THE FIX: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

coppers or the odd civilian, but it was all quiet. Any hope Jimmy had was fading fast.
    So the scene was set. Me, in my Paul Smith suit, which I was not going to get dirty, and Dopey in his copy Reebok tracksuit. He must have been a good two inches taller and a good two stone heavier than me.
    So why was he so fuckin’ scared?
    Remember the rabbit?
    I looked him straight in the eye. “Get in the fuckin’ car, Jimmy.”
    I saw the look. He was thinking of doing one. He hadn’t noticed the syringe concealed in my right palm. With one swift movement I punched it into his groin. The reaction was instantaneous. I’d rehearsed the move repeatedly on a life-size dummy. A doctor friend helped with the medical questions and mapped the exact area I needed to hit. The last thing I wanted was the needle to break and get sonny-boy’s blood mixed with mine. That would never do.
    The move was text-book and his legs gave way. I had to guide him to the car. By the time I got his frame in the seat, he was unconscious.
    I kept a secure lock-up just off Oldham Street that held several cars, a couple of vans, and a big old safe for anything confidential. I left the Porsche in a spare bay and heaved Jimmy into the back of an Escort van. He mumbled something in his drugged haze and farted loudly as I dropped him onto his back.
    I drove all the way to Salford with the bastard rolling around and stinking the van out.
    Finally we got to his building. Jimmy lived on the sixteenth floor of a council high-rise. It was one of three towers that had been built mid-sixties and then recently renovated at a massive cost to the taxpayer. Unfortunately most of the inhabitants didn’t give a monkey’s about the place and it was rapidly declining again. The grassed areas around the blocks were patrolled by local boys on BMX bikes wearing the standard uniform of hoodies and Stone Island coats. They did tricks and watched the van pull up, suspicious of anyone they didn’t know. There was probably enough firepower hidden under those clothes to start a small war. I just wanted to get in and out. Jimmy himself was coming round. The concoction of opiates was beginning to wear off enough for him to stagger from the van, but he was still stoned enough to be a pussycat. The hoodies took a second glance at him and figured I was giving the fat bastard a lift home. He giggled as we stood in the evil-smelling elevator. The lads had been using it as a toilet since Adam was a lad. I read the graffiti to take my mind off the stench. Apparently Susan from 1202 sucked cocks for a fiver.
    Once at his door, I had the unenviable task of rooting in Jimmy’s rather nasty tracksuit for his door key. Directly inside the outer door was a second metal gate. This was a security measure popular with drug dealers and designed to prevent unwelcome visitors, namely hairy detectives with warrants. It made me smile. Obviously Jimmy liked the feeling of being behind bars even when he wasn’t in prison.
    I pushed him onto the grubby settee and checked the rest of the flat. We were alone. I was happy. The flat itself was sparse and, like Jimmy, in need of a good scrub. The only items of value appeared to be the absurdly large television with the all singing all dancing satellite receiver, DVD recorder, and a fuck-off sound system.
    I noticed Jimmy had only three CDs.
    I walked back to the poor sap on the sofa and slapped him around the face hard enough to get his attention.
    “You buy this gear with Mr Davies’s money, Jimmy?”
    Jimmy was still out of the game when it came to answering questions. He blubbered a little and let out another rasping effort. I already knew all the answers anyway so why prolong the agony?       
    Jimmy had a small balcony just off the lounge. A uPVC sliding door led to it. Most tenants let their washing dry on the small outside areas. Some, more house-proud people had flowerboxes filled with seasonal plants. Jimmy’s just had a green plastic-coated