Anderson flexed his fingers in the knuckleduster and his grip tightened on the handle.
Henry prepared himself to be skewered.
From behind him came a sound he would never have believed he would be relieved to hear.
A weapon being cocked.
Anderson looked up past Henry’s shoulder and the smile dropped off his face.
‘ Armed police! Drop your weapon!’
The cavalry had arrived.
Chapter Seventeen
Munrow remained in an exceptionally bad mood as he constantly reviewed yesterday’s proceedings. He could not even begin to get over the way he’d been treated by Rider.
Left out on the moors in the middle of nowhere. Naked. Todmorden? Where the fuck was that? Freezing his bollocks off, having to undergo the torment and humiliation of trying to find an ignition key in a fucking snowdrift. Could have died of hypothermia. Then having to drive all the way back to his woman’s house, covered in an oily car blanket, cowering down all the time, hoping no one would see him, or the cops pulled him. How in the name of shit would he have explained that to a Wooden Top?
So embarrassing.
He had been made to look a complete fool.
And nobody made Munrow look a fool. No one. No cunt got away with that — uninjured.
He sat brooding in a pub in the town centre of Preston, a pint of Thwaites Mild in his hand, waiting for the woman to turn up.
They had arranged to meet here so she could take him shopping for a new set of clothes befitting a free man. She had a rich husband in the oil business and a credit card with a ten thousand limit on it. The trap of an unhappy marriage made het: want to spend to the hilt and, basically, stick two fingers up at Hubby who she knew was having it away in Saudi.
Munrow knew little about her, other than she was one of the prison visitors. Unpaid, doing it for a social service. She’d easily fallen under his powerful aura to the extent that they’d even contrived to screw in the prison classroom once, when he’d rear-ended her over a table.
He did not want to know very much about her. All he wanted from her was enough sex to see him through the post-prison rampant stage and then money.
One of his plans that afternoon was to induce her to make a substantial withdrawal and hand every penny over to him. Wham, bam, thank you, silly cow. He needed the money to payoff the men who had helped him cause mayhem in Conroy’s clubs the other night. They were cheap to hire.
He took a big swig of his beer. His mind skipped to Conroy who, he imagined, would be shitting himself at that moment. Munrow’s show of uncompromising strength would have worried him badly and he would no message across very clearly: Munrow was here to stay. He was back and wanted a chunk of the action.
Over the weekend he planned to hit some of Conroy’s council-estate distribution houses in East Lancashire… then maybe there could be some talk. Or if the mood took him, he might just move his men into one of Conroy’s Manchester clubs and take the place over. No talk. No fucking about. Yeah, he might do that.
It could be as simple as that.
As for Rider… that bastard would really suffer.
‘ Hello, sweetheart.’ There was a tap on Munrow’s shoulder. It was his woman. He had to admit she was — or had been — drop dead gorgeous. And she was cracking in bed. Amazing what a shit of a husband can do to a woman.
But deep down, Munrow sneered contemptuously at her. Naive, stupid cow. Didn’t realise she was going to be screwed — in more ways than one.
For the time being he was going to play along. He hadn’t satisfied himself sexually yet and those years behind bars had made him crave for it. He was going to have his fill before he robbed her blind, then dumped her broke.
He slid his arm round her slim waist and squeezed her breast. She bent down and kissed him hard on the mouth, breaking off eventually with a gasp.
‘ How are you feeling, darling?’
‘ Fine, got myself together now. Are you OK?’
‘ Yes, yes, thanks for asking.’
She had been on the verge of hysteria when he got back from his trip to Todmorden. At least she hadn’t called the cops. He reassured her it was all one big mistake and things were fine. The less she knew the better. She had swallowed his cock and bull story and it was only when they both shared a hot shower and she knelt down in front of him and swallowed his cock and spunk did she really calm down.
After a few hours’ sleep, Munrow had then scoured Manchester for the only person who knew exactly where he had been. The only person who could have given Rider the information about his whereabouts.
Toni Thomas, the bitch.
It was a waste of time. Toni was very noticeable by his/her absence.
‘ So, Debenhams? Burtons? Where do you fancy?’
Munrow came back to the present. He shrugged. ‘Anywhere. You’re buying, babe.’
The adrenalin ebbed out of Henry’s body to be replaced by suffering.
He eased the protective vest carefully over his head — carefully because he did not want to knock his ear which was hanging off — laid it to one side and looked unwillingly down at his chest where the bullet from the mini-Uzi had struck his sternum.
There was a revolting, circular, deep purple mark with a single black spot at its centre which looked like he’d been struck by a hammer. When he breathed, he recoiled involuntarily. Jesus, he could not believe how painful it was. It gripped his sternum like a clawed fist. He was certain it must be cracked.
And his ear. His lovely ear. Bitten off by a madman. They estimated ten stitches to get it back on.
He was sitting on the edge of a bed in a cubicle in the casualty department of the Royal Lancaster Infirmary, a curtain drawn across. He removed the remaining items of his clothing, shoes, socks, jeans and underpants, shaking each item of clothing to try and dislodge the fragments of glass which had got into them and were slowly skinning him.
He was giving his underpants a very thorough shaking when the curtain was swished back. Siobhan appeared.
‘ Henry. Can’t you wait?’
He couldn’t help but smile. She withdrew tactfully and he called her in when he was half-decent, sat there in his Y-fronts.
‘ Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘The glass, you know?’
‘ How are you?’
‘ Shaken and stirred. How ‘bout you?’
‘ I’ll survive,’ she said bravely. Henry could see that in spite of her smiles and the outwardly ‘couldn’t give a toss’ attitude, she had actually been terrified when Anderson had opened up and the firearms officer had fallen next to her.
She took in a long deep breath. ‘At least Dave’s all right, though his shoulder is a real mess. He’ll have pretty restricted movement in it.’
‘ I’ll go and see him once I’m sorted out.’
They regarded each other for a moment. Siobhan’s eyes took in Henry’s bloodied, dangling ear, then lowered to inspect the other injury on his chest. ‘That looks awful,’ she grimaced.
‘ I know. Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.’
‘ No, not that,’ she said wickedly. ‘Your beer belly.’
They caught each other’s eye and burst into laughter — which Henry couldn’t handle because it made him
