Hetman: Hard Kil Read Online Free PDF

waiting in Keady with a little surprise for Taylor. We’re gonna blow the big-mouth up when he leaves for work in the morning.”
    “And the others?” Fox persisted.
    “Out for the craic.” Quinn added angrily. “I should have been with em having a drink.”
    “Will this do you?” McCracken entered from the hallway and held a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
    Quinn reached for the bottle. Fox sensed that that although clearly in charge, McCracken had deference for the man.
    “So what happens now?” Fox felt his heart rate quicken.
    “I can’t get through to Dolan, can’t find a phone box and I’m not using this thing!” McCracken held up his mobile by its antenna, as though he was dangling a mouse by its tail. He swung it gently before putting it on a worktop. “This does however give me time to drink and gives you plenty of time to try and persuade me that yer for real. And if you can’t then…”
    “Dolan won’t be happy if he loses me you know.” Fox noticed a reflection in the glass and let his eyes follow it.
    “That’s a chance I’ll have to take. I’m not his whipping boy.”
    “Just his rent boy?”
    McCracken took a step forward and pointed angrily with his index finger. “Any more feckin wise cracks and I’ll slot you regardless of who you say you are!”
    “Jimmy!” Grew left his chair; bringing his gun to bear on the window.
    Fox sprang to his feet and kicked Grew in the groin. He staggered; Fox grabbed the AK and in the same second the kitchen window exploded behind them. Quinn’s Browning came up as two rounds tore into his skull. Fox turned the AK on McCracken but he was already moving and the 7.62 mm rounds drilled harmlessly into the wall behind. The IRA hard-man scampered away into the hall.
    Snow entered through the backdoor holding the Makarov with a two handed grip. His aim moved from Fox to Grew.
    “McCracken.” Fox said. “Moving.”
    Snow paused for a millisecond before nodding his consent. He kept his pistol on Grew, who was lying on the floor clutching his groin as Fox ventured further into the house.
    Fox hurtled down the hall, all thoughts of personal safety gone. The front door slammed and Fox thudded against it before pulling it open. Several shots rang out but Fox continued forward as the doorframe splintered around him. In the dark grey of early morning the tail lights of McCracken’s car burned brightly as it careered around a bend and out of sight.
    Fox fired into the hedge that blocked his view in the hope of hitting something. He continued to give chase and arrived in the road to see McCracken speeding away.
    Fox dropped to his knee, took aim and depressed the AK’s trigger. A final burst of rounds tore at the Cavalier, smashing the rear windscreen before the Kalashnikov clicked empty.
    “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Fox shouted in disgust.
    Snow looked around the kitchen. Quinn’s blood, bone and brain had painted one of the walls crimson but his hand still gripped his Browning 9mm. A bottle of Jameson’s lay next to the dead man’s leg and on the other side of the room Grew sat on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees against his chest.
    “I knew he wasn’t for real. I just knew it!” Grew spat.
    “Shut up.” Snow bent down to pick up the bottle, but wincing in pain thought better of it so rolled the whiskey with his foot towards Grew. “Open it.”
    Grew slowly unscrewed the top. He held it up and Snow snatched it back.
    “To the victor the spoils?” Fox’s voice was Scottish again.
    “No I need it to stop the pain in my soddin head!” Snow took a long slug.
    Grew started to chuckle. “That was a beauty.”
    “Left or right? Which leg’s your favourite?”
    “Screw you, ‘home counties’. Rules of engagement, I’m unarmed. You got me, but yer already in deep shit. You think the ceasefire is gonna last when the news gets out that you’ve assassinated a member of the South Armagh Brigade?”
    Snow kept his Makarov aimed at