Nightmare City Read Online Free PDF

flaring. Instinctively he put his hand over his nose,
realised what he’d done, then self-consciously pulled it away. ‘So
what about it? Me and you again?’
    Rider sighed, leaned on the outer wall of the enclosure,
resting his weight on his hands.
    ‘ There’s a few things,’ he said easily. ‘First I don’t like
you. I don’t like your cop connections or your political ones ...
they give me the creeps. I wouldn’t go into any deal with you
because I don’t think I could ever trust you after the way you
shafted Munrow.’
    ‘ Hey, business is business, John. Not that I’m saying I did
shaft him. What is important is that I never shafted you.’
    ‘ Hm, maybe not - but whatever, I don’t like drugs and I won’t
entertain them. It took me five years to get off the sods - and I
still want to mainline, even now, stood here, and if I go in with
you, I’ll slide back. I want to stay clean. And, as I said, I don’t
fuckin’ believe you for some reason. You’re a sneaky bastard and
you’re up to something. I can feel it in my piss. So the answer’s
no. And you know me. I say something - I mean it.’
    Conroy hardened. His jaw line tensed and relaxed a few times.
‘I want in to that gaff of yours, John. Now I’ve asked you nicely.
Don’t make me tell you. Nobody says no to me these
days.’
    Rider stood slowly upright at this. He considered the words
uttered by Conroy and their implication.
    He spoke, but did not look at Conroy because he felt that if
he did, he wouldn’t be able to resist tipping the bastard over the
wall in with the gorilla.
    ‘ You’ve obviously forgotten who you are talking to. Don’t ever
threaten me and don’t try something you’ll regret.’
    Conroy made no response.
    Rider, becoming angry, raised his eyes to the sky and said,
‘Do you understand?’
    Again nothing.
    Rider’s head swivelled. He looked at Conroy who was standing
there as rigid as stone.
    Then Rider saw the reason for Conroy’s lack of
acknowledgement.
    The muzzle of a gun was being pushed hard into the back of
Conroy’s head, just under the point where the hair band held his
pony tail. Rider, though rusty in such matters, recognised the type
of gun immediately – a K frame .357 revolver, six shot, constructed
of stainless steel. He was close enough to read the words Smith &
W esson stamped on
the barrel. It was a type of gun he had once owned illegally, once
used and once dealt in. He knew what kind of damage it was capable
of inflicting on a human being.
    Rider’s eyes followed the barrel to the hand, to the arm, to
the person who was holding the gun.
    He was a tall guy, youngish, dressed sportingly in a black
Reebok tracksuit. He had dark, unkempt curly hair and a three-day
growth on his face. Thin, gaunt, he looked as though a good meal
would have killed him. His eyes were wide and watery, almost no
colour in them, and he sniffed continually. He looked high and
excited.
    A couple of metres behind him stood a similarly dressed male
who was no more than a teenager, dancing on the balls of his feet,
agitated. He waved a semi-automatic pistol loosely in front of him,
pointing in the general direction of Rider.
    Rider’s eyes locked briefly with Curly.
    ‘ You finished your little speech, hard man?’ he demanded
wildly of Rider. ‘Eh? Eh?’ With each ‘Eh’ he jammed the gun harder
into Conroy’s skin.
    ‘ Yeah, finished,’ said Rider. His eyes took in both men as he
half-turned to see better.
    ‘ Good, fuckin’ good,’ snorted Curly, really hyper.
    The only thing in Conroy’s favour was that these men were at
the peak of a score. People like that made mistakes. They also
tended to kill other people, too.
    ‘ What’s happening?’ Rider said, hoping to establish a dialogue
to give him time to think.
    ‘ Can’t you fucking see? We’ve come to kill this cunt.’ He
rammed the gun into Conroy’s head again.
    Conroy let out a little squeak.
    ‘ Oh, right. I see,’ said Rider, nodding his head.