Random Violence Read Online Free

too many people dealing in guns. It’s not a prof-itable business any more. Or a safe one. So I don’t do it much. I’ve got a damaged piece I wouldn’t sell to you, and the only other one’s a Desert Eagle. You can have it if you want, but you won’t even be able to get your hand around the grip.”
    Jade shook her head. “That’s not an option, then.”
    “I won’t charge you for the Glock. You bought it off me once already. I won’t even charge you storage.” He slid a cloth bank bag across the desk. “Give me five hundred rand and you can have this lot. Holster, extra mags and a stack of ammo. If you run out, it’s because you’ve pissed off too many people. Not because I short-supplied you.”
    Jade counted out five notes. The currency felt unfamiliar in her hands. She saw a blue line drawing of a gloomy-looking buffalo head on the topmost note. Then Robbie’s fingers covered it as he swept the money towards him and shoved it into the drawer.
    “There we are then. Done deal. You can smile, you know. Be happy. You got your old weapon back. It’ll work for you again. You watch.”
    She picked up the bag of ammunition, feeling its weight.
    By sitting here with Robbie, holding an illegal, unlicensed firearm in her hand, she knew she was betraying David. But unless she went through with what she planned to do, she couldn’t help him with the case. It would be too dangerous. Because Viljoen would learn she was back.
    Viljoen, the convicted murderer who’d spent the last ten years of his life locked away in a high-security prison cell while Jade roamed the world. She’d timed her return per-fectly— he was due to be released in a couple of days.
    She snapped a magazine into place. In his own way, Robbie was right. There was nothing that made this gun different from any other. It was a machine designed to kill people. No more, no less. In a few days it would be able to fulfill its func-tion and get rid of somebody who’d deserved to die a long time ago.
    “So.” Robbie continued, drumming his fingers on the table in a frantic rhythm that bore no relation to the slow love song playing in the background. “Plan’s going ahead?”
    “Yes. As soon as Viljoen’s out. Do you still want to help?”
    “I promised. I always keep my word.”
    The way he said it reminded Jade of the first time she’d met him, ten years ago, in the cigarette reek of the Hill-brow nightclub. They’d sat on a cracked leather sofa, their faces almost touching. They must have looked as intimate as lovers. She shouted in his ear over the pounding music. Who she was, what she wanted, why she was on the run. Why she was desperate.
    When she’d finished, he shifted back on the couch and looked at her for a long moment. Then he leaned close and shouted, his lips against her ear.
    “I don’t think you’re a cop, OK. The cop chicks I’ve seen are all pig-ugly Afrikaans women. But I’m giving you one chance now. If this is a set-up, walk away. Because if I find out you’re trying to screw me around, I’m going to come after you and I’m going to kill you. That’s a promise. And you’d better believe it. I always keep my word.”
    She had stayed. And she believed him then, just as she believed him now. She didn’t know if Robbie always kept his word. But she knew he did when it came to killing people.

4
    Jade jerked awake in the early hours of the following morning, gasping for breath and scrabbling under the pillow for her gun. Her heart was hammering, and in spite of the room temperature being uncomfortably cold, her hair was damp with sweat.
    She sat up in the dark, her fingers curling around the grip of the gun as her nightmare dissolved. The feel of the hard plastic didn’t reassure her. It was a stark reminder of what she had done, and why she was back.
    Jade swung her legs off the bed and stood up. Was it the dream that had woken her? Or something else?
    She could hear the trill of crickets, and the far-off rum-bling