Pinprick Read Online Free

that everyone in the bank was looking at him. As he looked down, he realised his mobile phone was ringing. It was the song he’d assigned to his sister’s calls. He was assigning way too much importance to these things lately; everything reminded him of something else.
    Damn these infernal things! he cursed inwardly, willing it to stop ringing. On one hand he daren’t move, on the other, he didn’t want to have a direct conversation with the gunman who was now staring at him with dark eyes.
    “Erm,” Shane began, as he tried to hide the slight tremor of fear in his voice, “Would you like me to put it on vibrate?”
    Of all the stupid things to say.
    The gunman shouted at Shane in whatever his native language was, before he remembered he was speaking to an Englishman.
    “Turn the phone off!”
    Shane reached slowly in to his trousers pocket and pulled out his phone. The shiny phone slipped through his sweaty palm and instead of pressing the ‘off’ button, he pressed ‘answer’. The phone landed on the floor and the whole room went silent as they heard his sister’s voice from the phone.
    “Hello?” she called.
    The gunman grabbed the two cloth bags of notes that the young cashier had filled for him and pointed the gun at Shane.
    “Get up you! Bring the phone!”
    Shane nervously got to his feet and reluctantly approached him with the phone held out.
    The gun man snatched the phone from him.
    “Don’t br–” Shane faltered as he eyed the gun.
    The man ended the call with Catherine, turned the phone over in his hand and handed it back.
    “Switch it off.”
    Surprised he hadn’t smashed it or stolen it Shane did as he was told.
    The gunman prodded the gun in his lower back.
    “Hey!”
    “Move or shoot,” He pointed at his chest and then at Shane.
    Shane got the message and stepped forward, the phone still clutched in his hand. They left the bank. When they got outside the heat hit them with blinding sunlight. Squinting, Shane risked a glance at his watch. He was already fifteen minutes late for his reservation at ‘La Rana Azul’.
    Half way across the road the gunman suddenly let go of him and ran full pelt through the traffic. Shane was taken aback by his sudden freedom; he stopped dead in the middle of the lane and had to dash to avoid being hit by a van.
    He breathed a sigh of relief that was taken away, almost instantly, by an almighty crash. He turned towards the source of the noise and was sickened to see the bloodied body of the gunman sticking out of a car’s rear-view window. A bus had ploughed in to the back of the car and had crumpled the boot. The gunman’s lifeless eyes stared out of the interior of the car; the two bags of money lay open amidst a pool of blood that was growing rapidly. The notes blew gently in the summer breeze. Screams rent the air amid the sound of car horns and the smell of fresh blood perfumed the air. Shane rolled his eyes.
    “Well, wasn’t that a waste of time?” he muttered, as he walked in the opposite direction.

Chapter Two
    July 1986
     
    Shane groaned. When he opened his eyes the lights blinded him. His vision was blurred but after a few minutes it cleared. Painfully, he moved his head to the side to look at the room he was in. It was white with two green chairs and hospital machinery either side of him.
    There was no one else in the room with him. He felt so weak and when he moved everything was slow and painful. His left leg was in plaster and so was his left arm. Grazes and cuts scarred his right arm. A dull throbbing sensation in his head made him feel nauseous. He put his good arm up to his head and felt that it was bandaged; his fingers touched an area that was so sore that it made him yelp in pain. Bile rose in his throat and he leaned over the side of the bed and was violently sick. The torrent of vomit burned his dry throat as it spattered over the linoleum floor. From the corner of his eye, he saw a nurse run in and call for some assistance. She