Forced Assassin Read Online Free PDF

without mirth. He was livid and having a hard job hiding it. That hotel hadn’t sat right with him when he’d arranged this job, but the client had insisted on it. “Right, well, what the hell happened?” He glanced at Kemp, who stared right back with an I-told-you-so expression. “Fuck you, Kemp. Carry on, Frankie.”
    “We sent our man to collect, but someone else got there first.”
    Waterman grimaced. “I thought that’s what you said the first time, but you know how it is. I needed you to say it again in case I was going a bit deaf, like. Got a bead on who took the cargo and how he even knew it was there?”
    Frankie puffed out his chest. “Yep on the bead. Our man followed the car containing the lifter and the woman. Took down the number plate.”
    “Which is?” Waterman leant forward to take a slip of paper from Frankie. He glared at the numbers and letters scrawled on it. “It’s that fucking wanker again, isn’t it? Using the same damn car, the cheeky bastard.” He held back from slamming his fist onto the desk. “I’m still pissed off we haven’t caught up with him from the last time he poked his hooter in where it wasn’t wanted.” He paused, looking at the ceiling, making a note to get the painters in. His cigar smoke had turned it off-white. “Remind me of the woman’s name.” He didn’t need telling. Just wanted to see if Frankie knew his arse from his elbow, whether he was still as sharp as he had been in the past.
    “Fallan Jones. Needed the money cos her old dear dying of cancer made her a bit skint. Stands to lose her house.”
    “Stands to lose her fucking legs if she opens her gob,” Waterman said. “So our man… lost them, is that right?”
    “Yeah. One minute the car was in front of him, the next, gone.” Frankie leant back and pinched his chin, flicking his tongue behind his bottom teeth.
    Waterman wanted to punch him. “Just like that, eh? Marvellous.” He took another sip of tea, enjoying the sound of cup base meeting saucer as he placed the drink back down. “Reckon he’ll be looking for a new job by now. Knows I won’t tolerate that crap. Put his name in my little book there, so if he comes knocking on my door asking for sympathy I can tell him to stick his request where the sun don’t fucking shine.” He propped his elbows on his desk and linked his fingers, resting his chin on top. “So, we need to find the woman. Been to her house yet?”
    Frankie nodded. “No one at home.”
    “Got someone posted outside?” Please tell me you used your brain, dickhead.
    “Yep.” Frankie wiggled in his seat, clearly proud of himself.
    “Good. Kemp, your job’s to find that wanker who took the goods. We know he uses aliases, has some gaff he hides away in, but now we know he’s using the same car we might get lucky. See if that bastard at the city CCTV place can help us out, too. Might catch sight of his car on video.”
    “He said he couldn’t last time I asked,” Kemp said. “Something about his bosses getting suspicious.”
    “I don’t give a toss what he said or what he’s going to say.” Waterman took a cigar from the wooden box in front of him and toyed with it. “You just remind him we know where he lives, where his wife works, and where his kids go to school.”
    “I did that before but—”
    “Then do it a-fucking-gain!” So help me God, I’ll shoot you right now if you argue with me anymore.
    “Right, Guv.”
    “So,” Waterman said on a sigh. “Like I said, you’re on finding that wanker.”
    “Continuing the search for him and failing, you mean.” Kemp smirked.
    Waterman pointed at him, jabbing his finger in the air. “If you’re not fucking careful, mate, you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the Thames wearing a new pair of cement shoes. That mouth of yours is starting to get on my nerves, know what I mean?”
    Kemp blushed and shuffled from foot to foot.
    “Get to it, lads. There’s a lot of money riding on this, and, until you