Rough Justice Read Online Free

eventually. ‘The eagle has bloody landed. Get your arses in here.’ As he put the phone away, the bedroom door opened wide and Maloney pushed the girl in. She had been bound and gagged like her mother.
    Rawstorne tried to sit up but Simpson prodded him in the chest with the barrel of the shotgun. ‘Stay put,’ he snarled.
    The girl struggled to get away from Maloney. He laughed and pushed her towards the bed. She stumbled and fell against it, but managed to scramble up to lie next to her mother.
    ‘What do you want?’ asked Rawstorne.
    ‘Sit up,’ said Simpson. ‘That’ll do for a start.’
    Rawstorne sat up. Grimshaw walked around the bed and bound his wrists with two plastic ties. Then he put a hand around the man’s throat. ‘You do exactly as we say and give us what we want, and nobody will get hurt,’ he said.
    Rawstorne nodded.
    ‘But you screw us around and . . .’ He left the sentence unfinished, but slowly released his grip on Rawstorne’s throat.
    Rawstorne coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘Whatever you want.’
    Grimshaw nodded at Maloney. ‘Go down and let the boys in,’ he said. ‘Get them started on the downstairs rooms.’ The Country Life spread had featured several works of art on the walls of the library and sitting rooms, paintings that Rawstorne had spent hundreds of thousands of pounds on. And in several of the photographs there were valuable antiques that Grimshaw had already priced with a fence in London.
    Maloney headed downstairs. Grimshaw pointed his gun at Rawstorne. ‘Right. Now here’s the thing, Squire,’ he said. ‘We’re taking the paintings and we’re taking the antiques, and I need you to tell me where the safe is.’
    Rawstorne frowned. ‘We don’t have a safe.’
    Grimshaw looked at Rawstorne’s wife. ‘Is that right, Angela? He doesn’t keep all your jewellery in a safe? What about all the watches you’ve got? You collect old watches, don’t you? That’s what you told Country Life . Where do you keep them?’
    The woman stared at Grimshaw, the tape over her mouth pulsing in and out as she fought to breathe.
    Grimshaw used his left hand to take a Stanley knife out of his pocket and flicked open the blade with his thumb. ‘Are you going to tell me, Squire, or shall I cut your lovely wife’s face? And your daughter’s? How would you like that? Every day for the rest of your life you’ll look at the scars and remember that they’re there because you put money before your family’s safety. Is that what you want, Squire? Because I’ve cut women before and I’m happy to do it again.’
    ‘I don’t have a safe,’ said Rawstorne, flatly. ‘If I did have a safe I’d tell you. We keep our valuables in the bank.’
    ‘Of course you do,’ sighed Grimshaw. He walked around the bed, shaking his head as he put his gun back into his shoulder holster. ‘I’m sorry, Angela, sorry, Amy, but he obviously doesn’t give a shit about either of you.’ Amy and her mother huddled together, their cries muffled by the duct-tape gags. Grimshaw glared at Rawstorne. ‘I know for a fact that there’s a safe in this bedroom,’ he said. ‘The one thing I don’t know is where it is. Now, I could tear the place down looking for it but it’d save me a lot of time and effort if you’d just bloody well tell me where it is.’ Grimshaw grabbed Angela’s hair and yanked it hard, exposing her throat. Tears were streaming down her face. He placed the blade against her cheek.
    ‘Tell him, you bastard!’ hissed Simpson. ‘He’ll do it – he’ll cut her.’
    Angela Rawstorne was crying hysterically. She kicked out with her legs but Grimshaw put his knee on her chest to hold her down.
    ‘You’re insured, you bastard – why are you putting your family through this?’ said Simpson. ‘Just tell us.’
    Rawstorne stared in horror as the blade pierced his wife’s flesh and a trickle of blood ran down her cheek. ‘Okay, okay!’ he shouted.