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Buku [Tom Thorne 05] Lifeless by Billingham Mark

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[Tom Thorne 05] Lifeless by Billingham Mark

Author:Billingham, Mark [Billingham, Mark]

Language: eng

Format: mobi

Published: 2011-01-14T00:00:00+00:00

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[Tom Thorne 05] Lifeless by Billingham Mark

NINETEEN

Spike had found him within half an hour of Thorne’s release from custody.

“Fat Paul, who sells the Issue outside Charing

 

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[Tom Thorne 05] Lifeless by Billingham Mark

Author:Billingham, Mark [Billingham, Mark] , Date: June 20, 2019

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Author:Billingham, Mark [Billingham, Mark]

Language: eng

Format: mobi

Published: 2011-01-14T00:00:00+00:00
NINETEEN

Spike had found him within half an hour of Thorne’s release from custody.

“Fat Paul, who sells the Issue outside Charing

Cross, saw you coming out. How was it?”

“Bailed for a fortnight,” Thorne said. “Gives ’em

time to decide if they want to go ahead and charge

me.”

Spike looked surprised, as Thorne knew he had

every right to be. “I don’t know how you managed to

wangle that. Can’t see there’s much to decide, seeing

as how you decked a copper.”

“They’re waiting for medical reports or something.”

“Right . . .”

“Plus, if they do me for assault, they know they

might have to do one or two of their own.” Now Spike thought he understood. “Good thinking, mate. We’ll get one of them disposable cameras,

make sure we get some photos of your face. It’s a

right mess, like.”

Thorne had finally got a good look at himself in

the gents’ back at the station after Brigstocke had

finished with him. He looked every bit as worked

over as he felt. One eye was completely filled with

blood, while the other was half-closed above a bruise

that was plum-colored and blackening at its edges. There were scratches down one side of his neck, and a graze, livid against his forehead, from where he’d

been pressed against the wall.

“Yeah, well.” Thorne could feel the air, cold on

his wounds, and the pain that still sang along his

shoulder blades where his arms had been driven up

hard behind his back. “There were quite a few of

them in the end . . .”

“What d’you expect? You smack a copper in the

face and a lot of his mates want to give you something to remember them by. Sounds like they did you

a right favor, though . . .”

Thorne looked at the cut along Spike’s cheekbone

and the side of his lip that had split and swelled. “I

thought you’d be a damn sight worse,” he said. Spike shook his head, looking smug. “I kept my

head covered most of the time, like. Bastard ribs are

black and blue, mind you. Just sorry I never got a

chance to stick the fucker.”

“You carry a knife?”

With half his lip as swollen as it was, the smile

was as lopsided as McCabe’s had been. “I’ve always

got a weapon,” Spike said.

They were heading north through Soho. The overcast streets were busy with lunchtime shoppers and

workers hurrying to grab a bite to eat, or a quick

drink to take the edge off the rest of the day. Thorne

and Spike walked slowly along in the center of the

pavement. The state of their faces allowed them to

cut a swathe through pedestrians a little thicker than

might normally have been the case.

“You’re lucky they didn’t pick you up with it,”

Thorne said. He was thinking that, despite what he’d

said to McCabe, things could have been a lot worse.

If he’d been party to an assault with a deadly weapon,

there’d have been bugger-all Russell Brigstocke could

have done about it . . .

“Sorry I scarpered, by the way,” Spike said. “I had

stuff on me. You know how it is, right?”

Thorne knew how it was.

“Otherwise . . . you know?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Spike sniffed and spat.

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