The Killer II Read Online Free Page A

of problem?’
    ‘I already told you, in private,’ whispered Liam.
    ‘OK then, private I can do, but I can’t talk now. I’ve somewhere to be. Tomorrow would be better. That OK with you?’ McKee asked, the smile now completely gone.
    ‘That’s fine,’ Liam nodded.
    ‘OK then. Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up outside the bar, 3pm. Be there.’
    Again Liam nodded and took a sip of his drink as he watched the men leave. No emotion showed on his face to betray his thoughts as he silently wished Mr. McKee a pleasant night. ‘You’d best make the most of it my friend, because tomorrow you’re a fuckin ’ dead man.’

4
    The Druids
     
    Liam shouted across to the barman. ‘ Oi Tony, where’s the jacks?’
    ‘The jacks?’
    ‘The jacks. The fuckin ’ toilets mate.’
    Tony silently pointed down the unlit corridor towards the rear of the building as Liam drained his drink. ‘Hey, gimme another will you,’ he asked, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
    He walked past the jukebox, ignoring the small gang of youths, quickly found the sign reading MEN and entered. He saw three shitters to the left, a row of sinks to the right and the urinals at the far end, to where he headed and turned to face the door. He didn’t have to wait long before the four gang members poured in. ‘ Somethin ’ I can help you with is there boys?’ he asked.
    ‘ Gimme your money, you motherfucker,’ hissed the lad who had spoken to him earlier as he lunged at Liam, swinging his clenched fists wildly. Liam took one step backwards and, though he caught two punches square on the chin, only a moment later all but one of the gang members were on the floor. Three toughs rolled around together gasping for air, finished and out of the fight, for a while anyhow.
    The remaining youth stood high on his tiptoes with the point of The Killer digging into his chin. The deeper it dug, the higher he rose as he stared with terrified eyes at the man in the suit and began trembling in fear. The original youth from the bar regained his breath and reached into his leather jacket, his fingers desperately clawing for the pistol that he couldn’t find. Then he froze as he saw it pointing at the centre of his head.
    Liam calmly stood looking at the gang, The Killer in one hand, youth suspended, and the .22 in the other as he spat blood on the floor. ‘If you boys are going to act tough, you should learn to take care of yourselves,’ he suggested. ‘You really should. Now get up, all of you,’ he barked as he slowly removed The Killer from the kid’s throat. Closing the knife, he pocketed it.
    One by one the toughs climbed to their feet and stood in a line at the far side of the room. ‘Look lads,’ said Liam quietly, the pistol still trained on them, ‘I don’t want any trouble with youse ones, so how about we call it a day?’ He smiled at them each in turn as he dropped the clip and racked the slug from the pistol. ‘Tell you what lads, let’s go back into the bar an’ the juice is on my tab.’
    For a second the youths looked uneasily at each other before nodding slowly in unison. They couldn’t believe this lucky escape. One of them slowly held his hand out to take back the empty pistol. ‘Fuck me, Mister, where’d you learn to fight like that?’ he asked.
    ‘Belfast,’ said Liam.
    ‘Seen it on TV,’ the youth acknowledged, ‘but never met anyone from there. They all like you?’
    ‘There’s a few of us,’ Liam agreed. ‘Now, can I take a pee? That witch piss goes right through me.’
    Business quickly dealt with he walked to the door and headed back to the bar, four sheepish Druids in his wake.
    Tony blinked in disbelief as Liam ordered four beers and a whiskey. Sure, he’d seen the same scenario played out many times, but never ending like this. Usually he was asked for an ambulance not a round of drinks. He supplied the beers, bypassed the Bushmills and poured a large Jameson’s.
    ‘What’s the deal with the whiskey anyway?’