A Good Day To Die Read Online Free Page A

supplied us with the information that led to the raid, a former business associate of Slippery's named Karl Nash, was found dead in his Islington townhouse. At first his death was thought to have been due to a heroin overdose, but further investigation revealed that he'd been asphyxiated. There was, of course, an obvious suspect. Nash and Slippery had fallen out very publicly, but although Slippery was arrested and questioned in connection with the murder, there was insufficient evidence to proceed.
    I think even he realized at this point that he was living on borrowed time, and shortly after that he'd quietly disappeared from the scene, and I hadn't clapped eyes on him since. Until now, that was. I wondered whether he'd recognize me or not. Afterall, we'd spent plenty of less than quality time in each other's company.
    As he came by the side of the car I saw him glance casually at the back seat, just to check there wasn't anyone sat waiting there to garrotte him, before opening the door and getting inside.
    'Mick Kane,' I said, putting out a hand.
    He shook it with a softer grip than I'd been expecting and looked me in the eye. 'Billy Warren.'
    For a couple of seconds there was nothing, and he even started to turn away, but then he looked at me again.
    'What is it?' I asked him.
    A slow and deliberate grin spread across his face. 'Fuck me, it can't be. Dennis Milne. Christ, you've changed a bit. Have you been having a bit of a nip and tuck, you vain bugger?'
    So much for my disguise. 'I could hardly have announced my real name, could I?' I said, not bothering to deny his claim.
    'Too right. I'd never have come down here. I wouldn't know whether you were going to nick me or shoot me.' He shook his head, still grinning. 'Blimey, it's a small world, innit? And full of surprises, too. Who'd have thought the copper who spent so much time trying to put me behind bars because he said I was a - what were your exact words, Dennis? - a lowlife bastard who's going to get what's coming to him, I think it was . . . Who'd have thought the copper who called me that wouldturn out to be a mass murderer?' His expression was full of mockery, but then it turned serious and his grey eyes hardened. 'You ain't gonna try and shoot me now, are you, Dennis? You have actually come with the money?'
    'Unlike you, Slippery, I've got morals. I've only ever killed people who deserved it, and when I've had good reason.'
    'What about them customs officers?'
    'They were a mistake, and not one I'm ever going to repeat. I'm happy here. I don't need to complicate things by going back to that old game.' I turned the key in the ignition, put the Land Rover in gear, and pulled out into the road.
    He was still watching me and I sensed a tension in him. He obviously wasn't entirely convinced. 'I bet you've always thought I deserved it,' he said.
    'I did,' I told him. 'And I still do. But then again, when I came here this afternoon I didn't expect to be running into you. It's what you might call an interesting surprise.'
    'Fair do's,' he said, and pulled a pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket. He flashed it in my direction. 'Want one?'
    'No, I quit. A while back now.'
    'So, where's the case?'
    'In the boot. You don't drive round the Philippines with cases full of money on your passenger seat. Not unless you want to lose them.'
    He nodded, accepting the explanation, and wepulled out of East Brucal and turned right into the chaos of Concepcion Street, the noisy, fume-filled and dusty thoroughfare that was the heart of Puerta Galera. The traffic was heavy as usual, and the pot-holed road filled with all manner of exotic vehicles: hulking, multicoloured buses known as jeepneys that had people hanging precariously from every square inch of space; tiny mopeds with covered sidecars that often contained three generations of one family; battered old American Buicks and Fords; brand-new 500 and 1,000cc motorbikes ridden by bare-chested, helmetless and most definitely uninsured