A Real Job Read Free

McElvaney, Steve walked over to the two men on the lawn. Seeing his weapon that O’Byrne found on him and dropped in panic when he ran off, he picked it up. Seeing the safety catch was still on explained why O’Byrne couldn’t return fire when David opened up on Quinn. Switching the safety catch off, he looked at McCrossan who was rolling slightly on his side clutching his stomach. That, along with his moaning, told Steve he was alive. Noticing McCrossan’s pistol lying a few yards from him, to make sure he couldn’t reach for it Steve kicked it across the lawn away from the Irishman.
    Walking quickly over to Quinn, Steve knelt down by his body. Seeing the large exit wound from the front of the skull and a lifeless stare from Quinn’s eyes that were still open, Steve still placed his fingers on the Irishman’s neck. As he suspected, there was no pulse. Seeing his warrant card next to the body he picked it up. With the pain getting worse, Steve put his hand on his ribs as he stood up and started walking over to McCrossan. Looking over to make sure David was alright, seeing McElvaney laying face down on the patio, arms outstretched with David standing over him, he knew his friend was in control. McCrossan was still holding his stomach when he looked up at Steve who started kicking the Irishman’s ribcage shouting, ‘How do you like it, you Irish bastard?’
    Hearing the screams coming from McCrossan, without taking his eyes off McElvaney, David shouted over to Steve. ‘Leave him! Let’s get McElvaney sorted first.’
    Steve stopped kicking McCrossan. Walking over to assist David he said, ‘I was only checking to see if the fucker’s still alive.’ Standing over McElvaney, Steve put his pistol away in his shoulder holster. Crouching down to search him, the pain in his ribs was getting worse causing Steve to grimace.
    Sensing Steve might treat him the same way he had McCrossan, McElvaney said, ‘I told you, I’ll do as you say.’
    Pausing for a moment, Steve looked at David and said, ‘I don’t remember giving him permission to speak.’ Looking at the IRA man lying on the patio by the open back door, he could taste blood coming from cuts inside his mouth. Reminding him how close he was to not seeing his wife and child, the officer’s blood chilled once more.
    ‘Steve! Leave it mate,’ David said sensing his friend was about to lose his temper again, ‘Cuff him and I’ll call for an ambulance for the one that’s still alive.’
    Updating the control room of the situation David Hurst kept his gun trained on McElvaney while Steve felt around the back of his trouser belt. Not being in the pouch, he realised one of the targets had also taken his handcuffs. Taking hold of McElvaney’s hands Steve overlapped them and placed them on small of the Irishman’s back. Putting his weight on them, he leant into McElvaney’s back and said to David, ‘The fuckers have taken my cuffs as well, hand me yours.’ With the pistol in his right hand, David Hurst kept it aimed at McElvaney while with his left hand David Hurst took the radio away from his ear and placed it in his coat pocket then reached out to the back of his denim jeans. Undoing the pouch, he released his handcuffs and held them out. His sight permanently fixed on McElvaney, Steve reached out. Feeling for the handcuffs, he took them off David. As he began to put them on the Irishman’s wrists he said, ‘Don’t move or you’ll know about it.’ Once the handcuffs were around the wrists, Steve tightened the handcuff ratchets so tight they dug into McElvaney’s flesh, puncturing his skin. As blood started to trickle from his wrists, McElvaney turned his head and looked at the officer. ‘I told you not to fucking move,’ Steve shouted, punching the IRA man hard in the face. Turning to David he said, ‘You saw him resisting arrest didn’t you?’
    ‘Too right I did. They never learn do they?’
    Helped to his feet by Steve, with blood streaming from his