The Killer II Read Online Free PDF Page A

know what fuckin ’ time it is?’ snapped the man in Ireland.
    ‘Fuck the time, I just need to know one thing - have you sent anyone over here?’
    The Irishman yawned loudly before answering, still half asleep as he thought for a moment. ‘Aye, we have. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Had a guy in the bar today - asked for me by name.’
    ‘Could be any one of three of our boys over there. What’s the man like?’
    ‘Bit on the short side, but a tough looking guy. Has a scar on his cheek and a very heavy Irish accent. Says his name’s Paddy,’ McKee explained patiently.
    ‘Well, that really fuckin ’ narrows it down, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Hey, I’m only checking to make sure he is one of your people,’ snapped McKee.
    ‘Well, as I’ve already told you we have three of our boys there. Anyhow, if he wasn’t one of our lads how the fuck would he know your name?’ the gruff voice asked before adding, ‘ Ya bleedin ’ eejit.’
    ‘OK, OK, I was only checking.’
    ‘Well next time you fancy checking something do it during the day, not in the middle of the fuckin ’ night. I’m off back to sleep.’ He yawned loudly once more as he slammed down the phone. ‘ Fuckin ’ Yanks,’ he muttered.
    Back in New York McKee stared angrily at the receiver. ‘Fucking Irish,’ he cursed as he slammed down his own phone.

5
    How D’You Like Your Eggs?
     
    T he following morning Liam woke early, showered and dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, throwing his jacket over his arm. No need for the whole suit look today, thank Christ, and the lack of interest from yet another new receptionist was a pleasant change as he left the hotel. ‘Breakfast Liam me lad,’ he muttered to himself as he walked along searching for somewhere to eat. The smell of cooking bacon found him and he followed it to a small café.
    Pop’s Coffee Shop. Cheap, Fast, Tasty Breakfast , said the sign. So in he walked, took a seat and ordered bacon, eggs and toast from the middle-aged waitress.
    ‘How would you like those eggs sweetie?’ she smiled.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Your eggs, how do you like ‘ em ?’ she asked again.
    ‘ Erm , two please.’
    ‘Honey, you want ‘ em over easy or medium, sunny side up, scrambled, poached, boiled or what?’ she tutted , her smile now replaced with a frown.
    ‘Oh, erm , scrambled, I reckon. Yes scrambled is fine,’ he offered apologetically. ‘Fuck,’ he thought as she left with her notepad. ‘I never knew ordering eggs could be such an ordeal. Back in Ireland eggs is eggs ; you don’t get a fuckin ’ choice.’
    As it turned out, though, they were worth the trouble. The food was delicious and he left the waitress a healthy tip. Her winning smile had returned as she gave him directions to the nearest pay phone in answer to his request and added a few instructions. ‘Jeez honey, if you can’t order eggs you’d never manage an international call,’ she’d concluded as she waved him goodbye.
    Dodging his way through the morning traffic he crossed the street, found the phone and followed the useful instructions as he dialled a London number. The call was answered instantly by a pleasant-sounding young woman . ‘Hello. ID, location and party please.’
    ‘Liam O’Neil, New York. I’d like to speak to Mr. Turner please.’
    ‘One moment caller, I am connecting you now.’
    Within seconds a familiar voice came on the line. ‘Ah, Liam my boy, there you are. I was beginning to worry a little. Is everything all right over there?’
    ‘Aye Mr. Turner, all OK here. Tell me, the plan still the same, is it?’ he asked.
    ‘We have one extra request and some new information to send you,’ Turner informed him. ‘Please make a note of this number and then locate a fax machine. And do make sure it’s a public one, will you old boy?’
    Liam quickly scribbled down the number that Turner reeled off before replacing the receiver and leaving the booth. ‘Shite,’ he wondered out loud. ‘Now, where the fuck