If I Should Die (Joseph Stark) Read Online Free Page B

reason someone on the brink of a fight would keep one hand in his or her pocket. Gibbs watched the police nervously, backing away slightly. Stark began moving cautiously to flank him. Suddenly, among all the commotion, Gibbs glanced his way.That was just how it went some days, the army taught you – be as sneaky as you like, but sometimes the enemy just looked your way.
    There was a slow-motion dawning of realization. The hand withdrew from the pocket but it was too late, too obvious, and Kyle knew it. They stared at each other for a moment. Anger flared in the boy’s eyes. Stark took a step towards him but he turned and fled, like a scalded cat, across the main road into a narrow lane. Stark gave chase but the boy had ten years and one good leg on him. The lane turned almost immediately right but Stark arrived at the corner only in time to see the boy leap up a metal gate and disappear into darkness beyond. The gate was six feet high and spiked but Stark made the attempt. He pulled himself up but couldn’t gain any purchase with his bad leg and dropped down with a curse, kicking the gate in frustration. The darkness inside looked like a small park, suggesting other exits, one of which Kyle was surely scaling at that moment. Stark cursed his weakness for the thousandth time and returned to the fracas.
    Improbable order was emerging. Ptolemy had Nikki and her side corralled into the narrow pedestrianized passage, dampened down, perhaps, by the unexpected disappearance of their leader. Peters had the quieter ones lined up meekly around the corner. It was amusing to hear both officers trotting out the same tried-and-tested phrases, the same deadpan measured tone dripping with unspoken sarcasm. More cars arrived. Names and addresses were taken and the opposing sides sent packing in opposite directions under orders to calm down, piss off home and sleep it off.
    ‘What was it about?’ asked Stark.
    ‘Sweet little Nikki decided a girl from another table had looked at her,’ replied Ptolemy. ‘What was that all about?’ He nodded in the direction Kyle had fled.
    Stark told him.
    ‘Kyle Gibbs? Knife probably. Not sure any of the Rats have moved up to guns yet. I’ll see if Control can put someone outside his block for a stop ’n’ search. Anyway, it’s not him you should worry about,’ Ptolemy added. He pointed after Nikki Cockcroft. ‘That’s the source of the vile, right there. Been pulling her claws out of people since she was thirteen.’
    ‘You’re limping.’ Fran frowned, the following morning.
    ‘I’m fine, thanks, Sarge,’ replied Stark, though there’d been no concern in her statement.
    He explained his antics the previous evening, and Fran made a mental note not to rely on his assistance in any kind of chase. ‘Did uniform pick Gibbs up?’
    ‘No. They put a car in the estate but …’
    ‘It’s a Rat warren.’ She nodded. ‘Well, never mind that. Here …’ She scooped up the stack of paperwork she had ready on her desk and slapped it into his hands. ‘You’ll need to keep a log of your daily activities, so read this lot and fill in the PDP forms for signature. Don’t let it build up. I won’t sign anything half-arsed or fictitious. No one likes having their time wasted.’
    ‘Sarge.’
    Fran studied him a moment, trying to discern sarcasm in the flat monosyllable. It was her job to supervise him and she meant to do it, but he was hard to read. ‘Okay then, get a good feel for the dull end. Nothing much happening up the sharp end anyway.’
    At the end of that week Fran bumped into Superintendent Cox on the stairs. ‘Good afternoon, Fran!’ He’d greeted her in his usual effusive manner. DCI Groombridge seemed to have a lot of time for the man but he grated on Fran. ‘How’s our new boy getting on? Living up to all our expectations, I trust?’
    ‘Too early to tell yet, sir,’ she replied.
    ‘Ah … uncompromising as ever, eh? Fair enough. But you might want to grant him a