Under Cover (Agent 21) Read Free

try the pratfall, make sure there’s some blood. Knee, elbow, anywhere. Use the fake stuff if you have it, it’s pretty good. If I’d seen that, you might have got away with it.’
    ‘Let go of me.’
    ‘And when you know you’re faster than someone, run in a straight line. Otherwise they might out-think you, like I just did. And you’ve got to admit, it’s a bit embarrassing being caught by a man with only one leg.’
    ‘
What?
’
    The man released his grip and Ricky staggered towards the steps.
    ‘Afraid so,’ the man said. He tapped the lower half of his leg with his stick. It made a dull, clunking sound.
    – Good skills
, Ziggy said slyly.
Outrun by a bloke with one—
    – Shut up, Ziggy.
    Now Ricky really wanted to get out of there.
    ‘Tell me, Coco.’
    ‘What?’
    The man smiled, once more revealing the teeth of a man who ate more sweets than was good for him. ‘Do you want a job?’
    – A job? What sort of job would a guy like him be offering?
    ‘Course not,’ he said.
    ‘Oh. Shame. But I’ll tell you what – put that twenty-pound note in your shoe. By far the safest place for it.’
    ‘Right.’
    The man made his way up the steps. ‘And, Coco?’
    Ricky stopped and looked back. ‘
What?
’
    ‘You can call me Felix,’ the man said. ‘One name’s as good as another, and maybe we’ll meet again.’
    In your dreams
, Ricky thought as he scrambled up the steps, and away from the weirdo with no hair but many names.
In your dreams.
    Home, for Ricky, was a single room in a dilapidated house on the outskirts of Hackney. The other occupants of the house changed from week to week, but Ricky had learned not to talk to them anyway. No normal person would stay there. The whole house stank of rotten wood and mildew and there was the scurrying sound of rodents in the ceiling day and night. The room itself contained nothing but a single bed and a sink in the corner with a tap that never stopped dripping. Nobody ever cleaned the toilet that he had to share with several others, and as a result it was too disgusting for words.
    It cost Ricky £150 a month to stay there. On the first day of each month, his landlord would arrive to collect the money. Baxter was a frightening man – he had a gaunt face and hardly any lips. Whenever Ricky handed over his money, Baxter would carefully count every last note. He’d never asked Ricky his age, and if it worried him that a kid was living in a dump like this, he didn’t show it.
    Ricky had seen what happened when someone failed to pay up. Baxter had a couple of heavies who always waited in the car on rent day. If anyone was even fifty p short, the heavies would kick them out of the house. It usually involved some bruises, and occasionally a cut lip.
    – At least we’ve got another twenty-four hours till rent day
, Ricky thought as he tramped, footsore, towards the house.
    – Then what’s Baxter’s Mercedes doing parked in the street?
    Ricky stopped and blinked. The Mercedes was twenty-five metres away, parked right outside the house. There was no doubt that it was Baxter’s. A silver Merc stuck out in this part of town.
    – What does he want?
    Ricky walked past the vehicle. It was empty. That meant Baxter’s heavies were inside the house. And
that
meant trouble.
    There was a commotion inside the house. Something was happening on the first floor, where Ricky’s bedroom was. He climbed the stairs nervously. Sure enough, there on the landing were Baxter and two thick-set men – square jaws, flat noses, scars all over their faces. Ricky called them the Chuckle Brothers. Just his little joke. They weren’t the type to chuckle.
    – What are the Chuckle Brothers doing outside our room?
Ziggy said.
    The heavies were standing on both sides of Ricky’s bedroom door, while Baxter loitered a couple of metres from them.
    ‘Ah, there you are, kid,’ said Baxter. He had the voice of a thousand cigarettes. ‘Been waiting for you.’
    ‘It’s rent day tomorrow,