Die Hard Mod Read Free Page B

and then it’s straight to sunny Brighton for Stevie boy.’
    ‘What about the peelers, Steve? Have they not talked to you yet? Will they not start thinkin’ there’s somethin’ fishy goin’ on if ye just disappear like this?’
    ‘Listen mate, if I start worryin’ about the peelers it’ll do my head in but I’m not gonna be stupid about it either. I won’t be usin’ my cash card any more so beyond maybe sussin’ out that I’ve flown to Gatwick, they won’t be able to trace where I am and I’ll just get maself a new mobile when I hit Brighton.’
    ‘Aye Steve but if they want to, they’ll make it their business to catch up with you eventually.’
    Steve finished his tea and started fiddling with his chunky silver identity bracelet.
    ‘Look Johnny, if they ever get houl’ o’me, I reckon I’ll be able to deal with it… I haven’t fuckin’ done anythin’ so what’s the worst they can do? I’ll just say I needed to get away to get my head showered or somethin’. But if Trevor ever gets houl’ o’ me, that’s a whole different ball game.’
    Johnny lifted the empty plates and put them in the sink.
    ‘Guess ye gotta go with yer instinct Steve but why Brighton ? I know ye love Quadrophenia ‘n all but is that a good enough reason?’
    ‘As good a reason as any, mate… not to mention the fact that Wee Davy swore blind that he saw Jeanie when he was over there on a weekender a wee while back.’
    ‘Listen, Steve. I think you’ve got enough on your plate without bringin’ Jeanie into the equation. I mean, Wee Davy says more than his prayers. He’s so off his nut half the time that he was probably hallucinatin’… sees some cute girl with bobbed hair and jumps to the conclusion that it’s Jeanie… fella’s a fuckin’ wingnut.’
    ‘He sounded pretty convinced to me.’
    ‘That’s as may be, Steve and I never wanted to say anythin’ before ‘cos I knew you were cracked-up on her but I’ll tell ye now… I know she was gorgeous ‘n all but there was just a vibe I got off her that creeped me out… I always thought that girl was bad news… really bad news.’

 
    6
     
    Steve arrived at George Best Belfast City Airport with an hour to spare before his 5.40pm flight. A screen played clips of Best in his heyday on a continuous loop. ‘So what would you do if you were in my shoes, Geordie?’ wondered Steve. ‘I know. You’d start workin’ yer charm on the first sexy blonde you met and offer to share some vino with her on the flight. She’d fall for your little-boy-lost routine and want to look after you… she might even be loaded and let ye take refuge in her penthouse flat… champagne breakfasts every mornin’ and sex on tap…save ye all the bother of tryin’ to make yer way in some strange town...’
    In the check-in queue, he clocked a foxy, posh-looking 30-something blonde in a pencil skirt which made the most of her nicely-shaped backside. Their eyes briefly met and he smiled at her but she shot him back a look that said ‘don’t even think about it, loser.’
    ‘ Brighton it is, then,’ decided Steve.
    After an uneventful flight during which he was stuck between two chubby business men comparing the nightly rates of upmarket hotels they’d stayed in, Steve arrived at London Gatwick.
    The Gatwick to Brighton train was mainly filled with weary, defeated-looking commuters but in the seat facing him were a couple of lads he took to be students. One had opted for the dishevelled, floppy-haired indie look while the other had shoulder-length dreadlocks, a lip-ring and a Free Tibet t-shirt. The indie-looking kid looked impressed by Steve’s style.
    ‘Excuse me, mate. Just wondering where you got those boots from. They really look the business.’
    Steve had a shiny pair of black Chelsea boots that went well with his check-toothed hipster trousers. He smiled at the compliment.
    ‘Got ‘em off Ebay, mate… only a tenner. So what’s the crack with you lads? On yer way to