The Book of Daniel Read Free

boxes like a drop of blood in the sea brings sharks. When I looked down for an explanation for the silence, I was met with a wink from George, his arm stretched out and the gun grasped in his hand. I crouched down next to him.
    “Good catch, mate. How’s your leg?” I whispered.
    “Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be doing any aerobics for a while.”
    “No comment. Do you think you can walk?”
    “Not quickly or quietly enough to get out of here before those fuckers come back. It’s not that big a pile of boxes for three of them to search.” He cast a meaningful look in the direction of the disembodied shuffling sounds. “I think we stand more of a chance trying to finish them off, to be honest, especially if they’re as dopey as this muppet.”
    “What about the alarm?”
    “No good, I tried it earlier; they must have cut the circuit before they came in. The phone’s out, too; not that I would have had much time to say anything anyway. They were quick, I’ll give them that. And they definitely mean business.” George nodded to a pair of petrol canisters standing near the warehouse door.
    We were interrupted by the sound of Sam’s voice yelling out theatrically. “Hmm, what have we here? A wallet! Belonging to… a Mr Daniel Stein of 91 Highfield Road. Anyone out there with that name missing a wallet? A friend of the security guard we’ve got down here, maybe? Sorry, I didn’t catch his name, but I’m sure you know him: big fella, likes football, perhaps a bit too much for his own good. Problem is, he seems to have suffered one of those workplace-related injuries you hear so much about on the TV these days, and it looks like he might have a few more before too much longer. The good news is, though, that you can help him out. All you need to do is bring us a parcel that we’ve come to collect. Simple as that, that’s all we want. Once we’ve got it, I’ll happily give you both your wallet and your friend back, and leave you all in peace. Oh, and don’t go getting any ideas about trying to use your mobile to call for help; we’ve got one of those nifty little jamming boxes set up outside in the van.”
    I didn’t believe for a moment that he was going to let us go in peace, of course, but his monologue had provided enough cover for me to lift Dave’s body up onto my shoulders and carry it behind another pile of boxes. I quickly commandeered his black leather jacket and mask. Not the greatest fit in the world, but I was pretty sure that I’d pass a cursory inspection, and if everything went according to plan, that would be enough to get George and me out of this situation in one piece. Sam continued to address the wrong part of the warehouse as I took up the position that Dave had previously occupied, standing in the shadows, hoping that the darkness would give my disguise more of a chance to work.
    “Come on, Mr Stein, there’s no need to be shy. Or do you need us to help bring you out of your shell a bit?”
    Sam and his pals reappeared back from where I had thrown my wallet, and strode purposefully towards where George and I were waiting. I held my breath as they drew closer, but because their attention was still mainly directed towards the shadows of the warehouse, my plan seemed to be working. For all their bravado, the stolen looks they cast over their shoulders told a different story; of the three of them, only Sam seemed easily able to focus his attention back on the task in hand.
    “Why is everyone so determined to do this the hard way?” He sighed heavily. “Right, fatso. I’m afraid you need to help us tempt Mr Stein out into the open before he tries to do something stupid like sneaking out of the building and going for help. So Dave here is going to shoot you in the hand, which will be a nice noisy way of letting your mate know that we are not fucking about. Maybe it’ll even jog your memory a bit more, eh? Nothing personal, you understand, but we are going to get that