Substantial Threat Read Online Free PDF Page B

him back across the settee.
    â€˜When I ask you a question, you answer it,’ Ray Cragg said mildly. ‘Are you with me?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ JJ answered quickly. A booming, painful sound ricocheted around his cranium.
    â€˜Right. Now we’ve got that settled, let’s get down to business,’ Ray said. ‘I’ll let you have it right between the eyes, figuratively speaking,’ he went on. ‘I don’t give you much to do, do I? Bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Enough to pay for your dirty little habits and keep the wolf from the door – and then some. Carry this, deliver that.’ He swayed forwards again. He could smell JJ’s fear. It smelled dank, but he liked it. ‘All in all, nothing very arduous, and I trusted you JJ.’
    JJ closed his eyes for a long moment.
    â€˜Trusted you for a long time . . . but why is it that people get greedy?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’ JJ’s words were barely audible.
    â€˜Fuckin’ astounds me.’ Ray shook his head sadly and pulled away from the stench of JJ’s terror. ‘I keep tight books, JJ, and I know for a fact you’ve lifted two grand off me⎯’ JJ opened his mouth to protest. ‘Ah, ah, ah.’ Ray wagged a warning finger at him. ‘I know you have, okay? I am not stupid.’
    Ray glanced at his two companions, who stood one behind each shoulder, then stared back at JJ. ‘You gonna tell me about it?’ Ray’s head twitched in a gesture of encouragement.
    JJ nodded. He felt nauseous. It was all he could do to stop fear from squeezing his entrails and forcing him to vomit.
    â€˜Good man,’ Ray acknowledged.
    The landlord’s house was on a recently built exclusive development of executive-style homes in Lytham. There were about a dozen houses on the estate, all detached, each with five or six bedrooms and double or triple garages, but not much land for the half million or so they cost to buy. Henry, an aficionado of the property pages in the glossy
Lancashire Life
magazine, recalled reading the adverts for the development. They were very nice houses, well out of his price bracket, but he could dream.
    He parked at the end of the driveway and gazed at the house, which was a far cry from the class of property the landlord rented out in Blackpool. A totally different world. Not even on the same planet. There was a canary-yellow Mercedes sports car in the driveway, which seemed slightly incongruous to Henry. Not that the car did not belong, it was just that he’d expected to see a Jaguar or a big Lexus there, as these were often the cars that the local well-heeled landlords tended to use. There was something effeminate about the neat yellow Mercedes which did not sit right with Henry’s, admittedly, stereotypical view of the greedy landlords he knew and despised so much. He shrugged. Maybe it belonged to the guy’s wife.
    He checked his notes then climbed out of the Vectra and meandered up to the front door, past the car, his eyes missing nothing. His finger pressed the doorbell and he heard chimes inside. He waited, handed clasped behind his back, humming tunelessly to himself. After a few moments someone appeared at the other side of the door and opened it.
    Henry took a step back, caught his breath, then introduced himself.
    The collections were going well that day. Harry Dixon trotted away from the council house and eased himself into the passenger seat of the car waiting for him at the kerbside.
    â€˜Done,’ he said to the driver. ‘Next one . . . should be a fun one,’ he murmured under his breath.
    â€˜Yeah,’ agreed the driver. ‘Want me to come in with you?’
    Dixon smirked. The driver was a big guy called Miller. He was as tough as anyone Dixon had ever met and, allegedly, had a certain way with a carving knife and a cheese grater, the thought of which made Dixon shiver. Miller had been driving Dixon for a couple