Watching the Wheels Come Off Read Online Free Page A

It came from Harrods.’
    Again the lid crashes down; again Mark gives any banshee a cause to be envious.
    Hare is relentless. ‘You think I’m kidding, don’t you, cocksucker? You have just three days to return Reg to his sister. And if not Reg, then her five thousand pounds. Right?’
    Mark manages to nod.
    ‘Three days, or you’ll be as dead as Mozart.’
    With that Hare raises the lid and runs a finger the size of a courgette up the keys, executing a farewell glissando.
    Mark slides to the floor. His tear-sodden eyes shift from his mangled fingers to Hare, just as he powers through the revolving door into the foyer. Only then does Mark feel safe enough to lose consciousness.
    * * *
    Snazell waits contentedly in the weather shelter for Hare to join him. An eventful previous night at the Journey’s End boarding house had unexpectedly allowed him to indulge his twin obsessions: big tits and Monopoly. These two stimuli had become paraphiliacally entwined at a very early age, thanks to the aunt who introduced him to the board game while always resting her pumpkin-sized breasts on the table as she pursued her imaginary property portfolio. Imagine his surprised delight when, after several ‘apéritifs’, Mrs Westby had produced the board andsuggested a game before going to bed. He’d won, easily, and his prize, as became increasingly evident with each throw of the dice, was the landlady herself. What a shame he was staying there for only one night. He interrupts his musing on seeing Hare leaving the Grand Atlantic Hotel.
    The enormous man carries a hideous smile as he lopes towards him, ‘Softened him up nicely, Mr Snazell. He’s like putty now.’
    ‘And the fear of God?’
    ‘That as well. Left him vibrating like a Jew’s harp.’
    ‘We’re talking Old Testament God?’
    ‘Is there any other?’
    Snazell stands up, satisfied. He rubs his hands and makes to leave.
    ‘Right, a cheque will be in the post to you by the end of the week.’
    His departure, however, isn’t as imminent as he had hoped. Just then Hare lays a hand on his shoulder, making him keel to one side like a yacht in a heavy wind.
    ‘You said cash.’
    ‘Cash?’
    ‘Yes, cash. Cash in the hand.’
    ‘Did I?’
    Snazell contemplates disputing this point with Hare. But, after a shifty assessment of the giant’s demeanour, he decides against it.
    ‘In that case we’ll have to find a cashpoint.’
    This they do.
    Snazell looks about furtively as he inserts his card intothe machine, and again before punching in the pin number.
    ‘Do you mind standing back a bit?’
    ‘Why? It’s not nicked is it?’ Hare looms over the podgy detective.
    ‘Piss off. This is my own perfectly valid card. You want your fee, don’t you?’
    Hare grunts agreement.
    ‘Then step back three paces.’
    Hare does as he’s told.
    Even then, Snazell shields the screen with his raincoat while performing the transaction. His back suddenly tenses, ‘Bugger.’
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘Wrong pin number.’
    ‘That happened last time.’
    ‘No, it didn’t. That was the wrong card.’
    ‘What number did you use?’
    ‘I’m not telling you. Never ever divulge your pin number.’
    ‘Try 4402.’
    ‘4402? That’s the number for my other card. How’d you know that?’
    ‘I’m a mind reader.’
    ‘Don’t give me that shit. You couldn’t read a sodding gas meter.’
    Snazell simmers with indignation while he fumbles in his wallet and switches cards. Moments later he’s counting notes into Hare’s red-raw hand.
    ‘Twenty, forty, fifty. All right?’
    ‘That’s fright money. Fear of God costs sixty.’ ‘Sixty?’
    Snazell reluctantly smacks another tenner into his palm.
    ‘What about my train fare?’
    ‘You said you were coming by coach.’
    ‘I changed me mind.’
    ‘What mind? Here’s another twenty.’
    Hare adds the extra notes to the enormously fat wad he has produced.
    Snazell eyes the wad enviously, ‘So size really does count?’
    ‘Yes.’ A