Читать книгу For Evil to Flourish - Dubya Ph.D Lorimer - Страница 4

Chapter 1

Navid Sharif was well aware that his little empire was unlikely to ever earn him a knighthood for services to the retail industry. Nor would it cause the manager of the local supermarket to lose much sleep worrying about the competition, but it was enough to provide Sharif and his family with a healthy income. The little corner shop was thriving, despite being on the edge of one of the more run-down estates in the area. It enjoyed a flurry of activity in the morning, with commuters heading for work pausing to buy their newspapers and sandwiches and drinks. Then at lunch time, hordes of schoolchildren would descend on the shop, requiring eagle eyes to prevent the mid-day profits disappearing into the pockets of errant youngsters! In the early evening, tired and harassed workers with neither the inclination nor the time to spend on preparing an evening meal would stock up on TV dinners, booze, and other staples on their way home.

During the mid-morning lull, with trade being a little more sporadic, the shop owner was finding time to chat with the elderly women he was serving.

'The grandchildren are just shooting up! I swear it's the heat out there in Spain. Of course, Gerry always complains that it's too hot,' nodding towards her husband, who was perusing the magazines on the rack next to the door, 'But even he admits that it's helped his rheumatics living there with our Victoria.'

'Is there anything you miss when you're out there?' asked the woman next in the queue, 'Because after a week on holiday, I usually have a craving for a proper bar of chocolate, or a nice bit of cheddar. I know you can get that kind of stuff in some shops, but it's never the same somehow.'

The first woman laughed, and pointed at the bag Sharif was packing,

'Two huge bars of Cadburys! They'll be the first things to go in the case this afternoon when we pack. That and some Marmite and HP sauce for himself,' with another nod to her husband, who was beginning to look restless. 'Where we stay, it's a little bit away from the main tourist trail, and not so easy to get things from home. The first thing we do when we come back here for a visit, is treat ourselves to fish and chips, with plenty of vinegar! Mmmmm. The family think we're mad!'

'Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean!' squealed the other woman, 'Every fancy variety of food you can think of, and you would kill for a real chippy. And my Jimmy, he goes mad for a pork pie with sauce! What about you, Navid, anything you miss when you visit your family?'

'Branston Pickle,' he laughed, 'And Galaxy chocolate...... although not together, of course!'

Their laughter was interrupted by an angry male voice behind them.

'Any chance of getting a bit of service around here?'

The speaker was a youth in his late teens. His scowl did nothing to enhance a thin, acne-ridden face, his chin sporting a sparse, straggly accumulation of hair purporting to be some form of beard. If it was grown in an attempt to make him appear more mature, it had to be classed as a dismal failure.

He wore a tee-shirt adorned with the legend, “Sex Bomb- Handle With Care”. Which implied he was either wildly optimistic, or delusional. His baseball cap identified him as an employee of a local fast food establishment, with a name tag identifying him as “Jason”.

The woman at the till hurriedly pulled out her purse, and started to select notes, before realising her mistake,

'Oh dear, I'm sorry, these are Euros. I've got some pounds here....'

Now flustered, she flipped open another section of her purse, and succeeded in scattering a number of photographs across the counter.

'Great! Let's all spend half an hour looking at grandma's holiday snaps, it's not like any of us have a life to get on with.' moaned the disgruntled Jason.

The elderly man by the door glowered at him from beneath bushy eyebrows,

'Manners cost nothing, you know.'

Jason turned to look at him.

He didn't register the alertness in the eyes, the boxer's nose, the still-powerful build, or the suppleness of his movement.

He just saw an old man. End off.

'Yeah, whatever, grandpa.' was his sneering response.

The first woman had finally handed over the correct money, and bustled quickly out the shop. Her husband continued to linger as the second woman handed over her cash and departed.

Now it was the impatient Jason's turn,and after handing over two pounds, was about to leave when Sharif stopped him.

'Another seven pence, please.'

'What? It's only two pounds in Tesco.'

'This isn't Tesco.' Sharif pointed out.

Angrily, Jason pulled a ten pence from his pocket, and tossed it towards Sharif. The coin bounced off the counter and landed on the floor. The shopkeeper had no intention of giving the youth the satisfaction of seeing him grovel on the floor for it, so without even bothering to look down, he took three pence from the till and held it out.

'Your change, sir.' he said.

'Stick it up your arse, you thieving paki bastard.' was Jason's response, as he headed for the door.

'Thank you sir,' said Sharif sarcastically to his departing back, 'I'll put it in the charity tin.'

Without looking round, the youth held up a hand, with one finger raised, sniggering to himself.

The last thing he expected as he pushed past the old man was an elbow to shoot out and catch him in the midriff.

'WHOOF!'

As he doubled up in pain, the old man made a casual half-turn, cupped a large hand around the nape of his neck, and smashed his face hard against the edge of a frozen food cabinet. Jason howled in agony as his nose exploded, blood splattering in all directions. Satisfied that he had made his point, the old man unhurriedly strolled outside to join his wife.

'Aaaarrgh.... Hellllpmeeegh,' spluttered Jason, 'Geeeegh neegh poleeesh!

'What did you say?' asked Sharif, as he handed him a wad of tissue.

'Poleeesh! Geeeegh hiiiim! He cried, gesticulating wildly after the old man. 'Looogh whaaagh heeegh diiigh, he added, pointing to his nose.

