodging impotently in the carpet, inches from Chris’s face. The third dum-dum bullet clipped Chris’s left ear, removing it from the side of his head. He uttered not a sound, but mechanically ran a comb of fingers through his hair. The fingers emerged red and sticky.
Fuck …
The standing gunman stepped back, examining the results, before firing two more dum-dum rounds, both hitting Chris in the face.
For Chris Brown, an unfriendly world became cold and dark again.
C HAPTER F OURTEEN
Wednesday, 14 February (Morning)
‘To darkness and silence and slumber In blood and pain.’
A. E. Housman,
More Poems
“I ’ve made that appointment for you, Karl,” said Naomi, standing at the doorway, gauging Karl’s reaction. “It’s early next Wednesday morning. Nine sharp. Doctor Moore said to make sure you attend, as you’ve got a nasty habit of forgetting. I assured him you’d be there. Isn’t that right?”
Karl ran a pencil down the list of horses in the morning newspaper, halting at number six,
Pretty Pickle
. Circled it. Ran the pencil again.
“Karl? Did you hear what I just said?”
“Huh?”
“I said I made –”
“I know. I’ll be there at nine.”
“Promise?”
Karl stretched his legs onto the edge of the table, all the whilepencilling in more potential winners for the three o’clock race at Newbury.
Take No Prisoners
. He’d heard good things about this young filly. Quickly circled another horse.
Lady Pride.
“
Promise?
” repeated Naomi, leaning towards him at the desk, her face inches away from his.
“What? Of course I’ll be there. What do you take me for?”
“You really don’t want me to answer that.”
The phone rang. Naomi picked it up.
“Hello? Hold on. Let me see if he’s available.” Naomi nudged Karl, while holding her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Wilson.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“He says he needs to talk to you, ASAP.”
“He always says that. Tell him I’m with a very important client from Saudi Arabia, discussing a stolen horse.”
“You tell him,” said Naomi, leaving the phone on the table, before departing from the room.
“Traitor.” Karl put the newspaper down and lifted the phone. “Hello? Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”
“Kane?” Wilson’s voice sounded tired. Weary.
“Why do I have the sinking feeling in my stomach that this isn’t a social call?”
“Thought you might like to know that Chris Brown was shot dead, possibly during the early hours of this morning.”
“
What?
” Karl’s legs dropped immediately from the desk, springing the rest of his body forward.
“Looks like some of his ex-friends finally caught up with him. Very messy, I believe. Drugs seem to be involved, as well. Some heroin was discovered at the scene. Looks like he was probably trying to double-cross some drug dealers, or perhaps his past finally catching up with him.”
Karl remained silent. Had he detected a smirk in Wilson’s tone?
“Kane? You still there?”
“Yes …”
“Hate to put you on the spot, but I need you to do something for us. You’re our only option.”
“Cops must be hard up if I’m their only option. Seems like only yesterday they were telling me I wasn’t good enough to be one of them.”
“Are you serious? That was what? Twenty years ago?”
“It hurt,” said Karl, faking hurt.
“Yes, I can tell that in your voice.”
“Now that we have that cleared up, what can I do for my police officers, officer?”
“We need you to call over to Hicks’s so-called castle to officially identify the body of Chris Brown.”
An icy finger suddenly touched the back of Karl’s
“Do it, you fuck,” hissed the wounded man, defiantly into Chris’s face. “
Do it!
”
Chris spotted the other gunman, a split second too late, instinctively ducking as the gunman’s fat handgun fired three consecutive shots.
Kabammmm! Kabammmm! Kabammmm!
The first two dum-dum bullets missed their intended target, lodging impotently in the carpet, inches from Chris’s face. The third dum-dum bullet clipped Chris’s left ear, removing it from the side of his head. He uttered not a sound, but mechanically ran a comb of fingers through his hair. The fingers emerged red and sticky.
Fuck …
The standing gunman stepped back, examining the results, before firing two more dum-dum rounds, both hitting Chris in the face.
For Chris Brown, an unfriendly world became cold and dark again.
C HAPTER F OURTEEN
Wednesday, 14 February (Morning)
‘To darkness and silence and slumber In blood and pain.’
A. E. Housman,
More Poems
“I ’ve made that appointment for you, Karl,” said Naomi, standing at the doorway, gauging Karl’s reaction. “It’s early next Wednesday morning. Nine sharp. Doctor Moore said to make sure you attend, as you’ve got a nasty habit of forgetting. I assured him you’d be there. Isn’t that right?”
Karl ran a pencil down the list of horses in the morning newspaper, halting at number six,
Pretty Pickle
. Circled it. Ran the pencil again.
“Karl? Did you hear what I just said?”
“Huh?”
“I said I made –”
“I know. I’ll be there at nine.”
“Promise?”
Karl stretched his legs onto the edge of the table, all the whilepencilling in more potential winners for the three o’clock race at Newbury.
Take No Prisoners
. He’d heard good things about this young filly. Quickly circled another horse.
Lady Pride.
“
Promise?
” repeated Naomi, leaning towards him at the desk, her face inches away from his.
“What? Of course I’ll be there. What do you take me for?”
“You really don’t want me to answer that.”
The phone rang. Naomi picked it up.
“Hello? Hold on. Let me see if he’s available.” Naomi nudged Karl, while holding her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Wilson.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“He says he needs to talk to you, ASAP.”
“He always says that. Tell him I’m with a very important client from Saudi Arabia, discussing a stolen horse.”
“You tell him,” said Naomi, leaving the phone on the table, before departing from the room.
“Traitor.” Karl put the newspaper down and lifted the phone. “Hello? Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”
“Kane?” Wilson’s voice sounded tired. Weary.
“Why do I have the sinking feeling in my stomach that this isn’t a social call?”
“Thought you might like to know that Chris Brown was shot dead, possibly during the early hours of this morning.”
“
What?
” Karl’s legs dropped immediately from the desk, springing the rest of his body forward.
“Looks like some of his ex-friends finally caught up with him. Very messy, I believe. Drugs seem to be involved, as well. Some heroin was discovered at the scene. Looks like he was probably trying to double-cross some drug dealers, or perhaps his past finally catching up with him.”
Karl remained silent. Had he detected a smirk in Wilson’s tone?
“Kane? You still there?”
“Yes …”
“Hate to put you on the spot, but I need you to do something for us. You’re our only option.”
“Cops must be hard up if I’m their only option. Seems like only yesterday they were telling me I wasn’t good enough to be one of them.”
“Are you serious? That was what? Twenty years ago?”
“It hurt,” said Karl, faking hurt.
“Yes, I can tell that in your voice.”
“Now that we have that cleared up, what can I do for my police officers, officer?”
“We need you to call over to Hicks’s so-called castle to officially identify the body of Chris Brown.”
An icy finger suddenly touched the back of Karl’s
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