A Time For Justice Read Online Free Page A

was in plaster and
his demeanour reflected Henry’s.
    They were driven home by a traffic PC who sensed that any
conversation would be less than beneficial to his
health.
    Eventually, Henry said, ‘I lost my gun in the
river.’
    ‘ Me, too,’ said Terry.
    These were the only words spoken on the journey.
     
     
    Henry walked up the drive to his new home on the outskirts of
Blackpool. He’d recently part-exchanged his old home for this
‘executive’ one - new, soulless, on an unfinished estate of similar
houses.
    The front door opened.
    His daughters stood there, mute and fearful, as they watched
his approach. It was too much for the youngest, Leanne, aged nine;
she broke cover and dashed to meet him, clinging to his legs. He
rubbed her hair, bent down stiffly and picked her up, almost
squeezing the breath out of her.
    ‘ Daddy, Daddy,’ she said in his ear. He could feel the wetness
of her tears on his cheek.
    ‘ You should be in bed.’
    Mummy said I could wait up for you.’
    His wife, Kate, appeared in the hallway as he reached the
front door.
    She had been crying too. Henry thought she looked very
beautiful in her sadness.
    ‘ They said you’d been hurt but were all right. They told us to
stay here and wait for you,’ she explained, shrugging her
shoulders.
    Henry nodded. Leanne slid down him, but clung to his
hand.
    ‘ We saw you on telly,’ his eldest daughter, Jenny said. She
was thirteen, dressed somewhere between a punk and a Sloane Ranger.
Henry noticed she was wearing one of his shirts.
    He was puzzled. ‘Telly?’
    ‘ Yeah, pushin’ that reporter into the mud. Deserved it, he
did.’
    ‘ He was only doing his job, I suppose,’ Henry
admitted.
    They all stood and eyed each other.
    ‘ Oh, Dad!’ Jenny burst out suddenly. ‘It must have been so
awful.’
    Her arms went round his neck and she sobbed into his chest.
‘Those poor kids.’
    ‘ It’s all right, lovey, it’s all right.’ He patted
her.
    He reached out for his wife’s hand and drew her towards him.
He was dying to get hold of her and squeeze her tight. Tighter than
ever before. So tight ... God, he needed her ... tight, tight,
tight.

Chapter Three
     
    As usual after a kill, Hinksman was in a state of euphoria. He
drank too much in several pubs until he found himself sitting at
the bar of a strip joint near the Winter Gardens complex in
Blackpool.
    He was happy. He’d negotiated two and a half million dollars
for Carver and the Englishman, and he knew - because he’d checked -
that the second third of the money had already been wired into his
Cayman Island account and, as per his instructions, immediately
redeposited in Jersey. Tomorrow one half of it would be in
Switzerland. Corelli was an honourable man. That’s why he liked
working for him. Honourable and generous - but noisy!
    So, one more kill and the balance of the money would be
deposited. Then, unless Corelli had anything urgent for him, he’d
take some time off. Get out of the gangsterland rat race and travel
a little. Australia seemed a good idea. Maybe he’d buy another
house - or an apartment. Miami beckoned. He could buy an apartment
in the same block as Don Johnson. Perhaps they’d become pals. Yeah,
that sounded good. Me and Don Johnson getting legless, snorting together, scoring
together, racing our Ferraris down the Keys.
    Hinksman smiled at the thought.
    He looked around the club. It was a seedy, smoky place, well
attended by a cross-section of humanity. Drinks were cheap but the
strippers were past the first flush of youth. There were many
similar places in the States and Hinksman felt comfortable in these
surroundings.
    For a while he watched the strippers then became bored and
concentrated on getting drunk. He wondered if there was a drug
dealer in the place.
    Just before midnight there was an interval and people
gravitated to the bar. Hinksman, who disliked being crowded,
withdrew to an empty table.
    Within moments he was joined by a woman who sat