Age of Voodoo Read Online Free PDF

a cry of pain—Wilberforce.
    Lex stiffened. His pulse rate increased. He felt a surge of adrenaline. His senses sharpened and his awareness of his environment intensified. An old familiar calmness suffused him.
    It was strangely glorious to have it again.
    He began a stealthy circuit of the house. The bad guys, whoever they were, were confident. Overconfident. They hadn’t posted anyone on guard duty outside. They must not have seen Wilberforce making a phone call from his car. They had no idea he had summoned reinforcements. They thought they had him entirely at their mercy and no one would interrupt them while they worked on him.
    Lex arrived at the back door. Wilberforce never locked it, but the hinges needed oiling and the door always squealed like a banshee when opened.
    But the window next to it, giving onto the bathroom, slid up as silently as you please.
    Lex slithered through, easing himself via the toilet onto the tiled floor. He had a gun, a SIG Sauer P228, tucked into the waistband of his trousers, hidden under his shirttails. It was loaded with Speer Gold Dot 9mm parabellum rounds, the kind of bullet that put two holes in the human body, a neat entry wound and a massive crater of an exit wound. He had no intention of using the SIG except as a last resort. Luckily, Wilberforce shaved with a cutthroat razor. Lex plucked the razor from the basin and levered it open, exposing the blade which Wilberforce stropped religiously and kept wickedly sharp. Then he stole over to the bathroom door, nudged it ajar, and peeked into the living room.
    Wilberforce was fastened to a chair by plastic zip restraints. Three men surrounded him, and one was clutching Wilberforce’s head by the jaw, tilting it up so that they could see eye to eye.
    “The boss has been waitin’,” he said to Wilberforce. “Waitin’ real patiently. He’s a kind man, a generous man, but even he can’t wait forever. He makes a loan, he expects it to be paid off as and when the instalments come due. How come you ain’t done that?”
    “I—I missed one repayment, that’s all,” Wilberforce stammered. “I didn’t mean to. I got my books messed up. It was insurance premium renewal time on the rum shack. I had enough for that, but not for anything extra.”
    “So the lousy fuckin’ insurance company comes first, not the boss?”
    “I thought he wouldn’t mind. I will pay up, honest. Double the usual at the end of this month.”
    “Yeah, you will,” said the thug. He wore a blue and gold football shirt, Manzanilla United’s home strip. The Other Man U, as it was known. “Of course you will. But you’re wrong about the boss not mindin’. He minds plenty. It’s the principle of the thing, see. One person lets an obligation slide, then everyone else thinks they can. Which is why you need to be taught a lesson. Not for your sake, for everyone else’s.”
    Lex glimpsed brass knuckledusters. Wilberforce’s head snapped to the side. Spatters of blood flew.
    Football Shirt drew back his fist for yet another punch.
    Lex was on him faster than a cheetah. He whirled Football Shirt round, yanking his arm up between his shoulderblades. The cutthroat razor hovered at his Adam’s apple.
    “Pay attention,” Lex told Football Shirt’s two comrades. “I will slice from carotid to carotid if you do not do precisely as I say. You have to the count of five to leave.
    “One.
    “Two.”
    Neither of the other men budged. Football Shirt whimpered deep in his throat.
    “Three. I’m not kidding. In a couple of seconds’ time this man could be aspirating his own blood.
    “Four.”
    Football Shirt nodded urgently to the other two.
    The two edged towards the front door. Lex followed, pushing Football Shirt before him.
    “That’s it,” he said. “Out you go. Nice and easy.”
    Outside, Football Shirt murmured, “You’re makin’ a serious mistake, man.”
    “Says the dickhead with a razor blade at his throat.”
    “You fuckin’ with the wrong