Dangerous Lady Read Online Free PDF Page A

Michael brought the podger
    down on Tommy’s shoulders.
    ‘If you don’t put your arm out, I’ll break your bastarc back for you. Now put your arm out!’
    Michael’s voice echoed around the laundry. Slowly Tommy placed his arm on the floor, his whole body jerking with fear. Twice the ‘podger’ smashed down on his elbow, shattering the bone. Tommy screamed with pain He was struggling to keep conscious as red-hot waves of nausea washed over him. He threw up on the floor, ee mixed with bile steaming in the cold. ,
    ‘Get up, Tommy.’ Michael’s voice was quiet again, Slowly he dragged himself to his feet, his arm hanging awkwardly against his side, the sleeve of his jacket gradually staining crimson. Droplets of blood ran over fingers and dripped on to the floor. He leant against the machine, crying quietly.
    ‘You’ve got seven days, Tommy, that’s all, to find the money. Now piss off
    Michael watched Tommy stagger from the laundry, checked himself over to make sure there was no blood on his clothes. Then, whistling to himself, he washed the podger clean and put it back where he’d found it, against
    on the far wall. Then, still whistling, he turned off the lights and locked up. Joe the Fish listened avidly to everything Michael said to him, nodding his head now and again and every so often muttering, ‘Good … good.’ When Michael had finished, Joe smiled at him. ‘The arm was good and broken?’
    ‘Yeah. Smashed to smithereens!’
    Joe the Fish sighed. He had a distaste for violence, but in his business it was a necessity. He looked at Michael Ryan sitting opposite him. He liked the boy, could see himself in Michael. The boy had the same urge to better himself. That had been Joe’s ambition as a young man. Like Michael he had started out as a ‘breaker’ - a heavy until he had built up his own business. Now he was a respected member of the community. He owned shops, clubs and market stalls, from Petticoat Lane to the Portobello Road. His most lucrative business, though, was the bets. Joe had been a bookie for over twenty years, gradually moving into loan sharking. He had realised as soon as he had employed Michael that he had found himself a kindred spirit. Michael was innately honest. If he said the punter had paid him fifty quid, Joe knew that was what had been paid. Most of the breakers kept a portion for themselves, knowing that the unlucky punter would eventually pay that portion once again. Michael Ryan, though, had his own set of principles. He might beat a roan up so badly he needed hospital treatment, yet Joe knew that in Michael’s mind, keeping any money back would be tantamount to stealing. Joe liked him. He liked the way Michael looked at his home. He liked the respect that Michael afforded him.
    He coughed and spat some phlegm into the fire, hearing it sizzle as it hit the coals.
    ‘From January I want you to take over the “breaking” side of the business. I’ll inform all the men that they’re to take their orders from you.’
    Michael stared at Joe. Then a wide grin broke out across his face and he shook his head in amazement.
    ‘Thanks, Joe! Bloody hell!’
    Joe, like most people, felt happy to see Michael grin. It was as if a blinding sun had emerged from behind a black cloud. Michael had the gift of making people want to please him, as if by giving him pleasure they were somehow indebted to him. Joe felt a rush of warmth go through him. He would enjoy working with this boy, teaching him the ropes. He let his eyes travel over Michael’s body. He certainly was a fine-looking boy.
    Michael watched Joe’s eyes and a thrill of anticipation went through him. Joe the Fish was fifty years old. He had never married or had an association with any woman as as Michael knew. What he did know was that Joe liked to be surrounded by young men. In the last few months he had consciously ingratiated himself with Joe, flattered him let Joe think that he was grateful to him for giving him the