'Police.... why?' enquired Sharif. 'I just saw you hassling two old women, then you seemed to have slipped and hit your face, why would the police be interested?'

'Eeegh?' he spluttered, staring at the shopkeeper in disbelief. He looked around for support, but the only other customer in the shop had developed a deep fascination with the price of baked beans. As it gradually dawned on him that he was wasting his time looking for sympathy here, he swore at Sharif as best he could, then stumbled out the door.

Sharif regarded the bloody mess he had left behind with distaste, then called through to the back of the shop,

'Shareen! Could you mind the till, please, while I clean up in here.'

He glanced up at the camera on the ceiling, and thought to himself that it would be wise to wipe the security tape, just in case that little shit did call the police. The last thing he wanted was to be star witness in an assault case against Gerry Hill. He sighed heavily, and went to fetch the mop.

Julie Ross did a twirl in front of the mirror, admiring her purchases. She had never spent so much money on underwear in her life, but she was loving the look and the feel of expensive silk and lace. She did another turn, more slowly this time, making a critical examination of her body, pinching herself here, and squeezing there, before deciding she was well pleased with the effects of recent months attending the gym. Not too bad, she thought to herself, not too bad at all.

The sound of a vehicle outside made her peek out the gap in the curtains. Allan had just pulled up in his pickup truck. Quickly, she stripped off, returned the new underwear to the bag, and kicked it under the bed. By the time her husband had pushed the bedroom door open, she was back in familiar bra and pants, matching only insofar as many trips through the washing machine had given them a uniform shade of pale grey.

Seeing her bend over to pull on a comfy pair of jogging pants, he wolf-whistled, and gave her a playful slap on her behind.

'Behave yourself!' she admonished him, but smiled and gave him a welcoming peck on the cheek as she straightened up. 'The kids are just through there, and dinner's nearly ready, so forget it! Don't be too long with your shower.'

After slipping on a clean tee-shirt, she headed downstairs, with just a quick glance to check that the Victoria's Secrets bag was out of sight beneath the bed. It's contents were not intended for Allan's eyes.

Gavin Ward was enjoying a peaceful and dreamless sleep before being rudely dragged from the arms of Morpheus by his wife digging her elbow in his ribs. It took a second jolt to produce a noticeable reaction.

'What!'

'There's somebody outside.' she whispered.

It was a warm evening, the window facing onto the rear garden was slightly open, the curtains moving lazily in the slight breeze, but despite straining his ears, he could hear nothing.

'Are you su..... Ouch!' He received another dig in the ribs.

'Shsss!' she hissed.

Suddenly, he heard it, a tell-tale scraping, and a familiar metallic rattle. He recognised the sounds.

'It's the ladders, someone's trying to steal my new ladders!'

Suddenly wide awake, Ward headed for the window and threw open the curtains.

'What the bloody hell!!!'

He found himself face to face with a total stranger clinging to the top of his precious ladders, clearly about to climb in the window. For a moment they stared at each other, then suddenly the stranger started to descend as speedily as possible.

'Oh no you don't,' yelled Ward, pulling the window fully open and trying to grab him. As the would-be burglar wriggled free, Ward pushed the ladder away in frustration. There was a strange howl which ended abruptly with a crash.

'Uh-oh,' he muttered to himself, fearing the worst, then was almost relieved to hear swearing and groaning rising out of the gloom.

'Phone the police, love,' Ward said as he hurriedly dressed, then, as an afterthought,

'Maybe better tell them to send an ambulance as well.'

Ward was sitting in his kitchen giving his statement to one of the policemen, explaining that the ladders were normally locked in the garage, but had been left in the back garden that night.

'I was going to finish repairing the roof tomorrow, I never thought for a minute some spawny-eyed wazzock would have the audacity to climb over the fence, let alone have the brass neck to try and climb up to the window. Good job the wife's a light sleeper.'

'They could have dumped him on the floor and stolen the bed,' his wife confirmed, 'And he'd still be snoring away in the morning!'

'Well, anyway, I got to the window, and there he was, this clown trying to climb in! So I made a grab for him, but he got away, and next thing, he's flat out in the middle of the rose bed, squealing like a pig.'

'And you actually pushed the ladders over, while he was on them?' the policeman enquired.

Ward caught his wife's warning look just in time.

'Nooo..... not really. They kind of..... fell over. Sort of.'

As Ward squirmed, the second policeman tapped on the back door, and called his colleague outside. They conferred for a minute or so, then both came inside, looking slightly embarrassed.

'The ambulance has just left, they're taking the fellow to the hospital, but he was fit to give a statement, and I'm sorry Mr Ward, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to caution you with regard to this incident'

'What do you mean? Why would you want to caution me, what have I done?'

'Believe it or not, this lad is denying everything, and claiming you assaulted him.' he raised a placatory hand as the couple started to protest, 'Yes, I know it's nonsense, and will probably never get near court, but it's not for me to decide.'

'You are kidding me! No way, he's lying through his teeth!'

'Just the same, Mr Ward, until the full facts are established, we have to follow procedure.'

Magnanimously, they decided it would not be in the public interest to take any action against Mrs Ward for launching a pair of fluffy slippers at the patrol car as they drove away.