Rules of Honour Read Free Page B

at what he perceived as the ultimate humiliation. He began to struggle up once more. Rink and I shared a glance and it was just like old times, before all this started. I shrugged at him. Gave him the go-ahead.
    Rink turned up the corner of his mouth in a smile. Then he slapped the butt of the Glock against Chaney’s skull. The enforcer was out cold before he’d slumped all the way to the floor.
    ‘What now?’ Rink looked at me.
    ‘We get off at the next station and make ourselves scarce.’
    ‘Thought you’d maybe explain yourself first.’
    ‘There’s no time.’ I left Rink while I searched the floor and came back a moment later, pocketing the flattened round I’d put through Chaney’s leg.
    Rink grunted. ‘That’s why I wore gloves and used his gun. No forensics to worry about.’
    ‘As if that would make a difference? Doesn’t look like you made an effort to avoid the CCTV cameras.’
    ‘They’d have seen a big guy with black hair, but only the top of my head. Could be one of a thousand dudes, even in this shirt.’ He tugged at the collar of his bright Hawaiian number that was only partly hidden by a black leather jacket. It would look like a warning beacon anywhere else but here; there was still a large contingent of hippies and arty types in San Francisco who sported much gaudier attire. Rink nodded at me. ‘I see you’re still dressing as classy as ever.’
    I was pleased to hear the tongue-in-cheek insult; it meant my big friend was back, thinking a little clearer than before.
    ‘It’s academic now,’ I said, referring to the concern about forensics. ‘Chaney isn’t going to call the police. He didn’t die, and when he wakes up he’s going to realise how lucky he’s been. All that talk was just bluster. Fear. He’ll keep quiet. But that won’t mean a thing if we’re still standing round here when we reach the next stop.’
    Rink crouched down and pushed the Glock into Chaney’s holster, then arranged his coat so that it was hidden from view. Then he followed me through the carriages, away from where the Chinese woman sat oblivious to what had just occurred. We were pulling into the next station at Montgomery Street and I could see that some bleary-eyed passengers were waiting on the platform.
    ‘What’s the time?’ I asked.
    Rink calculated. ‘Has to be coming up six o’clock by now.’
    ‘Good. Some of the shops should be opening. Don’t know about you, Rink, but I need a cup of strong coffee.’
    ‘What you need is to get rid of that coat. It smells like someone took a crap in it.’
    The doors opened and we had to stand aside to avoid a suited man who rushed aboard, already conducting business on his BlackBerry. He didn’t give us so much as a glance and went for the nearest seat. We got off the train and made for the exit stairs. The train was already moving away and, as it slid parallel to us, I glanced into the carriage where we’d left Chaney. He was still sound asleep. Probably he wouldn’t wake until the train reached the terminus at San Francisco International Airport. Wherever he’d been heading this morning, he was going to be late for his appointment.
    I dumped the coat first chance I got. The jeans and boots should have gone in the Dumpster with it, but they were all I had with me. I threw the wool cap in with the rubbish, made do with smoothing down my hair. It was short so didn’t look too bad. The shirt and canvas jacket I’d worn beneath the coat weren’t filthy, so I looked reasonably dressed and wouldn’t be kicked out of the coffee shop we headed for. Rink was silent as we strode across a thoroughfare beginning to swell with foot traffic as people headed for their workplaces. Rink is the epitome of the strong, silent type – until he gets going – but this morning his silence was deeper than normal. I could feel it like a living thing, caged for now but ready to be let loose to ravage and tear.
    I gave up smoking and hard liquor years ago, but the