The First Novels: Pay Off, the Fireman Read Online Free PDF

badly and by pressing against it I could get a pretty clear view of what was going on inside.
            A man wearing dark blue overalls and a welding visor was cutting away at what appeared to be a brand new Mercedes, and as I watched he pulled away the rear wing in a clatter of metal. At the front of the car a young lad, sixteen or seventeen at the most, was using a winch to take out the engine. There were two or three other cars in the back yard in various stages of being stripped, and one of them looked like a Porsche, but as there was virtually just a chassis left it was difficult to tell. Lying around were piles of electric wiring, headlamps, carbs, bumpers, enough parts to build yourself several complete cars if only you could work out how to put them back together again.
            Another youth came into view, small and dark and wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket, laughing with Bert who was wiping his nose yet again. They walked up to the man in the welding visor who had now moved over to the driver’s side. He noticed the two of them, switched off his cylinders and pulled away his visor revealing a crop of purple hair and three gold earrings in one ear.
            ‘Dinah,’ said Bert. ‘How’s it going?’
            ‘Triffic,’ replied Dinah as he pulled at his virgin ear. ‘Should have these done by tonight and then I’ll start cutting up the chassis for scrap. I can’t strip them fast enough, we’ve done two Mercs this week and I’ve got a backlog of orders for Jags, BMWs, the lot. I might even have to go legit.’
            ‘I bet,’ said Bert. ‘The Porsche ready?’
            ‘It’s inside. Can I do you for anything else, body panels, lights, windows?’
            ‘No thanks, Dinah, just the engine, that’s all I need for this job. I’ll tell you what, though. I’m going to be needing a rear axle for a Merc 500 SL some time in the next couple of weeks, maybe a gearbox too. I’ll give you a bell.’
            ‘Consider it done, there’s always a market for Merc parts. Not the easiest cars to get hold of, though, but I’m working on it.’
            ‘Yes, well, you know what they say, Dinah, practice makes perfect, and when it comes to getting hold of cars there’s no one getting more practice than you.’
            ‘Nice of you to say so, Bert, but I’m still not going to give you a discount. Harry, give Bert a hand with the Porsche engine and for God’s sake count the money first.’ He reached up and pulled the visor down and turned back to the Mercedes, laughing as the two men walked back towards the garage.
            I crept back down the passage and waited at the entrance to the road until the two men came into view, pushing a mobile winch which they used to load what seemed to be a brand new engine onto Bert’s pick-up. He pulled himself into the driver’s cab, started it with a shudder and drove off, smoke still pouring from the rusty exhaust.
            There was a pub opposite Karparts, a run-down drinking man’s den, the varnish on the windows cracking with age and the rough-cast stained where rainwater had flooded down from a blocked gutter. I stripped off my waterproof gear and pushed it into the carrier on the back of the bike and walked inside the gloomy bar.
            The ex-boxer of a barman asked, ‘What can I get you, chief?’ and I paid for a whisky and sat at a creaky circular table circa 1950 in the corner facing the door. Twenty minutes later Dinah came in, his overalls swapped for jeans and a grubby green sweater which clashed perfectly with his purple hair. With him were the two youngsters from Karparts, and Dinah brought out a wad of five-pound notes from his back pocket to pay for a round. At the back of the pub was a pool table and after a few minutes Dinah’s companions walked over, pushed in two ten-pence pieces and started to play. I picked up my glass and went over to Dinah, sitting alone at the