SEVERANCE KILL Read Online Free PDF Page A

evening light through the window picked out his juddering silhouette. Bartos could smell the boy’s shit from the door.
    As Bartos stepped forward a high jabbering started up. One of his men put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, not roughly. Close up, Bartos could see he’d been slapped around a little: lip scabbed, one eye swollen closed.
    Bartos dropped to his haunches, one knee cracking, in front of the boy. The jabbering had segued into a low keening.
    ‘What’s your name, son?’
    The boy began to blubber and one of the men backhanded him across the temple, the other grabbing the chair before it could tip over. Bartos frowned and shook his head at the man.
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘K-k-k-k –’
    ‘A little louder?’
    ‘K-Kaspar. Sir.’
    ‘I’m Bartos, Kaspar. You seem a nice enough guy. Sorry to meet you in these circumstances.’
    Bartos frowned at the ground for a moment, then looked up at the boy. ‘You know why you’re here, of course.’
    The nods came rapidly, guilt eager to confess itself.
    ‘You tried to take something that didn’t belong to you.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘A pickpocket. Do you do this for a living?’
    The boy, Kaspar, tried to find saliva, his throat clicking.
    ‘I assume you don’t, because you were quite poor at it. Unlucky for you that you chose one of my people.’
    Pavel had phoned him just after breakfast. Somebody had tried to lift his wallet and he’d noticed. The would-be thief had raced off. Pavel had sent two men in pursuit.
    ‘Call me when,’ Bartos had said before ringing off. An attempted crime against one of his middle-echelon men was something he needed to respond to himself. It implied an attack on him personally.
    Bartos duckwalked forwards until his nose was under the boy’s.
    ‘So, if you’re not a professional pickpocket... why did you do it? Who hired you?’
    He flinched from the bubble that swelled at one nostril. The boy was panting.
    ‘Nobody. I’m out of work, needed money. I tried my hand. I was no good.’
    ‘Nobody put you up to it.’
    ‘ No .’
    The boy was in confessional mode, would shop anybody. Bartos was sure of it. Was sure he was telling the truth.
    He sat back on his heels. ‘In that case, I’m left with a problem. What do I do with you?’
    Kaspar began to rock in the chair, chattering again. Bartos held up a hand. To his credit, the boy shut up at once.
    Bartos stood.
    ‘I’m hated by many people. But even my worst enemies will concede that I’m nothing if not fair.’
    He fished in the hip pocket of his trousers and came up with a koruna piece which he balanced on his thumb tip, letting the light play off the edge.
    ‘Fairness requires an even chance. So. I spin this coin. You call it. If you win, you walk. No conditions, no harm done, other than a pair of shitty pants. If you lose, I do what I have to.’
    The nodding was hectic now, almost mechanical. Bartos wondered whether he himself would view fifty-fifty odds with such enthusiasm.
    He flipped the coin high and clapped his hand over his wrist.
    The boy stopped shaking. Beside him both men were stone.
    ‘Call, it, Kaspar.’
    ‘Tails,’ he blurted.
    With a conjuror’s flourish Bartos removed his covering hand, angling his wrist so his two men could peer at the coin. Kaspar let out a whimper. His feet began to jitter and bounce.
    ‘Well, well.’ Bartos slipped the coin back in his pocket. ‘You’re in luck.’
    Behind him the boy’s sobs were indistinguishable from his laughter. Bartos headed for the door, listening to the mutters of his men as they began to unleash their prisoner.
    Bartos stopped.
    The image of Janos, his firstborn son, flashed back. Staring. Staring at his stepmother, Magda. The drool virtually spooling from his slack lower lip.
    Bartos squeezed his eyes tight.
    In four steps he was back at the boy, hands hanging open at his side, looking down. The face was weeping and grinning up at him in fawning thanks. After a moment, the first flicker of