The Killer II Read Online Free Page B

asked one of the youths. ‘Tommy, by the way,’ he added, ‘and this here’s Bobby, Link and Mono.’
    ‘Paddy,’ offered Liam in return. ‘Catholic born and raised on the Jameson’s. Only Protestants drink Bushmills . To offer shite like that to a Catholic? Well, let’s just say it’s a bit of an insult. I think yer man knew that.’
    ‘Ah, I see,’ Tommy lied. Jeez, if someone bought him a whiskey, any whiskey, he’d drink it not throw it on the floor.
    ‘Anyone hungry?’ Liam asked his new friends.
    ‘Yeah, but, er , we’re a little broke, that’s why we were going to...’ Bobby cut his answer short.
    ‘That’s why you were going to rob me was it - eh lad?’ No reply, just four slowly nodding heads. ‘So, what do you fancy then?’
    ‘Pizza be OK mister?’
    ‘Aye. I’ve never tried any of that before, but yes you go and get it.’ He handed over some money. ‘That enough?’
    ‘Sure,’ said Mono, snatching it from his hand and rushing out into the street.
     
    An hour later there were empty boxes on the bar and Liam had decided he liked pizza. ‘So, I take it that youse lads ride motorbikes then do you?’ he asked, looking at their leather jackets.
    ‘Motorbikes? You mean motorcycles? No way man,’ Link answered.
    ‘We’ve got a T-Bird.’
    ‘Oh. And what’ll one of them be then?’
    ‘What’s a T-Bird? It’s a fucking Thunderbird. You know - it’s a car. You do have cars back in Ireland don’t you Paddy?’ grinned Tommy.
    ‘Aye, we have cars all right, but I’ve never heard of a T-Bird.’
    ‘Man, it’s the hottest car around. A beautiful fucking monster of a car,’ Bobby gushed.
    ‘It’s a Ford,’ Mono interjected quickly.
    ‘Oh, right,’ smiled Liam as he looked at the eager young faces. ‘That’ll be me told then. Now I know.’ He looked slowly from one to the other and his smile gradually faded. He wasn’t all that much older than these lads, yet his own youth felt so far away and so long ago. ‘You know Tommy,’ he continued more seriously, ‘if I were you I’d dump that .22 of yours.’
    ‘Dump it? Why the hell should I dump it Paddy? It’s a good gun, nice and light. Quiet too, and it’s reliable. It’s never let me down.’
    ‘Aye, I’ve heard that, but you see I knew a man back in Belfast. Header was his name. Of course he’s dead now, God rest his soul. Anyhow, Header liked the .22. He said it was quiet too. He once told me that you only needed to put a single bullet in a man’s head to kill him, because it ricocheted around and around until it turned the brain to mush. So he said anyhow.’
    ‘So, what’s wrong with that?’ asked Tommy innocently.
    ‘Well you see boys - one day Header met a man with a .45.’
    Tommy gulped, and the conversation dried up entirely. Liam finished his drink and stood to leave. ‘OK boys, I’m off. Got a busy day tomorrow.’
    ‘Wait, Hell’s Kitchen can be dangerous at night. We’ll walk you back to the ho .. .’ With a sheepish look on his face Link didn’t finish the sentence.
    ‘Thanks anyway son,’ Liam grinned. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I reckon I should be OK.’ He paid his tab and left, waving goodbye to his new friends. Just minutes later he was back at his hotel. There had been a change of staff and the new guy on the desk stared even harder than the first had done, reminding Liam that he probably still had blood on his face after the fight with the lads. He examined the damage back in his room, but it wasn’t bad. After a quick wash to remove the evidence of the fight he fell into bed exhausted. ‘That’ll be the jet-lag then,’ he reasoned before falling into the deepest sleep he’d had in months.
     
    On the other side of town a call was placed to Ireland. The phone rang several times before it was answered by a gruff, sleepy and very irritable voice. ‘Hello, who’s this?’
    ‘Hi, it’s McKee in New York here. Listen, you got anyone over my side of the pond?’
    ‘Do you